Michael Connelly - Chasing the Dime

"What?" Lucy asked.

Pierce pulled himself up from the couch.

"I have to go now."

"Are you all right?"

"I am now."

He walked toward the door but stopped suddenly and turned back to look at Lucy.

"Grady Allison."

"What about him?"

"Could it have been his car?"

"I don't know. I've never seen his car."

"What does he look like?"

Pierce envisioned the mug shot photo of Allison that Zeller had sent him. A pale, brokennose thug with greased-back hair.

"Um, sort of young, kind of leathery from too much sun."

"Like a surfer?"

"Uh-huh."

"He has a ponytail, right?"

"Sometimes."

Pierce nodded and turned back to the door.

"Do you want to take your pizza?"

Pierce shook his head.

"I don't think I could eat it."

It was two hours before Cody Zeller finally showed up at Amedeo Technologies. Because Pierce needed his own time to prepare things, he hadn't even made the call to his friend until midnight. He then told Zeller that he had to come in, that there had been a breach in the computer system. Zeller had protested that he was with someone and couldn't get away until morning. Pierce said that the morning would be too late. He said that he would accept no excuse, that he needed him, that it was an emergency. Pierce made it clear without saying so that attendance was required if Zeller wanted to keep the Amedeo account and their friendship intact. It was hard to keep his voice under control because at that moment the friendship was beyond sundered.

Two hours after that call Pierce was in the lab, waiting and watching the security cameras on the computer station monitor. It was a multiplex system that allowed him to track Zeller as he parked his black Jaguar in the garage and came through the main entrance doors to the security dais, where the lone security man on duty gave him a scramble card and instructions to meet Pierce in the lab. Pierce watched Zeller ride the elevator down and move into the mantrap. At that point he switched off the security cams and started the computer's dictation program. He adjusted the microphone on the top of the monitor and then killed the screen.

"All right," he said. "Here we go. Time to smash that fly."

Zeller could only get into the mantrap with the scramble card. The second door had a keypad lock. Of course, Pierce had no doubt that Zeller knew the entry combination, as it was changed every month and the new number sent to the lab staff by e-mail. But when Zeller came through the trap to the interior stop he simply pounded on the coppersheathed door.

Pierce got up and let him in. Zeller entered the lab throwing off the demeanor of a man who was seriously put out by the circumstances he was in.

"All right, Hank, I'm here. What's the big crisis? You know, I was right in the middle of knocking off a piece when you called."

Pierce went back to his seat at the computer station and sat down. He swiveled the seat around so he was looking at Zeller.

"Well, it took you long enough to get here. So don't tell me you stopped because of me."

"How wrong you are, my friend. I took so long only because being the perfect gentleman that I am, I had to get her back to the Valley and goddamn if there wasn't a frigging slide again in Malibu Canyon. So then I had to go turn around and go all the way down to Topanga. I still got here as fast as I could. What's that smell anyway?"

Zeller was speaking very fast. Pierce thought he might be drunk or high or both. He didn't know how this would affect the experiment. It was adding a new element to the settings.

"Carbon," he said. "I figured I'd bake a batch of wires while I waited on you."

Pierce nodded toward the closed door of the wire lab. Zeller snapped his fingers repeatedly as he attempted to draw something from memory.

"That smell… it reminds me of when I was a kid… and I'd set my little plastic cars on fire. Yeah, my model cars. Like you made from a kit with glue."

"That's a nice memory. Go in the lab there. It's worse. Take a deep breath and maybe you'll have the whole flashback."

"No thanks. I think I'll pass on that for the time being. Okay. So I'm here. What's the rumpus?"

Pierce identified the question as a line from the Coen brothers' film Miller's Crossing, a Zeller favorite and dialogue bank from which he often made a withdrawal. But Pierce didn't acknowledge knowing the line. He wasn't going to play that game with Zeller this night. He was concentrating on the play, the experiment he was conducting under controlled conditions.

"I told you, we've been breached," he said. "Your supposedly impregnable security system is for shit, Code. Somebody's been stealing all our secrets."

The accusation made Zeller immediately become agitated. His hands came together in front of his chest, the fingers seemingly fighting with one another.

"Whoa, whoa, first of all, how do you know somebody's stealing secrets?"

"I just know."

"All right, you just know. I guess I am supposed to accept that. Okay, then how do you know it's through the data system and not just somebody's big mouth leaking it or selling it? What about Charlie Condon? I've had a few drinks with him. He likes to talk, that guy."

"It's his job to talk. But I'm talking about secrets Charlie doesn't even know. That only I and a few others know. People in the lab. And I'm talking about this."

He opened a drawer in the computer station and pulled out a small device that looked like a relay switch box. It had an AC/DC plug and a small wire antenna attached. From one end of it stretched a six-inch cable attached to a computer slot card. He put it down on the top of the desk.

"I got suspicious and went into the maintenance files and looked around but didn't find anything. So I then went and looked at the hardware on the mainframe and found this little slot attachment. It's got a wireless modem. I believe it's what you guys call a sniffer."

Zeller stepped closer to the desk and picked up the device.

"Us guys? Do you mean corporate computer security specialists?"

He turned the device in his hands. It was a data catcher. Programmed and attached to a mainframe, it would intercept and collect all e-mail traffic in the computer system and ship it out over the wireless modem to a predetermined location. In the lingo of the hacking world it was called a sniffer because it collected everything and the thief was then free to sniff through all the data for the gems.

Zeller's face showed a deep concern. It was a very good act, Pierce thought.

"Homemade," Zeller said as he examined the device.

"Aren't they all?" Pierce asked. "It's not like you can bop into a Radio Shack and pick up a sniffer."

Zeller ignored the comment. His voice had a deep quaver in it when he spoke.

"How the hell did that get on there, and why didn't your system maintenance guy see it?"

Pierce leaned back and tried to play it as cool as he could.

"Why don't you quit bullshitting and tell me, Cody?"

Zeller looked from the device in his hands to Pierce. He looked surprised and hurt.

"How would I know? I built your system but I didn't build this."

"Yeah, you built the system. And this was built into the mainframe. Maintenance didn't see it because they were either bought off by you or it was too well hidden. I found it only because I was looking for it."

"Look, anybody with a scramble card has access to that computer room and could've put this on there. I told you when we designed the place you should've put it down here in the lab. For the security."

Pierce shook his head, revisiting the three-year-old debate and confirming his decision.

"Too much interference from the mainframe on the experiments. You know that. But that's beside the point. That's your sniffer. I may have diverted from computer science to chemistry at Stanford but I still know a thing or two. I put the modem card in my laptop and used it on my dial-up. It's programmed. It connected with a data dump site registered as DoomstersInk."