Point of Contact

18

The first thing Paul’s assistant, Bai, did was set up their computers for security, starting with their usernames. He handed each of them a USB drive with digital readouts. Digital numbers already flashed on them.

“What are these?” Jack asked.

“Those security fobs generate passcodes. When you log on with your username, you have sixty seconds to type in the number generated by the fob. If you don’t, you can’t log on, and you must wait another sixty seconds for the next number to generate before you can try to log on again. That make sense?”

“Perfectly.”

“You only get one of those each. Please don’t lose them, and if you do, report it immediately.”

“Of course.”

Bai then detailed the rest of their security instructions. “First of all, you’re free to use your laptops, but as Ms. Fairchild explained earlier, there is no Wi-Fi or cell access in the building, and there’s no way for you to connect physically to our main server without first downloading our encrypted security interface, which is not allowed.”

Bai then pointed at a USB port on the computer keyboard. “You are not allowed to insert your own private USB drive into this port or into any other Dalfan machine. But even if you did, it wouldn’t work. The USB ports are passcode-encrypted, just like the computer.”

That’s not good, Paul thought. How will I be able to load Rhodes’s USB drive if the port is locked?

Bai pulled a USB out of his pocket. “Only a Dalfan-encrypted drive like this one will interface with our machines.”

“Will we be given one of your encrypted USB drives for our personal use?” Paul asked.

Bai frowned. “Not allowed. Too dangerous.” He turned to Jack. “Any other questions?”

“We understand the need for tight security,” Jack said. “We’ll just have to work around your protocols as best we can.” Jack stood. “See you later, Paul. Have fun.”

“You do the same.”

Paul spoke to Bai. “Might as well get my feet wet.” He opened up his desktop as Jack headed back to his office.

Bai pointed Paul to the file containing the general ledger — the controlling document that contained all other subledgers and accounting files pertaining to all financial and nonfinancial data of Dalfan Technologies. Paul’s focus was on the financial side. He opened up the first big file folder labeled “Assets.” There was a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it. But his mind was somewhere else. He sighed.

“Something wrong, Mr. Brown?”

“Any chance we can grab a cup of tea before we get started?”

Bai stood. “Follow me.”

Jack was looking forward to not being monitored by Lian or anyone else from Dalfan, but just as he sat down in his executive chair, there was a knock on his glass door.

Jack turned around. Crap.

“Feng,” the man said, offering a small, crooked smile of yellowed teeth. “I’m the vice president of Dalfan operations.”

Feng reeked of stale tobacco. He was the oldest employee in the building Jack had met so far. He wasn’t in the conference room earlier. He carried a tablet in his left hand.

Ryan stood and offered his hand. “Jack.”

“I’m here to give you a general overview of the corporation. We will review its organization, facilities, and personnel, and I will answer any questions you might have.”

Jack forced a smile. “Great. Let’s get started.”

Jack opened up the Dalfan desktop with his passcode fob as Feng tapped on his tablet. They spent the next few hours reviewing organizational charts, personnel records, operating budgets, and facility locations around the city — including an FBO hangar at nearby Seletar Airport. By the time they finished reviewing all of these documents it was lunchtime.

“Will you be joining us in the dining room?” Feng asked, standing.

“Not today, but thanks.” Jack stood, too.

Feng frowned. “That’s disappointing to hear. I’ll let Ms. Fairchild know.”

Of course you will, Jack thought. “See you after lunch.”

It had been a long first half of the day for Jack and Paul, but productive. Their biological clocks were still messed up and they were both beat and famished.

Jack half expected a fight from Lian when he confirmed that he and Paul wouldn’t be eating with the Dalfan employees, but instead she suggested a good local restaurant about ten minutes away.

Jack asked, “Will you be joining us?”

“I think you can handle the chili shrimp without my assistance,” she shot back. “But don’t be surprised if you have a few friends nearby.”

Jack offered to let Paul drive, but the taciturn accountant wasn’t interested in figuring out how to navigate on the wrong side of the road from the wrong side of the car, especially in a downpour. Ten minutes later they found themselves seated in a comfortable, low-lit restaurant populated by locals. They both ordered the house specialty, chili shrimp. For drinks, Jack went for the mango iced tea and Paul ordered a vodka tonic.

“So, tell me about what you found out,” Jack began, sipping his iced tea. He scanned the room. His eye landed on Park, Lian’s bodyguard, glowering at a menu, sitting by himself on the far side of the restaurant. No doubt there to keep an eye on them.

Paul frowned. “The first thing I found out was that my assistant is sticking closer to me than a remora on a manta ray. I half expected him to follow me into the john this morning.”

“You get the feeling you’re being watched?”

“More like handled. Friendly enough, don’t get me wrong. Happy to answer any questions I had. But the man had no interest in leaving me alone, even for half a second.”

Paul went on to describe the bulk of his research that day, mostly comparing tax filings against corporate reports going back over the last ten years.

“Everything lines up. It’s almost too good. Not one decimal point out of place. You know, sort of how an escaped fugitive might drive a little under the speed limit so as not to draw the attention of the traffic cop?”

“You think there’s a problem?” Jack waved a server over.

“Not necessarily. Only that the fact that the books are perfect — at least so far — isn’t proof that everything is on the up and up.”

The young server flashed her lovely smile. “Sir?”

“That man over there? By the window?” Jack nodded at Park, then pointed at the drink menu. “Send him one of these on me, will you?”

She giggled. “Right away, sir.”

Paul tapped his vodka tonic. “And another one of these, too, please.”

She nodded and scurried off.

“Sorry, Paul. You were saying?”

“I already said it. Everything looks good so far, but I’ll keep digging. What did you find?”

Jack outlined his research for the day, including going over the personnel files. “Just trying to get a handle on employee retention, hiring practices — the usual. Started digging into their benefits program, too. Turns out most of the senior management have stock options. They’re going to make out like bandits when Marin Aerospace swoops in and pays twice the current price per share.”

“No wonder those people in the conference room were so glad to see us today.”

Jack watched the server deliver a tall red drink to Park’s table. He examined it, his eyes frowning with confusion.

“Our boy Park just got his delivery,” Jack said.

Paul turned around just in time to watch Park flip them both the bird.

“What did you send him?”

“A Shirley Temple. I figured he wasn’t allowed to drink liquor while on the job.”

Paul cracked a smile. “I don’t think you want to mess with that guy.”

“What else is there to do?”

The server arrived bearing platters of sizzling-hot shrimp, steaming bowls of rice, and crisp stir-fried vegetables. They dug in.

Paul enjoyed the sweet and fiery spicy chili sauce and the crunchy stir-fried shrimp, but his mind was still on Rhodes’s USB drive. He was glad he had run his little experiment today with the dummy drive. He assumed their protocols would catch something like that, but he wasn’t sure. If that really had been Rhodes’s drive the guard had discovered in his bag today, he might be sitting on a plane right now flying back to the United States, or pacing in a cramped Singaporean prison cell. The good news was that they didn’t do a body search. Dalfan was serious about their security but not paranoid. A mistake on their part, he told himself.

He chewed quietly, working the puzzle. Even if he’d been allowed to keep his dummy USB drive, he never got the chance to try and load it on his Dalfan computer today for a test run, and according to Bai, it wouldn’t have worked anyway, since it wasn’t loaded with the Dalfan encryption code.

Bai himself was a security barrier, Paul decided. If he was going to stay that glued to him, he’d never get the opportunity. Odds were he was going to fail the mission, and quite possibly get caught in the attempt. Neither scenario appealed to him. Rhodes even said there probably wasn’t a problem to begin with — this was all just precautionary. Sitting here, it suddenly didn’t seem worth the risk. Time to try a third option. Maybe get the mission canned altogether.

“So, if you didn’t find anything and I didn’t, either, maybe we should just sign off on this thing and go home early,” Paul said.

Jack laughed. “Why? Are you as bored as I am?”

“Something like that. Dr. Fairchild wouldn’t care if we wrapped this thing up.”

“Rhodes seemed to want us to do some serious digging while we’re here.”

“But he still wants us to sign off in the end.” Paul drained the rest of his glass. He didn’t want to seem too eager or oversell it. “I mean, you never seemed big on this assignment anyway and I need to get back, so, whatever you want to do, I’m up for it.”

Paul hoped to God Jack would take the bait. He didn’t think his nerves could stand this for another four days. If they were sent home early by Fairchild, then he really couldn’t be blamed for failing the mission, could he?

“I don’t know. We’re here, we might as well do the job right. Let’s keep painting by the numbers and see what turns up.”

“Okay. Sounds good to me.” Paul fought the panic welling up inside his chest. When he saw his server rush by, he held his empty glass up high at her and jiggled the ice. “Another one of these.”

She nodded and headed for the bar.

Paul sighed. It was going to be a long week.