Point of Contact

38

A bomb had exploded in Paul’s room.

Or so it seemed to him as he stood in the doorway, examining the wreckage.

He stormed past the socks, underwear, bedsheets, hangers, pillows, and suits scattered across the bedroom floor. He stopped to pick up the framed photo of Carmen he kept at his bedside, and set it back on the dresser — even though the glass was cracked — and marched straight for the bathroom.

An empty plastic pill bottle cracked as he stepped on it while reaching for the spring-loaded shower curtain rod lying on the floor. He picked up the end of the rod closest to him. The rubber cap was off. He turned the rod around, pulled the other cap off, and reached into it with one of his chubby fingers, struggling to try and reach something. It took several attempts, but he finally pulled out a clump of toilet paper pinched between his finger and the side of the rod and tossed it. He tilted the rod even farther down, and the USB drive Rhodes had given him slid out.

Paul let out a sigh of relief. Lucky for him whichever cop was searching in here was too lazy to check both ends, or maybe that’s when the lieutenant called them all down. Either way, Paul could breathe easier now. Time was running out for him to finish the mission, but it would be immeasurably more difficult, he told himself, if he lost the USB drive altogether. He held the drive in the palm of his hand.

“What’s that?” Jack asked, looking at all of the pill bottles and toiletries scattered over the floor. “And what the hell happened in here?”

Paul glanced up, startled. “This? Nothing. Just a USB drive.”

“That you hid in the shower curtain rod?”

“This? No. It was in my pocket. I was checking out the shower curtain rod to make sure they weren’t trying to plant any drugs on us.”

Jack picked up an empty bottle of Tylenol. All of the little white tablets that used to be in it were scattered all over the floor and on the counter.

“Somebody doesn’t want us around.”

“Yong?” Paul stood with a grunt, using the tub for leverage.

“Or Lian. Or both. Or somebody else. Who knows?”

“I don’t think it’s Lian. She seems… smitten.”

“What? No. Trust me.”

Trust you? Paul thought. He glanced at the floor. “This place won’t clean itself up. We better get started.”

Jack surveyed the damage. “Do you want me to help? We can do your room first, then hit mine.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take care of my room on my own. I like things in a certain order.”

“I understand. I think I’m gonna get something to drink first.”

Paul looked around at the disaster that awaited him. “Good idea.”

After he and Jack knocked down a couple shots of Bushmills, Paul limped back upstairs with a broom and dustpan and got to work. He didn’t bother trying to save the OTC drugs scattered everywhere, but he bagged them all and tied off the bag, wondering where he could dispose of them. He didn’t want to dump them in the toilet or in the trash — there were already hundreds of millions of pounds of pharmaceuticals getting flushed into public water supplies every year and probably even more contaminating the soil. He didn’t know how he managed to gather such random facts, but they were always there, and when the facts demanded certain moral actions, he tried to act accordingly.

It took him another two hours to finally get everything back in order just the way he preferred. The repair guy would need to fix one broken drawer, and one of his polyester suit coats had a big black boot print on the sleeve. He’d have to ask Bai for a dry cleaner recommendation tomorrow.

Paul wondered if Jack believed him about the USB drive. He had to assume he didn’t. He liked Jack well enough, but he didn’t really know him, and he was definitely the curious type. Instead of putting the USB back into the shower curtain rod, Paul retrieved one of his shoes and wedged the small device in the toe with a dress sock to keep it in place.

Finally settled down, Paul decided to take a shower.

He found his phone on the nightstand and saw he’d missed a call from Gavin. He listened to the voice mail and swore softly, cursing Gavin’s childish behavior but grateful he had access to him as a resource.

“Paul Brown, you’re not downtown. But I just uploaded a zip file in your Dropbox with the program you requested, and a README file with instructions, but it’s all pretty straightforward. I’m still not exactly sure how the program is going to help you catch your Chinese spy, but so long as you’re keeping an eye on Jack Junior, I’m in your corner and I’m still keeping my mouth shut, at least for now. Let me know if you have a problem — I mean besides the obvious one staring at you in the mirror. And yes, you’re welcome. Ciao.”

Paul powered up his laptop, opened his Dropbox account, and found the two files Gavin had promised. He double-clicked on the README file and read Gavin’s instructions:

Paul shook his head. “BigDaddyG?” Give me a break. Mastro’s would set him back a few bucks, but the price was well worth it.

He opened up the unmarked snatchware file. Paul was no coder, for sure, but he could read it well enough. It was tight, elegant, and powerful. The proof of the pudding would be in the eating of it, he told himself, or at least the downloading and execution of it.

He downloaded it without a problem. Now his computer was ready to capture the encryption software on the Dalfan USB tomorrow. Then we’ll see how smart your smart-ass really is, Paul thought.

Once he captured the encryption program located on the Dalfan USB — which couldn’t leave the Dalfan HQ premises — he would transfer it to the USB drive Rhodes gave him, and then all he would have to do is load it into a Dalfan computer, type in his personal passcode, and let it work its magic.

Easy as pie, so long as everything worked exactly as planned and he wasn’t caught red-handed in an act of international and corporate espionage.

The thought elevated his blood pressure. He put on his slippers and limped downstairs for another two fingers of whiskey to quiet his nerves.