Rogue Code

63

Daryl had wanted to get back into the building earlier, but most workers arrived at this hour, and she needed a crush for her makeshift card to work. She had no idea what would happen to her if she was caught, but she knew that without her help, Jeff and Frank were in very serious trouble. When a cluster of young women went to the open doors, she joined them, swiping her sterile card as she passed the distracted guard. Then she was in the elevator and on her way to the seventeenth floor.

She was a familiar face to some now and received a reassuring nod from several workers as she returned to the out-of-the-way workstation she’d selected. She hoped no one was assigned to it today. She’d brought a few things with her and placed them about: a pad of pastel-colored sticky notes, two pencils, a black pen, and a picture frame she’d picked up in a drugstore, the photograph of two smiling boys looking back at her. The space was hers now, until someone showed up and demanded to know what the hell she was doing.

Once settled, she returned to analyzing the logs, since they remained the key to what she needed to discover. With tweaks to the anomaly filters, what she uncovered over the next two hours were clear patterns, which she was confident were the work of those uploading malware but none of it constituted the kind of proof she needed and none led directly back to Campos. She also saw how busy the Exchange had been executing multiple uploads through the jump servers, which she believed were related to the next day’s IPO. This activity, she concluded, was the new software being deployed and updated.

But there were also clusters of uploads she was just as certain were modifications or expansions of the rogue code. They came from some of the suspect sources she’d identified from examining the logs. Campos, she was convinced, was behind them. If she’d had any doubts something big was coming related to Toptical, she set them aside. There was a storm brewing and it would strike when the stock market opened the next morning.

She decided to risk coffee while she gathered her thoughts. Taking a break was natural and the recognition she received gave her confidence. As she stepped into the break room she saw the light-haired man Richard holding a cup of coffee as he fingered creamer into it. He looked up at her, and his pale eyes were suddenly alive. “Well, hi, Miss SSG. How are you this fine morning?”

“Very good. How’s the coffee?”

“Average, I’d say, but around here that’s pretty good.”

She extended her hand. “I’m Kelly Vogle. You’re Richard, right?”

He eyed her evenly for a second, then said, “Good memory. I am indeed Richard. Nice to meet you, Kelly. How long are you going to be with us?”

“I’m not sure. A few hours now and then, I think. It’s really more a media cover-your-ass thing, you know?”

“Oh yeah. Not the first time. If you’re still around later, let’s have lunch.”

Daryl paused, then said, “Let’s do that.” She poured coffee as Iyers left the room. Now, why did I do that? she thought. He’d told her that he was an infrastructure specialist. She could learn a lot from him over lunch. Working on this only from logs could take more time than she had.

Anyway, she thought, he’s cute.

64

Jeff had been surprised he could sleep at all. When they’d arrived back at the hotel, it was nearly two in the morning. Frank had taken them the long way, ducking into alleys, hiding in darkened yards behind walls, watching, doubling back, making absolutely certain they’d not been followed. At first, there’d been sirens as police responded to the gunshots, but they’d never seen a police car, nor any suspicious vehicle on the prowl for them.

When they’d entered the room, Jeff said, “Why’d you call it off just before all the shooting happened?” There’d been no chance to ask sooner, and he knew it could wait.

“I got a message telling us we were in the wrong place.”

“Daryl?”

“Who else? Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I’m bushed and still have work to do.”

Frank had made two phone calls, taken a shower, then gone to bed. Jeff followed him with a shower, finding Frank already fast asleep as he stepped out of the bathroom. In bed he had trouble sleeping, the night scenes of the firefight running through his mind again and again. He’d never fired his weapon, never even thought about it, nor had he been frightened. There’d been no time.

But now, in bed, alone in the dark quiet, he realized how close a call it had been. Those had been automatic weapons fired at them. The shooters had been near enough for him to hear the bullets ricochet off the cobblestone and block walls, to see the sparks when a bullet struck something metallic. A gnawing anxiety replaced the adrenaline of the firefight and their flight, and it was this that Jeff struggled to suppress. As he thought about it, grateful neither of them had been struck, he slid into a restless slumber of flashing gunfire and distorted images.

Frank let him sleep, but when Jeff awoke, he said, “Join me on the patio for a late breakfast, okay?”

It was a lovely late morning outside. The hotel was just far enough removed from busy streets to be relatively quiet. Birds sang in the overgrown courtyard trees. Two couples sat at other tables, tourists most likely, Jeff decided.

The breakfast was a buffet, and he loaded up his plate, emphasizing the ripe fruit and fresh bread. The coffee was strong and bracing, just what he needed. He sat and ate while Frank chatted as if nothing had happened the night before.

“What about that message?” Jeff finally asked, when it was clear he needed to bring the subject up.

“Daryl said it was a trap. Get out. So that’s what we did. If it hadn’t been for that damn cat, they’d never have known we were there.”

“How’d she know?”

“She sent a message later. She’s identified the inside man as a guy named Marc Campos. She got access to his cell phone and traced his calls and e-mails to a company in Rio named Grupo Técnico. That’s our target.”

“Rio? How far away is that?”

“About a five-hour drive. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered. Just eat up.”

As Jeff was finishing they were joined by two nondescript men. Frank stood up with a broad grin. It was like old times for the three of them, lots of hugging and back pounding. The trimmer man of the pair turned to Jeff and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Jeff,” the man said.

Frank laughed. “No, he’s Jeff.”

“Oh. Hi,” the trim man repeated, “I’m Carl. This is Oscar.”

Oscar shook his hand; then the two men joined them, passing on breakfast. “We had a bite earlier.”

From what Jeff had seen on the streets he would have taken the pair to be natives. Neither was over six feet tall. Carl was a spare man, looking very much like an accountant to Jeff, or a librarian. He wore glasses and had a retreating hairline. Oscar was only slightly bigger and, though he seemed in decent shape, had the same look — that of a man who spent a lot of time indoors. He had a thick head of dark hair just turning gray at the temples. Neither man was young any longer but neither looked especially old. There was a vagueness about them that made it difficult to pin them down in his mind.

“So how do you three know each other?” Jeff said. “Or can’t I ask?”

“Oh, you can ask,” Oscar said. “You’ll even get an answer, but why go there?”

“We know each other from the old days, Jeff,” Frank said. “I’m lucky they’re here.”

“It seems…”

“What?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know, too much of a coincidence.”

“See?” Frank said to the others. “I told you.”

The men laughed, then lapsed into small talk that only they understood. They rarely finished a sentence, yet the other two knew what was being said. It was clearly a reunion.

“Listen,” Frank said a bit later. “I need to talk with Jeff here. Why don’t you bring the car around and we’ll load up in, say, fifteen minutes. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“No problem,” Carl said as the pair stood up and left.

Back in the room, Jeff said, “Frank, I need to know who your two friends are.”

“Actually, Jeff, you don’t. The less you know, the better for all concerned. I know them, I trust them. Each of them has gone to considerable trouble to help us.”

“I’m serious. You’re going to have to tell me.”

“You can stay here.”

“I wish I could, but if we get access to Grupo Técnico’s computers, it’ll take both of us. I can’t stay out of it so this concerns me as much as you. Anyway, I’ve already been shot at. And I take it Carl and Oscar aren’t computer geeks?”

“No-o. Their specialties lie in other areas.”

Jeff sat on a chair, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and said, “Tell me.”

Frank was seated on the bed. “Jeff…”

“I’m serious. I won’t go into this blind. You wouldn’t in my place. Now, who are they?”

Frank sighed. “You’ve got a point there. I just wish you’d let this stay ‘need to know.’ That way if things go wrong, you aren’t in a position to hurt anyone.” Jeff said nothing. Frank continued, “You don’t need their real names. I’ve worked with each of them singly more than once. Very dicey situations each time, none of that Mission: Impossible crap they put in movies but dicey enough for the real world. They’re steady professionals, absolutely reliable. We worked as a three-man team on my last assignment before I gave up fieldwork. It lasted for six weeks, and when it was over, each of us spent some time in a hospital.”

“They’re Company?”

“Were, are. We didn’t discuss it. In their field, it’s not important as you never really leave. Anyway, Oscar’s working out of Rio now. Officially, he’s doing security with an oil company. I’m sure he’s doing Company work as well. It’s none of my business. He was in Curitiba when I called.”

“Why’s he here?”

Frank looked at Jeff in surprise. “He’s here because I told him I needed him here. I contacted him last night. He just got in. Jeff, I’ve been out of this line for a long time. I’m soft and I’m slow. You saw how things are. We need help.”

“You had me fooled last night.”

“That? That was nothing. Instinct. And we were very lucky.”

Jeff considered that, then said, “And Carl?”

“Carl’s from São Paulo. He’s definitely still with the Company; he runs some kind of front business here. I don’t know what he’s doing exactly but knowing him, it’s interesting.”

“They seem pretty nondescript.”

“They’re supposed to. They’ve spent decades getting that look down. Jeff, you need to trust me in this. I’ve already told you too much. But understand this: forget their looks. These guys are the best at what they do.”

“You think we need them?”

“Oh yes. I absolutely think we do.”

65

Richard Iyers sat down and smiled across the table at Daryl. She was, without question, the loveliest woman he’d ever seen in person. He couldn’t believe his luck.

The restaurant was crowded but the manager knew Iyers as a regular and had shown him to a corner spot, as quiet as was possible this time of day in Manhattan. They ordered, then Iyers made small talk, mentioning a bit of his origins in Upstate New York, bouncing the conversation back to Daryl from time to time. She found him an attractive man with his ready smile and dancing eyes, hinting a bit at a mischievous nature that held a certain appeal. Since Jeff he was the first man she’d so much as given a second look, but she intended to do nothing about it. This was work, and she was operating under a false name. She turned the conversation away from their personal stories.

“Are you involved in this new IPO program?” she asked to get it started.

Iyers drew back a bit, giving a cockeyed smile that said he knew she’d just changed the subject. “Not directly. I monitored it when it was initially uploaded and have followed up on each update but my only concern is to confirm it doesn’t affect the trading platform in general. Not worried are you?”

Daryl shrugged. “All I know is what I read. There seems to be some skeptics.”

Iyers nodded. “I understand. The Exchange is an enormous operation. You know that. But we have so many checks, it’s amazing we’re able to respond to changing needs at all. I’m giving it the benefit of the doubt.”

“The New York Times thinks otherwise.”

“Those guys. What do they know? I knew the snitch who told them that stupid bot story. He’s an ass. He’s just trying to get even.”

“Still, it was malware that found its way in.”

“It was a harmless bot and never went past the public-facing servers. I wouldn’t be surprised if the snake didn’t insert it himself when he suspected he was getting laid off. That’s really the only way anything can get past our security. In my experience, it’s always the human factor. Our digital security is all but impenetrable.”

Their food arrived, and for a few minutes they said little. Daryl enjoyed good New York deli and wished she could focus more on her pastrami on rye. She looked around the noisy room. Why was it that nowhere else she’d ever been captured this mood? It was uniquely New York. It made San Francisco seem almost quaint. She looked back at Richard. How to go about this?

But before she could speak, Iyers said, “Kelly, I’ve really enjoyed this and I’m quite serious when I say I’d like to see more of you. But you should know that about six months ago I was one of two from the infrastructure team to attend a joint meeting with SSG. You’ll never guess who I sat next to. Yes, Kelly Vogle.” He smiled. “So who are you? FBI? SEC? Private?” His smile spread into a grin that said he didn’t care which.

Stunned, the only thought Daryl could summon was gratitude this wasn’t happening back in the IT offices with all the security. “Private,” she said at last with no attempt at evasion. What was the point? He had her. “I’m a colleague of Jeff Aiken and Frank Renkin. You know them?”

“Sure. I was always trying to get them to use my gym. So what’s your real name?” She shook her head lightly. “Okay. What’s this about? You think they were set up?”

“They were framed without question.”

“I liked them. And I researched Jeff. He’s all right. I thought this whole thing was funny, you know? And the SEC have been assholes about it, accusing everyone. Some very hardworking, dedicated people are now under suspicion.” He smiled. “I’m probably one of them.”

“They were too close. I think they were set up by someone working at the Exchange, someone who wanted to get them out of the way.”

“Too close to what?”

Daryl drew a breath. Here goes. She told Iyers what Jeff and Frank had discovered, malware concealed by a rootkit within the trading platform code. “There’s an ongoing operation,” she continued. “It’s taking money out of the system. That’s what they uncovered.”

“You’re telling me they penetrated to the trading engines?”

“Yes, absolutely. They had the run of the place.”

“I find that very hard to accept. We’ve seen no sign at all. Not of any attempt, definitely not of anyone mucking around in there.”

“They are very good.”

“And they say they found a rootkit there? It can’t be done,” Iyers said. “There are too many safeguards.”

“Well, take my word for it, it’s there. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve seen it? You’ve been in the trading software?” She just gave him a look in reply. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. But you can’t take money out of the Exchange without getting caught. It just isn’t possible. Everything is tracked, and the automated systems call any anomaly to our attention.”

“That may be but the looting takes place with a high-frequency algo that watches for bids and offers on a set of stocks at specific prices and puts itself at the front of the queue, taking a percentage of those trades. The accounts the trades go into route the money offshore. Except for working out of the Exchange trading platform it doesn’t touch what is going on there. The theft takes place at the moment of the trade and is detectable only by the trading partners who are watching bids and orders at nanosecond granularity. If the amounts are small enough, I doubt they can even notice. If they do, it just looks like the buy came in lower than it first looked when the deal was approved.”

“Clever but I don’t see how software like that can get into our system without our knowing.”

“Someone on the inside is doing it. That someone realized Jeff and Frank were getting close and set them up. Framing them was done very crudely. They opened a brokerage account in Jeff’s name, put trading malware into the engine that was sure to attract interest, then sent the money straight to his account. You know the rest.”

“Interesting. You have any idea who?”

Daryl hesitated. He might be cute, but she had no idea who he really was. “No. That’s what I’m doing on-site. I’m looking for the mole. Are you going to let me work on this? Or turn me in?”

Iyers said nothing for several long moments. “What you say makes a lot more sense than what the SEC was insinuating. From how you describe it this frame job was pretty sloppy. We should be able to trace it back to your mole.”

“‘We’?”

“Sure. After you finish your coffee, let’s go back to the office. You can show me what you’ve got. No one knows the system better than I do. I can help.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well, besides the fact that your explanation makes a lot more sense to me than the one the SEC is putting out there, I’d like to see this alleged rootkit for myself. I really can’t believe it exists. And anyway, I’d like to get the bastard just as badly as you do. It’ll be a feather in my cap.” He smiled again. “Ready to go?”

On their way back to Wall Street, Daryl quickly ran through her mind the wisdom of this. The smart thing might be to just keep going, to say good-bye now and return to her hotel. Richard didn’t know her real name.

Part of her was telling her to be cautious, not to trust this stranger, while another reminded her of just how effective she could be with a key infrastructure specialist working with her. She couldn’t be the only one who thought how Jeff and Frank had been framed was too obvious. Richard would see it for himself soon enough. And if that didn’t convince him, surely the rootkit would.

But what if this was a trap? What if he was just luring her back so she could be arrested?

That made no sense at all. He’d known from the first moment he’d heard her name that she was lying and had done nothing. Maybe he was working with the SEC, but that made even less sense. For the time being everyone at the Trading Platforms IT was to one degree or another under suspicion.

No, she’d take her chance.

A plum didn’t fall into Iyers’s hands very often, and he was still dazed by events. As he was going home the previous night, his thoughts returned repeatedly to the dazzling beauty he’d spoken to briefly. This morning, he’d made an effort to hunt her down. When she’d told him her name, it was all he could do to quell his excitement. She didn’t know it yet, but he owned her, lock, stock, and barrel.

In his view, he’d had no alternative but to pretend he believed her, to offer to help. He needed to know what she knew, whom she suspected, and just as important, whom she’d told. They were down to the final twenty-four hours — less, actually. Tomorrow was going to be the biggest day of Iyers’s life, and he planned to stick to whoever this woman was as if they were joined at the hip.

66

Victor Bandeira replaced the telephone in its cradle and stared out the window without pleasure. Carlos Almeida was in a near state of collapse. His anxiety over his coming windfall was becoming too much for Almeida to bear. He’d been complaining for months about what Bandeira considered to be the modest income stream of Casas de Férias. Now with Carnaval coming online the task of handling the increased volume was proving too much for him. Bandeira was tired of holding the man’s hand. When this was finished, it was time to kick him upstairs and move someone with real ability into power. He shuddered to think that there’d been a time when he’d actually confided in the man.

Bandeira had been amused at the suggestion he court Sonia. Amused, then intrigued. The Almeidas were one of the most respected families in Brazil. It would introduce Bandeira into a social class that currently only tolerated him. To be married to such a willful child would in itself be no problem. He would do as he wished, just as he had always done. And as her husband there would be no question of his right to discipline her. He was intrigued but not convinced. The child could prove more trouble than she was worth to him.

But Bandeira had no time for such thoughts now. Time enough after Carnaval. He told his assistant to send in César who was waiting outside. Once the slender security chief was standing before his desk, he said, “Tell me about last night.”

“Shortly before midnight, Zico reported he heard a sound in the alley beside the warehouse. When it didn’t repeat, he reported it was a false alarm. Then a cat attracted his attention. He spotted figures and opened fire. In return fire he was wounded in the arm and shoulder. He’s in the hospital. Didi was shot dead on the roof. Paulinho exchanged gunshots but neither he nor Cafu were wounded.”

“How many did they get?”

César cleared his throat. “I could find no evidence we hit anyone, though that doesn’t mean we didn’t.”

“How many were involved?”

“Based on what I heard and what my men reported, I’d say between three and seven.”

“And where were you during this gunfight?”

“In the office, of course. The engagement might have been staged, designed to lure us away.”

“There was nothing there to steal.”

“No, but they didn’t know that, and if it was staged, I was ready to take out whoever tried the office. I had good men taking care of the street action. They didn’t need me.”

Bandeira gathered his thoughts before proceeding. “I’m confused by this. We lure two computer nerds here and end up with one man dead and no sign we even touched whoever came to the warehouse. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“We don’t know it was them. I’m inclined to think it was not.”

“Then what was it?”

César shrugged. “A burglary gone wrong, perhaps a quadrilha. It may be they thought we were storing something valuable there. I think that more likely than it was the two we are waiting for.”

Bandeira opened his mouth to dismiss the idea that a quadrilha was responsible, then stopped. Was that possible? Had he underestimated this from the first? “I don’t see how,” he said slowly, “but we should ask around. If these were local men, we’ll hear about it.” If one of the local gangs had been responsible for last night, he needed more time, more information, to consider the implications. And there was too much to do now that required his attention.

“Perhaps we should increase security at Grupo Técnico,” César suggested. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“It’s not necessary. Keep good men at the warehouse. But I need you and Paulinho with me.”

“As you say.”

67

Returning from lunch and her presumed alliance with Richard, Daryl decided to take a different, more direct, approach with her investigation. He went to his workstation while she settled in at her purloined cubicle. Time was running out, and she still didn’t have the evidence she needed to clear Jeff and Frank. First, though, she needed to know who this Richard was. She accessed the administrator account Jeff and Frank set up previously when they compromised the Payment Dynamo server, since that account had access to most of the infrastructure. The account allowed her into the employee account database and human resource systems.

All she had was his given name, Richard, but she needed to know who he was. She was grateful for his offer of help but suspicious as well. It struck her as too easy, too opportune. Still, she’d overheard enough to know that the SEC was not popular here. Their execution of the search warrant and treatment of staff was still a popular topic. Richard could very well be telling her the truth.

She navigated in search of the infrastructure team but found them spread out in several subcategories. On a slip of scratch paper she wrote out, “Richard, Rick, Rich, Dick,” then, looking down from time to time to remind her, she slowly worked through the employee lists. After ten minutes, she had five names, two of them using Richard, only one of which was an infrastructure specialist. Richard Iyers. That must be her man.

Something tickled in the back of her mind. Richard Iyers. Hadn’t she seen that name before? She thought, but nothing came to her. It would in time, she was certain. For now, just to be on the safe side, she connected to Iyers’s computer, which was identified in the network directory, and installed Jeff’s monitoring software. This would allow her to read Richard Iyers’s e-mail and log his keystrokes. She configured it to alert her whenever he sent or received e-mails. Next she copied off his access logs and scanned them visually and with Jeff’s tool, but they showed no accesses to the jump server.

The logs were the key, though. As she continued to work on them she was identifying patterns of suspicious behavior, mapping it all out, dating it. This information established correlations with logs from other systems, fanning out into a complex map of interconnections, the majority of which would be red herrings. These patterns came from a number of different staff, but she was convinced they originated with Campos and whoever else was involved. Eventually she’d have enough of the map to find her way behind those cutouts, following the trail back to the originator. Knowing Campos was a target helped narrow the data, but it was still tedious work.

Then there was the IPO. She had access to the jump server and one advantage for her was that every update had to go through it. What she needed was a way to block any more updates, but most important, to ride into the system and turn off the rogue code.

From time to time her thoughts drifted to Brazil, to the danger Jeff and Frank were in. For security reasons contact was at an absolute minimum. She’d only received a text message after her two messages, thanking her and saying all was well.

But she’d given them the right address, the one in Rio, and she knew they’d be going there. One hard drive from the right computer, one person involved in the operation willing to talk, would bring this all to an end. She’d rather have worked out the answer entirely from computers but understood the logic of what they were up to. She just couldn’t get over the sinking feeling she experienced every time she thought of them.

Marc Campos was both furious and scared. His fear came from the fact that the code he’d been receiving from Rio was not ready to be implemented. He was exhausted from rewriting and editing, from demanding that Pedro get his team on the ball. The clock was running down.

He was angry because Iyers wasn’t doing his job. Even when Campos had code ready to upload, Iyers often wasn’t available or was slow to respond. Campos had even gone to see him, something he almost never did in the office, only to find him away from his workstation. He searched and been stunned to see him standing in the hallway, leaning into a cubicle, talking to Kelly from SSG of all people.

Campos still didn’t know what to make of her and her questions. At the time, the entire experience had been odd in the extreme, and he’d been sure he was uncovered. Seeing her at a workstation was reassuring to some extent as it suggested she was who she said she was. It was peculiar for someone from SSG to be working on-site, but not without precedent. He’d been afraid to check her out in detail as it would only call attention to himself.

Seeing Iyers talking to her led to only one conclusion, that once again he was distracted by a pretty blonde. It had happened before, though never at such a critical moment. As Campos had turned away he was suddenly seized by an overwhelming anxiety. What if the two were up to something? Here she was asking odd questions, and there was Iyers, the crucial cog in his operation, looking very friendly indeed.

Back in his office Campos called Iyers on his cell phone. When he answered, Campos said, “Meet me at the coffee shop, right now! Don’t say a word, just do it!”

Ten minutes later, Iyers entered the narrow shop, glancing about as he always did, searching for women. He spotted Campos in the rear booth and joined him. Iyers told the waitress he’d take coffee, then turned to face Campos. “You look like shit,” he said.

“What the hell are you doing with that woman?”

“Who? You mean Kelly?”

“Yes, Kelly. She questioned me yesterday.”

“Questioned? How does she even know about you?”

“She’s from SSG. She said she’s here following up on that bot because of all the heat it’s generated.”

“Yes, but why talk to you?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. What are you doing talking to her?”

Iyers’s coffee arrived. He sat back as he stirred sugar into it, then poured cream. He took a sip. “She’s not SSG and she’s not Kelly Vogle.”

Campos found he couldn’t breathe. His eyes widened in alarm. His tongue licked across his lips. “What are you saying?”

“I’ve met Kelly Vogle and this isn’t her. I had lunch with this woman earlier and confronted her to try to find out what she’s up to. I thought she might be official, working undercover or something.”

“My God,” Campos said, lowering his face into his hands. “It’s over.”

“Relax, amigo,” Iyers said with a cocky grin planted on his face. “Everything’s fine. We’ll pull through.”

“What … what are you talking about?”

“She’s with Aiken and Renkin. She’s here to try to clear them.”

Bewildered, Campos said, “What do you mean?”

“What I said.”

Campos processed what he’d heard, struggling to compose himself. Finally, he said, “Why did she talk to me? Did she tell you?”

“No. I don’t know why. Aiken and Renkin aren’t just running, they’re trying to figure out who put the finger on them. This woman’s working with them on that. They’ve come up with something that pointed to you.”

“Jesus! That can’t be. I’ve been so careful.”

Iyers hunched down, moving closer to Campos, and lowered his voice. “She’s not certain, Marc. Sure, she can try and blame you, and you and I know how bad that would be, but she needs to be positive before she takes that step. We don’t need a lot of time here, and she doesn’t know that. Toptical goes off tomorrow, in less than twenty-four hours. We’ll have made our haul by this time tomorrow. She’s working from Ann’s old station. I’m sticking close to her, to see what she’s up to, figure out how much she knows.”

“Why would she let you do that?”

“Because I told her I think Aiken and Renkin are innocent and I want to help. She believes me.”

“Why should she trust you?”

“Having someone on the inside will make what she’s doing a lot easier.” Iyers grinned. “And I’ve got a way with women. You know that.”

Campos looked at Iyers and wondered how he could ever have recruited this man. This was supposed to be a cyberjob, computers only. Now because of Iyers, he had a murder and attempted murder on his hands. Only God knew what else.

“I need you to do our job. Carnaval is backed up.”

“This is important too, to keep us out of jail, Marc. I’ll take care of the rest. Don’t worry about it. But don’t you see? This makes it all easier.”

“And how is that?”

“We’re about to be blown. That means tomorrow night we take off. We don’t risk sticking around. I just have to keep her on the string until then, and that won’t be hard. I know what she’s looking for.”

Campos closed his eyes and thought. He swallowed several times, trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. Finally, he said, “Maybe—” He stopped. “Maybe, she needs your special attention.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it, but it was the only way.

“What’s that?”

“We can’t run tomorrow. We need to stay here and cover tracks as the money is funneled. It’s part of the job.”

“I don’t get you.”

“She’s the only one who suspects, right?”

“There’s Aiken and Renkin.”

“They’re being taken care of.”

“Is that right? You never said anything to me about that.”

“We just need to see to this woman.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re giving me the green light.”

“Just don’t be sloppy like you were in the park.”

“No problem, amigo. It’s about time you came around.” Iyers picked up his coffee.

Campos glared at him. “Don’t call me amigo.”

68

Carl and Oscar rapped lightly on the door, then let themselves in. Frank had been asleep on the couch. He roused himself, went into the bathroom, then came out just as the other two retrieved bottles of water and made themselves comfortable in overstuffed, worn chairs. They looked as if they’d been out for a stroll, and perhaps in their world they had. Carl was in tan chinos with a light blue polo shirt while Oscar wore light green cotton pants with an untucked embroidered white shirt, Latin style. He had a cigar tucked in one of the pockets.

Jeff had watched them from over his laptop. He’d been in the safe house for some three hours now. When they’d arrived, Jeff asked if the CIA knew they were using it and been answered with laughter all around, then told not to worry about it. He closed the laptop and moved to the couch.

“What’d you find?” Frank asked.

“It’s a two-story mansion converted into office space,” Carl said. “The street is a mixed neighborhood with businesses and residences. It’s surrounded by a ten-foot wall with the usual stuff on top. There’s a car entrance with an electronic gate, a door for foot traffic, and a guard post. There were four vehicles parked inside. The grounds are neat, grass with no trees or significant shrubbery. In the rear is a helicopter landing pad with what looks like a storage building to the far side. We think the bottom floor is dedicated to security, and the offices we’re after are on the second floor. All in all, not a bad setup if privacy and security are what you want while still looking legitimate.”

“How many?” Frank asked.

Carl shrugged as he pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. “I made three. How about you?”

“Same,” Oscar said. “Just one at the guard station, another on the grounds, a third inside watching the monitors. They all looked bored. It’s possible there’s a fourth on the second floor. We stayed as long as we could but weren’t able to tell how many others are inside. They’ve got security cameras covering the grounds and two along the wall facing the street, which also takes in the entrance. We’ll scope the setup tonight and do another count.”

“When’s the equipment coming?” Frank asked.

Oscar glanced at his wristwatch. “In about half an hour.”

“Good. What about the second floor?”

“It looked busy,” Oscar said. “Lights were on. We saw movement. Two guys, office types who came out for a smoke break looking pretty haggard. They stood away from the guards. There was no interaction with them. I’d say no more than six work upstairs, maybe less.”

“It looked pretty busy,” Carl agreed.

“I’m thinking around midnight,” Frank said.

“Should be less security at night. We’ll need time to observe before we move.”

“They’re on deadline,” Jeff said. “It could be very busy tonight.”

“So security may stick around, you think?” Oscar asked.

“It’s a thought,” Jeff answered.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Frank said. “Guards are creatures of habit. Unless they’ve got some reason to think tonight is special, they’ll leave the standard night shift.”

“Probably one, then,” Carl said. “Definitely no more than two.”

“Your fracas in SP might have alerted them,” Oscar suggested.

“Maybe they’ve made no connection,” Jeff said. “They have no way of knowing we’ve learned about the Rio operation. Their lure sent us to the other site.”

“Good point, but still, they might increase security,” Frank said. Oscar and Carl looked at each other. “What?”

“I ran a check on the warehouse where you had the trouble and on this location,” Carl said. “You aren’t going to like it. Both places are buried in paperwork, but in some databases, they are identified as belonging to Nosso Lugar. It means ‘Our Place.’ It’s commonly identified as simply NL.”

“And what is NL?” Jeff asked.

“It’s one of the major gangs out of SP,” Carl said. “Slicker than most, well established. The chefe is Victor Bandeira. A thug but more enlightened. Big in banking and cybercrime.”

“NL is big locally in banking and a major world operator in Internet gambling,” Oscar said. “It fits what you’ve uncovered in New York to a tee. Apparently Bandeira has branched out.”

“Bandeira, you say?” Frank repeated. “Daryl followed up last night’s text warning with a copy of this address. The e-mail she used to locate it has a Pedro Bandeira listed as president. He seems to be running the operation in New York.”

“A relative,” Carl said. “A key position like that would only be trusted to someone close.”

“What difference does this make?” Jeff asked. “We’ve suspected all along there was a criminal organization behind this.”

“It only makes a difference in that these are very tough people,” Frank said. “If security is increased we’ll have our hands full. Ideally, we need to get in and get out without attracting attention. I’m thinking we go for the computers and skip taking a body.”

“It won’t matter,” Oscar said. “Either way, once we make our move they’ll be after us with a vengeance.” Jeff moved uneasily. Oscar looked at him, the only outsider to their black ops world. “We’ve got this covered, Jeff. Don’t be concerned. We just want Frank here to know what we’re up against.”

“From what you say they’ve made no connection between what happened last night and us. Otherwise, this place would be flooded with security.” Frank stretched. “I’m going on an equipment run for me and Jeff in a few minutes. You two should get some sleep. We’ll bring food in about eight, then do a gear check. Let’s move out at ten thirty, be in place by eleven. Sound right?”

Carl and Oscar nodded. “Sounds good.”

69

From inside his office, Pedro heard the helicopter drawing close, but gave it no thought. Helicopters were common in Rio, though this one was lower than usual. But when the volume increased, he looked out the window, wondering what was going on. Seeing nothing, but with the noise even louder he went through the offices to the downstairs.

The guard from the monitor was standing at French doors watching the back corner of the lot. “What’s going on?” Pedro asked.

“El Chefe is landing,” he said.

Papai? Pedro thought. Now what the hell is he doing here?

The Colibri midrange helicopter was in clear view now. The craft was slowing, the engine noise causing the shades to vibrate, the wind storm created by its rotors kicking up leaves from the grass lawn, the craft lowering itself slowly until at last it settled within the walls, some thirty feet from where Pedro stood.

As the rotors slowed César climbed out of the craft, holding his suit jacket close to his body, looking out of place with his dark sunglasses. Paulinho came out next. He was followed by Victor Bandeira who stepped from the craft clutching a briefcase. He lowered his head and came directly to the door. The guard all but snapped to attention. Seeing his son, Bandeira embraced him with a wide grin. “Caught you by surprise, I can see.” He laughed. “Show me what you are doing.” He stepped off for the stairs leaving Pedro to catch up.

In his office Bandeira took Pedro’s seat. The young man closed the door and sat in front. “What’s going on?” his father asked. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

For other men of Bandeira’s age and in other companies his presence would have been ludicrous, an aging manager pretending he understood the complexity of the sophisticated code Pedro’s team produced. But Bandeira had worked with computers from the start and understood the basics of software, the demands of good code, and the creation of stable architecture. He’d required at least weekly briefings from Pedro during the development of Casas de Férias.

“Abílio stopped automatically forwarding our drops into the trading engines late yesterday. With our increased output, it was the only way to get the job done. Now we’ve been denied direct access.”

“He told me. He said your code wasn’t ready to upload and he needed to clear everything first.”

Pedro wanted to take offense but what his father said was correct. “We’ve been under enormous strain, as I’ve told you. Increasing the take to so much in such a short time period has been more than we could handle with the same safeguards we’ve had. Not to mention the frequent trading engine code updates as the Exchange readies for the IPO.” His father shot him a look but didn’t interrupt. “I’ve got the team reworking code. Then it comes to me for review. When I think it’s ready, I send it along to Abílio. The quality is better, but we’re going too slowly. I’m concerned.”

“What’s the main problem?”

“The IPO module looks good. Even Abílio seems happy with it. Our test runs were largely glitch free, with just a few bugs. He’s working on cleaning those up and plans a final upload later tonight.”

“It’s not already in place?”

“No, we held off as we didn’t want to risk attracting attention in New York. If we’d uploaded earlier, we’d have to have done several updates and with the controversy over the bot their security level is heightened. We also have only so many opportunities to piggyback on the normal software updates. Abílio says there’s a final Exchange IPO software update scheduled at three tomorrow morning. The Exchange, even with its vast resources, has been having many of the same problems we’ve got. We’re riding in on it.”

“Abílio says it will be ready?”

“As ready as we can make it. Our primary problem is in setting up the targets for the Casas de Férias aspect of Carnaval, the account module. Half the money will come from it. We’ve managed to identify a sufficient number of targets, companies and funds we know will take part in the Toptical IPO. Our difficulty has been in writing the configuration for each one and in securing enough routes to get the money out of the United States quickly. I’ve had to make some compromises.”

“What compromises?”

“This past year, as you know, we’ve limited our take to around five percent. In some cases, when the trade was small-time enough that the players didn’t have enough clout to have their complaints acted on, we’ve increased the take significantly. I am using those increased parameters now with essentially the same account module.”

“Good. It’s proven software. This is the final operation. How much is the increase?”

“Depending on the action and our ability to hide within it we are programmed to take as much as half of any trade.”

Bandeira’s eyebrows shot up. “You think we’ve got cover?”

“We think this will be the most confused IPO in history. Abílio says the new IPO code is simply not ready. He expects all kinds of problems including interruptions, signficantly increased latency, and volatile volume as the high-frequency algos kick in. God knows what they’ve got up their sleeves. We think our action, big as it is, will be well concealed. In time, of course, months from now, after the inevitable SEC investigation into the IPO, our take will stand out, but by that time the money will be long gone and the electronic trail erased or so obfuscated, they’ll never be able to follow it to a meaningful end.”

“You’ve done well. You look tired. Well, in a few hours, you can rest.”

“Why are you here, Papai?”

“I told you. This is important. I’ll be here through the IPO. I’ve got an important meeting tonight but will be back later.” He smiled. “We can watch the operation unfold together. This is a great moment for NL and for us.” He rose, came around the desk, and placed his arm across the young man’s shoulders.

“I will enjoy that,” Pedro said, realizing as he did that he really meant it.

70

Richard Iyers grimaced as he sat at his workstation. When he’d met with Campos and assured him that he’d stay on the woman he’d completely forgotten the meeting he had to attend. The new IPO software was scheduled for the daily upload in a few hours, and the presence of all the senior infrastructure specialists was mandatory. There would be a final triage of the outstanding bugs, and there were more than a few. Not that there was anything much they could do at this point. The decision was made, the timing was set. They would have to hope the bugs wouldn’t impact the IPO or surrounding trade activity. The market would open at nine thirty the next morning, as usual — with the Toptical IPO scheduled for ten o’clock.

Iyers checked and saw three sets of code modifications Campos wanted him to review, bundle, and insert with the next Exchange update. Iyers sighed. It would take hours, and he’d probably get more yet. It was going to be a long night.

But his real concern was the woman. He had no idea what she’d been up to all afternoon. In his experience women were no better than average when it came to this kind of work, so he wasn’t unduly concerned. Aiken and Renkin had impressed him with their calm assurance but this hot chick was something else. Such women liked to talk a good game but lacked the intuition that understanding complex code and network systems like the Exchange required. The only disturbing aspect of their conversation was that she knew he’d used a rootkit. He assumed either Aiken or Renkin had found it.

Still, for now, the Rio code would have to wait.

Since returning from lunch, Daryl had continued to analyze the logs with the aim of finding the digital trail to Campos. No employees interrupted her at her appropriated workstation. Alerts from Iyers’s e-mail had distracted her throughout the afternoon, but they were all routine Exchange business. But what she did note was the high number of them between Iyers and Campos.

Daryl paused. Something was nagging at her. Something she knew she’d missed. Then it came to her. She hurriedly pulled out her laptop and quickly went to her notes from the previous day. There it was. The Appreciation Trust accounts with Pacific Eastern Bank had been opened in the name of Dick Iver.

Richard Iyers. This was no coincidence. For a chilling moment she recalled the assault on Jeff. These were desperate men. She needed to stop thinking about this as a purely computer problem.

“Kelly,” Iyers said, “hard at it, I see.”

Daryl glanced up from her screen. Her throat caught for an instant. She switched to another screen. “Hello, Richard. Still here, I see.”

“Busy night. We’ve got the big IPO tomorrow, and there’s a much larger update than usual scheduled at three A.M. Lots to go over. Sorry I haven’t been able to come by sooner to help out. I’ve been in a meeting. What have you been doing?”

“I’ve not accomplished much so far. This is all very sophisticated, much more demanding than the code I usually work with.” She gave him her “I’m only a girl” smile.

“Don’t feel bad about it. We hire the best, and it takes months before anyone can navigate the system with confidence, let alone rework code. Have you tried the logs?” The only real worry Iyers had was if she turned to the logs, found the right ones, and proved good at reading them. He and Campos had discussed them many times over the years because they were the Achilles’ heel of their operation. They’d hidden their trails within the work of others and believed they were covered but if they could create them, someone with enough determination, time, and expertise could trace them back.

“Not really. They’re pretty complicated. I was thinking maybe you could spend some time with them, since you know the system better than I do. It’s hard for me to know what’s legitimate activity.”

“Sure. It’ll have to be tomorrow, though. I’m packed with work before then, probably not surprisingly.”

Daryl looked disappointed. “If you have to. I can’t hang around here much longer though. Someone’s going to ask questions at some point.” She brightened. “What did you think of the rootkit?”

Iyers was startled. He’d not bothered to look at it. After all, he’d planted it and knew it was there. “Really something. I didn’t think it was possible. It’s going to be quite a coup for me when I officially report it.”

“Don’t act too fast,” Daryl cautioned. “Wait until I’m out of here.”

“I will. Don’t worry.” Iyers stared at her a moment. Was it possible he’d overestimated her even with his reservations? Right now, she didn’t sound bright enough to be a threat. “Well, I’ve got to get back. You know where I’ll be.” He stopped, then added, “At some point tonight, we both need to stop. Let me buy you a late dinner or early breakfast, depending, okay?”

“That would be nice,” Daryl said, as no other answer was acceptable.

Once she was satisfied he’d left she returned to the logs.

71

The streets were largely calm as the four men drove to the Grupo Técnico offices in Carl’s Camry. Still, people were out, though not that many and the traffic was light, mostly small commercial trucks.

No one spoke. There was a slight mood of tension in the air but nothing extreme or uncomfortable, much like a college classroom just before the big exam. Carl drove by the stadium, then turned down a narrow residential street two blocks from the office, pulled into an open parking space, then killed the lights and engine.

The men climbed out of the car and shut the doors quietly. In the near distance a dog yapped. Oscar opened the trunk and handed a dark sports bag to Frank. He gave a smaller one to Carl, who swung it from his shoulder while Oscar did the same with a matching one. Then Oscar lifted a small black plastic suitcase from inside the trunk and closed the lid.

The case held heat sensor equipment that had been mysteriously delivered to the hotel. Jeff hadn’t seen the man, if it had been a man, but been shown the suitcase contents. Frank had explained that with this they’d be able to know exactly how many people were within the mansion and their locations.

Frank, Oscar, and Carl took three cell phones from their pockets Frank had acquired earlier. They turned them on, secured them on their belts, put their earpieces in, and clipped mics to their collars. Without a word, they set out toward the office building, Jeff following closely. A few minutes later, Frank stopped in the shadows on the opposite side of the street. Oscar and Carl separated from them and, it seemed to Jeff, vanished.

A small motorcycle buzzed by. Jeff caught a glimpse as it passed. Pizza delivery.

They were still well down the street from the entrance, out of range of the security cameras. Inside his pocket, Jeff grasped the revolver Frank had given him. It felt heavy, and lethal. Several minutes passed. Frank murmured quietly into his mic, then said, “The boys are in place.”

“How are they going to use that equipment with the wall blocking them?”

“They’ve got an elevated location.”

A short time later, Frank mumbled again into the mic. Then he looked to Jeff. “There’s a helicopter in back of the main building.”

“Reinforcements?”

“We’re getting the count now.”

After ten minutes, he spoke. “There are five guards, four inside the building. We make three on the second floor. One on the ground floor, seated at a table or desk. The fifth is on foot, staying generally near the guard post at the gate.”

“What do you think?”

“Let’s move. It’s as thinly manned as we can hope.”

There were more lights here than along some streets Jeff had seen but it was still very dimly lit. It was a narrow street and traffic was sparse. Frank and Jeff went closer to the entrance.

“What now?” Jeff asked quietly.

“Just watch,” Frank whispered.

Oscar approached the front entrance by himself. With his slight build, glasses, and accountant demeanor he looked utterly innocent and a bit confused. He said something through the metal gate. A stout man in a tan uniform and peaked cap stepped toward him. He was wearing a thick black bulletproof vest, had an automatic pistol on his hip, and carried a military-style rifle across his chest, a common look for Brazilian security guards from what Jeff had seen. He moved closer to the entrance, stopping a few feet back. He said something in Portuguese.

“Oscar’s asking directions,” Frank whispered. “When you follow me in, close the gate behind you.”

There was an exchange of words; then the guard noticeably relaxed, came right up to the gate, and gestured down the street as if giving instructions. Oscar shot a hand through the gate and almost instantaneously the guard crumbled.

“Now!” Frank said as he ran to the entrance, Carl sprinting to meet them from the other direction. By the time they arrived Oscar had the gate slid open. The three men squeezed through and shot across the driveway toward the front door to the mansion. Jeff hesitated over the fallen guard but saw no blood. By the time he entered the building the single guard there had his hands in the air. He’d been seated at a desk in front of a computer monitor.

“Upstairs,” Frank ordered. Oscar joined them and the three went up leaving the guard with Carl.

Pedro was scowling at the screen. Everyone was so exhausted no one was functioning efficiently, even him. Well, it wouldn’t be much longer. Abílio would need the final Carnaval code in the next three hours so that he could plant it with the Exchange update. Abílio said it was a big one as there were still changes being made to the new IPO software. After that, Pedro planned to sleep a bit to be ready for when the Toptical IPO started seven hours later. He’d be watching that with his father.

He heard loud steps pounding on the stairs and wondered what that was about. Had his father come back? Then he heard orders barked in the outer office and felt a chill. Before he could react, a strange man entered his office, holding a gun in his hand.

“Push away from the computer,” Frank ordered in English, sure the boss would speak it.

“American? What are you doing here?” Pedro said. “Get out!”

“Move from the computer,” Frank repeated.

Pedro looked into his eyes, then at the weapon, then stood and backed up, pushing his chair from the desk. Frank came around, turned him to face the wall, then secured his wrists with the type of plastic strip that served police as temporary handcuffs. “Sit,” he ordered, directing Pedro back into the chair.

Jeff, still near the door to Pedro’s office, looked into the outer office and saw the three coworkers uncomfortably seated on the coach, their hands behind their backs. Renata’s eyes were wide with terror. Oscar was hovering over them, looking ominous.

Frank shut the door and turned to Pedro. The color had drained from the young man’s face. His eyes bulged and he blinked spasmodically. Still, he managed to speak. “Who are you?

“Who we are isn’t important.”

“What have you done with Gustafo and Luís?”

“They’re fine, for now.”

If Jeff hadn’t known how much of this was a bluff, he’d have bought Frank’s threatening manner.

Pedro stared at the two gringos. They were grim-faced, serious men. He gathered his courage. “What do you want?” he said.

“Let me tell you what we know already so we can save a bit of time here. You and the others outside have written malware and infiltrated the New York Stock Exchange with it. You’ve been stealing money for about a year now. How am I doing?”

Pedro’s wide eyes grew wider. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If you expect to get out of this, you’re going to have to get a lot smarter than you’re acting right now.” Frank crossed his arms. “Put your thinking cap on. Just who do you think we are?”

That, Pedro thought, was an excellent question. Possibilities came to him in a wave. “I don’t know.”

“Let me give you a hint. The Exchange hired someone to run a test of their trading platform. The people doing that encountered your malware, crudely hidden I might add in a rather quaint rootkit. Any ideas forming about who we are?”

Pedro looked at Frank with fresh interest, then at the tall man standing to his side and slightly behind him. “No.”

“This is where it gets interesting.” Frank squatted down. “One of the two guys doing the penetration test went for a run in Central Park. He was attacked and nearly killed. Now he’s really pissed off, so is his friend. How are the brain cells working now?”

“Attacked?” Could it be? He stared at the men, at one, then the other, back and forth, as if he could decipher their thoughts.

“Whoever did it didn’t care if he lived or died. At the same time one of your helpers in New York planted code making it look as if they were stealing the money, instead of you.”

My God! Pedro thought. This can’t be! “You?”

“Yes,” Jeff said. “Us. We’re the men you framed and tried to murder.”

“No, no, not me, I…” Pedro stopped.

“Now, listen, we have a deal for you. It’s important. If it works out, you get to live.” Frank waited for that to sink in.

Pedro licked his lips. “What deal?”

“You stop what you’re doing. Turn it off, take it down, whatever you have to do, but you stop it. Then you tell us all about your operation, most importantly, the name of your helper in New York.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Too late, Pedro. We know you do.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Now, listen, kid,” said Frank. “We can have a talk like adults, you can get back on your computer and stop this operation, or I can hurt you, hurt you in ways you’ve never considered, and when I’ve finished, we’ll still have that talk and you’ll still bring this operation to an end. The only difference is how much and for how long you suffer, and how hard you make me work because when this is over, I have to decide if it’s worth letting you live.”

It was a bluff, Jeff knew. The objective was to make the young man believe it. Then he wondered. Frank might very well be serious. Not for the first time, Jeff considered just how far things had gone.

Frank let the threat linger in the silence. Pedro looked at him, then to Jeff, then back again. He licked his dry lips, suddenly thirsty. “I can’t stop it,” he said finally. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I can’t.”

“It’s the only way you’re getting out of this in one piece,” Frank said.

“You don’t understand. I’m blocked out. If I tried to shut the operation down, the man in New York would see it, even if I found a way to do it. He’d just report the effort, and undo what I did.”

“Who would stop you from shutting down this operation?” Jeff asked.

“I … I can’t say.”

Frank reached down and gently touched Pedro’s knee. The young man recoiled as if he’d received an electric shock.

“Abílio. His name is Abílio Ramos,” he said, forgetting in his fear Abílio’s assumed name.

“Where does he work?” Frank asked.

“At the Exchange. I told you.” Pedro was sweating. The acrid smell coming from him was pungent.

“Where? It’s a big operation.”

“I don’t know. I never asked. I wasn’t supposed to ask. Please.”

Frank lifted his hand.

“Who would he report the effort to?” Jeff asked.

Pedro’s tongue darted across his lips. He said nothing.

“You’re going to tell us, Pedro. Trust me in this,” Frank said.

“My … my father.”

“And who is your father?” Frank asked.

“Victorio Bandeira.” Pedro hesitated, then with a rush of pride said, “He is chefe of the Nosso Lugar!”

72

Victor Bandeira looked at Carlos Almeida and made sure to disguise his disgust. The banker sweated profusely, had even used his dinner napkin to wipe the gleam from his bald pate. The third man at their table was Ernesto Dayan, president of the Banco Central do Brasil. Dinner was over, and they were smoking Cubanos and drinking brandy.

Dayan was one of the new breed of technocrats who dominated Brazil’s economic policy. New to the job, he came from a long line of bankers. Bandeira understood there was a family connection with the Almeidas. Dayan’s hairline was in significant retreat, and he compensated with a trimmed beard. He wore rimless glasses on his bland, pasty face and was not amused by the evening. They’d dined well on the finest North Italian cuisine, a hotel specialty, and Bandeira had ordered only the most expensive wines, but he was certain he’d made no dent in the man’s concerns.

The entire purpose of this meeting had been to reassure Dayan. To that end, Almeida had been his backup, and he’d played his part badly. If anything, his nervousness had only disturbed Dayan even more. But the harm was done, business was finished. When Bandeira had assured him that the operation was on track, Dayan had only looked at him with dead eyes. He’d then dismissed Bandeira’s mention of a woman with a noticeable curl of his upper lip, as if he’d just been insulted.

Other meetings had not gone smoothly, either. In the end, it came down to the money. When Dayan’s Swiss account bulged with the Carnaval take, all his concerns would be set aside. It was always that way.

They made their goodbyes, and after Dayan was gone, Almeida remained. “I think it went well.”

“Yes,” Bandeira said, “quite well. Give my regards to your lovely wife and daughter.”

“Perhaps … perhaps you’d care for another drink at the bar?”

“I wish I could, but I have yet another business meeting,” Bandeira said.

“So late?”

“With my son. Tomorrow is a big day for us, Carlos. Remember?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

They parted in the lobby. César had already summoned the car. Sergio, who’d also flown the helicopter, was driving. Paulinho, one of Bandeira’s oldest and most trusted men, sat beside him. The four drove through the streets back to Grupo Técnico.

73

Richard Iyers finished editing a portion of the Carnaval code Campos had sent earlier and moved it into the deployment for later. There was still more to come. He glanced at his watch. Three hours.

He went to the break room and poured a cup of black coffee. Standing at the sink drinking it, he noticed that his hand trembled slightly. Back at his computer he opened the logs for the jump and deployment servers and for those of his own system. Once or twice he’d seen something that caught his attention in his earlier scans, but nothing that in the long run proved a worry. Tonight, though, he saw that the deployment server was being accessed by another infrastructure specialist who he know for a fact had left work earlier that night for a break, planning to return after midnight. This was one of the systems he and Campos used to access the server, which meant someone out there was being clever.

Someone, like a gorgeous blonde who wasn’t nearly as dumb as she acted. Iyers had hoped to enjoy his time with the woman but there was too much at stake for such an indulgence. And events were moving quickly. He had the green light from Campos and strong evidence she was too close. The only danger was in waiting.

With a growing sense of anticipation Iyers made his way to Daryl’s workstation. Though it was positioned to be largely hidden, he knew this floor intimately. He positioned himself so he could watch her unobserved while he thought about how to do this. He eyed the back of her head and admired her blond hair. There was no doubt it was real. If he ever learned her real name, he was certain he’d discover she was of Scandinavian origin, perhaps German. She moved once to the side and he caught sight of a breast. He felt a stir. He stepped toward her.

Daryl was making progress. As the number of staff diminished, she’d been able to work with greater concentration. Just then, she sensed someone behind her. She closed the log analysis, which snapped up another window with irrelevant logs, then turned.

“Hello, Richard,” she said. “You still here?”

“No rest for the wicked.” He lowered his voice. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” She waited.

“Not here. Somewhere private.” When he saw her hesitate, he added, “I’ve found something you need to know about. There’s an all-night coffee shop right next door. We won’t be gone twenty minutes. Trust me. It’s worth your while.”

“If it’s that important, let’s go.” Daryl stood, slipping her purse strap onto her shoulder.

74

On the ground floor, Carl had tied up and gagged both guards. He’d next gone outside to the gates and confirmed they were in their usual closed position. Oscar had taken the three staffers downstairs, binding their wrists and seating them on a couch, while Frank moved Pedro into the outer office to give Jeff free rein at the computer.

For several minutes, the pair questioned the trio with no luck. It was obvious they were far too frightened of something worse than them to talk. Renata simply lowered her head, shut her eyes, and gently moved her head back and forth. The other two repeatedly exchanged looks at each other but neither spoke a word.

“What do we do with them?” Oscar finally asked. “We haven’t got all night.”

Carl considered their next move. “We can come back to them if necessary. Let’s move them outside for now. There’s a storage building of some kind. Looks like it might have been a horse stable back in the day.”

The men took the five prisoners outside, across the darkened yard to the structure. The door was unlocked. They moved everyone inside and ordered them to sit against the wall. They bound their ankles with plastic straps.

Back in the office building Oscar checked the security system and found it deficient. There were too many blind spots. He went to Carl and took him aside. “I’m setting up visual security. We should assume we don’t have much time.”

Upstairs, Frank told Jeff, “Don’t forget to collect paper and find something to stash it in. Assuming it’s in Portuguese, I should be able to read it with a little help from a translator.” He eyed Pedro who was pretending not to listen.

“Right,” Jeff said. “We’ll also take hard drives. No reason to hang around here longer than we need to.” He went to the office, located a trash basket, emptied it, and then started examining the papers he found neatly piled on the credenza. After a minute spent examining them, he just piled everything into the basket. Then he went on his knees and began unscrewing the hard disks of Pedro’s system. He’d have them out in two minutes; then he’d take the disks from the three computers he’d seen outside.

In the outer office Frank called to Oscar below. “Any luck with the geeks?”

“None. They won’t talk. They’re much too scared of what will happen to them. We put them outside with the guards. Given a bit of time they could be persuaded but we’ve got the big guy’s son, right? Let’s take him. It’s simpler and he’s running the show. Why waste time on the little guys?”

“My thought exactly.” Frank looked to Pedro and grinned.

On the street outside, Sergio slowed before the gates and waited. After a moment, Paulinho said, “Where’s Luís?”

“What’s that?” Bandeira asked, looking up from his iPhone.

“Luís, Chefe,” César said. “He’s supposed to be at the gates or very nearby at night. Should I honk?”

Bandeira looked toward the mansion. Nothing seemed out of place but … “What do you think, Jorge?”

Jorge’s keen eye swept the yard and building. He’d seen it many times at this time of night, and it didn’t look the same. “Maybe last night wasn’t what we thought. We should be cautious.”

“Yes, I agree,” Bandeira said. “Pull up here on the street. We’ll go in on foot.”

Once they’d parked, the men exited the vehicle, closing the doors quietly. “The trunk,” Bandeira said. Sergio opened it and removed two IMBEL MD97s, Bandeira taking one, Paulinho the other. The others pulled heavy automatic pistols from their waists as they all went through the pedestrian doorway, then made their way silently across the driveway toward the mansion entrance.