Cafe Underground Presents
PHACKER
Book 3 -- Chapter 8
The Detective Andi Wicksham Series, by RL Bell
Copyright © 1997 RL BELL
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....author RL Bell
Andi Wicksham's INVESTIGATORY SERVICES
Chapter 8
First thing Wednesday morning, safely before office hours, Andi called Trafino's office and left a message that the briefcase was safe and that she’d deliver it later. She'd go out to breakfast--the last thing she wanted was to be somewhere Trafino could reach her.
It was one of those incredibly beautiful summer mornings with birds singing everywhere and the verdant world putting out lavender and honey smells, with the air was so thick it swaddled, but not muggy enough to suffocate or hot and dry as a skillet. She pulled on comfortable slacks and a cotton blouse, draped a sweatshirt over her shoulders and drove to the Cafe Underground for breakfast.
The special was Marionberry waffles and a bowl of fruit. She chose a window table, ignored the menu and went with the special, reminiscing. It was here, at this very table she'd decided to go legit, get her office, business cards and license from the Board of Investigation.
She gazed out at the traffic, the sun bounced off the sidewalk and bathed the window with light. For a couple of years she'd been overwhelmed; phone and heat and stationary--the computer and printer and fax, then the copier--plus incidentals like notebooks, cases of paper and pencils and gas for her car. She'd almost swamped that first year, it was year and a half before the first real file cabinet and she retired her cardboard boxes.
One attorney started using her, then another, then an insurance company. Bills started being paid regularly enough to cavalierly ignore bookkeeping. The rent slid in on time; though she kept her old car, she ate well despite lean months and slow payments. Last winter Lena took on office and books and billing tripled. Lena’d become indispensable when Andi'd intended it to be temporary--actually she hadn't intended it at all.
Andi glanced down at the table, somehow a coffee had been slipped before her. Andi blinked and looked up to find waitress already returning with her waffle.
Back at the office she’d call Trafino. A squirrel brave the sidewalk to investigate something in the gutter, then scampered up the telephone pole. She lingered over a third cup of coffee--she phone Trafino first thing at the office. Who cared if it was quarter after nine?
Andi threw Lena an apologetic "good morning," glanced unhappily at her pending box and set the briefcase by her chair. Lena swung around and smiled.
"I got Trafino's briefcase." She gave the case a little kick.
"That would explain her fourteen messages and four calls since twenty to nine. Anything in it?"
"Nothing worth the trouble she's gone through..." Andi mumbled grouchily as she looked up Trafino's number. "...a couple of commercials that looked like a straightforward advertising. Breakfast cereal and action figure fusion...sugar balls doing karate kicks." Lena swung back to her computer. Andi gazed out the window.
"Berg and Trafino." greeted Eileen.
"Eileen, it's Andi Wicksham, before you switch me to Mrs. Trafino, I was wondering if I could ask you..."
"Not here and now, dear."
"Do you know of a friend of Eugene's named Ramsey Karenia?"
"Old hacker friend, busted Eugene, friends from high school, I think."
And curbed her natural response. "Know anything about him? Address, phone?"
"No." Eileen flipped through a file. "Not a thing."
"Do you know what he does for a living or anything?"
"He and Gene talked computers. That’s all I know."
"Thanks...put me through to Mrs. T?" The phone clicked.
Trafino gushed. "You’re delivering our lost and found?"
Andi looked down to the case. "Sure, but I was hoping you could tell me a bit about what this is all about."
Trafino didn't answer immediately--four bars of three beat passed. "Shall we say a half hour?"
Andi kicked the case again. "Fine." she answered evenly.
The case had been carefully reassembled, Paco re-affixed the arms and glued back the lining, the pins slipped in and caps tacked with a dab of glue. Nancy Drew would have approved.
She carried the briefcase in to Trafino's office with mixed emotions. Trafino stood impatiently before the elevator, putting out her hand for the briefcase, before the doors had fully opened.
Eileen's desk was conspicuously empty. Trafino waved Andi to a chair and closed the door with an audible click. "Thank you for your assistance." Trafino muttered as she settled into her chair. Andi felt a little disappointed. She wondered if Trafino had the combination or would have to pry those expensive latches with a screwdriver. "How much money did it cost?" she asked bluntly.
Trafino blushed and conceded a brief smile. "A lot more than it's probably worth. But once I'd begun, it seemed silly not to continue."
"Was its' disappearance related to Eugene's?"
The smile dropped from Trafino's face. "Not directly." she answered curtly. "Probably not, anyway."
"What's the connection?" Andi pushed.
"Some of the players may be connected. I didn’t know it at the time." She pursed her lips as if regretting the cryptic admission.
"But you're not going to tell me who they are?"
"That would be foolish of me, wouldn't it be?" Trafino looked out her window, letting time tick away, then back, her face blank. "It's been two weeks since he disappeared. No ransom notes, no letters. I'd like you to continue, but frankly, I'm losing hope."
Andi's hands curled involuntarily into fists. "I'm sure you know best." She rose to her feet, sure that the irony in her voice was obvious. “About the briefcase...when will you contact it’s seller?" She hoped the question sounded innocent.
"Within moments of opening it." Trafino replied with a smile. "Business is business."
"I understand." replied Andi, with a smile. "I'll leave you to your work." She nodded again and slipped out the door with a glance at her watch. Twenty-one after nine.
She drove a fast as she reasonably could back to their office.
Sonny had arrived. She waved an airy hello and chirped "buenos dias, amiga."
Andi gave a distracted nod and turned to Lena. "Get Francois. Now...I need him."
"I'll leave a message." Lena replied, reaching for the receiver. Andi puttered nervously, approving files and glancing at her watch every minute or two through the next twenty minutes.
The phone rang. Andi snatched it before Lena could get close. Janice Thompson thanked her for hunting down the witness. "Sure, it's what we're here for." Andi jerked hard on the reins of her impatience.
"I figured we should open one of your open accounts." Thompson added hopefully.
"Of course," answered Andi smoothly. "Let me give you to Lena." Janice Thompson she mouthed silently. Open account.
Lena nodded and picked up her phone. "Janice...of course." She turned back to her table, the phone glued to her ear. Andi glanced out the window. A bevy of nuns strolled on the far side of the street, surrounded by the usual colorful, pierced and tattooed of the neighborhood. Both took the other in stride. Francois called ten minutes later. "What's up?" he chirped.
"You said phone numbers are recorded somewhere?" Andi asked excitedly.
"Do you really want to discuss this on the phone?" replied Francois icily.
Andi caught herself. "Maybe not, can we meet?"
"Usual corner, ten minutes?"
"Fine." Andi set the phone to her desk as she stood up. "I'll be back." she called out as she headed for the door. Lena waved a hand, phone between ear and shoulder, the other hand scribbling notes.
Six minutes later Francois pulled up to their usual corner.
"You said something about phone numbers." Andi started.
"Who and when." He turned a few corners, accelerated down six blocks and pulled before a building just off Division.
Andi looked up in surprise. "This is where you live?" she asked in surprise.
"Actually this is where I work. I suppose it's the same lately, but I try to make a distinction." He led up a staircase to a small furnished apartment with neat, but faded upholstery, standard cheap water glasses beside the kitchen sink and an avocado plant sprouting in a jar by the window.
Francois continued into the bedroom. Andi followed. The bedroom held a neatly made bed and chest of drawers with a pair of socks casually lying on top. There wasn't a single piece of electronic equipment in sight, not a computer or TV or radio, nothing of a style that reflected him.
He dove into the closet, pulling aside clothes. Andi watched as he slid a hidden latch and pushed a large wall hung shoe rack. The entire section swung inward and Francois ducked through the shadowed opening.
"Francois." Andi stuttered.
"Come on." He urged. Andi stooped through, he pulled the clothes back and pushed the door shut. "This way." he said with a smile. They were in a narrow corridor, a little more than a foot wide, dimly lit with low-watt bulbs. He scrambled up a ladder, Andi following cautiously behind. Warm and dusty, the attic space was wide and tall; rough-sawn rafters above and wide planks laid diagonally for the floor.
His grin gleamed faintly as he led her across the cluttered, but apparently long-forgotten storage area. Behind a pile of cardboard boxes, he lifted a small panel and disappeared downwards. Beyond the ladder, a light went on, revealing the room below.
"I’m coming." grumbled Andi as she descended.
They'd slipped into a small room crowded with wires, computers and equipment. It’s one small window was propped open, apparently onto a light well. A narrow bed was made up neatly and a sink and small refrigerator filled a corner. The other end of the room were crowded with racks and tables filled with gear--two comfortable-looking swivel chairs sat in the middle, Francois sitting smugly in one.
Andi turned slowing around on her heel. "What was that we came through?" Andi waved vaguely up and back the way they'd come.
"Stories are it was a brothel through the first half of the century and they tracked action or set up blackmail from the hall. There are old, plastered-up peep-holes."
"How'd you get the chairs and refrigerator in?" she asked, looking around. "There's no doors."
Francois chuckled. "Through the floor when the place downstairs was remodeled. I took the opportunity to improve my situation."
"Far out." Andi picked at the clutter on the table.
"Your 50th street hackers’ friends have changed their phone numbers." Francois observed casually.
"Who?”
“Seem like business partners. We get copies of e-mail. They're still in business but change access lines every day or so."
"Oh." replied Andi distractedly. "How'd you ever pick this place?"
He smirked. "Location, location and a longtime relationship with the owner. There are nineteen apartments and twelve businesses; one an answering service, another, telephone soliciting so there's a trunk line on the pole just outside pulling a three to one ratio. There are zillions of lines to tap onto and I’ve the run of the place to string wires."
"Lena was sure your bust was a set up--that because you work here?"
Francois made a face. "I never kept anything at home. Here, I can hang out in a handful of different cubbyholes and exit onto any of four streets. There are almost a block of storefronts and apartments all interconnected, remodeled and sub-divided. I'll give you a tour sometime. What do you want?"
"Trafino made a telephone call about nine thirty--I want to know who to."
"I thought you had reservations about this stuff." he remark casually. His hands were already on his keyboard.
"Call it pragmatic ethics. There's a something going on with who she's calling. I want to know who that is." She fumbled through her notebook for the number.
Francois switched on a couple of monitors. "A business like them might have ten or twenty lines, though only the receptionist’s is listed. When a call comes in or out, her PBX probably picks a free line at random. It could be any of them, so we’ll have to check them all."
"Sorry." mumbled Andi.
"Not a problem. It's what makes businesses so cool...bop in one line, change to another."
"Berg & Trafino, NW Everett?" he looked over for confirmation.
"Yeah." Andi watched from her chair.
Francois blocked a series of numbers and transferred them to a second screen, then typed a long string of symbols and looked intently at his work. "I'm setting up a little program to search and list." He murmured distractedly.
Andi tried to make sense of the jumble of gear, but gave up. Most looked salvaged. Francois, with his elegant coffee-au lait complexion, golden shirt, brocade vest and exquisitely tailored, pin-striped trousers seemed out of place in the cluttered room. He must have read her expression, "You can take a geek out of clutter, but not the clutter out of a geek." He examined his manicured nails.
Andi offered an obligatory smile. Francois tapped the return key and a string of figures scrolled. He pasted B&T's numbers into his code, "What time did you say?"
"Nine-twenty to ten. I left her office at nine-twenty one. It was probably soon after."
"I'll go from quarter after to ten unless your watch is off." Francois tapped more symbols on his keyboard--scrolled his screen rapidly.
Andi sat back, gangs of wires had been gathered and harnessed into loose hawsers, but strands leaked like the uncontrolled edge of the jungle--creeping tendrils like an electronic Heart of Darkness. Dozens, maybe hundreds of lines trailed up the walls to disappear into the attic. "OK. They had twenty-three calls going out in that forty-five minute window."
"Twenty three?"
"Chill out, we're on track." Francois admonished. "We’ll match to reverse directories.” He worked in silence. Andi grew impatient. What if Trafino put the call off? She might not have even made it.
Francois glanced at Andi and grinned nervously. "I should have thought of it earlier." Then he sunk back into his cyber world. He came up for air a moment later. "I cross-checked the hacker's and the Trucking firm's phone records with B&T’s."
"What?" asked Andi, impatiently.
"It's not a for sure thing, but at least it's a neat coincidence."
"What?" repeated Andi. "So, who is it?"
"Well, there were two calls to numbers in both the hacker's and the trucking firm's files...six minutes-thirty seconds apart." Their eyes met. "give me a moment." He turned back to his computer.
Francois tapped his keyboard, scowled and tapped again, the second monitor sprang to life and bounced quickly through a series of screens.
"OK, Grassroots Family Values, out of Springfield. Local, more or less and Avedic-Frank, Inc. in Seattle. I'll print out the lot." his fingers flew a moment more and the printer in the corner chirped to life. "You want more than name, address and number?"
"What more you got..?" queried Andi cautiously.
"I can get, billing names, credit reports, phone records, suppliers, clients, payment records, manager's names, corporate board members...depends on how deep their cover is. Once we get names of individuals we can get library books, mortgage loans, movies they rent, employment history, driving record, school transcripts...if they use plastic we can get itemized receipts with shoe size, favorite restaurants, damn near anything. All I have to do is make their computer think I’m supposed to be in the system looking things up."
"How long for a simple look?" she asked nervously--the enclosed room made her anxious and impatient. She snuck a peek at her watch. Eleven thirty.
"A simple look? I'll get to it this afternoon." He retrieved the print-out and handed it to Andi, then turned off his computers. He gestured toward the ladder.
"We're done?"
Francois nodded. "Unless there's more evil stuff you want to know." His eyes gleamed. "I can get more information than you could read in a dozen lifetimes."
Andi looked over her shoulder. "A quick look will be fine." She was tickled with some sense of prudery, as if it took advantage or made her a peeping Tom, but as she climbed the ladder in half-darkness the memory of Gina and that body in the apartment rose like groundwater in the winter. Wouldn’t it be ethical not to use every tool around? She'd have to think it over.
Francois drove her back and let her out at the corner. Andi strode through the office door and asked, "Grassroots Family Values? Mean anything to you?"
Lena looked up to the ceiling. "Uh, concepts or organization?"
"You know the organization?"
"It's an OCA or Militia type of thing...working class frustrations exploited by self-righteous Nazis." Lena shrugged.
"It's good to see that personal feelings don't get in the way of your judgment." quipped Andi sarcastically.
"Me and Solomon.”
"Avedic-Frank, Inc.?"
"Never heard of them." Lena turned back to her table.
Andi deliberated a minute, then dialed Grassroots Family Values. A single call shouldn't raise any suspicions.
"Family Values." a cheerful voice answered.
"Hello, I just heard of your organization and was wondering if you could send me information?"
"What sort of information do you want?" the receptionist asked.
"Oh." Andi cast her eyes around for inspiration. "Brochures, mission statement." her gaze reached Lena's ledgers. "Projects that might need support."
"Yes ma'am. I can do that."
Andi gave her their post office box and thanked her for her help.
"Is there anything else?"
"Do you use computers very much?" Andi asked--it seemed like a long shot. She could almost feel the woman smile.
"Oh, you have heard about us. We do extensive fund raising and perform surveys for a broad array of good causes. Have you been to our web site?" She was a booster; positive and cheerful.
"No. Are you a large organization?"
"Oh no, but we're growing. It's only three organizers and me minding the phone, but we are doing the Lord's work, so it's inevitable we’ll grow." Her voice testified to faith they'd be a congregation of thousands. "God bless you for your interest."
"Well, God bless you too." Andi murmured before she hung up. Nice, friendly woman, believing in what she did. The real question was why somebody at Berg & Trafino would have called them. She entered the call in her notebook and dialed Avedic-Frank.
"Avedic-Frank, Incorporated." answered an electronic voice. "Please enter the extension you wish or press zero for assistance."
Andi was tempted to try a random three digits and paused with her fingers over the buttons, but opted for the safe route by pressing zero. The phone rang again--on the second ring it was answered.
"Avedic-Frank, may I help you?"
"Yes, what sort of business are you?" Andi tried to put a touch of laughter in her voice to turn aside the impression of prying.
"We're an advertising agency." the voice replied haughtily. "How may I help you?"
"Thank you very much." answered Andi, a bit flustered. "You already have." Advertising agency. Trafino had said competitors rarely had contact. But it didn't tell which place Trafino called about the briefcase--she could have phoned both, or any other of the first twenty-three calls. It could have been any of them. She ruffled her hair and pressed her palms against her temples. "Let's do lunch. I'm crisp."
Lena smiled and moved toward the door.
Go on to Chapter 9
Go on to Chapter 7
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Copyright © 1997 RL BELL.
Last Updated 6/10/97
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