Our Little Secret Ch. 07

Phantoms never linked to each other, and no phantom linked to more than one catnap passenger. This approach required hundreds of phantom profiles, and creating the personal information for each phantom took time.

The more intricate data extraction came from Lucinda Harlow, their contracted information technology forensic investigator. Under Joel's command, Lucinda would bend the law to deposit spyware, called a spybot, on catnap owned computers. Spybots logged everything – every email and message sent and received, every web page visited, every keystroke, every password. And then the spybot transmitted the whole log back to Lucinda, using a tortuous routing to cover her tracks. Spybot also used embedded laptop cameras, when equipped, to take pictures, so the research team had most recent photographs. The quality of personal information increased exponentially once the spybots went live. Knowing every keystroke, Joel's team knew passwords to bank accounts, social media sites, everything. Nothing a catnapper did on a computer was secret so Joel's team. Even older catnappers that did not use Facebook still had computers with Internet connectivity, and it was just a matter of time before Lucinda found a way to drop her spybot on their systems.

She wasn't finished there. Lucinda also installed spybot apps on catnappers' smartphones. She had iPhone, Windows, and Android spybots, which covered nearly every phone on the market. In addition to logging everything the owners did, she also tracked the embedded GPS, and she knew where every catnapper was at all times. She could also eavesdrop on any catnapper phone calls, and even when they were not using the phone, Lucinda could turn on their microphone and use the catnappers' own phones as clandestine bugs.

The explosion of harvested data required more people, and Joel told Sylvie to hire the other three qualified research candidates they interviewed, and start looking for more, but they had to be women, and Joel had to personally indoctrinate them before they were allowed to start working. Sylvie herself was becoming swamped with work, and she needed an assistant. Joel told her to hire a female assistant, again initially commanded by Joel. Even Autumn was running ragged, which didn't bother her, because she was billing for her time. Business was never better. Joel so far had sixteen million dollars, and Autumn was looking for creative, but legal ways to process it through the phantom firm so it all landed in Joel's control.

Lucinda Harlow wasn't an employee. Like Autumn, she worked as an outside consultant, and ran her own practice. When she worked for Joel, she did so under his command.

Lucinda put a different kind of spybot on Brent DiGarnio's personal and work laptops. She called it dopplebot. It did everything a spybot did, but it also let Lucinda take total remote control over the target computer, as if she were sitting right there at the keyboard and mouse herself. The dopplebot froze the physical screen on Brent's laptop, so he wouldn't suspect anything. It also instantly disengaged should a real person start using the computer. Once the dopplebots were in place, Lucinda went to work, always at night while she knew Brent was sleeping.

Lucinda actually used seventeen dopplebot infected computers to connect her PC to Brent's two laptops. Each infected node connected to the next in an international daisy chain network. The nodes spanned the globe, some in countries openly hostile to the USA's requests for law enforcement cooperation. In the unlikely event the dopplebot infection was detected on Brent's computers, it would be impossible to trace the remote control chain back to Lucinda's PC.

While Brent slept, Lucinda worked remotely on his computer from the safety of her own office. Brent's own computer logs, and the internet service provider he used, kept logs of all his activities, and they recorded all Lucinda's activities as if Brent himself was typing at his computer. Remotely through Brent's laptops, Lucinda surfed the Internet pedophile rings, P2P networks, newsgroups, and chat rooms. She didn't try to hide Brent's identity in these online forums, leaving an easy trail for law enforcement to follow.

She loaded illegal pornography of the worst kind on this work laptop in a way that looked like he was trying to hide it in the disk partition she dynamically created. Then she transmitted downloaded porn onward to other users. The logs would leave law enforcement indisputable proof that Brent was not just a consumer – he was trafficking in kiddie porn. Then she transferred identical copies of the porn files to Brent's home PC, so when the police seized his home PC, there would be no doubt the porn files on his office laptop were put there by Brent.

Once the damaging files were in place, Lucinda replaced a low level operating system file with another one of the same name, using a process called a patch. The patched program did exactly the same thing the original file did, except it also disconnected the network after thirty seconds on on-line time.

Patching an operating system file is not an easy process. All operating system files are locked, for good reason. It involves rebooting the computer several times, all at night while Brent slept. But once Lucinda's patched file was in place, no virus scanner could find it, because it looked like the real file in every way. It even had the same checksum. It just had a different code inside.

Then Lucinda moved a special utility to Brent's work laptop and home PC that did three things. First it activated the patched file. Once the patched file was activated, the laptop lost internet connection, and Lucinda was no longer in control of Brent's PCs. Next the special utility removed the dopplebots. Finally, except for the patched file itself, the special utility removed all evidence anything was ever tampered with. The next day, Brent couldn't connect his work laptop to any network, and the following day, Terry Machon of the Mixbury I.T. department triggered a chain of events that would lead to Brent's twenty year incarceration.

Joel couldn't call it true justice, because justice is transparent. For justice to work, people need to know why you go to jail. There needs to be an open trial where the accused is proven guilty in spite of his defense lawyer's best efforts.

In Brent's case, there was no openness. Brent would argue there was no fairness either, but Joel would disagree. Brent had shattered three girls' lives for no reason except for a cheap thrill. Brent's punishment did fit the crime – just not the crime he would eventually be convicted for.

Christina, Kelsey, and Mary knew what justice was served. They knew exactly why Brent was awaiting trial for those surrogate charges. So maybe it was justice after all, but justice of a different kind. Private justice. It wasn't an original concept, but it fit the bill.

Joel's next target was Samuel Hilton. No relation to the hotel chain magnate or self-aggrandizing, clueless socialite. While Jenny was flying around the country attending interviews, Joel connected with Captain Paul Granger in Detroit. Paul shared the passenger list from the flight where flight attendant Mary-Jane Elizabeth Parsons announced she was a bitch and should be fired. Only one person was on both that flight and the catnap flight – Samuel Hilton. He was the one who made Mary-Jane announce she was a bitch.

Joel's researchers developed a detailed profile on Samuel Hilton, who lived in Portland, Oregon. While Joel was with Jen in Mountain View, California, Lucinda Harlow was working her toxic magic, but not on Samuel Hilton's computer. It turns out Lucinda was hired three years earlier to conduct a threat and vulnerability assessment on the State of Oregon's computer systems. Having conducted the threat analysis, she knew where the vulnerabilities lay. Government bureaucracy moves slowly, and Lucinda was banking on those vulnerabilities to still being there. Samuel Hilton was in for a rude shock.

Back in Mountain View, California, Joel received a text from Jen. She was going out for lunch with Don and two other VPs, and she wouldn't be ready for a pick-up before two o'clock. That was excellent news. Corporate vice presidents are very busy people, and they don't gang up in threes to take a prospective employee out for lunch unless they are very serious about hiring her.

Joel had always wanted to visit the Computer History Museum – he had heard great things about it. He arrived just in time for a free guided tour. The tour guide was as interesting as the museum. He was a very spry and lucid eighty-two. He worked once every other week, and Joel was lucky enough to receive his tour. He was one of the designers of the Apollo moon landing guidance computer at Raytheon. He explained the Apollo guidance computer was the size of a golf club bag and weighed seventy pounds. Today's typical smartphone, he offered by comparison, is the size of a deck of cards, weighs half a pound, and is over a million times more powerful than the Apollo guidance computer. Amazingly, the technology principles they developed way back then are still used in fly-by-wire systems today, he explained.

The museum displayed hundreds of old computers, like the Apple 1, the Commodore 64, and many Joel had never heard of. It exhibited the abacus and slide rule. Joel's tour guide explained every engineer used slide rulers during the Apollo program. He asked if anyone knew what a slide ruler was, and only Joel put up his hand. His father had one, and showed him how it worked, but Joel had never used it for school or in a job.

After the tour, Joel sat down in the cafeteria for a light lunch. He received another text message from Jen. Please pick me up at 2 – same place. It was 1:30. He had lots of time. He finished his lunch, and then head back to the Googleplex. He arrived early by five minutes, and waited about ten minutes.

Joel was leaning against his car when he saw Jen approaching, smiling. "How did it go?" Joel asked, expecting her to say very well based on her smile.

Instead of answering his question, Jen kissed him hard, and then whispered into his ear. "Take me back to the hotel and fuck me stupid." Joel had heard that line before, but couldn't place it. He sensed a pattern. She fucked him after the DC conference, and now this. Joel could get used to this.

"Oh my God, Joel!" she cried with wonder as she climbed in to the open convertible while Joel held the door for her. "That is the most amazing place on earth. They are so supportive, so open, and at the same time, so competitive. It boggles the mind."

"And I take it the interview went well," Joel asked as he started the car.

"They're checking my references!" she screamed with delight.

"What is the position?"

"Special assistant to the Vice President," she said. Joel didn't know what that meant. "It's a position they have had for a long time. They want someone who can advise the vice president on all aspects of HR – how morale might be affected by a new initiative, how other companies are doing things that Google should consider. Basically, I will have Don's ear about every policy, every program." She paused. "It's a hybrid position. It is both very senior and not so senior at the same time. I have executive access and reporting, but I don't have senior authority."

Jenny added, "Don said every person who has held the job has moved on to an executive position in Google. That's why they're filling the vacancy now. The last special assistant was just promoted to Director of Regulatory Compliance with a staff and budget."

"Wow!" Joel nodded impressively. Now he understood why other VPs would want to interview her. Her input would affect the entire company. "Have you talked about starting dates?"

"They're thinking right after Labor Day."

"That's in what, two weeks?" Joel asked as he navigated back to the hotel.

"Three and a half," she corrected.

"Can you swing that with your house and everything?" he asked, thinking moving was a tall order.

"They'll put me up in an apartment for the first six months. I mean, Joel, they'll pay for it!" she squirmed with excitement. "They'll pay my moving costs."

"What are the next steps?"

"Don invited us to dinner at his house tonight. He said we'll discuss next steps then," she giggled.

Joel looked at her. "Jenny, he's going to offer you the job."

"I know!" she screamed.

"Wow," Joel admired. "These guys move quickly."

"That's what everyone there says. It's not like Quinton where everything takes three months just to make a decision to make a decision. These guys make decisions quickly, and often. Don says it's like steering a ship. You decide where to go, and then you make many small course corrections along the way. It's not one big shove and then hands off like Quinton."

They talked more about the job opportunity while Joel navigated rather quickly to the hotel. He pulled the BMW roadster into the hotel parking lot, and put up the roof. He locked up once they were out of the car. Jen took his hand, and walked casually to the hotel room. Once they were inside and the door closed, Jen turned into a tiger. She kissed Joel hungrily, and tore at his shirt, pulling two buttons right off. He figured she wanted the same in return, so he grabbed both sides of her shirt between her breasts, and ripped it open hard, spraying all the buttons everywhere. Jen screeched with carnal hunger, and she shoved Joel backward onto the bed, so he fell back sitting on the edge. She pulled his shoes and socks off, and then mouthed the shape of his cock through his dress pants while she shrugged her own shirt off her shoulders.

Joel stood up and retrieved a condom and KY from his suitcase, and Jenny had already jettisoned her bra. She squatted down and unbuckled his belt and pants, and tore them down to his knees, followed by his underpants. She shoved him backwards onto the bed again, and Joel let himself fall into a lying position. She pulled his pants off his legs. "Put that thing on," she ordered as Jen undid her own pants and pushed her dress slacks and panties off her legs one at a time, while Joel rolled the condom over his already rock hard cock.

Naked, Jenny crawled on the bed, beside him, and lay on her back. "Fuck me hard," she begged.

Joel rose to his knees, and took off his open shirt. He settled between her legs, and guided his lance toward her waiting love tunnel, and pressed in gently. She was wet with excitement, and he easily slipped all the way in. Jenny reached around him, and dug her fingernails into his back as he started driving in with purpose.

"Harder" she cried, and Joel now drilled in forcefully. The excitement of her lust filled Joel with desire, and his balls rose to temperature in record time. He fondled her tits roughly while he continued fucking her savagely. Jenny started grunting on every thrust.

The reek of sex filled the room, and Joel rammed harder. Jen felt his excitement rising, and she grunted louder and started raking her fingernails down his back. Joel's balls were swelling to bursting pressure, and he knew it was any moment now.

At last Joel pulled his head back and let out a long growl, and Jen pierced the room with a high pitched squeal as Joel unloaded his first wave harmlessly into his condom. He continued fucking her as wave after wave convulsed out his cock, and Jenny dug her fingernails deep into his back and wrapped her legs around his hips. At last Joel's orgasmic waves settled into satiation, but he stayed inside her while her legs captured him in position.

Jenny eventually relaxed her legs around his hips, and Joel pulled out. He lay beside her, tracing circles around her large nipples. After a few minutes, Joel slipped his hand down, and let his fingers rest between her legs. Joel started erotically massaging her pussy, but she took his hand in hers and stopped him. "I don't feel like it," she said. "I just wanted you to fuck my brains out."

"Glad to be of service," Joel announced with a mock deep voice, and she grinned at the irony of his good fortune. He got up from the bed, went into the bathroom, and flushed his spent condom down the toilet. Joel returned and lay down beside Jenny again. They both rested in silence for several minutes while Joel delicately traced figure eights over Jenny's flat tummy with his index finger.

"Joel?" Jen finally broke the silence with unguarded apprehension. Joel stopped tracing figure eights on her skin at hearing the nervousness in her voice. He looked at her, but Jen was unable to look into his eyes. "Would you think you might be able to maybe consider moving to California with me?" she asked with grave trepidation. Jen looked into her pillow and held her breath.

"Try stopping me," he affirmed resolutely.

Jen barked out a laugh, smiled, and cried all at once. And breathed again. This time Jen looked deeply into his eyes. "I think I love you," she declared.

"I know I love you," he assured her without breaking eye contact, and then they wrapped their arms around each other's naked bodies and held each other tightly for a very long time. They finally pulled apart, and Joel and Jen lay next to each for at least an hour without speaking a single word, occasionally caressing the other's skin, or tenderly kissing each other, or gazing longingly into each other's eyes under the blissful euphoric protection that only ever graces couples in freshly declared love.

They were to arrive at Don McLean's house at six o'clock. It was four by the time they finally got out of bed. Jenny took another shower for the day, this time without getting her hair wet. Joel followed with a waist-down manly cleanup to wash away the scent of their sex.

They had lots of time, so they lazily got dressed while Joel turned on CNN. There was little update on the dinner party all-female homicide suicide story. "Can you believe that?" Jen asked. "She just hauls out a pistol and shoots her hostess in the head? And then blew her own brains out in front of everyone."

"There must have been some dirt on the silverware," Joel smirked.

"Joel!" she rebuked him with an open mouth of disbelief, but then grinned at his insolent humor. Her face turned serious again. "I don't know what to think about these things anymore," Jen grumbled. "I used to just think they were all crazy, or grew up in disadvantaged families, or were bullied into it, or ... I don't know." She paused. "I just don't know."

Joel knew. It was a pure, calculated, cold-blooded multiple homicide; but not in the way Jen and the police misunderstood it. And there was simply no way he could tell her. Or the police. Ever. Joel's only lever was private justice, and he didn't know how to pull this lever.

It could be so easy, of course. Command a woman at random to kill the real perpetrator. But then the woman he commanded would suffer unfair consequences. Or would she? A sinister solution came to mind, and Joel started thinking maybe there was a way. Everything is a matter of perspective, Joel realized. Change the perspective, and suddenly things fell into place. Joel made a mental note to talk to Sylvie. The research team had a new task.

Jen did her last mental checklist before leaving the hotel room. Joel opened the door for her, but she closed it again. She looked into his eyes. "I love you," she said quietly, as if checking earlier wasn't a hallucination.

"I love you too," Joel smiled easily, and they kissed quickly.

Joel and Jen walked to the convertible BMW Z4 in the parking lot. Joel put the top down, and then handed the keys to Jen, and told her to drive. Jenny refused, but Joel insisted. Eventually he said he wasn't going unless she drove. Jen reluctantly sat in the driver's seat while Joel took the passenger seat.