Stratagems Page 5

  She was exhausted, unable to move, the heat from their house now turning the neighborhood into a sauna. She rolled on her back once more and looked up to the sky. It was not as bright as before, but continued to glow. She craned her neck toward their home, which was now a bonfire, the sound of burning wood filling the evening air, blended with sirens and faint cries. She realized, perhaps for the first time, that Charlie was dead. Daddy was gone, and thoughts of Johnny and Suzie seized her.

  She started to rise again when a shape appeared directly overhead. It was Mr. Penderton, holding a large quilt. He leaned down and gently covered Beth. She felt the cool water-soaked fabric against her skin, molding to her clothes and body. The heat was now blocked and it felt wonderful.

  She was aware of Mr. Penderton placing his hands under her arms and lifting her. It struck her funny that the old man, scarcely able to move around on his own, had the strength to lift anything, much less her. But he did. They slowly walked back toward the sunroom. Beth looked up to her children on the other side, Johnny with his thumb still lodged in his mouth and Suzie holding Sneakers securely in her arms, tears pouring from their eyes and though the noise of sirens, screams and crackling wood filled her ears, she heard the cries of her own babies.

  Their Daddy was gone.

  Their home was gone.

  Their innocence was gone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kyle Randall woke early, gazed up at the ceiling and wondered what kind of day it was going to be. Beth and the kids had gone to her parent’s house. He had been on the phone with her for half the night, still unable to accept his best friend was gone. It seemed unimaginable. It brought back a flood of memories and emotions as he recalled his own father’s death, back when his name wasn’t Kyle. He had no will to get up, to shower, dry his hair, dress or do any of his normal morning routine. After a few minutes passed, he forced himself to go through the motions, taking twice as long as it would have normally. He knew he had no choice but to go in to work, if for no other reason than to be there for his team, knowing today would be different from any other, knowing his best friend had been murdered only hours before.

  He arrived a few minutes past eight, an hour late, but he didn’t care. He parked in the motorcycle lot, peeled off his helmet and headed for the building, stumbling more than walking. After sliding his badge through the reader and nodding to the guard on duty, he entered another set of double-glass doors that opened to the greeting area where customers caught their first glimpse of Allied Professional Computer Consultants. Of all the rooms and offices in their small two-story building, the front lobby was, by far, the most luxurious.

  He rode the elevator to the second floor, walked down the long-carpeted corridor, passed the administrative offices of human resources and finance, then turned the corner where a valley of cubicles spread out over the largest expanse in the building. His office was at the far end and sported full-height walls, a fringe benefit of those in management.

  There were people about, working quietly as they did every morning, but this morning he noticed a difference. More heads were sprouting up over the cubicle walls, looking in his direction as he walked in silence to his office. He didn’t return any expression, figuring they knew Charlie was gone. It was then he realized he would pass by Charlie’s cube on the way to his own office. Everyone adopted saying cube instead of cubicle because it aptly painted the picture of the workers being boxed into tiny offices. There was a large picture of Beth perched on Charlie’s desk and a color poster he had printed of Suzie and Johnny, taking up half the cubicle wall. Today it would be dark and empty, and would remain that way until he hired a replacement, a chore he wanted to postpone as long as he could.

  Kyle looked up in surprise, stopping suddenly. A long strip of yellow tape blocked the hall: FBI LINE – DO NOT CROSS. It started at the adjacent wall and ran the full length of the aisle immediately to the left, making an abrupt right turn and continuing until it reached the far wall next to Kyle’s office. It encircled Kyle’s entire department, which consisted of him and fifteen others. Fourteen as of last night.

  He stared at it for a moment, wondering if he should cross anyway.

  “Kyle?”

  Kyle turned to face Curtis Hopkins who occupied the first management tier and was his immediate manager. His face was pale and hollow, as if he had already put in a full day. “You need to come with me.”

  Kyle slipped his backpack from his shoulder, dropping it to his side. “What’s going on?”

  Curtis shook his head slowly, as if he had already done it all before. “Just follow me. Please.”

  Kyle stood still for an instant, looking at poor Curtis. He had said ‘please,’ a word Kyle long figured wasn’t part of his vocabulary. He never said ‘please,’ or ‘thank you,’ or even ‘how about lunch.’ Curtis was a by-the-book sort who kept to himself, shared little information with anyone else unless absolutely necessary, and was on a faster career track than Kyle. Today, however, he seemed to actually be earning his money.

  “Where’s my team?” Kyle deliberately dropped in the word ‘team’ knowing it grated on Curtis. Kyle had abandoned the old management style and independently turned his department into a unified team. Decisions were made as a team. When they hired someone, they interviewed as a team. What ticked Curtis off was the fact it had worked, and worked well. And the fact it hadn’t been his own idea.

  Curtis didn’t react, but simply responded as if he were half-asleep. “In a conference room. You can probably guess why, so don’t stand there and make me explain.” There was a pause, then Curtis added, “I’m sorry about Charlie. He was a good man. And I know...” Another pause, and Kyle started to genuinely feel sorry for Curtis. His demeanor was completely out of character, and Kyle could detect the strain. “...I know that he was your friend.”

  Kyle let down his guard, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “Thanks.”

  Curtis turned and started back down the hall, Kyle keeping pace behind him. He made a left at a real hall with real walls, leaving the acres of five-foot cubicles behind. They were headed toward the executive conference room, the largest in the building. When Kyle entered, he saw the bulk of his team sitting around drinking coffee and talking quietly amongst themselves. As he entered behind Curtis, all eyes drifted in his direction.

  Marie Hammond hurried toward Kyle and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tight and letting out a muffled whimper. She was the oldest of the bunch and had become, unofficially, the adopted mother, even to Kyle. She had no aspirations for career advancement, and was actually on her second career after retiring from a nice government job three years earlier.

  Her voice was soft against Kyle’s ear. “I’m sorry, honey. I loved Charlie.”

  She eased away from Kyle, who gave a simple nod and let his eyes drop to the floor for a second. The mood in the room was somber, gazes still trained on him.

  Kyle put his arm around Marie and headed for the large, oak conference table, helping her into a vacant seat and taking one for himself immediately to her left.

  Kyle looked over to Robert Preston, who, next to Charlie, was his most valuable employee. “What’s going on?”

  Robert moved from the end of the table and took a seat across from Kyle, the others looking on from where they were. Some were seated at the table, others milled around the coffeepot in the far corner.

  “FBI’s here. They arrived just after seven, and every one of us was escorted in here. Curtis told us Charlie...” Robert hesitated, the word right in front of him but unable to blurt it out. “...died last night. He didn’t give any details.”

  Everyone was silent as they looked to Kyle for answers. He knew they wanted to know everything, and realized they had a right. He gave a brief rundown of how a person or persons unknown forced their way into Charlie’s house. He basically relayed the story Beth had told him, adding the fact that Beth and the children were now staying with her parents who lived a few miles away.

&nbs
p; Most everyone took it well, having had an hour to dwell on Charlie’s passing. The exception was Rene Ornelas, who cried uncontrollably all the while being comforted by Lawrence Padilla. Of course, Lawrence’s motives were obvious. He had a thing for Rene but it had gone nowhere since he began his quest the year before. Rene was young and beautiful, even if she didn’t dress fashionably and apply makeup like a pro. She was barely 24, divorced at the age of 20 with a five-year-old son whom she adored to no end. That didn’t seem to hinder Lawrence in the least. In the last few months Kyle had started to suspect Lawrence was really in love with her and that it wasn’t just a case of neglected hormones. Kyle preferred they didn’t start something. He had seen it before. Two employees in a department fall passionately in love and months later they’re at each other’s throats, with Kyle typically losing a valuable employee soon after.

  A door opened at the far end of the conference room. Curtis walked through with two suited gentlemen following behind, visitor badges dangling from their collars. The room they had come from was a smaller conference room with no windows, just a speakerphone sitting in the middle of a small table surrounded by six cushioned chairs.

  Curtis looked directly at Kyle. “They need you first.”

  Kyle rose from his chair, all eyes again following his every movement. They, like Kyle, knew what was about to happen. Kyle would enter the room with the FBI agents, suffer a battery of questions, and one by one each team member would follow.

  Kyle stepped into the room he had occupied many times before, the door closing behind him. Two agents stepped beside him, one on his right, the other positioned to his left.

  The taller man extended his right hand. “Jason Slocum, FBI. This is Agent Metzgar.”

  Kyle shook his hand, then Metzgar jutted his out right after, saying, “just call me Don.”

  Jason was tall, fairly young, with blond hair. Don was the elder of the two, a small but noticeable scar on his forehead just above his right eyebrow. If Charlie were still alive, he would refer to Don as distinguished, but it was obvious Jason was the one in charge, regardless of his youth.

  “Have a seat,” Jason said, motioning to an empty seat on his right.

  Kyle moved around and did as he was asked. Both FBI agents opted to stand, and Kyle knew why. It was intimidating. Not to mention irritating as hell. He had an urge to jump to his feet, stand on the chair and glare down at them, but kept his place.

  Jason began the interrogation. “It’s our understanding you already know about Charlie.”

  “Yes.”

  “He was your friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Kyle hesitated, then said, “me too.”

  “How did you learn of his death?”

  “I thought you already knew. His wife called me at my home after it happened.”

  “What’d she say?”

  Kyle let out a sigh. He would have to retell the same story over again. Jason and Don exchanged a few glances, but interrupted little. It took a good five minutes to cover all the details before they moved onto the topic for which they had eagerly been waiting.

  Jason scooted next to Kyle. “I would like to ask specific questions about Charlie and his work here.”

  Kyle remained calm, feeling somewhat at ease with Jason now at eye level. “Sure.”

  “Curtis explained some about this business, but what specifically did Charlie work on?”

  Kyle leaned back. “He was a sub-team leader for the HSI project, in charge of coordinating the source code updates for all our clients. It’s been a task we’ve been working on sometime, and Charlie was a natural.”

  “What kind of clients?”

  “Financial concerns such as savings and loans, banks, insurance companies. Banks, mostly. We write some of the software to handle customer transactions. Some of our programs control security for ATM machines and funds transfers, and a lot of it is batch code which runs at night, manipulation of exchange rates, encrypted currency recognition, that sort of thing.”

  “What banks?”

  Kyle thought for a second. “We have several large clients who control branches all over, both domestic and international, but a lot of our clients are smaller outfits that don’t have enough programmers to do the job. Basically, we help fill the gaps because we have expertise in financial security.”

  Jason’s interest was piqued. At the mention of the larger banks he glanced over at Don who raised his eyebrows in response. “These programs...did Allied write all the original source?”

  “Very little, actually. Mostly it’s making current code secure, or more secure. Word sort of got around how we handled Y2K and the Euro transition back in 2002, then other banks came along and wanted to hire us for the security updates for the new Homeland Security Initiatives which banks have to comply with by next year. Then the Slammer virus hit the Internet back in January of 2003, and our business went up dramatically.”

  “Charlie headed this effort?”

  “A large portion of it, yes.”

  “Did he ever mention any problems?”

  Kyle stared into Jason’s eyes. Even though he had blond hair, his eyes were dark brown and peered through squinted eyelids. “I don’t follow.”

  “Did he ever discuss anything, you know, out of the ordinary?”

  “Out of the ordinary?” Kyle repeated. “No, not really.”

  “Have any customers ever threatened Charlie, as far as you know?”

  “No,” Kyle said, a smirk forming across his lips.

  “Any employees?”

  “No.”

  “How about strange behavior? Deviating from his normal routine?”

  Kyle pondered before answering. “No. He seemed rather tired lately, but so have the rest of us. Deadlines are getting down to the wire. And those deadlines still exist, and having my team stand around in a conference room doesn’t make things easier.”

  Jason stood. “Don’t worry, my questions for them will be short and to the point.”

  Kyle stood as well. “Are we done?”

  “Almost. I have to ask this, and I want you to answer truthfully.”

  “I thought that’s what I’ve been doing.”

  Jason offered a weak smile. “Of course. Has Charlie ever been involved with illegal drugs?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Now you need to be totally truthful, if we are going to get to the bottom of this. Has Charlie ever, in his entire career, dealt with illegal drugs? Selling, trafficking, anything.”

  “Not at all, and why are you asking?”

  Don jumped into the conversation. “Your friend was murdered. Based on your answers, it’s likely not work related. And based on our experience, many murders occur because of some sort of illegal activity. Typically, drugs. Have you noticed Charlie’s spending habits change recently?”

  “No. He spent as little as possible. He was an investor and saved money so he wouldn’t have to program his whole life.”

  Jason took over once again. “Well, then, tell us your theory.”

  Kyle exhaled enough for them to hear, exasperated. “I never claimed to have a theory. I’m starting to believe he had something someone wanted. That also means they knew he had it. There’s only one thing I can’t figure.”

  “And that would be…” Don asked.

  “Why he didn’t tell me.”

  A moment of silence passed, broken by Jason. “I would like you to escort Agent Metzgar to Charlie’s computer, just so he can have a look.”

  Kyle hesitated, not at all enthused with the idea. “Why don’t you let me look through it and let you know if I find anything?”

  Jason moved to the door, gripped the knob and wheeled back toward Kyle. “Agent Metzgar is trained to look for specific details and will do so fairly quick.”

  Kyle stepped closer. “Yeah, but I know Charlie. I’ve been on his system several times. I know how he stores things.”

  Jason paused, seeming to pond
er the suggestion but Kyle knew better. His mind was already set.

  “This is an FBI matter,” Jason said.

  Kyle hadn’t thought of that, now that he mentioned it. “Why is it an FBI matter?”

  Jason showed a glimmer of surprise, albeit brief, then regained his natural, cool composure. “The FBI is chartered with seven broad areas of investigation, and this case has the potential of being linked with two of them.”

  Kyle was now inches away from him. “And those would be?”

  “Organized crime, including drugs, and violent crimes.”

  “I already told you, Charlie wasn't involved in drugs.”

  “If true, then we’ll find evidence of that. Besides, his death was rather violent with a large amount of property damage. It warrants the extra effort.”

  Jason inadvertently reminded Kyle of one other thing – they hadn’t produced a warrant. Yet he let it pass, not sure if the FBI, in fact, needed one. Maybe they were like OSHA, another government agency who possessed carte blanche in their wielding of authority. Besides, security wouldn’t have let them through the door unless it was official and by the book.

  Kyle nodded in defeat and led Don through the conference room and into the outer hall while Jason selected Robert for the next volley of questions. Don kept a few paces behind Kyle at all times, seemingly watching his every move as they walked. Kyle would turn and ask a random question, like ‘where ya from,’ but Don would stare coldly, shrugging it off, his quasi-friendly personality short lived.

  They reached the FBI tapeline, another agent stood guard on the other side. He was fairly young, early to mid-thirties, well-built with toned muscles evident under his shirt. His dark hair was cut short and he sported a Burt Reynolds mustache. Don gave a quick nod and he stepped aside as Don ducked under the tape, Kyle doing likewise. Don took the lead and went directly to Charlie’s cube. It was evident to Kyle they had been there before, so why hadn’t they looked through his computer at that time?