Countermeasure (5 page)

Trevor had never taken the reins of the investigation, mostly due to denial and shock, but also for fear of what he would have found if he had dug in. After the fire of his anger had burned down, Trevor had closed off and locked away his feelings. He had refused to accept that his parents were gone, especially since there were no bodies to bury or mourn. There was no big Irish wake to host. No family or friends to join him in remembering their lives and laughter. No closure.

Still unwilling to accept the reality of their disappearance, once his leave of absence had been up he had left his father’s company in Stephan’s capable hands and returned to the United States. Back at the NSA in his position as team leader, he had trudged on with his usual persistence to complete his responsibilities, numbing himself to it all.

Not once had he disclosed or discussed the details of his parent’s case with George. Not because he didn’t trust George—he knew he could count on him like he would a blooded brother—but he just couldn’t get past the fact that his mother and father were no longer an email or phone call away. So, after Trevor had returned home, he had only shared the official information about them: they had died in a boating accident. The memories were still too raw and talking about it would make it too real to bear.

To add to his anguish, the fact that they couldn’t be declared legally dead divided him. Part of him wanted to move on with his life, even though it would forever be empty without his mother’s humor and his father’s brilliance to push him ahead; the other part, the questioning and rebellious part, couldn’t quite accept the Gárda’s feeble explanations and theories.

Now that he was actively searching for clues, his mind kept running through the possible outcomes of his search—his quest, as he referred to it. His mind also ran through those plausible scenarios and theories listed in the official inquest results.

The first scenario was that they could very well have fallen into the sea—a simple slip on the wet deck in the stormy night, a demise caused by carelessness. But his father, an experienced sailor, had squeezed as much time out of his busy schedule as he could to drag the entire family sailing on the high seas. As a result, his mother had also quickly become an adept sailor in order to keep up with Conor’s thirst for the freedom found at sea.

To think that they had not worn life vests out on the deck amidst a storm was almost like saying a veteran police officer had not worn his bulletproof vest while on patrol late at night in a known dangerous neighborhood. That theory had struck him as impossible from the moment he had heard it.

The second theory sounded even more bizarre to him. He had known his father well. They had been a very close-knit family and, even with Trevor living in the United States, they had maintained contact on a regularly basis via email, video chats, and phone calls. To think that his parents were depressed and had decided to commit suicide, as it had been speculated by authorities, was beyond ridiculous. His father had adored his mother. He would never have willingly harmed her in any way. It was inconceivable to think that Conor Brennan had taken his own life, much less that of his wife, even under duress.

Stephan had been in direct contact with his father up until the day before they had sailed out of Dublin. He had mentioned to Trevor that his father was stressed over a project at work, the reason he’d decided to take a sailing trip to clear his head and relax with Maeve. There was never any indication that Conor had been worried, scared, or suicidal. Stephan had described a cheerful and happy Conor during his last day in the office.

Conor and Stephan had eaten lunch together that day to talk about work and project details that would need to be handled by Stephan while Conor was away. Conor had even winked at him and invited him to a dinner after they returned from their trip; Stephan had mentioned to Trevor that Maeve had been playing matchmaker again: she had invited a recently divorced friend of hers to attend so she and Stephan could meet. That dinner, of course, had never taken place.

Recalling Stephan’s description of that last day brought a smile to his face. Trevor didn’t regret the years working for the NSA that had kept him away from them. His job paved the way to his future. Both Conor and Maeve had taught him to cultivate education and hard work so he could harvest the fruits of his efforts in the future. They had taught him well.

Trevor did regret that he hadn’t introduced George to his parents when he’d had the chance. Due to the strict NSA code they had to abide by, the less people knew about its employees, the better. Trevor’s parents had known of his employment but had neither been aware of what his job encompassed nor who his co-workers were. Only authorized personnel had access to NSA employee job function descriptions and directives. Yet he could imagine how much fun they would have had together.

Returning his attention to his screen, Trevor looked at George sitting at his desk across from his own, and remembered the first few days at the NSA and the quick friendship that had followed. He should have disclosed it all then. The surname, his father’s legacy to him in the shape of a very successful IT enterprise specializing in biometrics software and equipment now being used all over the world in all sorts of applications, and, later, the details about his parents’ supposed death. Sharing all of it with George would possibly have helped relieve his pent-up frustration and uncertainty, but Trevor just couldn’t bring himself to open up to anyone this late in the game. He believed it was too late to do it now and that George would only resent him for hiding that information for so long.
Maybe I am overthinking this. Maybe I should just tell him
. Since the nightmare, these thoughts had been popping into his mind more and more often. Trevor needed an extra set of eyes and ears to help him with his investigation, and there wasn’t anybody he trusted more than George. Still, the hesitations from the past prevailed and he kept his mouth shut.

Later that day, George paused at Trevor’s desk on his way out. “Hey, are you up for a night at the Ram’s Head?”

Trevor looked up from his screen with a smile. “Sure. I should be home shortly after five.”

“Great! So I’ll see you later. I need your input on some stuff I am working on.” George gathered his keys and ID and called out a quick goodbye to the rest of the team before he headed out of the control room. George had become more extroverted since sharing a pad with Trevor, but lately his attention had been focused on work and his caseload, reminding Trevor of the George who had lived in a world of his own back during their MIT days.

Trevor shook his head at George’s eagerness to discuss work. Most people wouldn’t think twice about leaving work behind at the end of the day. But as far as they were concerned, the fact that they could collaborate both in and out of the office was a bonus. It showed their total dedication to the job and to the challenges presented each day.

Putting the sprouting worries about his lack of disclosure to George aside for the time being, Trevor got back to work. As five o’clock rolled around he packed up and headed out. He was looking forward to a night filled with geek talk, good food, and beer.

Ram’s Head was their favorite hangout, with its Angus beef steaks and great beer. At least a couple of nights a week, Trevor and George liked to eat and spend time there, decompressing after a long day at work.

The two single good-looking men always attracted attention at the bar, but they seldom took anything further than the usual flirtation and phone number exchange. It was a way to escape from the uncertainties and the secrets he shouldered. He could just be Trevor Bauer, the carefree computer geek everybody liked. Although the night out would make him forget his problems for a little while, he knew he couldn’t hide from reality forever.

Trevor often wondered if his life would ever feel complete again, if he would ever find someone to help soothe the pain and make things whole. But at that time, his preoccupation with work and his near obsession with his parents’ case were two serious hindrances to any sort of romantic attachment. A relationship would only complicate matters, and he certainly didn’t need any more complications—it was enough that he was withholding personal information from his best friend, had a compulsion to find clues tied to his parents’ disappearance, and was a workaholic to boot.

Trevor rode his bike through one of the several checkpoints on his way out of the enormous complex. The quick ride home was filled with questions he still couldn’t answer, but he hoped to be able to do so soon. He decided it was about time for him to go nuclear with his investigation. Something had to pop up somewhere. “Sooner rather than later,” he mumbled.

As he made the turn onto his street, he spotted George—apparently impatient to be off—leaning against his car and grinning. It was definitely gearing up to be a fun night.

Cassandra stood in a conference
room at Bristol Pharmaceuticals looking out the window. She half-listened to Drew Caldwell, Chief Security Officer, as he gave an overview of the company and the new formula they were developing. The slightly balding CSO was briefing them with information they previously had been given and that was already in her project file.

Cassandra had confidence in her team. Jessica, while not CIA trained, had graduated with honors from Stanford a year after Cassandra. Over a series of jobs, she had honed her IT skills before coming to work at James Security Agency. Matthew Hollister, known around the office as Boy Wonder, was fresh out of college and was the best they had for penetration testing. He was the perfect choice for checking Bristol and EXClinic’s systems for flaws or weaknesses. Jessica liked to joke that Matt was a ten-plus-plus on the geek-o-meter.

Jessica huffed in frustration, snapping Cassandra back to attention. She listened to the conversation for a few minutes to get caught up, and then looked directly at Caldwell, staring him in the eye.

“Cut to the chase, Mr. Caldwell. We aren’t interested in theory or what it took to get to this point of development. You hired us to secure the formula, not to learn how to make it.”

She avoided the “give-them-hell” look that both Jessica and Matt flashed her way as she walked to the conference table and took her seat. She opened her file and scanned it again. “What we need at this point is to confirm the names of the employees who currently have access to the data here at Bristol and the security protocol of the company hired to run the trials. You have a copy of their security outline, I presume?”

She tapped her pen on the table and looked up in time to catch Caldwell’s nod of agreement. “My associates will need the login IDs and passwords of the Bristol personnel with remote access to the EXClinic computers.”

“We’ll also need the names of the employees in charge of your project at EXClinic while it’s being handled by them during the next trial phase,” Jessica spoke up.

Matt glanced up from his notebook. “We’d like to have the data file information, which server it’s stored on, and access codes, the name of the files, and code name for the formula.” He looked back at his notes then added, “One more thing—in order to do a thorough test, we need to have the network diagram and IP address range information for your infrastructure.”

Cassandra sat back in her chair and quietly observed the play of emotions across Caldwell’s face as his head ping-ponged from Jessica to Matt each time they tossed out a request. She found it interesting in itself since, as CSO, he should have anticipated her team’s information requests.

Out of habit, without removing her eyes from him, Cassandra began to take notes based on what she read in his face and underlined the word
concern
. She then wrote down
anger
after she observed his lowered eyebrows, narrowed upper lip, tightened lower lip, and the glare in his eyes.

Caldwell would have made an interesting subject. His current reactions could possibly be attributed to his lack of preparedness, even though he should have anticipated the majority of the requests and had the information ready for turnover at the meeting.

Cassandra closed her notebook and tried to smooth his ruffled feathers. “Okay Mr. Caldwell. As you can see, our needs are many. I know it sounds like we’re questioning your competency, but we’re just here to do our job.”

Caldwell rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I can see that, Ms. James. Your team definitely prepared for this meeting. That’s an impressive list of details you need, much of it highly sensitive in nature. However, I believe we have everything you’ve requested. I’ll get my team on it right away.”

Cassandra, sensing the meeting coming to a close, returned her files and notebook to her bag. Taking their cue from her, the rest of the team also began to put their stuff away. She pulled out a piece of paper and her business card, which she set on the table and slid toward Caldwell. “Here’s my card and an itemized list of what we need from you. Once your team has gathered everything, please email it to me in an encrypted file.”