“This is interesting…Franz Verbrugge.”
“Who’s he?”
“The question is, where is he? He seems to have disappeared. He worked for KIG in Berlin, and his wife, Sonja, died mysteriously.”
Diane clicked onto another link. She hesitated and looked up at Kelly. “In France—Mark Harris.”
Kelly took a deep breath and nodded. “Go on.”
Diane pressed more keys. “Denver, Gary Reynolds, and in Manhattan”—Diane’s voice broke—“Richard.” Diane stood up. “That’s it.”
Kelly said, “What now?”
“We’re going to figure out how to put all this together. Let’s go.”
HALFWAY DOWN THE block, Kelly and Diane passed a computer store.
“Just a minute,” Kelly said.
Diane followed as Kelly walked into the store and approached the manager.
“Excuse me. My name is Kelly Harris. I’m Tanner Kingsley’s assistant. We need three dozen of your very best and most expensive computers by this afternoon. Is that possible?”
The manager beamed. “Why—why certainly, Mrs. Harris. For Mr. Kingsley, anything. We don’t have them all here, of course, but we’ll get them from our warehouses. I’ll take care of it personally. Will that be cash or charge?”
“COD,” Kelly said.
As the manager hurried away, Diane said, “I wish I had thought of that.”
Kelly grinned. “You will.”
“I THOUGHT YOU would like to see these, Mr. Kingsley.” Kathy Ordonez handed him several newspapers. The headlines told the story:
AUSTRALIA HAS FREAK TORNADO
THE FIRST TORNADO EVER TO HIT AUSTRALIA HAS DESTROYED A DOZEN VILLAGES. DEATH TOLL IS UNKNOWN.
METEOROLOGISTS ARE BAFFLED BY NEW WORLD WEATHER PATTERNS. OZONE LAYER BLAMED.
Tanner said, “Send these to Senator Van Luven with a note: ‘Dear Senator Van Luven, I think time is running out. Best wishes, Tanner Kingsley.’ ”
“Yes, sir.”
Tanner looked up at a computer screen when he heard the sound telling him he had received an alert from the security division of his Information Technology department.
Tanner had arranged for his IT department to have “spiders” installed—high-tech software that constantly combed the Internet, searching for information. Tanner had privately set the spiders to look for people searching for sensitive information relating to the deaths of Richard Stevens and Mark Harris, and he now stared with interest at the alert on the computer monitor.
He pressed a buzzer. “Andrew, get in here.”
Andrew was in his office, daydreaming about his accident, and remembering. He was in the wardrobe room to get his spacesuit that the army had sent. He started to take one from the rack, but Tanner was there, and Tanner handed him a suit and gas mask. Wear this one. It will bring you luck. Tanner was—
“Andrew! Get in here!”
ANDREW HEARD THE command, got up, and slowly walked into Tanner’s office.
“Sit down.”
“Yes, Tanner.” He took a seat.
“The bitches just hit our Web site in Berlin. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes…I—no.”
Tanner’s secretary buzzed. “The computers are here, Mr. Kingsley.”
“What computers?”
“The ones you ordered.”
Puzzled, Tanner rose and walked out the door into the reception room. Three dozen computers were piled up on dollies. The store manager and three men in overalls were standing next to them.
The manager’s face lit up when he saw Tanner approaching. “I have just what you asked for, Mr. Kingsley. State of the art. And we’ll be happy to help you with any more—”
Tanner was staring at the pile of computers. “Who ordered these?”
“Your assistant, Kelly Harris. She said you needed them right away, so—”
“Take them back,” Tanner said softly. “Where she’s going, they won’t be needed.”
He turned and walked back into his office. “Andrew, do you have any idea why they accessed our Web site? Well, I’ll tell you. They’re going to try to track down the victims and look for the motives behind their deaths.” Tanner sat down. “To do that, they would have to go to Europe. Only they’re not going to get there.”
Andrew said sleepily, “No…”
“How are we going to stop them, Andrew?”
Andrew nodded. “Stop them…”
Tanner looked at his brother and said contemptuously, “I wish there was someone with a brain that I could talk to.”
Andrew watched as Tanner walked over to a computer and sat at the keyboard. “We’re going to start by wiping out all their assets. We have their Social Security numbers.” He kept typing as he talked. “Diane Stevens…,” he mused as he used the back-door software KIG installed when they were hired to make Experian’s systems Y2K-compliant. This back-door software gave Tanner access that not even the highest of Experian management could have.
“Look. Experian has all her bank account information, an IRA retirement account, her line of credit at the bank. See?”
Andrew swallowed. “Yes, Tanner. Yes.”
Tanner turned back to the computer. “We’ll enter her credit cards as stolen…. Now we’re going to do the same with Kelly Harris…. Our next step is going to Diane’s bank’s Web site.” He accessed the bank’s Web site and then clicked onto a link that said “Manage Your Accounts.”
Next, Tanner entered Diane Stevens’s account number and the last four digits of her Social Security number and was granted access. Once inside, he transferred all her balances to the line of credit, then returned to Experian’s credit data base and canceled her line of credit under “In Collection.”
“Andrew—”
“Yes, Tanner?”
“Do you see what I’ve done? I’ve transferred all of Diane Stevens’s assets as debts to be collected by their collection department.” His tone filled with self-satisfaction. “Now we’ll do the same thing for Kelly Harris.”
When Tanner was through, he got up and walked over to Andrew. “It’s done. They have no money and no credit. There’s no way they can get out of the country. We have them trapped. What do you think of your kid brother?”
Andrew nodded. “On television last night, I saw a movie about a—”
Furious, Tanner clenched his fist and slammed it into his brother’s face so hard that Andrew fell out of the chair and crashed into a wall, making a loud racket. “You son of a bitch! Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”
The door flew open and Tanner’s secretary, Kathy Ordonez, rushed in. “Is everything all right, Mr. Kingsley?”
Tanner turned to her. “Yes. Poor Andrew fell down.”
“Oh, dear.”
The two of them lifted Andrew to his feet.
“Did I fall down?”
Tanner said gently, “Yes, Andrew, but you’re all right now.”
Kathy Ordonez whispered, “Mr. Kingsley, don’t you think your brother might be better off in a home?”
“Of course he would,” Tanner answered. “But it would break his heart. This is his real home, and I can take care of him here.”
Kathy Ordonez looked at Tanner admiringly. “You’re a wonderful man, Mr. Kingsley.”
He shrugged modestly. “We all have to do what we can.”
TEN MINUTES LATER, Tanner’s secretary was back.
“Good news, Mr. Kingsley. This fax just came in from Senator Van Luven’s office.”
“Let me see it.” Tanner snatched it from her hand.
Dear Mr. Kingsley:
This is to inform you that the Senate Select Committee on the Environment has decided to appropriate funds to immediately increase our investigation of global warming and how to combat it.
Sincerely, Senator Van Luven
Chapter 33
DO YOU HAVE a passport?” Diane asked.
“I always carry it with me in a strange country.” And Kelly added, “And lately this has become one hell of a strange country.”
Diane nodded. “My passport is in a bank vault. I’ll get it. And we’ll need some money.”
WHEN THEY ENTERED the bank, Diane went downstairs to the vault and opened her safety-deposit box. She removed her passport, put it in her purse, and walked back upstairs to a teller’s desk.
“I would like to close my account.”
“Certainly. Your name, please?”
“Diane Stevens.”
The teller nodded. “Just a moment, please.” He walked back to a row of filing cabinets, opened a drawer, and started riffling through the cards. He pulled one out, looked at it a moment, then walked back to Diane. “Your account has already been closed out, Mrs. Stevens.”
Diane shook her head. “No. There must be some mistake. I have—”
The teller put the card in front of Diane. It read “Account closed. Reason: Deceased.”
Diane stared at it unbelievingly, then looked up at the teller. “Do I look like I’m deceased?”
“Of course not. I’m sorry. If you’d like me to call the manager, I can—”
“No!” She suddenly realized what had happened and felt a small shiver. “No, thanks.”
Diane hurried over to the entrance, where Kelly was waiting.
“Did you get the passport and money?”
“I got the passport. The bastards closed my bank account.”
“How could they—?”
“It’s very simple. They’re KIG and we’re not.” Diane was thoughtful for a moment. “Oh, my God.”
“What now?”
“I have to make a quick phone call.” Diane hurried over to a telephone cubicle, dialed a number, and pulled out a credit card. A few moments later, she was speaking to a clerk. “The account is under the name of Diane Stevens. It’s a valid—”