Memoria. A Corporation of Lies

Chapter Seven. It’s a Small World

He was bearlike, with a broad face, a fat mustache and two powerful paws like kettlebells. Frank immediately recognized the cabman who’d given him a ride from the airport.

“Come in, quickly,” Max grabbed the visitor’s hand and pulled him inside. “This is Frank Shelby,” he pointed at an open-mouthed Frank. “And this is Barney Douggan,” he clapped the bearlike man on the shoulder. “Old friend and partner.”

Max locked the door and gave Barney a light shove, “Come in, don’t just stand there. Want some tea?”

Finally, Barney Douggan came back to reality. He blinked, adjusting his old army jacket with the shoulder mark of the 101 Paratroopers Division. “What’s he doing here?”

The coach turned to him, but Barney didn’t give him a chance to reply. “I’m six hours out of the police station. Had to give evidence in the Shelby case. Are you crazy? He’s in for a murder and terrorist connections. They can easily trace him by his bracelet. How on earth did he get here?”

His powerful voice echoed over the gym.

“Frank is an old friend,” Max said calmly and disappeared inside the locker room. “The police are taken care of,” they heard from inside. “They removed Frank’s bracelet and didn’t have a chance to replace it. So they can’t trace anyone, I’m afraid.”

He reappeared with the device from Kathleen’s parcel in his hands and gave it to Barney. “There, have a look. Tell me what you think about it. You’re the expert.”

Frank came closer. Barney took the device and turned it around in his hands. He touched the connector, sniffed at it and went on inspecting the box.

“What does he do?” Frank whispered.

“He’s a field engineer and liaison officer,” Max answered. “Hopper’s radioelectronic intelligence group. He’s the best. Computers, gadgets, booby traps, the Net, you name it. Just shut it and try to look cool.”

“Will do.”

Barney looked around, mumbled something about the lack of lighting and headed for Max’s office. Frank and the coach followed him. Frank tried to get his head around it. How could this burly wrestler of a man — you couldn’t, in all honesty, call him old — be a what, a computer whiz? He looked more like a navy Seal, but not a geek.

Frank took a chair by the door. Max sat at his desk opposite Barney who was inspecting the device under the desk lamp.

“This is some kind of data carrier. Military hardware.”

“A data carrier,” Max pulled his glasses on and took the device.

“You could say so,” Barney glanced at Frank. “But they’ve worked on it. They’ve made it lighter, to start with. It feels as if it’s steel but it’s not. Some kind of composite, I suppose.”

Max placed the device onto the desk.

“Second, the connector.” Barney turned the device to them and poked the connector with a thick finger. “It’s been tampered with.”

“Which is good or bad?” Max asked.

“No idea. All army models used to have two ports for cable connection. This one only has one. My educated guess would be,” he slid his fingers along the grooves cut in the edges of the case, “that these are to insert the thing into some kind of docking device. Hermetic, maybe. To use it underwater or—”

“I see,” Max glanced at Frank. “Anything else?”

“Inside there’s a encoding system. Most likely, more than one. You need a key to access it, and the key is normally stored in the Pentagon database. Alternatively, it can be wired into the long-term memory of a submarine, a fighter plane or an aircraft carrier.” He shrugged his wrestler’s shoulders. “All depends what’s in it. What it’s for and how important it is. To activate the key you need a password. Even if you bypass the connector and hook the thing up to a regular PC, you still can’t read it without the key and the password. You can try and use special password-hacking software but this way it could take you years, with no guarantee of success.”

“We need to read it,” Max said.

“We?” Barney glanced at Frank and chuckled. He tapped the device. “Any idea where the server would be?”

“I know,” Frank said. “It’s in Memoria’s HQ.”

Barney’s face darkened.

“And how do you suggest we get there? Shall we storm it with machine guns? Or walk in nicely and ask the receptionist to show us to the source station? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“We do know the source station,” Max said. “Don’t we, Frank?”

“We do. It’s Kathleen Baker’s.”

“How can you be so sure?” Barney chuckled.

“If she sent it to Frank, then it stands to reason she was the one who recorded it,” Max said.

Barney fingered his mustache as he stared at Frank. Finally, he turned to the coach.

“You sure you need it? Max? Any idea what you’re dragging me into?”

“You think you can go all the way?” The coach’s eyes glistened behind his glasses.

“Max, I’ve asked you a question.”

“Like in the good old days?”

“Answer me.”

The two veterans stared into each other’s eyes. The coach leaned toward Barney who rested his elbows on the desk, the device in his hands. Frank wriggled in his chair.

“I think,” Max reached out and took the device from his friend, “that somebody’s trying to start a new war.”

Barney slapped his hand on the desk and swore under his breath. Better not ask questions now, Frank thought. These two need to work it out between themselves first.

“All right,” Barney’s voice sounded tired. “Tell me what you have.”

“Tell him your story, Frank. Then we’ll see what we have between us.”

They didn’t have much. Kathleen’s murder and her parcel, plus two attacks on Frank: one to get rid of the witness and the other to get hold of the device. That was it. The Memoria trail was apparent but it had to be proven first.

They couldn’t go to the police as whoever it was could make an attempt on Frank’s life again. And veterans had no sources of their own in the police department.

“Where are we expected to gather intelligence? Max?” Barney tapped on the desk. “You know?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“How about watching the TV news?” Frank said.

“I am your TV news, man,” Barney pointed his thumb at his chest. “The Mayor has declared Code Orange. They’re about to introduce a curfew and put up street blocks with strip searches at the subway exits. The airports and the railway stations are already under surveillance since the first mention of a terrorist threat.” He pulled up his sleeve and glanced at a massive waterproof watch. “If DC confirms the curfew,” Barney pressed two buttons, setting the timer, “then within two hours they’ll be able to block all the traffic.” He raised his eyes to Frank. “Your picture is plastered all over the TV, and the media are screaming about your involvement in Kathleen Baker’s murder. Apparently, she was about to make a media statement when you zapped her just in time.”

“Yeah right,” Frank turned to Max. “I forgot to tell you. The place was chock a block full of media. I mean, the house where I live. The lobby was crawling with reporters.” He turned back to Barney. “So it was Kathleen who called them?”

“Well, unless you know another Kathleen Baker in your house with a thing for black lacy underwear.”

Frank jumped off the chair, clenching his fists.

“You taking the piss? You and Kathleen, you—”

Barney rose, looking down at him.

“Wake up, man. It’s the talk of the whole of New York City. Reporters can’t get enough of your neighbor’s stories. She is the star of the show.”

Frank went for him; Max stood between the two.

“Barney — enough!” He pushed his friend in the chest and slapped Frank’s wrist. “Put your hands down! Now!” Max’s eyes glistened behind his glasses. “We don’t have much time,” his voice was harsh. “Sooner or later they’ll know you started here, Frank. Either the detectives or those who attacked you, but we need to expect company.”

“You wait!” Barney insisted. “Don’t you understand, both of you?”

“Understand what?” Max turned to him.

“You think. The murdered woman calls a press conference. Then she takes her clothes off and goes to bed. See what I’m getting at?”

Frank tried to lunge forward but Max gestured him to stop.

“Barney has a point. It doesn’t add up.” He paused, thinking. “We’ll talk about it later. We need to act quickly.”

“What do you suggest?” Barney grumbled and sat back down.

Frank glared at him, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“We need to hide him somewhere,” Max said.

“Where?”

“At your place.”

“At my what?” Barney jumped up. His bulk loomed over Max. “You must be mad. Not with my—”

“I count on her, too. She’s the only person who can get access to the data.”

“No. You… you can’t be serious. You planned it all along!”

“You tell her what it’s all about, and Frank will give her all the details.”

“No way. Not her. Anyone but her.”

’Oh, yes.”

“Oh, no!”

“Yes, damn it! Sergeant Douggan!” Max slammed his fist on the desk, and the device jumped with the impact.

“You can’t give me orders!” Droplets of Barney’s saliva spattered Max’s face. “The war is over!”

Max breathed out, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, red with exhaustion.

“It is indeed,” he put the glasses back on. “I’m just trying to appeal to your conscience.”

Barney lowered his head, hiding his eyes from Max. He sat back down, the chair creaking under his weight. He breathed heavily and massaged his chest. Deep lines furrowed his face.

“Anyone but her,” he raised his pleading eyes. “You know I’ll follow you anywhere. I trust your decisions. I would do anything for you, storm the police department or Memoria building, all you need is ask. Just keep Maggie out of this. Please.”

Frank blinked, uncomprehending. Barney seemed on the brink of tears.

“She’s a big girl now. You… and I,” the coach put his hand on Barney’s shoulder and glanced at Frank,” all of us together, we’ll deal with it. The situation is far from easy. We can’t afford to make mistakes.”

Barney shrugged his hand off.

“How can you be so sure we haven’t made a mistake already? You tell me!”

“Because,” the coach stood up, “because we’ve already let them down once.” He jerked his chin, pointing it at Frank. “Him, and Maggie, and all those we fought for. Who still have to live here after we’re gone. Barney, they’re being brainwashed. Who is going to tell them about the past once we’re gone? You think the migrants will? There’re not many of them left, either, and they have their hands full with other things. Why? Because they want to remain human.”

“Stop it,” Barney raised his hand. “Enough of that. Don’t you stare at me like that! Sit down.”

“Is it a yes?” Max sat next to him.

“It is. But not because of the migrants, damn them. And don’t you dare compare me to them. I’ll follow you to hell and back, and you know it. But not because of the migrants. Two years we were fighting them. And we won — we did!”

“Agreed,” the coach glanced at his watch. “What time do you have?”

“Quarter to two.”

“Go now.”

“And you?” Barney rose.

“I have some packing to do. There,” Max handed him the device and headed for the door. “The stash is safe, I presume?”

“It was, last time I checked it,” Barney replied to his back. “Are you sure force is really necessary?”

Frank couldn’t stand it any longer. “I really appreciate your help and the attention you’ve given to my problems, but really…”

Max stopped on his way to the locker room and turned to him.

“…really, I don’t understand! Who’s Maggie? What’s your plan?”

“Barney will tell you,” the coach disappeared in the locker room.

Frank turned to the veteran.

“Come on, then,” he grumbled and headed for the front door.

With a sigh of relief, Frank followed.

“I’ll be at your place tomorrow morning,” the coach shouted from the locker room. “Six o’clock.”

A locker door slammed.

“Agreed,” Barney answered.