The Einstein Pursuit

32

Randy Raskin didn’t work in Washington DC. He actually worked across the Potomac river inside a windowless office in the sub-basement of the Pentagon, but due to his classified position as a computer researcher for the US military, the data he compiled frequently found its way to the White House and Capitol Hill.

Amazingly, most of his friends thought he was nothing more than a low-level programmer, working a dead-end job in the world’s largest office building — because that was what he was required to tell them. But in reality he was a high-tech maestro, able to track down just about anything in cyberspace. Thanks to the next-generation technology and his high security clearance, Raskin was privy to many of the government’s biggest secrets, a mountain of classified data that was there for the taking if someone knew how to access it. His job was to make sure the latest information got into the right hands at the best possible time.

Over the years, Payne and Jones had used his services on many occasions, which had eventually led to a friendship. Raskin often pretended he didn’t have time for them, or their bi-monthly favors, but the truth was he admired them greatly and would do just about anything to help. In fact, one of his biggest joys in life was living vicariously through them — whether that was during their stint with the MANIACs or their recent adventures around the globe.

That included keeping tabs on them at all times.

He answered his phone on the second ring. ‘Research.’

‘Don’t you ever take a break?’ Payne asked.

‘Yeah,’ Jones said into the speakerphone, ‘it’s five in the morning. Why are you at work?’

‘Some of us do have to earn our paychecks,’ Raskin replied into his headset. ‘Besides, if it’s five a.m. here, it’s one in the afternoon in Fallujah and six in the evening in Beijing. It’s a big world out there, boys, and someone has to keep it safe.’

Jones laughed. ‘Says the guy in the bathrobe.’

Raskin didn’t smile. He was, in fact, wearing a fuzzy blue bathrobe over his normal clothes, but only because they kept his office freezing cold to prevent his computers from overheating. ‘Hold up! Are you sure you want to make fun of me?’

‘We always make fun of you,’ Jones said.

‘True, but you normally wait until after I do what you need.’

Payne nodded. ‘That’s a very good point.’

‘Anyway,’ Raskin said, ‘why are you calling so early? To talk about DJ’s accident — and I use that term loosely — or to discuss the gunmen that Jon put in the morgue?’

‘How do you know about that?’ Jones asked.

‘How do you think? I designed a program that monitors millions of databases around the world. It has one specific goal: to flag the names of special forces personnel whenever they’re logged into a system. Any system. Anywhere. For any reason. If someone uses his real name to make a dinner reservation or a tee time, I know about it.’

‘You really care what my handicap is?’ Payne asked.

‘I know what your handicap is — he’s sitting next to you.’

‘Very funny,’ Jones said.

‘Actually, it was,’ Payne admitted.

Raskin grinned, glad he had gotten in at least one clean shot during their conversation. ‘Obviously I ignore most of the data that comes my way, but I do take an interest when you idiots decide to kill a bunch of people in your hometown. How many times have I told you guys? If you’re feeling a little down and you need to go on a killing spree, stick to hobos and hookers in Third World countries. There’s a lot less paperwork that way.’

‘Pittsburgh PD?’ Payne asked, wondering about his source.

‘Yeah, Pittsburgh PD. They filed multiple homicide reports. But don’t worry: they’re listing it as self-defense. They won’t be asking the district attorney to initiate charges, but you might still get a follow-up call.’

‘Thanks for the heads-up.’

‘No problem,’ Raskin said as he leaned back in his chair. ‘So, out of curiosity, how fast were you going when you hit that guy? Based on the video, I’d say about fifty.’

‘Video? What video?’ Jones demanded.

‘The one where you clobber some son-of-a-bitch with a two-ton truck. That video. I’ve watched the footage about a hundred times.’

‘Where’d you get the footage?’

‘Traffic camera at the intersection just beyond the station. Security feed from Station Square across the street. High-definition satellite imagery from … well, technically I’m not allowed to talk about it. Seriously, take your pick.’

‘How can you access a security feed?’ Payne asked.

‘Nowadays, almost everything is stored on a cloud-based network. The video from every individual camera is uploaded to a central computer. From there it can be accessed from anywhere. You just have to know where to look.’

As he listened to Raskin’s explanation, a thought occurred to Payne: if Raskin was able to watch the Escalade ram the last of the reinforcements, maybe he could track the missing gunman as well. ‘Randy, with all that footage at your disposal, are you able to track a single target?’

‘Of course I can — if I know where to look.’

‘We’ve still got one shooter unaccounted for. Darker skin, probably Arabic. I never got a clean view of his face, but I know where he was. His partner opened fire on me when I tried to leave the lower station. Unless I miss my guess, he’s the leader of the operation. Is there any way you could follow him from the station?’

‘Let me check.’

Payne and Jones waited as Raskin analyzed every angle of the shootout, furiously pounding away on his keyboard and pulling things from screen to screen by means of hand gestures that were detected by motion-capture cameras. It was technology that had only recently debuted in the civilian market. Inside the Pentagon, they had been using it for years. Raskin tried to work his magic, but unfortunately, this time he was unable to pull a rabbit out of his hat.

‘He gets lost under cover,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I have him for half a block, but when he ducks into Station Square, I lose him. There’s no accessible footage from inside the mall. I suppose you could try to hunt down the tapes from the individual stores, but unless he went inside a particular shop and you knew where to look, your chances of finding him are slim.’

Jones agreed with Raskin’s assessment, but he had plenty of manpower at his disposal. He turned toward Payne and said, ‘I’ll send some men to Station Square as soon as the stores open. Who knows? We might get lucky.’

Raskin felt bad he hadn’t come through for them. ‘Sorry, guys. I wish I could do more, but I can’t work with footage that isn’t there.’

‘Do you mean it?’ Jones said.

‘Of course I mean it. If the footage isn’t avail—’

‘No, I was referring to you wanting to do more.’

Raskin groaned. ‘Not really. It’s just a figure of speech.’

‘Too bad. I’m going to hold you to your offer.’

‘Fine! What is it now?’

Jones grabbed the phone from its cradle — which turned off the speakerphone — and lowered his voice to a whisper so Payne couldn’t hear. ‘Do you think you can send me the footage of my, um, accident? I’d like to add it to my personal highlight reel.’

‘No problem,’ Randy said, laughing. ‘Do you also want me to send you surveillance footage from the dentist’s office? That door hit you in the mouth pretty hard.’

Jones flushed with embarrassment. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘Like I said, my system flags everything.’