Ivan showed no surprise when a local commentator announced, “unexplained explosions destroyed the luxury yacht Khamsin off Monaco.” He continued, "Two vacationers from New Zealand witnessed the disaster and tried to render assistance from their boat. However, no survivors were discovered. Recovery operations are underway, but authorities believe, given the massive size of the explosions, progress will be ‘difficult’."
“Well, Ilya, here’s to you,” Ivan said as he clicked off the TV. One less mouth to feed and a lot more money for me. A smile spread over his thin lips as he calculated his windfall at over twenty-five million euros. Better yet, there was more to come, much more. He was filthy rich and beginning to believe he would get to live to enjoy his wealth. Excellent! He had already decided to abandon any claim to Ilya’s partnership in Fluid Dimension along with the rest of their lives in California. With no reason to think about going back to Palo Alto he was free to start shopping for a home in Cannes or Monaco as originally planned. Let Zeigler enjoy the car and the girl for as long as that would last.
In Palo Alto Bart arrived at work early, dressed in new dark blue Zegna slacks and a blue Hugo Boss shirt. Certain he had figured out a big part of the puzzle, he felt confident he’d be able to sort out the rest of it by the end of the day. After an hour and a half on his computer he took a break and walked over to the executive section. Jerry labored away, as usual, but Gabe’s office remained dark.
“Good morning, Jerry.”
The young man waved a hand without taking his eyes off his monitor.
“Is Gabe here today?”
Jerry shook his head in the negative and Bart decided not to question the boss's whereabouts.
“Is Dr. Ramsay in today?” He asked having no idea why he didn't call her “Sally”, but before Jerry answered, a voice behind him said,
“I’m Sally Ramsay.”
Bart turned to find Sally holding out her hand to complete her self introduction. So, he shook it and in a flash, she recognized the transformed and rather gorgeous man in front of her to be none other than Bartholomew Zeigler.
“Hi, Sally. Long time no see.” What’s up with her?
She yanked her hand back as if from a scalding kettle of water.
“Bart.”
He had difficulty interpreting the tone in her voice: a question or a statement?
“Yes.”
“Bart.” She stopped, at a loss for words, but her eyes ran from his feet to the top of his head and back. He’s a truly transformed specimen, and just when I was getting used to the old one.
“Yes I am," he said then asked, "Are you alright?”
“Sure, I’m fine.”
She was unconvincing and appeared flushed as she turned and walked away in silence.
“Sally, I need to talk to you about the source code. It’s important.” He watched the back of her head bob up and down in the affirmative. Without looking back, a flustered and confused Sally Ramsay gave a cryptic little wave and walked away.
“What the hell does that mean? Jerry, what’s wrong with her?”
“No idea.” This time he peered up at Bart and realized the guy was clueless. No intuition. It’s a wonder straight guys ever get laid.
“Damn.” Bart trailed off after Sally.
With Bart gone Jerry laughed out loud until he had to wipe the tears from his eyes. Somebody might get lucky tonight. Then again?
Sally hid in the restroom feeling more juvenile than she had since sixth grade and an incident involving a boy named Geoff something or other.
She struggled to form a hypothesis to explain how a haircut and new clothes could so thoroughly transform a man though she already knew the answer. They couldn't. Meaning? Oh shit, this is going to be so damn complicated.
When a flummoxed Bartholomew Zeigler caught up with her, Sally had returned to her workspace and was at least giving the appearance of concentrating on her multiple computer screens.
“Sally, why did you walk away?”
“Bart, what came over you?”
“What?”
“You look nice. Very nice.” She almost blushed as she spoke and she had the same smile on her face he'd seen when she dropped him off at his apartment. Bart noticed but decided to play cool. Besides, he had big news to share.
“Oh, thanks.” He paused for a second before bounding down another avenue of thought. “Listen, I’ve been trying to work out this whole theory of the Rusikovs and the “Flash Crash” and I believe I’m on to something.”
“Really?” “Oh, thanks?” That’s it?"
“Yeah. We’ve been going the wrong direction with this. I'm pretty sure Ilya’s program is bogus."
“What do you mean by ‘bogus’?”
“I’m sure the code would work, but I think they used it as a smokescreen for something else. Our copy was a delivery system for the real virus, one that's still in the NYSE's computers somewhere.”
“And what led you to that theory?” Which happens to be a pretty good one.
“I went over to Ivan’s house last night to pick up the Ferrari.”
“You did what?”
“Yeah, he told me I could drive his Ferrari, but that’s not what’s important.”
“He ‘told you’? When did you talk to him?”
“Wait. Just listen to me and then I’ll tell you about the car.”
Sally plopped down in her desk chair in complete bewilderment while Bart rumbled on with enormous enthusiasm.
“So, while I was there I decided to check out Ilya’s computer, the one upstairs.”
“How did you get in?”
“First five digits of Pi. I watched you arm the system the other night. Not creative at all, but Sally, do you want to hear about this or not?”
She thought I’m not sure I do. She said, “Of course, Bart.”
“Alright. So, I stayed at their house quite awhile. I got into Ilya’s system and started looking for the program. I located the files he sent to the Russian woman, Dr. Kovich, the same as the one you retrieved from her computer.”
“So?”
“I don't think it matches the one they used on May 6th. I've been looking for another string of code buried way deep in the NYSE's system. There is no evidence of the "May 6th" code anywhere in that system. So, what if there was a second file attached to it? One designed to get left behind after the other one, its host, obliterated itself. I’m not convinced the program we have would even work again. It’s not like we can make a test run on the stock exchange.”
“If you're right why did they send the file to Anya Kovich?”
“I’d say because they were ripping her boss off. I’d bet he paid them plenty for the program.”
“And the virus you think stayed behind?”
“To sell to somebody else. If I worked the scam I’d sell the use of the program, but keep control. Ilya’s not so slick, but Ivan is. I’m sure of that.”
“You are a fountain of information. How are you so sure?”
“I found other stuff in the computer. Some weird stuff, too.” He held up a thumb drive and waved it at her. “What's on here plus a little more is backed up in secure storage. I'm the only one who can access those files.” Bart gave a triumphant smile.
Oh shit, again. I wonder what files he’s talking about. Thought I wiped all of them clean.
Jerry walked into Sally’s oversized cubicle with eyes turned down and a somber demeanor.
“A news feed came in reporting Ilya Rusikov is dead.”
As Sally and Bart struggled to process the news he continued.
“He was supposed to be on a yacht owned by some arms dealer known as ‘The Sheik’. The boat blew up and sank in the Mediterranean somewhere near Monaco. No survivors, so far.”
“What about Ivan?”
“No mention.”
For a moment Sally appeared shaken, but she regained her composure and said, “I guess this puts Ivan in the driver??
?s seat.”
“That was his plan all along.” Bart leaned against a little round conference table and regarded Sally without expression.
“So you’re saying he planned Ilya’s death?”
“Of course not. I doubt Ivan goes around blowing up yachts, but I’d bet a year’s pay he’d already cut a deal with someone besides Malroff.”
“Any idea who?” Sally turned toward her computer screens and searched for news of the yacht sinking.
“Maybe.”
“Care to share?”
“Not yet. I need to do some more work before I come to any conclusions. This whole situation will be very political and I want to talk to Gabe before I go much further with an investigation.”
Without responding Sally leaned over in a way Bart imagined she'd planned to give him a better view down her shirt. He took full advantage, but he felt a twinge of guilt.
“So, did you find anything else interesting in the Rusikov’s computers?”
“Only on Ilya’s. It didn’t have much to do with this program and I didn’t pay a lot of attention.”
“Oh?”
Jerry returned looking like a man on a mission.
“Bart, Gabe is calling and he wants to talk to you.”
“Can I take it here?”
“No. He wants you in his office.” Meaning, the secure line. Jerry was uncharacteristically deferential to Bart.
37.