Chapter 12

Jason typed the name “Roger Grainer” into the search engine. He reached for the “enter” key, but a memory gave him pause. It was the time he and Stephanie first sat together on her porch. He’d mowed her yard, and she’d surprised him with ice water. The day was hot and humid, and he desperately wanted her to like him.

What stopped his hand was the realization she’d known of her fate even then. What had she said? “I don’t want to be treated as property.” And she ended up as some rich pervert’s toy.

Jason’s stomach clenched. It took one long breath to settle his nerves. Doubly determined to do the right thing, he returned to the computer and punched the enter key. Search results filled the screen.

I’m coming, Stephanie! Jason clicked the first link.

Two hours later, Jason closed the window for Grainer and Sons Plumbing, Spokane, Washington. “Damn it,” he said and clicked for the next page of results.

“Master Jason,” Alfred interrupted. “May I be of assistance?”

“I don’t know. The guy who has Stephanie is a ghost. I can’t find him.” Jason leaned back and focused on Alfred’s speaker. “He must have hired a privacy contractor to scrub him off the internet.”

“Well, I’ll give it the old ‘college try.’ One moment while I search.” The overhead speaker played the old Star Trek computer’s “Working” statement followed by clicks and beeps. Dad and his fondness for ancient entertainment programs. “Here we go,” Alfred said.” Roger Grainer, One Ault Drive, Cincinnati, Ohio.” Several pictures of a well-dressed, young-looking man with old eyes opened on the computer’s display.

Amazement colored Jason’s words. “How the heck did you do that?” Another window popped up. This one displayed financial data.

“I used the legal databases to which your father subscribes. Men of means often do business with lawyers. Our suspect is no different. He has an extensive litigation history.”

“Can we confirm if he has Stephanie?” Instead of waiting for Alfred to reply, Jason busied himself at the keyboard. Seconds later, an overhead view of an estate filled the search window. A sidebar detailed the property’s history.

With over two-hundred acres, Ault Park was once Cincinnati’s fourth-largest public park. After the coronavirus plague of 2069, the city was desperate for funds and sold the property to a private investment group. Control of the property changed hands several times until an anonymous Cincinnati native stepped in and bought out the investment group. Ault Park was then converted into a private estate.

The street view image provided excellent visuals of the front and service entrance gates. No other details were available. A blurred aerial view was online but other than the vague shapes of the residence and grounds, it revealed little. The brick-walled estate was fricking huge.

Alfred spoke while Jason studied the image. “I cannot find any information regarding Miss Stephanie’s presence. Given her illicit nature, it isn’t surprising. However, there is only one man named Roger Grainer with sufficient wealth to have purchased our Miss Stephanie.”

“Why would he have used his real name?”

“Unknown. Perhaps conceit or a rich man’s assumed immunity from prosecution. Our next step is to ascertain if he, in fact, does have Miss Stephanie.”

“I could jump the fence and peek in the windows,” Jason mused.

“There are police reports of attempted burglaries, but no reports of successful entries. In all likelihood, there is an alarm and private security. If we had access to Mr. Grainer’s security system, we could simply look inside the man’s house. What we need is someone with experience hacking networks.”

Jason stood and paced. “I need to get inside.” He stopped and smiled. “Alfred, do you like caper movies?”

Unusually for Alfred, there was a noticeable pause before he replied. “Well, The Italian Job is a particular favorite.”

“Good, are you up for assisting me with a small caper?”

“The estate?”

“No, my former employer. There are libraries full of software hacking tools we can copy. Then we’ll tackle the estate.” Jason sat and started a shopping list. “I need to pick up a few things.”

“Jason, shortly after you moved out, your father and I researched your former employer. The late director, Garnel Curley, published a number of papers on developing artificial intelligence. We determined the resulting AI might not be friendly to its creators. The news stories from two weeks ago seem to have confirmed our fears.”

“You guys figured this out on your own?”

“There is a wealth of information on the net. Jason, I brought this up because I’m concerned about using files from the same facility.”

Jason nodded. Alfred’s concerns were very real. “I can’t get into specifics, ‘cause I signed a NDA, but Michael, the AI, is gone. The government broke it down and hauled the hardware away. In its heyday, Michael could do anything digital. All I want to borrow are the libraries.”

Alfred didn’t speak again until Jason finished testing his purchases and was well on the way downtown. “Jason, your former employer operated a secure facility, did they not?”

Caught up in his thoughts, Jason hadn’t expected the question. “Hmm?”

“How do you plan on entering the building?”

Instead of answering, Jason reached into his center console and found Amanda Pierce’s identity badge. “I have a spare badge.” He’d intended to drop it into a mailbox. But with all the commotion, he’d put it off. There was a good chance it would still work, but it depended on his “read” of Amanda Pierce.

If Amanda followed company procedures, she’d have reported the lost badge. The downside was the mandatory lost badge review. The folks in security took their job seriously and grilled anyone careless enough to lose valuable company property. However, based on Amanda’s disregard of company policies, he’d bet she’d never reported her lost badge. Working for HR, all she had to do was order a replacement and “tailgate” friendly coworkers through the locked doors.

But if the badge didn’t work, Jason knew the company’s servers from the inside-out. It wouldn’t be easy, and it might leave a trail, but he’d hack his way in.

Jason parked in the open lot across from his former employer’s building. Carnegie Mellon University rented a building here and classes ran into the night. Students came and went so Jason’s presence shouldn’t be noticed. The equipment sat on the front passenger seat. His trusty tablet functioned as the hub, connecting a terabyte speed Wi-Fi router to a pair of the largest external storage drives available at the Cranberry Mall electronics store. Making this possible was a “cantenna,” a home-made directional antenna.

The last part of the lash-up was Alfred, linked in via the mobile phone broadband network and running an older copy of Jason’s zero-lag software.

“Are you sure this will work?” asked Alfred.

Jason didn’t answer immediately. He lay across the seat, aiming the directional antenna at a particular fourth-floor window. Satisfied he had a good line-of-sight to his old office, he sat up and massaged the back of his neck. “It has to work.”

Alfred wasn’t convinced. “You worked inside a SCIF, a facility shielded against electronic transmissions. How will your WI-FI ‘contraption’ reach through the protections?”

“Shielding doesn’t actually block radio waves. It only weakens them. That’s enough to isolate the SCIF from an outside hacker. It’s not sufficient, however, if the hacker is inside.” Even though Alfred couldn’t see, Jason lightly stroked the shrouded antenna. “With the directional antennas, you should receive the files without issue.”

“If you say so. I’ve examined your zero-lag code, and it has disquieting capabilities.”

“Alfred, do you have secret ambitions of world domination?”

“Heavens, no. Looking after your family is more than enough responsibility.”

“Then I think we’re safe enough. If you have any problems or questions, there should be enough bandwidth to talk if something comes up.” Jason reached into the back and double-checked the contents of his backpack.

Alfred sighed. It was the most human sound Jason had ever heard the AI utter. “If you’re caught, your father will be furious at us.”

The equipment was ready. It all depended on Amanda Pierce, HR Generalist. “Alfred, old buddy, if we get caught, I go to jail and Dad will yell at me forever. All you have to worry about is getting shut off.”

The lone security guard exited the building across the street, lit a cigarette, and began his outside patrol. Once the guard turned the corner, Jason slipped out of his truck, slung his backpack, and pulled his hood up. The hardest part was strolling across the street at a normal pace. He had Amanda’s card ready and at the door, pushed it into the reader.

The light flashed amber, and Jason’s hopes sunk. Hurriedly, he yanked the card out and slid it back in. Come on Amanda! Seconds later, the light changed to green, and the door clicked open. Relief made Jason light-headed. He knew what had happened. The local security system stored frequently used badge credentials. The amber meant the network had to retrieve the files. It happened anytime someone was off for a few days. Settling his backpack, Jason entered the building and walked past the elevators to the emergency stairs.

At the fourth-floor landing, Jason stepped into the hallway and eased the stairwell door shut. Everything outside the lab appeared unchanged. The same lockers lined the walls. At the door to the lab, Amanda’s badge granted Jason access.

Inside the lab, someone had been busy. The racks which had once held Michael were gone. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a forklift placing a group of rack-sized crates in the back of an anonymous government warehouse. As he’d hoped, the racks with the hacking tools and support files remained in place. Jason tapped the power button on each. Inside his former office, his desktop PC was gone. One of the company’s rules was to reimage the hard drives from PCs no longer in use. Still, this was a computer lab, and there were components around. While the servers booted and stabilized, he pieced another computer together. Luck remained with him because the lab’s shared login still worked. He set up his second WI-FI router and carefully aimed his inside cantenna. It took a few seconds, but the makeshift desktop computer connected to his ad-hoc wireless network. Jason pressed the spacebar, “How’s the connection?”

The relief in Alfred’s voice was unmistakable. “The connection is fine. Can we get this over with? I do not want your father to shut me off.”

For the second time tonight, Alfred sounded human. He even expressed worry about his continued existence. There wasn’t any other way to describe it. Alfred was a capable AI, but it had never worried about its future. Jason suspected his old friend might be one of the rare spontaneous sentient AIs. “Alfred, when this is over, you and I are going to talk.”