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Murder in the Fabric Page 6
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get it.” George said.
“At the factory, they insert the code. It is the size at the left. But this has been overwritten. Over the air. Reset to the original. Whoever did this knew that we would run the integrity check. They made sure that it would pass. But they neglected to wipe their feet as they left. They left a mark.”
“Hang on. How does the code change while it is going along?” George said.
“It can be reset over the wire. You need the factory security locks. Top level passwords. But yes, you can.”
George came to life.
“Shit.”
“How do we prove that?”
“Not so easy. But I would say that the code running when it jumped and did its stuff was not what it had from the factory. They have substituted on the fly, and then replaced it before the car was stationary.”
“Who?”
“Good question. Not so many people. Prime suspects somebody with experience in the factory. But of course they could be anywhere. Also well hidden. You don’t exactly advertise for somebody to do an illegal hack on the top level highway.”
“No. I guess not.”
But there was a new urgency in George’s step as he left. An opening. A glimmer of hope. He sprinted up the stairs in the direction of the wall.
“Hacked.” he said to Steve and Alice.
“How?” Steve asked
“Wireless download into the car control system. The file size was slightly larger, but it passed the integrity checks.” George said.
“Jump car. Wipe code.” Steve said.
“Yes.”
“Classy. High level.”
Alice and Steve were sent to the highway control centre. George wasn’t expecting much.
Alice looked across at Steve, driving. There had to be more to him, she thought. More than just “young, eager”.
“We get the super-fun spots, that’s for sure.” she said.
“Ah c’mon. Better than trawling through records. Or watching the analysis bots do their thing. Sometimes I think we are just machine minders.”
“Yup. I guess.”
Alice was keen to penetrate the Steve demeanor. So she took the chance. “What do you make of George?” she said
“Is this a test? Got a recorder running? Back to the psych team?”
“No, stupid. It’s just you and me here.”
“He’s smart. Ferocious. Mono-maniacal. Frighteningly good. ”
“But?”
“Well, there is dark George. Self-destructive. A loner. His personal life is like a desert.”
“So that isn’t something you aspire to?”
“No.”
The scenery drifted past.
“Where did you grow up?” she continued.
“What is this? Twenty questions?”
“Just interested. You don’t have to answer. But you get to do the same.”
He looked across. Alice had a half-smile. He continued.
“Brighton. Local high school. Surf lifesaving club. Football. All the usual things.”
“Not exactly a poverty stricken area. How did you deal with that?”
“Well, I wasn’t a silvertail, if that’s what you are thinking.”
“But everyone else was?”
“Pretty much. In my case it was single mum, flat above a shop.”
“So you were the poor relation?”
“Sure.”
“How did you feel about that?”
“It worried me at first, but then I began to understand them better. As I learned more, I felt sorry for them.”
“The rich kids?”
“Yeah.”
“How so?”
“I grew up with a structure. Somewhere to aim. Mum wouldn’t accept ‘just trying’. No indulgences.”
“And them?”
“All too easy. Nothing to aim for. Nothing to work with.”
There was a pause as they navigated through some tricky intersections in Geelong.
“Can’t be too many cops from Brighton.”
“So far as I know, I’m it.”
“So, why?”
“Why you?”
“I asked first.”
“It makes a difference.”
“So do a lot of things. A lot where nobody points a loaded gun at you.”
“It’s like an exclusive club. I like that. Also, the physical side of it.”
Sure, Alice knew. That adrenalin charge when you took off chasing someone. Knowing that not only would they be caught, but they would be on the dirt in seconds. The look of incredulity on their faces. She loved that. Where else could you do that, and not only be not prosecuted, but actually paid to do it?
“My turn.” he said.
“Balwyn. Yes, I know. Not a poverty stricken area either. Push, push from the parents. Shining straight A student.”
“Migrant success story?”
“No, I’m third generation. We’re supposed to waste it. Spend our nights clubbing and our days sleeping.”
“Parents plan?”
“Medical school. I had the grades, but I wasn’t interested. Went travelling instead. I guess I tried to lose myself. I certainly got lost enough, in Asia.”
“What did you do for money?”
“Odd jobs here and there. It doesn’t cost much if you ditch the luxury.”
“Do you speak Vietnamese?”
She laughed. “About ten words. Not much.”
“How did you find it?”
“It’s really weird. In one way, you fit in. You look like everyone. They all greet you like a long lost best friend. But it is totally foreign.”
“What brought you back?”
“It got really fundamental. First few months I was fine. Then it just grew more and more. A terrible homesickness. I gradually realised that I am totally physically addicted to Melbourne.”
“You love it?”
“No, it’s a full on physical addiction. If I walk up Swanston Street, no matter how bad I’m feeling, by the end of the walk I feel better. If I sit in Degraves Street, I feel better.”
He laughed, picturing Alice sitting in Da Nang longing after Degraves Street. “But why the police force? You could have done anything.”
There was a distinct pause.“You know much about the Vietnamese community?”
“Not really.”
“Well, let’s just say there are parts.”
“Drugs. Stuff? Protection?”
“All of the above.”
“I see.”
“The fear in their eyes.”
// Mia
Oscar had the four profiles. He had the backgrounds. They all made fine choices. How on earth was he to decide? He just picked the third, Natalie. Her interests included computer games. Which ones? Searching for game aliases that matched her real name, and locations. Not something he would do, but if she felt she had nothing to hide.
Cyros was a role playing game, so Oscar needed an identity. He decided to play a hacker. Why not? It only took a few minutes to get an account, some credits. Sitting in the apartment he had a huge screen, and a headset. The 3D effects were sometimes a bit clunky. That was the worst of knowing how it was put together, that you looked for the seams. But most of the time it was seamless.
“Subtle. No charging.” Mia said.
“OK. OK.”
No, he wasn’t going to rush right towards the area where she was and ask her out. In the hostels of Asia it sometimes was more direct than that. A glance at the right time and a sneaking into the bunk. He shook his head.
“Good enough for you?” he said. He had a trail. A presence. Just enough to get her interest.
“Now we wait.” Mia said.
Oscar sat at a screen, filling in time until Natalie took the bait. He was doubtful about it. So obvious, so easy. Was it really that easy? He searched for the microphone settings, and muted them all. Then turned to Mia.
“Do you know who the backers are?” he said. Directly. Just like that.
Mia looked flustered. Thinking that even if the microphones were off, then there was most likely some audio surveillance in the apartment. She hadn’t done a search. Not sure how the backers would react.
“No.” she said.
// George
“Sophisticated.” Steve said.
“Fling it at the wall.” George said.
It was a matter of phrasing. “Wireless download reprogramming of master code, automobile.” Steve said.
A couple of pages of explanation came up. “Companies capable of executing.” Steve said.
There was a long delay. It was unusual for the wall to take time to respond. They were used to instant responses. A short list of companies came up. SciTec amongst them.
“Hacked by his own company?” Steve said.
“To what possible end? Instant redundancy?” George said.
It was hard to think of a reason why his own company would dispose of him in such a spectacular fashion. Much simpler to pay him out and send him on his way. George was more interested in the other companies. But where to start?
“How many people could do it?” George said.
“Not many. In Melbourne.” Steve said.
“So maybe rather than look for a company, look for the person. They might have contracted it out.” George said.
“Sure.” Steve said.
“Previous task. Individuals in Melbourne capable of executing.” he said to the wall.
A list of names. None of them meant anything much.
“Criminal records.” George said.
It didn’t help. About half of them had a record of some sort. Nothing too dramatic. Some relating to car theft, as you might expect.
“Movement traces.” George said.
A set of spidery lines appeared on a map, cross-indexed to the names on the list. “So now we know in great detail where they have coffee.” he said.
Steve laughed.
“The power of technology.”
// Oscar
So soon. Natalie had bumped his avatar. Left enough to establish a message thread. It would only persist for that part of the game. In theory once it was dropped the parties could not encounter each other again.
“Coffee?” he said
“Where?” she said
An