Code blue, p.26
Code Blue, page 26
The garage door went down. “Where’s your phone?” he asked.
I fished it out of my pocket and handed it to him. “You said all of ten minutes ago you didn’t want to bring your phone.”
“I don’t want mine. I’m very happy without it. I want yours.” He scrolled through something before pressing buttons on the car stereo and he cranked up the volume.
“Drive My Car” by The Beatles almost blew out my eardrums.
Jeremy laughed. “I was gonna play ‘Shut Up and Drive’ by Rihanna.”
Smiling, I shook my head at him, and had to yell over the music. “Is there a song called Turn It Down?”
He grinned. “Imma write you one.”
“Does that not hurt your head?”
He rolled his eyes and pressed a button that made his front gates open, we drove through them and the gates closed behind us. We drove down to the estate gates, which rolled open for us, and the few remaining photographers didn’t pay us any attention at all.
They were waiting for the company van to come collect him first.
“See? It worked,” he yelled over the music.
I held up one finger. “It’ll only work once.”
He laughed. “Now for my favorite song ever. Are you ready for it?”
“No.”
His grin widened. “Behold the best song ever written!” “Eleanor Rigby” by the Beatles began to play, and he turned it up and sang every word at the top of his lungs.
It was hard not to smile.
He just kept grinning and singing, music blaring, all the way downtown.
“Hey, here he is!” Wes cried, and Blake and Luke were quick to their feet when Jeremy and I walked in.
“What’s with the beard?” Luke asked.
“Three-day growth is hardly a beard,” Jeremy said before they all hugged him, like they always did.
He could tell me he’d needed time away from the world, but anyone could see how much he’d missed them.
Even if it had just been a few days. Two, at the most.
He needed these boys in his life. They were a part of him.
I went to my team who were all off to one side. “Hey, boss,” Robbie said.
“Hey guys,” I said. I felt bad for not being a good boss these last few days. Aside from a few texts, I’d been largely absent. “How are we all?”
“All good,” Riko replied.
“Any clue what this is all about?” Zoe asked.
I shook my head. “None. First, we didn’t have to be here, then we had to be here.” I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
A very loud “Hey” made us all turn in time to see Maddox walk in. He took one look at Jeremy, grinned, and said, “Well, well, well, don’t you look relaxed?”
And then he looked at me.
For fuck’s sake.
But before Jeremy could reply, Maddox engulfed him in a crushing hug, almost taking him off his feet. And then he pulled Jeremy’s beanie off.
“Holy fucking shit!” Blake cried. “What did you do to your hair?”
Roscoe was trying not to smile as he walked over to me while Wes and Luke were inspecting the surgical glue in Jeremy’s head.
“I told him not to say anything,” Roscoe mumbled.
Just then, Ryan and Amber came in with a full tray of various coffees. Of course they were surprised to see Jeremy without hair, but his scar was a blunt reminder. “Just glad you’re okay,” Ryan said, handing him an iced coffee.
“And a heads-up,” Amber said. “Neil and two FBI guys are incoming in three, two . . .”
And two seconds later, Ambrose and Agent Zielinski and another guy in a suit walked in. Neil scanned the room and zeroed in on Jeremy. He was obviously shocked at the shaved head and scruff, but the fresh wound . . . it stopped criticism in its tracks.
“You okay, Jeremy?” he asked.
Jeremy sipped his coffee and smiled. “Never better.”
Clearly a lie, or sarcasm, but Ambrose wasn’t about to question him in front of the suits.
“We have some new information,” Neil said instead. Then he looked at me. “Steve, a word?” Then he held his hand up to everyone else. “Give us five minutes, then meet us in conference room two.”
Jeremy’s eyes were on me and he looked about to object to me leaving, but Maddox put his arm around him and drew his focus back to the group.
Roscoe gave me a nod. “I got them.”
Begrudgingly, I followed Ambrose and the two feds into the conference room with no idea what I was about to walk into.
Zielinski was about to talk first, but Ambrose put his hand up. “Just a second, please. Steve . . . Jeremy, is he okay?”
“He’s, uh . . .”
“He has a beard and shaved his head. I almost didn’t recognize him. God, he has photoshoots and interviews and pressers this week.”
Was he kidding me?
“He also has a two-inch cut in his head,” I snapped. “Which I’m sure you noticed. The doctors had to shave a strip into his head in the hospital. He shaved his own head. Said he just finished the job.”
I was trying really hard not to lose my cool, but by god, he wasn’t making it easy.
“I’d like Jeremy to see Dr. Hardwick,” Ambrose added.
“That’s something you need to run by Jeremy.”
“He’s . . . he seems to be comfortable around you. Not Ryan, not even Maddox. From what I heard, he didn’t even want Maddox around—”
“I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, but it’s wrong. And in light of all that’s going on—” I gestured to the two FBI agents watching our exchange. “—I would think the importance of accuracy should be a little higher on your list of priorities. He and Maddox are as tight as ever. In the last three days, Maddox has been at Jeremy’s house every day, twice yesterday, plus phone calls, text messages, FaceTime. Not sure what else you want them to do.”
Ambrose looked as if he wanted to murder me.
“He drove himself this morning,” he added sourly. “It’s not really up to him to decide if he can cancel a driver.”
“He didn’t drive. I did.” That was a petty technicality, but I didn’t care. “Canceling the driver was a courtesy. Otherwise Sayed would still be waiting out in front of the house.”
“It’s not the point. He’s going against the grain on everything.”
Christ. Did he invite me in here just so he could complain? “Why are you telling me this? Is there a point that involves me?”
“He doesn’t want anyone else around but you.”
We were getting into some murky waters . . .
“He trusts me. And right now, clearly, that’s all he’s got.”
Zielinski cleared his throat, obviously wanting to redirect the conversation. “Uh, Mr. Frost,” he said. “Do you trust everyone on your team? Riko Murata—”
It took my brain a second to change gears. “Um, yes. Of course. Why?” I shot Ambrose a glare. “What the fuck?”
He winced. “I told them you’d say that. They asked me about all the staff.”
I turned my gaze back to Zielinski. “I trust my team. With my life. With Jeremy’s life, with Maddox’s life, with Luke’s life—”
He put up a hand. “Yeah, okay. I had to ask.”
Like hell he did.
He just went on as if asking stupid questions was what he did for a living. “Do you know if Jeremy has his phone on him?”
“No. He doesn’t. It’s still in a container of rice from when he went in the pool and Riko fished it out hours later. I asked him this morning if he wanted to see if it would work, but he said no. He hasn’t had a phone for days.”
“You said he’s spoken to Maddox on the phone, texted, and FaceTimed,” the other agent said. It wasn’t a question but it really was. He was maybe thirty, dark hair, broad shouldered, cool demeanor. He looked sharp as a tack. Offered no introduction, no apology. I certainly couldn’t be mad at his question because at least someone here was paying attention.
“Mr. Frost,” Zielinski said. “This is Special Agent Richardson. He’s part of the cyber team.”
I looked at Richardson. “Jeremy used my phone. Called his mom a few times, called all the guys, texted them.”
Richardson gave a nod. “We’re going to need to take a look at your phone.”
“What for?”
“We believe there may have been a data breach,” Zielinski said.
I handed my phone over. I had absolutely nothing to hide. “What kind of data breach?”
Richardson answered. “The serious kind.”
I was still trying to decide if I liked him or not when the doors opened and Jeremy walked in. The others were right behind him, of course, followed by Roscoe, Amber, and Ryan, and then my security team filed in.
Jeremy took one look at me and saw Richardson had my phone. Maybe he could feel the unease in the room. “What’s going on?”
“Everyone, please take a seat,” Ambrose said. “This is Special Agent Richardson, and you’re familiar with Special Agent Zielinski.”
We moved around the large conference table, Jeremy ushering me to sit beside him, Maddox on his other side.
Zielinski spoke first. “We’ve had some developments.”
“Have you found that woman?” Luke asked.
“No. There’s been two credit card transactions in Nevada, but we have reason to believe her card may have been stolen. The store footage shows an unknown person using the card.” Zielinski sighed and looked directly at Jeremy. “But something else has come up. The footage from your house, Jeremy, sent to us by Mr. Frost—”
“Of the drone,” Jeremy finished.
“Jeremy spotted it in the footage,” I added so the others were up to date. “Not me. I just sent it. I take it the security company could identify the owner of the drone?”
Richardson took over. “Yes and no. Great technology, by the way. The drone captured in the footage was not recording visual or audio. Smaller by design, harder to detect. And illegal in the US.”
What?
“Not registered, of course,” Richardson continued. “No identifying serial numbers. Remote Wi-Fi control, scrambled VPN.”
Jesus Christ.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. “If it wasn’t recording footage or audio, what was it doing?”
Apparently that was the right question because Richardson gave me a nod. “This software latches onto the Bluetooth network and gains access to all devices. Phones, computers, internet, home security. Contact lists, internet banking, calls, texts, photos, videos, passwords, social media accounts.”
I felt a little sick.
“We’re going to need your phones,” Zielinski said.
Everyone stared, stunned.
“For how long?” Maddox asked.
“Undetermined at this stage,” Richardson replied. “Depends on what we find. I’d like to say just a few hours, but I can’t promise.”
I had to push the heel of my hand to my stomach to stop the roll of nausea. I’d been so focused on a physical breach, I hadn’t considered a virtual one.
“All of us?” Luke asked.
“Everyone who was at Mr. Dalton’s or who has been at his house in the last four days.” Richardson looked around at everyone’s stunned faces. “We believe there’ve been several sweeps.”
“The new security cameras were supposed to detect this,” Jeremy said.
“They can detect registered drones,” Richardson explained. “That should’ve been enough. This kind of technology is believed to be out of the Japanese black market. As I said, it’s illegal here.”
“But it’s still here,” Jeremy shot back. “Legal or not.”
My head spun. Fucking hell. “This is . . .” I had to exhale slowly. I turned to Jeremy. “I’m sorry. I was focused on a physical attack. I didn’t even think—”
“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” Jeremy said. He gave my hand a squeeze. “This is some Matrix shit. This goes way beyond your responsibility.” He turned to the feds. “What information did they get? What can they do with it?”
“We’ve shut down all company servers. Even our website shows a maintenance screen,” Ambrose said. “Arlo Kim isn’t taking chances. He has the IT people working overtime. It’s precautionary at this stage, but the truth is, we don’t know if they gained access to the Platinum system.”
“This particular software acts like a spiderweb. It branches out to any other network it connects with,” Richardson said. “We’ve seen it before. So if you’re infected at ground zero, then take that infected device to your house or place of work, use the Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, they can then gain access to that location.” He looked around the table. “If you were infected at Jeremy’s house and then used that device at home on Wi-Fi, we would have to assume your house has been breached as well.”
Christ almighty.
“What are they after?” Jeremy asked, not for the first time.
“We don’t know,” Zielinski answered. “At first we thought they wanted information on you. But now we think it might be bigger than that, and maybe they’re targeting Platinum Entertainment.”
There was that nauseous feeling again.
“Who’s behind this?” Wes asked. “Is this the same crazy bitch who’s after Jeremy?”
Zielinski pursed his thin lips. “We use the term fixated person.”
“I don’t give a fuck what term you use,” Wes shot back.
“Wes,” Ryan murmured.
“No. This is fucked up. Amy was there . . . Oh Christ. I need to call her.” Wes reached for his phone.
“You can’t use that,” Richardson said. Wes stared at him. We all did. “We’re going to need all your phones. We’ll be sending a team to your houses to retrieve any infected devices and to check over your security systems.”
Christ.
“I suggested the new security systems,” I said. “It was supposed to protect them, not be a portal into their homes.”
“This is not your fault,” Jeremy said. This time he massaged the back of my neck.
“I tend to agree with Mr. Dalton,” Richardson said. “It wouldn’t have made any difference. In fact, if the new system hadn’t been in place, we’d never have known about the drone. And Mr. Dubrowski, the owner of the security company, has been more than accommodating. He’s horrified.”
“And to answer your question,” Zielinski said, “we don’t know who is behind this. My team is still focused on finding Ms. Sosa. We believe she can help us with our investigation.”
“The last lot of crazy mail received were direct threats against Arlo and Platinum,” I volunteered, considering neither Ambrose nor Zielinski did.
Ambrose’s eyes hardened in my direction and I didn’t give one single fuck.
Discussions ended with everyone’s phones on the table and plans to meet with the specialist tech teams at everyone’s homes.
Ambrose had produced eight cheap burner phones, brand new, in sealed boxes, each with twenty bucks call and text credit. One for each of the guys and the three managers. No Wi-Fi connectivity, and eight random, brand-new disposable numbers.
“Where’d you get these from?” Luke asked with a laugh. “1997?”
“It’s a Nokia knock off,” Blake said.
“My grandmother has one like this,” Wes grumbled.
Ambrose ignored the complaints. “You can contact each other, and more importantly, we can contact you. But they’re not connectable to the internet or Bluetooth. They can’t be hacked by this person.”
Maddox stared at it, held it closer to his face. “Can I text? How do I text?”
Roscoe pointed to the keyboard. “You need to press the seven button three times to get an R, then the six button three times to get an O. Then seven again four times to get an S . . .”
The five of them stared at him, horrified.
“The fuck I will,” Maddox said.
Jeremy laughed and slid his phone across the table to me. “You can have it.”
I ignored the fact Ryan and Luke were watching us, and I ignored them when I slid it back to him. “Have it yourself.”
“Security have their own,” Ambrose said, putting another bag on the table. The phones were the same as the others, brand new in sealed boxes. They couldn’t be tampered with, could they?
Why did I feel as if we were being handed tracking devices?
But we exchanged numbers and Jeremy and the others left the room, laughing about their phones. I talked with my team. It was a good time to catch up, not that I could tell them much. They’d been in the meeting, heard all I’d heard, knew all I knew. I couldn’t make any plans moving forward until I knew what the band was doing.
But I couldn’t get Zielinski’s question out of my head.
Do you trust your team? Do you trust Riko?
Of course I did.
If anyone on my team had done any damage, it was me. If that hacking software had the capabilities to access my phone camera or the laptop camera to see inside Jeremy’s house, to spy on him, they’d have close-up footage of us making out on the couch.
God. I’d given him a hand job on the couch. In front of the laptop.
How could I be so stupid?
We’d shut the world out, yes. But did they have eyes inside the house?
“It’s scary,” Robbie said. “People having remote access to our phones and stuff.”
Ivan nodded. “We can’t protect them from someone we can’t see.”
“I agree,” I said. “All this time, I was so worried about a physical attack. I didn’t imagine the threat would be virtual.”
“What do you think they’re after?” Zoe asked.
“Dunno,” Riko replied. “My question would be why they haven’t used it yet?”
We all stared at him.
He shrugged. “If they’ve had access for four days, they’ve seen footage of Jeremy’s dive into the pool, the paramedics coming. They’ve got photos and phone calls, even bank account information, and whatever else they said. Why hasn’t any of that been posted online or sold to a news channel?”
I nodded. “Maybe that’s what Zielinski meant when he said they’re now thinking they want Platinum and not Jeremy.”
The conference room door swung in. It was Ambrose. “Steve, we got a problem.”
