The Sydney Incident Chapter Six00:52 Oct 24 2010
Times Read: 913
Chapter Six
Mark closed his eyes for a second as he sighed heavily, then opened them: “I tried to explain to you, I’m just the gofer Kristen. Saving you on the plane, giving you the file, that was the first time I came out of the back office…”
Lowering her pistol, an inch or so, Kristen rubbed her chin with her free hand, as she mused aloud, “The file? So tell me, who encrypted it?”
“I did,” he assured her.
She continued rubbing her chin: “Where?”
“Here,” he told her, “I used my laptop. That one, over there…” He added, pointing to the far end of the room, where the machine sat on a half-circular table next to the wall, three chairs around it.
“And, do you mind if I have a look at it?” She quizzed, bringing her pistol back up an inch or so, levelling her arm, so that the killing end pointed at Marks face.
He turned white and stuttered, “No… no, I don’t mind, at all.”
Kristen smiled in response and asked, “Do I need to shoot you in the knee’s, to make sure you keep out of my way, while I look?
Marks hands were shaking, as he answered, “No, I don’t mind.”
Staring into his eyes, Kristen slid the pistol back into its holster and Mark watched as she set up his machine and then called over her shoulder, “Password?”
“Joanlancaster1959… with a capital at the beginning.”
“Uh huh,” she muttered, typing away busily.
From across the room, Mark Field stood and, pouring himself a whiskey, he asked, “Kristen, do you want one?”
“I suppose that’s your Mother’s name? Her maiden name,” she queried, fingers dancing over the keys, as she opened up one screen after another.
Mark watched from the middle of the room, as she peered intently at the screen.
“Aha…” she expressed, one hand to her mouth.
“Aha doesn’t sound good to me…” Mark told her.
In turn, Kristen turned in her seat, to look at him, “Depends on what you think is Mark…” She had used his name, which he caught immediately.
“So tell me, do you often leave your laptop unattended?” Kristen queried, her green eyes alight with seeming delight.
“Well, I put it down now and then, when it’s safe, that is…” he murmured.
“Have you left it unattended anywhere near Creavey?” She quizzed.
Deep in thought, Mark rubbed his chin and frowned: “Yes, I guess.”
“Recently?” She added.
“C’mon I work in the office, so yes; of course the answer is yes. Why?” He asked in return, his voice betraying his irritation.
“Well, you’ve heard of cyber terrorism?” Kristen asked with a smile.
Mark nodded.
“Well mister, you’ve been a victim of it…” she informed him glibly.
“What the…? How? Why!?!” He responded, in a raised voice.
“Every keystroke you’ve made in awhile has been monitored. You’ve been more than a gofer Mark. Without knowing it, you’ve also been a mole…” She explained: “and, a simple programme on your machine gave me the how? The why? Well, that’s down to Creavey and his games. Like I said, I know him of old.”
Mark sat back down, nursing his drink, as he contemplated what he had learnt.
“The plane?” He muttered.
“How best to get rid of me, without creating suspicion?”
“And the rest?”
“Well, lets say Creavey never was never subtle. And, he knew where to find me, through you. And, without me around? Well, I’m guessing he had his own man to go into Afghanistan. At least, that’s what I expect, from what I know of the fellow,” She explained slowly, to Mark who was having problems keeping up with her reasoning.
“And… you know this because?”
“Because of a keylogger programme I found, hidden away in your registry…” Kristen told him, turning back to the laptop, with a grin.
“So… why do you seem so cheerful Kristen?”
“Well,” she started, turning on her seat to face him again, “until now, I had no idea who my enemy was…”
“And, now you know?” Mark quizzed, as he stood, to pour himself a second drink.
“All those dead and, two attempts on my life? What do you think?” She asked, patting her jacket, over the slight bulge that betrayed her weapons place.”
An hour later Kristen had returned to Marks room, having already gone to her own covertly, to acquire what she needed.
And Mark watched, fascinated, as Kristen’s appearance changed radically, in under two hours.
First she changed her hair colour, becoming a blonde; then contacts gave her blue eyes; and then fine latex skins layed over each fingertip, thereby changing her prints to that of a Jane Doe from the hospital mortuary.
Finally, her normal casual, but smart clothing, gave way to something completely different; a figure-hugging red and blue horizontal striped woollen dress, rose coloured tights and, black shiny boots with an inch-high Cuban heel.
Round her waist she worse a four inch wide belt, that matched the boots; and over the ensemble, she wore a blue-denim jacket, with the bottom half cut-off and, the collar worn standing up.
Turning to Mark, she grinned and in a mock cockney accent, asked him; “Got a cigarette mister?”
She even gave a quick twirl, causing mark to give vent to a small groan, as she finished, with her left leg crooked, her right hand on her hip and she blew him a kiss.
“You’re good,” he told her with a smile, which acknowledged with another twirl, during which she swung her hips provocatively.
“Yep, you’re good,” he murmured.
And Kristen smiled, she couldn’t help it: ‘After all, what girl doesn’t like receiving the odd compliment?’
“So, what’s the plan?” Mark asked, eyeing the remains of the scotch.
Chapter seven
“The plan Mark? That’s easy my young gofer…” She said playfully.
She noticed the look on his face, as he heard her funny and abruptly she felt ashamed, “I’m sorry Mark, that was uncalled for.”
Head lowered, he muttered into his hands, “It’s all right, there are spies for the front office and, there are the one’s who do the work. They let me know that often enough.”
“Hey fella, get your head up,” Kristen told him, draping her right hand over his shoulders, “right now, you’re in the back office.”
Mark lifted his head and, allowed the glimmer of a smile, as she cradled the back of his head in the crook of her arm.
“And the fella’s in the back office have a plan…” she told him with a smile.
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