Point of Contact

A sedan was parked in the distance in front of a different house. He couldn’t quite make anything out. He pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and pointed it at the vehicle, then used the 6x optical telephoto magnification. The camera’s lowlight feature and zoom helped him see the shadow of a man in the passenger seat who seemed to be looking up in his direction, but he really couldn’t tell. If he had to guess, he’d say he looked Caucasian. The moonlight striking the windshield created a glare that blocked the view of the driver’s side.

Paul felt like a voyeur. This was stupid. If that was one of Lian’s security teams, so what? Keeping them under observation was for their own protection, wasn’t it? Besides, there were a lot of houses in the area. It was relatively early in the evening. He put the camera down.

Another man dashed into view just then, flung open one of the rear doors, and fell in. The car’s headlights popped on, the engine fired up, and the car sped away down the street.

What was that?

Probably nothing, Paul decided. Just people in the neighborhood. Lian’s security team wouldn’t quit this early.

That USB drive was making him crazy.

Paul flipped the bedroom lights back on and headed for the bathroom. Maybe if he brushed his teeth and put on some pajamas he’d be able to fall asleep. It was going to be a long day tomorrow and he was going to need his wits.

17

DALFAN TECHNOLOGIES HEADQUARTERS

SINGAPORE

It took Jack a few moments to acclimate to driving a car seated on the right side of the vehicle, and even longer to get used to driving on the left side of the road. His first clockwise roundabout was an eye-opening experience. Paul clutched the overhead hand grip and shoved his feet into the floorboard, and Jack began laughing out loud after he got stuck on the inside and had to run the circle again before shooting out onto the correct street. What struck him as particularly funny was the near-frantic tone in the constantly changing voice commands from the GPS navigator as he whipped past the half-dozen exits on the roundabout.

The crowded early-morning traffic on the main thoroughfare was slow but organized compared to the free-for-all scramble that characterized most big cities in the non-Western world. It only took them seven minutes to find the techno-modern four-story steel, concrete, and green glass Dalfan building. He pulled into the gated driveway and gave the security guard their photo IDs. After a check against the data on his tablet, the unarmed guard smiled and waved them through the gate. Ten minutes after that they stood at the front desk of the main entrance on the ground floor.

“Jack Ryan and Paul Brown for Ms. Lian Fairchild.”

The young and demure receptionist smiled and called back on her phone. Jack saw the broad open floor and workstations on the other side of the secured glass wall. A minute later Lian appeared.

“Gentlemen, welcome. Any trouble finding us?”

“No problem at all. It’s your GPS that’s gonna need therapy. I think I drove that woman crazy — pardon the pun.”

“How about some coffee or tea before we get started?” Lian asked.

“We already had breakfast back at our place, but thanks.”

“Tea later would be nice, though,” Paul said.

“Of course. Anytime you like. Please, follow me.”

Lian flashed a card, unlocking the heavy security glass door, and led them through into the next suite. Glass-walled offices and conference rooms with glass doors were located on both sides of the room, and on the floor itself were two dozen occupied computer workstations.

On their immediate left as they entered the suite was the security office, another glass-walled room but without a door. A serious young man, maybe fresh out of college, stood behind a desk with a computer workstation off to the side.

Lian gestured toward him. “Gentlemen, please.”

“What’s this?”

“We have strict security protocols beyond this point. We must check your bags for contraband items and inspect your electronic devices if you want to be able to bring them inside.”

“I’m not comfortable with that,” Jack said.

Paul shook his head. “Me neither.”

Lian shrugged. “Then you have the option of leaving your bags with us and using only our equipment, or you cannot go in at all.”

“If we don’t go in, we don’t do the audit,” Jack insisted. “Your father won’t be pleased.”

“He’ll be even less pleased if I allowed two strangers to smuggle in equipment that hacked or stole our most important data. There is no Wi-Fi in this facility. Every computer is air-gapped and hardwired to our mainframe, which has a secure Internet connection.”

“Is corporate espionage that big of a problem?” Paul asked.

“It has been in the past. Not anymore.”

Paul and Jack set their bags on the table along with their smartphones.

“Please, do you mind opening them?” the security guard asked. “And power up your devices and enter your passcodes.”