Читать книгу Marriage Confidential - Debra Regan - Страница 8

Chapter One

San Francisco

Friday, June 10, 6:45 p.m.

Shoulders back, head high, Madison Goode kept pace with the silent and stoic Special Agent Spalding from the FBI at her side. Her high heels clicked softly on the exquisite black marble tile. The sound was the only acknowledgment of their progress. Every inch of the Artistry of the Far East Museum was elegantly appointed and thoughtfully designed, not just the galleries displaying the invaluable collection. To Madison, who’d been behind the scenes of many of the most elaborate venues here and around the world, it seemed as if the museum founders had been as eager to inspire the staff as they were the visitors. She appreciated such excellent attention to detail.

As she turned her wrist to check her watch, her platinum and diamond wedding set glowed beautifully under the perfect lighting. She’d had it cleaned yesterday for this occasion, a little unnerved by how awkward and vulnerable she felt in the hours it wasn’t on her finger. She took comfort in the familiarity of the jewelry in its rightful place, a calming reminder in what hopefully wouldn’t blow up into a crisis.

The countdown for the evening was running in her head. The dignitaries from China’s foreign ministry would be here within forty-five minutes for a pregala toast and a private viewing of the new exhibit on loan to the United States. She knew from her years of experience as a State Department liaison that they would arrive five minutes earlier than scheduled.

Special Agent Spalding held open the door, encouraging her to enter the museum security office ahead of him. Even here, in the controlled lighting, she noted the aesthetic details that would empower the staff and boost efficiency. Her gaze slid over the monitors and the personnel watching each screen and status panel. No one was panicking and everything seemed to be in order, yet the tension simmering in the air was completely different than on her previous visits during the negotiation of the exhibit. When Spalding requested—demanded—her review of a potential security breach, he’d explained the threat was not as clear and easy to locate as a thief lurking in the building for his chance to strike.

“Technicians monitoring the computer systems found a problem,” Spalding said, his voice startling her after the long minutes of silence.

She followed him over to a small work space at the far end of the room. Although Madison had met with the cyber security managers on her previous visits, she’d only been introduced to the full team once. She smiled at the man and woman—very early twenties at best—wearing museum security uniform shirts with skinny jeans. Clearly uncertain how to proceed, they stood nervously beside their workstations where two FBI agents in subdued suits had assumed their seats and were working feverishly on their computers.

Madison’s stomach twisted, but years of practice and discipline had perfected her ability to hide any outward signs of distress or insecurity. She extended her hand to the woman first and introduced herself. “Madison Goode, State Department. Special Agent Spalding tells me you’ve found some kind of threat?”

“Yes. I’m Carli,” the woman said as she bobbed her head. Her bright red glasses framed blue eyes highlighted by purple mascara. Her pursed lips and scowl gave away her exasperation at being pushed from her station. “We were handling it.”

“Devon,” the man beside her said. He unfolded his arms long enough to shake Madison’s proffered hand and bump up his round, wire-framed glasses. Arms crossed once more, the fingers of one hand drummed against his opposite arm. She recognized how eager he was to get his hands back on his keyboard. “Carli and I saw the chatter about the attack and followed protocol,” he explained.

“These two just took over,” Carli said.

“We could be helping,” the two finished in unison.

Special Agent Spalding cleared his throat and gave a small tilt of his head. At the signal, Madison motioned for the technicians to step aside with her. “You did exactly the right thing,” she assured them. “Thank you both. I’m sure the FBI will only require another few minutes to make an assessment. Can you walk me through it, please?”

“We’ve been gearing up for weeks,” Carli began. “Staff meetings, search parameters—”

“And likely troublemakers,” Devon interjected. “There hadn’t been a whisper of a problem until an hour ago.”

“Then we found the chat room,” Carli continued. “Chatter about how America was selling the country to China one piece of art at a time. We saw blatant threats to the new exhibit. A rallying cry to take a stand.”

“Ugly stuff, really,” Devon added. “We notified our manager, took screenshots and started tracking usernames—”

“And IP addresses,” Carli finished.

By the time Madison had heard the entire story, she was nearly convinced Carli and Devon were twins with the way they completed each other’s sentences. The FBI agents at the stations continued working as Devon and Carli grew increasingly impatient. “I promise they’ll be out of your space as soon as possible,” Madison said.

Devon snorted and Carli elbowed him with a whispered reminder to be polite. Although Madison hadn’t hit thirty yet, these two suddenly made her feel old as they fidgeted and murmured in tech-speak about the situation.

Catching Spalding’s eye, she walked over. “Any progress?”

“Looks as if a group of American radicals is making a legitimate threat,” Spalding replied. “What my team is unraveling implies a direct, credible threat on the delegation from China. You need to postpone the reception. Possibly delay the exhibit.”

In her head, she raged and screamed, though she kept her expression neutral and her breathing under control. This unprecedented exhibit was scheduled to open to the public tomorrow. Ticket sales had exceeded their projections and officials at the Chinese consulate were openly thrilled. Delaying tonight’s event would undermine significant progress in the diplomatic arena and she wasn’t ready to toss that out the window, yet she couldn’t put lives or the displays at risk. “Can you run the vocabulary and threats against the emails our office received earlier this month?”

“Yes.” He signaled his crews to do as she asked. Spalding was grim, his voice low as he continued, “From all appearances this group is organized and ready to strike.” He went on with an explanation of his on-site security team and standard precautions. FBI and local police both in uniform and undercover had the museum surrounded and the Chinese delegation’s route from the consulate to the museum under surveillance, as well. “When we discussed this last week, we decided those emails came from a hacktivist group based in Asia.”

“The internet brings people together,” she replied. She braced a hand on the edge of the desk and leaned forward. Her sleek ponytail slid over her shoulder as she reviewed each correspondence and she pushed it back as she straightened. “The language is quite similar.” Similar enough that she was almost positive they were being strung along, dancing to someone else’s agenda.

Security wasn’t her assigned area of expertise and yet Madison needed to weigh all threats and consequences to the exhibit and the Chinese delegation. The political fallout of canceling the event or postponing the opening could be a serious problem. Her intuition told her they had trouble, though she disagreed with Spalding that the trouble would strike in the form of an immediate personal attack. “The radicals on the other side of that computer screen are noisemakers,” she said decisively. “They’ve never struck in person. We’re prepared and we’ll continue with the program as scheduled.”

Spalding’s eyes were hard and his voice was barely audible. “If you’re wrong?”

Since accepting her role within the State Department, she’d been walking the tenuous line of relations between China, Vietnam and other interested parties in the South China Sea long enough to trust her gut instinct. “There is trouble, I’ll grant you, but it is not a physical threat tonight. Someone is playing us, saying enough of the right things to make us doubt and potentially cause a rift. I refuse to make a decision based on fear that will undo the progress we’ve made in the past year.”

Spalding glared down at her and only her years of ballet training kept her spine straight, her gaze direct. “Listen, Goode, if you—”

“Sir! Ma’am!”

Madison peered around Spalding to see a member of the museum security staff waving frantically from the various readouts that confirmed priceless objets d’art and artifacts were secure in their displays. “What is it?” Spalding demanded as he crossed the room, Madison on his heels.

Her famous self-control almost snapped when she saw which exhibit caused the concern. The first troubling email her office had intercepted two weeks ago specifically mentioned the cup with dragon handles carved from white jade. The cup signified more than exceptional artistry and craftsmanship. Bringing a prized item from twelfth-century China to this museum in America indicated growing trust between their countries. Priceless, it wasn’t the oldest piece China had shared in this exhibit, but certainly one of the best known. Any impression that it wasn’t secure could destabilize the agreement.

“We read a spike in the display temperature first,” the man at the controls explained, bringing up a graph. “Now the electronic lock is flickering.”

“Flickering? What does that mean?” Spalding asked.

Madison already knew. She’d been through the museum a dozen times already, reviewing every detail of the items selected as well as the security measures necessary to protect the extraordinary exhibit China planned to share as a gesture of good intentions. A flickering electronic lock meant someone either was in the security system right now or had planted a virus to weaken it.

While Spalding sent his team along with museum staff to verify the safety of the cup and secure the galleries, she pulled her phone from her clutch and prepared to make an uncomfortable call. Whether or not the cup or any of the other priceless treasures were stolen tonight, a perceived flaw in the security would raise suspicion. She debated with herself over how to keep the head of the consular staff informed without wrecking the confidence she’d worked so hard to establish.

She turned to the man still monitoring the control panels. “Is it possible to isolate what type of interference is affecting the lock?”

“I can do that.” Carli stepped up when the technician hesitated.

Madison watched the younger woman conduct a swift search of the programming until she found what they were all looking for. Madison wasn’t an expert in computer languages or coding, but she recognized enough groupings on the monitor. The source of the problem in the locking mechanism on the display case was a hacker who’d been pounding at the State Department computer system firewalls in a chaotic effort to make his point about the insecurities plaguing the world. The official position was the hacker was tilting at windmills for the sheer joy of annoying cyber security. Now Madison wondered what they had overlooked. Only a thorough investigation would determine if this stunt was a timely coincidence or if he was in fact part of the outrageous, threatening chatter Carli and Devon had discovered.

“This is a hacker,” Madison stated. She kept her opinions and curses to herself as she opened a menu on her cell phone and located the right name in her contact list. “The reception and gala will go on. I want security increased around the cup please,” she said to Spalding. “Carli, please take a screenshot and do what you can to hold the hacker’s attention,” she added.

“I can help her.” Devon plugged in a wireless keyboard and jumped into the technological fray. “How much do you want us to do?”

“Don’t strike back directly,” Madison said, keeping the phone to her ear. She listened as the line rang and rang, hoping for a miracle. From what they’d been coping with at the office in recent weeks, she suspected the hacker was better than Carli and Devon, even combined. “Make him jump through enough hoops that it keeps him entertained.” Madison wrote her cell phone number on a notepad and left it between them. “Keep me in the loop.”

“You got it,” Carli and Devon said in unison.

As she left the security suite, Madison heard Spalding reorganizing his staff and she hit the redial icon. Again, the one man she needed didn’t answer and her call went to voice mail. Irritation plucked at the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. She had answered immediately when he needed her last year. Of course, he’d reached out by email that day. Rethinking her approach, she disconnected the call and opened her email application. After entering an admittedly desperate message, she hit Send. All she could do now was wait and hope Carli and Devon would be enough.

She made a last-minute adjustment to the guest list in case her secret-weapon expert did show up, alerting the team assigned to the rear entrance of the museum. Ignoring the raised eyebrows and a low whistle at the name she added, she headed for the main museum entrance. The lead dignitaries from the Chinese consulate would arrive within minutes.

“Hope you’re right about this,” Spalding muttered, his gaze sweeping the area.

“I am,” she replied with more confidence than she felt. There would be time for recriminations and self-doubt later when she was home alone. Plenty of time if this became an assassination attempt, since she’d either be dead or unemployed by morning.

Minutes later the formal greetings were exchanged on the red carpet outside and she gave her full attention to the delegation while Spalding watched everything else. Everyone in this first, exclusive group from China appeared as relaxed as she’d ever seen them as she guided them into the museum entrance hall. The invitations had specified black-tie and she thought the group resembled a stunning kaleidoscope with the colorful silk dresses of the women spiraling about the backdrop of black tuxedos.

Madison treated herself to an inward sigh of relief when the first group was safely inside, smiling and greeting senior staff from the State Department as well as the museum director, Edward Wong. Stepping out of view, she confirmed preparations were on schedule for the champagne toast in front of the prized white jade cup.

Brief, scripted speeches were exchanged between officials along with gestures of confidence and trust. If the hacker had attempted to rattle a saber on the Chinese side, the group showed no signs of distress. For the first time in over an hour, she believed the evening would run without any visible hitch.

At either side of the doorway to the premier gallery, golden champagne sparkled and bubbled in narrow crystal flutes ready for guests. Seeing that the key players from China and America were all smiles as they gathered together around the white jade cup display, Madison wanted to give a victorious cheer. With the drama and bids for power that filled the news most days, creating these moments of peace and goodwill was the big payoff in a career she loved.

She’d met and spoken with every person scheduled to work in this room, down to the museum security guards posted discreetly at intervals throughout the gallery and museum at large. Before she could fully relax, her phone vibrated against her palm. The incoming text message had her smothering a wince, arriving too late for her to clear the room.

Suddenly the lighting flickered inside the display case of the white jade cup and the lock buzzed and clicked. With everyone so close, there was no chance for the problem to go unnoticed. The hacker had grown bored with Carli and Devon and was obviously exerting his control on the system. Across the room, Madison saw the museum director bring the guards to attention as Spalding issued orders for his team.

Xi Liu, the highest ranking official on station at the Chinese consulate, aimed straight for Madison. They had worked closely with the museum staff in preparing for this exhibit. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

Mr. Wong joined her immediately. An older gentleman and first-generation American born to Chinese parents, he remained fluent in both the language and the behavioral expectations. “This is a standard test,” he explained calmly to Mr. Liu. “My apologies for the incorrect timing. This is a routine we typically employ after closing. The schedule change must have reverted. I assure you all is well and your generous exhibit is secure.” Mr. Wong’s serene expression was tested when the lock whirred and buzzed again. “There are no weaknesses in the system that prevent us from displaying the piece publicly.”

Mr. Liu didn’t appear entirely convinced as he turned to Madison. “You assured me all was in place. What is happening?”

“As you are aware, sir,” she began, “cutting edge technology is often finicky.” Madison felt a bead of sweat slide down her back. Where was the backup she’d called in? “Despite the mistiming of the normal security routine, your exhibit is quite safe.” She extended an arm to indicate the room. “The collection, in fact, the entire museum, is guarded by the finest technology systems as well as by the finest personnel. Your guests and friends remain unconcerned. In fact, they appear quite eager to continue with the festivities.”

Barely appeased, Mr. Liu motioned a man forward and murmured at his ear. To Madison and the director he said, “My man will stand guard with yours.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed. The director nodded with her. “If you would feel more comfortable, we can adjust the access of reception attendees.” It wouldn’t be too difficult to keep traffic out of this room and there had been no trouble at all in any other gallery. She didn’t believe for a moment that theft of the cup or any other object was on the hacker’s mind. Whoever had launched this attack was interested in dealing chaos and fostering mistrust. She sensed the true goal was to create a rift that would set back relations indefinitely.

Although Mr. Liu politely declined the offer to restrict access, Madison understood the nuances in his statement that emphasized his displeasure. She escorted the dignitaries from both countries to the receiving line to greet guests and checked her phone for any new messages.

Still nothing. Carli and Devon would have to find a way to end this game. Madison struggled to stay calm on her return to the security suite. The man might be out of town. If so, she’d excuse this lack of response. However, if she found out he was simply ignoring her calls and emails, she’d find Sam Bellemere and put a hammer through his most precious hard drive.