Collision Course

Chapter 3

After the better part of an hour, he was grinding his teeth in frustration when he made it in. And then he got more than he bargained for. Funda appeared to be just one of the files stored there. Whatever firewall he'd broken through, behind it were ten folders, each with a separate name. When he tried to open Funda, it kicked back at him. Encrypted.

Shit!

The same thing came up when he tried each of the other folders.

Okay, he and Ned had worked on encrypted files, too. Some of the programs they'd used had been available on the Internet, and Ned had shown him how to massage them. How to do things even sophisticated hackers might not achieve. Trey did a search for any programs he could download for free. Not the best solution but it gave him a place to start. Besides, if he used his credit card to purchase anything, it would show up. He had no doubt Bennett would put a tracking system on everything in his name.

He narrowed his results down to the ones with the broadest capabilities and installed them. One of the first things Ned had taught him when they were hacking was every protected file had a basic key from which the internal codes were constructed. Trey could crack them but that would take a long time. Each code had a slight difference from the others, so first he needed to discover the key. Couldn't get into a file without it.

He began with the Funda folder, dreading what he'd find if he got it open. Loading it, he set the program to run, pushed away from the table and made himself a pot of coffee provided by the motel. This could take minutes or it could take hours, and he needed the caffeine.

He turned on the television, volume low, to keep himself awake while he watched strings of number scroll across the screen, one by one. He had poured his third cup of coffee when the scrolling stopped and the file opened. Hot damn! He hadn't expected results so quickly.

But his jubilation was short-lived. He'd managed to open the master file, but within it were at least a hundred documents and subfiles. Okay. The real meat of the situation lay in those, hidden by additional codes. It stood to reason each named file would be the same-a blanket for dozens of internal documents. They'd require hours to crack and get what he needed.

He went to work on them but growled in frustration when each appeared to have its own polyalphabetic encryption code. Who the f**k had Bennett used to set this up? Someone he both trusted without qualification and paid well.

He took the first document and began to run it through the program. This one opened much sooner. But halfway through it he realized his life could be in danger just by knowing these things. Oh, transactions were well disguised unless you knew what to look for and how to find it. Which Trey did.

Holy s**t!

In the first document alone, he found records of massive amounts of money being moved into the account under the guise of philanthropic contributions to help Third World countries. He traced the destinations of so-called grants through banks in Nigeria and Kenya and even the Middle East. And Mexico! Since when did people call Mexico a Third World country?

Drugs. It had to be, at least a good part of it. He'd read enough about cartel operations to know most of their finances were hidden in money laundering activities. Bennett owned a controlling interest in some overseas banks. Were they involved? Could he be laundering money for drug cartels? Or was there more to it?

The second document opened a little easier. The more he uncovered, the sicker he got. He'd just touched the tip of the iceberg and his imagination was running away with him, but Trey was no dummy. The phone call had opened a real can of worms for him. The more he discovered, the more he wondered if he should contact his friend in Homeland Security now. Words like terrorists and treason danced through his brain.

But I need definitive proof. I need to get into more of those protected accounts. And the ones the program isn't able to open.

He took one break, watching his room and the parking lot as he fed quarters into the soft drink machine for a couple of cans of cola. He hoped they'd settle his stomach as well as a bad case of nerves.

He worked at the laptop until his eyes were so gritty he had to stop. Still, he didn't dare close them and try to sleep. Instead he lay back on the bed and tried to think what to do next. He'd have to buy a new vehicle out of town someplace. Better than trying to do it here. The sooner he left, the safer he'd be. At least for a while. Not that he had to hide from sight every day but he'd seen enough movies and read enough books to know what needed to be done. And he held a position as second in command of a worldwide corporation, for god's sake. He made plans and executed them every day.

So he'd make decisions. Make a plan.

He just needed to follow it and he'd be okay.

Sure, keep telling yourself that. There's a little difference between drawing up an outline to take over a company and being on the run from people who he was sure would kill him without hesitation.

What a f*****g mess. Who knew answering the damn phone would set him on a collision course with one of the most powerful men in the world?

He spent the remainder of the night watching the minute hand on his watch until is was time for him to leave.