Michael started. “We can resurrect Martin Luther King, Jr., get him to do his ‘I have a dream’ speech.”
“If it were possible, someone else would have thought of it first,” Ted replied.
“Well, that’s it for me. I’m out,” Michael said.
Ted paused. “You’re kidding.”
“Yes, I am.” Sometimes Michael joked a little brusquely, but sometimes it was the only way he knew how to cope.
Without missing a beat, Ted continued, “Well, let’s wait for Clydene to get back. Maybe she’ll have some better ideas.”
“How is business for her?” Michael scooted to the edge of the couch so he could reach his coffee on the coffee table.
“Pretty good. She’s been putting in a lot of time on the QX project lately.”
“Fleecing them pretty good, I hope.”
“I imagine so,” Ted said. “She’s also been working on a new project. I’m not sure what.”
“Something top-secret for the CIA?” Another joke.
“I think SD-6. How’s your new boss? Still clueless?”
“Always.” Michael really enjoyed quick-witted banter. “Today he wigged when my team had a brain-storming session without him.”
“Sounds like he might have control issues.”
“Definitely. He could actually be pretty good, if he didn’t have to be in the middle of everything all the time.” Michael actually felt sorry for the poor guy. This single character defect held him back, but boy was it a doozy.
“What are you going to do?” Ted asked.
“No problem. I’ve dealt with bosses before.”
Clydene entered the room. “Hey, you,” she greeted Michael.
“Hey, Clyde.” Michael saw how hard her friend’s incarceration had hit her, and he forgave her for her occasional outbursts of temper. “Ted tells me you have a new client,” he remarked.
She looked confused for a second. “No. I’ve been working on a side-project, just experimenting with a new technology is all. Nothing really interesting, though.”
“Well, more for the resume, I guess.” Michael said.
“Uh, yeah.” She smiled coyly.
Ted interrupted and got the meeting on track. When Mira was unable to make a meeting, he usually took up the reigns.
Their purpose for this meeting was to decide what to do about the upcoming demonstration. Mira’s preference was to go on with the event as best as possible, even if she couldn’t make it. But Ted, Michael, and Clyde would be in the hot seat. She would back whatever they decided.
The thing was, Mira was the personality behind the protest, and behind the campaign to oust Baedes. It was her cause, her passion. Her petition would be the culmination of this campaign. Mira had given up volunteering for other projects, and had even cut back on her caseload, in order to spend more time on the Committee for a Fairer Future. Yes, it had been a collective idea, as far as Ted could remember. That is, all four of them had come up with the idea of forming an organization to fight Baedes, because he was the driving force behind the police state that was coming to Abe’s Turn, all in the name of peace and order. All four friends had been incensed and heartbroken when they realized what had happened to their hometown. But Mira was the one who had put in her time and passion, had taken a crash course in politics and law enforcement, had assembled mentors, had devised strategy, had scoured newspaper articles, had dug up research, collected statistics, had thought up PR opportunities, had interviewed victims, amassed personal anecdotes, had gotten them on board, had drawn volunteers, had kept them fired up. Mira had spearheaded the project. On top of all that, Mira drilled herself constantly on tough questions regarding the campaign. As much as she admitted she hated doing it, she studied and learned to be an apologist for the campaign. She knew more about this cause than anyone else involved. And she was who all the local newspapers called for comments. If she couldn’t make it to her own protest… Well, that was going to be the story.
Ted, Michael, and Clydene went down the list of their options. They could call off the event, but that would mean they’d throw away all the effort they’d invested in building up to it. Besides, it would show Baedes that he could bully them, and they didn’t want to send that message. Another alternative was merely postponing. That was a little better, but not by much, because they’d still lose momentum, and Baedes would still get the message that he could bully them. Now, if there were some other reason for postponing, then they could use it as an excuse. But none of them could think of such an excuse. They agreed to postpone only as a last resort and to keep an eye out for any excuse they could use to rationalize the postponement.
Clyde spoke up. “Okay. We have signs and materials. We have volunteers. We have permits and equipment and everything else we need. Everything’s scheduled. Now… Refresh my memory again. Why does Mira need to be there?”
Michael answered. “Because she’s the personality behind the campaign. She’s got to be on hand to give a speech, answer questions, drive the demonstration, and so forth. Besides, it would look really bad for her to miss her own event because she was arrested. The press is going to take Beady-eyes’s side and paint her as a criminal.”
“Okay. There are other people who could answer questions. Like you, for example.”
“Or you,” Michael said. He really didn’t want to be in the hot seat, even though he was the most qualified. Yes, he loved the limelight, but this kind of publicity was not what he needed.
“I guess so,” Clyde said awkwardly. She clearly didn’t look forward to the prospect.
“But most of the questions would be hostile questions about Mira’s arrest,” Michael noted. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes trying to answer those.”
“You’d probably do a better job than me.” She was beginning to raise her voice.
“But you believe in the idea more,” Michael countered. This wasn’t exactly true. They all believed in the idea.
“But you coached Mira. You helped her go through the questions she might be asked. You’re the right one for the job. Or instead of a speech, she could issue a prepared statement. One of us could even read it.”
“A prepared statement? Like a politician?” Michael hated politicians and had urged Mira to distance herself as much as possible from their double-faced tactics.
Clydene leered at him.
“Let’s settle down,” Ted interjected.
“Besides, even politicians read their own statements,” Michael said. When he got worked up, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone.
“You know,” Ted interjected, “if we could raise $100,000, we could bail her out.”
“Yeah,” Michael replied, “and if I were Superman, I could break her out.”
“You don’t think an urgent phone and Internet campaign could raise the money?” Clyde asked.
“Not likely,” said Michael.
“Well, what part of the money could it raise?” Ted said.
“Maybe 5 thou, or 10 if we’re lucky.” Even that was a stretch, he hated to admit.
“Are there any rich benefactors waiting in the wings?”
“Don’t you think I’d be on them already if there were?”
“Maybe. What about prospects? A wealthy lion from whose paw Mira may have pulled a thorn?”
“Not that I know of,” Michael said. “But you should ask her next time you see her. She doesn’t always share with me all her connections. For all I know, she may have done a favor for Michael Corleone.”
“Hmm.” Ted nodded. “There’s one more option.”
“What’s that?” Clyde asked.
Ted spoke soberly. “We could disclaim Mira and go forward with Michael as spokesman.”
Clyde was livid. “Who’s side are you on?”
“I’m on our side—“
“And you, Michael, here you have a perfect opportunity to do something that will show Mira you really care about her, and you won’t do it. Sometimes you really make no sense. And you would get to be the center of attention, too! Since when do you turn down a chance to be the center of attention?”
“Ouch,” Michael said quietly. That hurt.
Clyde sighed. “Well, I’m sorry to deal from the bottom of the deck, but that’s the truth.”
Michael thought she was full of anger and bullshit, but he knew when to talk and when to listen.
“My point is,” Clyde said, “Mira’s the victim here. We can’t let that beat us down. We have to use it for ammunition.”
Quiet.
Clyde’s dedication for her friend was certainly admirable. And she was right: Mira was the victim. And Beady-eyes was the aggressor. They had to find some way of spinning this to their favor. There was no other option.
“What do you think, Michael?” Ted said.
Michael spoke carefully. “If we have to go in without Mira, then we’ll do the best we can. But we’ll face a challenge. All the press is going to be looking at the fact that she was arrested for assault. They’re going to say that the judge considers her dangerous.” He quickly backpedaled as he turned wide eyes to Clyde. “I know she didn’t do anything wrong. She couldn’t. It’s not in her nature. Beady-eyes is a creep. And that judge is full of it. Or full of something.
“The press cares about the drama. They don’t give a damn for the truth. So I think our best bet is to work our view into the drama, maybe with a show of solidarity and support. And spin it as example of the kind of abuse we’re trying to stop. And then hope for a one-liner.”
“Or a sound-bite,” Clyde said.
“I don’t follow,” Michael said.
“A sound-bite on the evening news is worth how many column-inches?”
“A bunch. But there the TV reporters haven’t been knocking down our door. Our best bet would be if we had some proof that Beady-eyes had arrested her for personal reasons. That would raise some questions. Or that he manipulated the evidence.”
Ted said, “If we had proof that he manipulated the evidence, instead of subjecting it to press scrutiny, I’d introduce it in court. We wouldn’t be having this conversation. In fact, any evidence that he was acting improperly could help.”
“Well, he surely has been,” Clyde said.
Ted looked at the ceiling for a moment. “We’re biased.”
“What?” Michael said. Yes, they were biased, but only because they were right.
“We think Baedes is up to no good, because we believe he has been up to no good in the past. That has served us, because we’ve only had to convince fellow activists. Now, we have to convince a judge. That means we need hard evidence.”
“What sort of evidence?” Clyde asked.
“Maybe if one of his colleagues came forward with testimony.”
“Fat chance of that,” said Michael. “We’d do better to bug the place. I’ll get some black body-suits, and Clyde can break through the security system.” Sometimes when he got upset, Michael’s sense of humor ran rampant.
“That’s another joke, right?” Ted said.
“Yes,” said Michael.
Ted spoke sternly. “Because it would be blatantly illegal. Not only could we not use the evidence, but I wouldn’t want to think of what would happen to us if we got caught. As an officer of the court, just telling me about such a plot would be disastrous.”
“Ted—“ Michael put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It was a joke, just a bad joke. Sorry. I’m ticked.”
Ted nodded. “There’s a lot of that going around lately.” He took a breath. “You know, the biggest part of examining a witness is knowing what questions to ask. It’s not as important as people think, to find a witness who wants to give the right testimony. Because if you can ask the right questions, you can get almost any testimony you want. So we don’t actually need anyone to come forward, if I knew who to ask and what to ask him.”
Indeed, the four were all under tremendous stress, because they were trying to pick up the slack in risky and demanding circumstances. But quantifying the problem made it easier to come up with a plan and made Michael feel a little better. They would postpone only if there turned out to be no other option. They could make that decision over the weekend. In the meantime, Michael would send out personalized messages from Mira to each volunteer, including pleas for help. That was a job and a half, but Michael felt the motivation. The goal was to collect pledges toward Mira’s bail. This was an emergency, because if they couldn’t collect enough pledges before Friday, the event all the volunteers had worked so hard on may never even happen.
However, this was only one side of a two-prong attack. On the other prong, Ted had a court appeal left. He would use that appeal, and any other evidence he could dig up, to try to reverse the bail decision, or at least to reduce it, and to get Mira released.
By the time they were through and Michael had left, it was late. Clyde made the excuse that she just wanted to check her email before going to bed. She sent Ted upstairs and sat down at her computer. She looked at her email in-box. There were about a dozen new messages, but she didn’t do anything with any of them. She didn’t read them, delete them, move them to another folder. She didn’t even ignore them. Instead, she opened a console window on her computer. As a software developer, she knew all about the internals of her computer, and she frequently used old-style command-line programs that she created herself.
She paused for a long minute, deep in thought. This was the moment of no return. She had been working on this project ever since Mira’s arrest. Initially, she couldn’t even tell you why, what good it could possibly do. But she had a feeling. She knew she could uncover something, as long as she didn’t get caught. And that was the danger. This was the moment of no return. Beyond this point, she could not undo what she was about to do. And if someone were to discover her, her life would probably be over. Why should she risk it? Simple. Because this is what she had been working toward. Yesterday, she believed this secret project held the answers to Mira’s dilemma. What had changed between yesterday and today? Nothing, except Clyde’s fear. And she couldn’t let mere fear control her life. There’s nothing to it but to do it, she thought.
With trembling fingers, she typed the cryptic command pyx_loader. The letters appeared in green on a black panel, like the old-style green-phosphor monitors. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pressed the enter key. For another few seconds she didn’t even breathe. Then computer responded with several lines of equally cryptic response, all in green on black:
Logging to pyx.log
Found hole 4 at 172.27.201.183
Administrator access
Attached to EXPLORER
Installed re-attacher, all methods
Clyde was dizzy. Pyx had found a security hole in a deployed QX server, a hole which allowed her to break into the system and gain administrator privileges. She didn’t know what computer was specifically at the IP address 172.27.201.183, but she knew it was within Abe’s Turn. Pyx had installed itself on this server, and now it would begin spreading, like a virus, onto any other government computer it could. And it would begin surreptitiously sending back information, any information it could find, for Clyde to sift through. And if anyone figured out what was happening and that she caused it, yes, it was a federal crime. There was no going back now.
As if in a dream, she entered the follow-up command pyx_scan, to which the computer replied:
Scanning... Found 5 messages.
Suddenly, nervousness grabbed Clyde’s heart, as though something had gone wrong. Yes, she had planned to infiltrate a government computer system. But seeing it actually happen brought a reality that freaked Clyde out. But there was no going back, only going forward.
She typed more commands to display the log. It showed records from 5 separate computers, and that Pyx was sending back data. She began looking at this data. Page after page of pointless memorandums, dense documentation, boring emails. But each new one made Clyde more tense, or maybe more excited.
“Oy,” Clyde whispered.
“Clyde,” Ted said from behind her.
Clyde yelped and spun around in her chair. What the hell was he doing sneaking up on her? He was supposed to be upstairs falling asleep. He was supposed to be an early riser, and late nights were supposed to knock him out. And he was definitely not supposed to see what she was working on! If he did, she feared, he would feel an obligation as an officer of the court to turn her in. He had told similar stories of clients he had defended. And it always upset him, but he always did “the right thing,” his words, not Clyde’s.
Ted giggled. “I’m pouring myself a glass of wine. Do you want— No. Correction: I’m pouring one for you, too. Stop working and come to bed.” He was smiling.
“Sorry, I just got distracted by—“
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it before. We’re going to relax, and we’re going to forget all about our problems.”
She stared at him blankly. This definitely didn’t make sense. It was late. He was tired, or so she thought. And he apparently wasn’t noticing anything on the computer monitor.
“It’s Wednesday night, remember?” he said.
“Oh, right,” she said.
Every Wednesday before bed and every Sunday after church, like clockwork, that was when they got intimate. It was part of their routine, and there were very few exceptions. Clyde would have thought that the regularity of it all would have made sex boring, but Ted always found a way to make it exciting and new, adventurous. In any case, this also explained why Ted cared not a whit what she was doing, only that she wasn’t getting ready for bed. She had lucked out.
“Okay, I’m coming. Right now,” she said.
Ted went back to the kitchen to pour the wine.
Clyde turned to her computer and closed the console window full of text. She breathed deeply. Then she turned off the computer monitor and went upstairs.
