The Soldier
Chapter 2

Logan sat in his darkened apartment sipping brandy and staring into space. He had not yet heard from Willie as to the purpose of this computer chip, and neither had he heard anything from anyone at Heuristics, which seemed to Logan a sign that things were not going to go in his favor.

That he had been set up to take the fall for the theft was obvious. He knew he was not involved, but the evidence was rapidly piling up against him, with most of it in the form of computer records that were obviously planted somehow. He knew that the computer that ran Heuristics’ security system was considered virtually unbreakable, but his experience also taught him that there was always someone just a bit cleverer out there to find a backdoor.

Logan considered his options. He followed a familiar process he learned years ago in the SAS. First, you break the problem into small, easily understood pieces. Then you figure out the solution to each piece, finally putting the pieces together to come up with the solution for the larger problem.

“Think, Logan, do you stay or run,” Logan said. He had always found it helpful to talk his problems through out loud. “What have they got on you? Only suspicion of being party to the theft. Obviously, Bessie’s internal scans and memory were tampered with, and you need to be free to find out what happened.

“Running will keep you free, but they’ll be looking for you and you’ll be having to do double duty to keep from getting picked up,” he said. “And if you stay put, you’ll get arrested but more likely than not you’ll be able to bond out in a day or two giving you considerably more freedom than if you were being hunted.

“Sounds like the way to go,” he said.

Having decided on his course of action, Logan poured himself another brandy and sat down to watch an old movie while he waited for the inevitable arrival of the police.

Chief Inspector Elizabeth Robinson walked up to the door of Logan’s apartment flanked by two police officers. She knocked briskly on the door.

“Do you think he’ll run, Inspector?”

Robinson looked at the man. “I doubt it. The man is a former SAS. He swore an oath to King and Country. He won’t give us any trouble.”

Not hearing any sound of movement from within the apartment, Robinson knocked again.

“Just a moment.”

She breathed a slight sigh of relief at the sound of Logan’s voice, not relishing the idea of having to track a decorated war hero down like a common criminal. A moment later the door opened slightly.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Logan,” Robinson said as she presented police ID, even though Logan already knew who she was. “May we come in, please?”

“Of course, Inspector,” Logan said as he walked back inside his apartment. Robinson and the two officers followed Logan inside, with one of the two closing and standing next to the door.

Logan had walked over to the video monitor, which he turned off. He casually tossed the remote on the sofa before turning to the inspector.

“Now, what can I do for the Metropolitan Police Department,” Logan said graciously.

“I think you know why we are here, Mr. Logan,” Robinson said. “Your firm’s security system has provided information which is not, shall we say, supportive of your version of the events of last evening. Our technicians have looked for any hint of possible forgery and can’t find any.”

“So I assumed,” Logan said as he sat down in his leather reclining chair. “And I gather you’re here to arrest me?”

Robinson smiled slightly.

“Unfortunately, we are,” she said, “Do you need to call anyone before we go -- your lawyer perhaps?”

“As surprising is it might seem, I don’t actually keep a barrister on retainer,” Logan said as he stood up. “And at this point I’m not sure one is necessary.

“I do have a request, though.”

“And that would be?” Robinson said cautiously.

“I would like to see the complete computer record, including this video of me supposedly entering the clean room that night.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged. But for now, we must ask that you accompany us to our offices for booking and questioning.”

“Of course, I’ll just get my coat,” Logan said as he started for his bedroom.

One of the uniformed officers stood at the bedroom door.

“If you will just tell me where it is, I will be more than happy to retrieve it for you, sir.”

Logan smiled.

“Of course, it’s in my bedroom draped over the chair next to the window.”

The inspector quickly went into Logan’s bedroom and returned with the coat.

“There you are sir,” he said as he handed the coat to Logan.

“Thank you,” Logan said as he slipped the jacket on, thankful that he had thought to take the pistol out of the pocket and place it in the wall safe in his room. He would retrieve it later if, as he expected, he was allowed to bond out.

“After you,” Robinson said motioning toward the door, which the other officer was holding open.

Logan walked through it, followed closely by both of the uniformed officers. Robinson pulled the door closed behind her.

Slightly more than 26 hours elapsed between the knock on his door and Logan re-entering his apartment. He casually tossed his coat on a chair and went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Everything was exactly as he left it, which surprised him just a bit as he fully expected to find the end result of a thorough, but not tidy, police ransacking of his living quarters in a vain search for evidence that did not exist.

As he sat at the bar sipping his water, his eyes fell on his computer. No doubt the entire contents of his hard-drive had been downloaded for further study, and it was equally likely that some form of monitoring software had been sequestered away on the system.

“Let’s see what we can find,” Logan said to himself.

The system booted up in what seemed the normal amount of time, and a few checks revealed that all of Logan’s data, at least the normal every day information, was intact. A few clicks on the keyboard opened files that were hidden from view and encrypted. The security stamp showed that indeed the files had been copied, but not opened. Logan was pretty confident that the encryption that Willie had set up would not be easily broken by the authorities, but the existence of encrypted information on his computer would definitely pique the police department’s interest in him even further.

With little to do and having no idea how long it would take Willie to get back to him, Logan decided to try and find out something about the Phoenix chip himself. His web browser opened to a blank screen and then sat there, the indicator circling patiently at the top. After several minutes, a ‘site not found’ message appeared. A quick check revealed that the computer’s Internet connection was not active.

Logan tried a few tricks he knew with no success and then leaned back in his chair.

“Why am I not surprised?” he said.

After 15 additional minutes of trying to reestablish his connection, Logan called his provider to find out that the police had ordered his service terminated and he was barred from obtaining new service. Logan thanked the customer service representative and hung up. He started to dial Willie’s number but stopped when he realized that his phone line was probably being monitored and asking Willie for help to reestablish his ’net connection would probably just result in bringing the police down on Willie’s back, something he would definitely not appreciate.

As much as it would probably annoy his friend, Logan knew he must pay him another personal visit.

Knowing his friend was on the way up, Logan had left the door unlocked so Willy walked in without bothering to knock. He had a bag of tools and electronic equipment slung over one shoulder, which he dropped on the coach before heading into the kitchen for a beer.

“I think I’ve got what I need to get you hooked back up,” he called from kitchen, “assuming you still have that old satellite TV dish hanging around here someplace.”

Logan looked puzzled. “It’s been years since I gave up on that and went back to cable. Let me look around.”

Logan went to the storage room off of the outside patio, turned on the light and began rummaging through what amounted to a huge pile or junk that he just couldn’t bear to part with. Some of it were mementos of his time in the SAS that he knew he should clean up and put someplace appropriate in the apartment, but part of him was still not ready to see daily reminders of that part of his life.

“I was able to come up with bloody little on that chip of yours,” Willie said as he went to Logan’s desk to look over his computer system.

Willie pulled Logan’s main computer forward on the desk so he could get access to the USB ports in the back. Then he went to his bag and pulled out a small box which attached to the side of Logan’s computer with some double-sided tape.

“Got it,” Logan said as he came out of the store room carrying a small satellite dish on a on a mounting bracket. “What have you found?”

“Nothing specific, just a rumor here and a hint there,” he said.

“Well?” Logan prodded.

“I managed to intercept a few unusual e-mails.”

“Unusual how?”

Logan knew that for an e-mail to rise to Willie’s level of “unusual,” something had to be very, very odd.

“They were double encrypted and sent piggy-back on some very routine packets of ’net traffic,” Willie said.

Logan waited patiently, knowing that Willie would get to the point eventually. As Willy talked he methodically went about hooking up Logan’s new internet connection.

“Again, I don’t have much, just a few words and phrases,” Willie said. “Your chip is a prototype that has something to do with the national defense, at least references to a new chip under development kept cropping up in defense related communications. Even in these secure e-mails the discussions were deliberately being kept brief and vague.”

“That much I already knew,” Logan said. “At least they’ve told me that much. But how important could it be for someone, some other nation I assume, to stage all of this --- and with the ability to falsify security records to implicate me.”

Willie shrugged. “No idea. But it’s attracted some interesting attention.”

“From?”

“The Reunification Movement.”

“The Reunificationists? What the bloody hell for? They want to form some kind of idiotic world government, but why would they be interested in the chip?”

“World government? Not exactly, I have some friends in that movement,” Willie said.

“Regardless, why them?”

“That organization itself, probably not interested at all,” Willie said. “But if they know about this chip then you can be bloody certain the Americans do as well. Those sods are so single-minded in wanting to get America to rejoin the world, that they may have shared the information about the chip, thinking it might do some good somehow.”

“Which means, perhaps it was the Americans who pinched the chip and hung it on my neck.”

“Perhaps.”

“Which means several things,” Logan said as his mind began putting the pieces together. “Mainly, they’re not just keeping to themselves if they’ve got people over here. And the Americans must be getting local support to pull off this theft and have the technology to alter the computer records.”

“The Unis, perhaps?” Willie asked using the common slang name for the Reunification movement.

“Most likely,” Logan said. “Also, this means that something’s afoot over there if they are this interested in a defense chip, and I don’t like what I’m thinking they have in mind.”

Nearly an hour had passed by the time Willie stepped back from the computer.

“Go ahead and give it a whirl,” he said.

Logan tried a simple search and was pleased when SkySearch displayed a page of hits, and the usual ad or two in the right margin.

“Seems to be working just fine,” Logan said as he swiveled around in his chair. “But will anyone know I’m on?”

“Not a chance,” Willie said. “I’ve tapped you into one of the largest direct-feed ’net companies and your account is bouncing around about a dozen bogus entries.

“For someone to find you they would have to know exactly where to look. That’s not going to happen.”

Logan nodded. He had complete faith in Willie’s abilities with electronics and computers.

The next morning Logan was sitting in the waiting area at police headquarters. He looked up at the staccato sound of heels walking towards him to see Chief Inspector Robinson. He stood up and extended his hand.

“So good of you to see me, Inspector.”

“Of course, Mr. Logan, this way please.”

Several moments later she ushered him into her office. She sat behind her task, a simple jet-black table that only held a computer and a telephone. She gestured for Logan to sit, which he did.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

Logan knew he had to choose his words carefully, he didn’t want to give any indication that he had Willie’s help in uncovering the information he was about to reveal.

“I have a theory as to what may have happened, or at least who might be behind it.”

“And who might that be?”

“America.”

The police inspector was silent for a moment and then appeared to be trying to stifle a laugh.

“The Americans? Really, Mr. Logan. A country that has quite literally walled itself off from the rest of the world? What -- they sent a team of spies over here to steal a chip? And for some reason they decided to pin it on you?”

“Well they would have to place the blame somewhere to cover their own involvement, would they not?”

Robinson shifted slightly in her chair. “Even given the utter implausibility of your theory, I would suppose so, but again, why?”

“I’ve given that quite a bit of thought,” Logan said. “The Phoenix is a defense chip, and I’ve been going around and around in my head why the Americans would need a defense chip. And the only answer I can come up with is that they don’t.”

“And so again I ask -- then why would they steal it?”

“To determine how they can beat it.”

A silence hung in the air and Logan could see from the Inspector’s face that he had hit the nail right on the head.

“And?”

“There’s only one possible reason,” Logan said calmly. “They are planning to attack us and want to be able to neutralize our defenses first.”

“I could have you arrested for even the little bit you know about all of this,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me how you determined that much?”

“No, not really.”

“I thought so,” Robinson said. “Well, is there anything else?”

Logan was stunned.

“You know. You’ve known all along.”

“That American’s have spies, or at least sympathizers in England?” Robinson said. “Yes, of course.”

“And what are you doing about it?”

“Mr. Logan, I’m a police inspector,” Robinson said calmly, as if lecturing a schoolboy. “My charge is to protect the general populace from local criminals. The national defense, last time I checked, was not part of that responsibility.

“I assure you the Ministry of Defense is working on it,”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“That’s on a need to know basis, or so they tell me, as I apparently don’t need to know. And neither do you.”

Robinson stood and opened the door for Logan to leave.

Logan stood and put on his coat.

“Very well, but you should know inspector that I still have a strong, personal interest in all of this since it’s my reputation on the line.”

“A word of advice, Mr. Logan, stay out of it.”

“It seems, inspector, that I am already in it.”

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