Exponential

By JM Addison

Exponential will fuel the paranoia surrounding today’s personal privacy issues. Caught in a cat and mouse contest of exploitation versus murder, the main character of the story, Mara Chandler, frantically tries to outwit a vague enemy with vast political and economic power.

After her brother mysteriously vanishes, she unravels the dark secrets that are critical to the success of her faceless enemy. When her mother is caught in the middle of the conflict and loses her own life, Mara realizes that she must overcome her despair and fight back or she will be next.

Deception leads to desperation as she realizes the enemy will stop at nothing to stop her. Trusting no one, she knows that she alone must discover the secret behind the enemy’s power and expose their flagrant corruption before they can catch her.

Bewildered by a final act of ultimate betrayal, she is surprised to find out who she can trust. If she succeeds, her discoveries will leave the world reeling in controversy.

No matter your personal interest – technology, contentious disagreement over today’s issues or just good old fashioned murder and deceit, Exponential will seize the reader’s fascination by it’s combination of delightfully tense and surprising elements.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JM Addison
• Release date: Sep 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466095205

Book preview

Exponential

By JM Addison

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 JM Addison

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Chapter 1

It was one of those times you spent staring at something, but not really seeing it. While sitting there, not looking at that something, your eyes go out of focus and your mind goes free. It was one of those times for him. A time spent thinking hard, but feeling that the thoughts were no measure of progress, just time spent thinking.

It was time to make a decision. He shook off the cobwebs of empty notions and stood up to pace. Here again, another ineffective method of putting forth effort. Who came up with this idea of pacing? But it did seem to somehow return his mind to crisp attention.

Indeed, it was time to decide what to do. First he needed proof. That was going to be like surgery: a little terrifying, but essential. Especially when you’ve never broken into a vault before. Not really a vault, but it might as well be one. As an employee, he had the upper hand. That granted him certain access. It was just the breaking and entering part, the part that could hurl you straight to prison, that was the thing that put rats in his stomach.

With a sense of uncertain resolve, he felt it was now late enough to perform. His subliminal ego must have somehow known that he would ultimately make this decision. Earlier, he spun that miserable little yarn about needing after-hours access in front of his boss, so he should be able to get most of the way in. What he really needed was to stop that annoying pandemonium of heartbeats.

He wiggled into his jacket, grabbed his computer bag and exited his upper studio apartment. Descending the stairs, he felt the callous fingers of a cold November night slip around him bringing on an instinctive shiver. As he scanned the parked cars there was that brief feeling of vulnerability as he wondered what happened to his missing car. But soon he felt silly as he remembered finding no spot earlier and having to park in the lot for the hi-rise in the next block.

The moments of time on the march to the car allowed space for doubts to drift back to the surface. Hunched inside his jacket like a queer two legged turtle, it seemed as if the chill and his own uncertainties were working together to force open his very essence and put a quiet end to this nonsense. What he needed was to eat. He was still at that stage in life where youthful vitality overcompensated for poor diet and he could eat whatever, whenever with no consequence.

He began to realize that the foundation of his trepidation wasn’t the part where he made the trip to jail, but was rather much more serious. If his suspicions were true, what would they be willing to do to be sure the secret never escaped his lips? Certainly, going to jail was a much better alternative than ending up chained to a cement block at the bottom of the river. So, why not salvage his good healthy existence and turn around and go to bed. Again, the doubts were gathering reinforcements. He forced himself to keep moving along, knowing that he really had no choice. He simply must know if the truth was in fact, as ugly as it seemed. He could decide what to do about it later.

Getting a bite to eat seemed like a good plan, but he realized, it was the safe, stable (albeit paranoid) part of him urging him to take pause so that he might convince the curiously reckless part of him to retreat for real. No, he must not give in to the fear. Keep moving.

Glancing up to catch a glimpse of his car, the stark ugliness of the Northeast November seemed to add a layer of grief to his complex recipe of thoughts. What’s next? Self-Pity? He thought to himself. At least the drab canvas of lifeless sky made a pleasant contrast with the artistically random array of pinpoint lights scattered liberally across the broken urban horizon. Lights that likely indicated just how many others there were out there busily laboring away in their monotonous little office cubes like so many termites. But was he any different? How often had he been involved in some seemingly important project? Wasn’t he just another termite?

He thought briefly of his sister’s message home on the machine: Hey! Give me a call! It’s been awhile. Maybe we can do something this weekend… OK? Give me a call. Bye!

She was right. How long had it been? They both worked at the same company and yet, never saw each other. He needed to see her. Perhaps a dusting of her cheerful personality is just the mojo that could deliver him from the anxious dilemma he was facing. Thinking warmly of her, he strode the few remaining steps to his aging Volvo. He had to admit that the old car seemed shrouded in a cloud of nerd. Perhaps, it was time he spent some of his well won wealth and invested in something that agreed with his youth.

Suddenly, there was that involuntary shiver. As if we were not alone. Was that a shadow of someone darting away between the cars? He paused to listen, but it was difficult to discern real sounds from the sound of his furious pulse inside his head. He warily made a brief inspection of the exterior and noticed nothing except more rust than he realized.

As he fumbled with his keys, he noticed the alien tremor of his own fingers. Logic demanded that he change his attitude or he was going to let his own apprehension spoil an otherwise fun evening of sneaking around where he didn’t have business sneaking. Hardening his resolve he quickly got in the car, tossed his bag on the adjacent seat and got the car started.

His recklessness began to take his apprehension down a degree. After all, what could go wrong? It was at night, few would still be there, he had permission so those that were still there would not see him as anything but another termite droning among the colony. Still, overall alarm prevailed and it kept him in a state of frenzied vigilance.

He wanted to be invisible but knew that was unreasonable. In fact, he felt so obvious that he might as well be driving a pink Volvo. Was his paranoia teasing his sense of logic or was that a car following him? It didn’t help that the frosty air inside the car seemed to reach into his lungs with tentacles of pitiless claws.

After making a couple of turns he was unconvinced that he really was being followed. He realized just how much he needed to get this episode over with.

He reached the corporate office park and smiled at the familiar view of the parking lot next to the bleakly modern structure simply beloved by many as the office. Few cars remained at this hour and he slid casually into a well-lit spot. He locked up and made the short hike to the main employee entrance. Using his computerized ID badge he had no trouble convincing the door to unlock and permit his access. The corridor made its way past the reception area and at this late hour the vivacious receptionist was replaced with a lethargic rent-a-cop. Because of the unusual time, he had to follow corporate security policy and scribble his name at the guard’s log book.

So far, no one paid unusual attention. He began to relax. His main goal was to get inside the computer data center of the main software development lab. The data-center was typically off-limits to all except those that were needed to perform operations tasks on the systems that lived inside. Employees that worked on software development projects gained the access they needed from their desktop computer workstations using the corporate network.

But tonight, he could not risk breaking into the computer systems using his own networked workstation. There would be a forensic trail of electronic footprints that would betray him and he would be caught as sure as a blind mouse. He needed direct access to the systems themselves.

For the first time, he noticed how the dead eyes of the security cameras that peppered the premise seemed to be examining him with grim, emotionless attention. It was important to act like he belonged, but his fear seemed to be flashing like a strobe of guilt. He kept moving purposely, although not sure the best route to take. He had to get to the fourth floor which was not as familiar as the floor he spent most of his time in.

Stepping briskly from the elevator he noticed the typical rat’s maze of little identical glass prisons that people fondly thought of as their workplace. He made the journey through the pathways arriving smoothly at his destination – the Systems Operations Center.

He checked his watch and could not be more satisfied with the coincident nature of his achievement. Most of the work that was done to care for the greedy and lifeless needs of the computer systems was automated. This left a very light staff of operations personnel and at this moment, he anticipated that none would be working there at the moment.

All he had to do now was breach the castle moat and get the door to open. In his case the door was a door of automated sliding glass held fast by a popular and effective mag-lock. He only needed to persuade this door that it should open for him.

As he made his approach, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the watchful lens of a camera mounted so that it had a clear view of all who passed over the threshold. He silently implored the unknown gods that governed the laws of Murphy that his temporary access would allow his passage beyond the brink.

While trying not to face the meddlesome camera, he worked his computerized ID at the reader station adjacent to the door. There was a delightful sounding tone that announced success as the door smoothly slipped to the left. As he turned and marched through the door, he noticed that he apparently had stopped breathing in anticipation of a nervous breakdown. A pent up breath escaped leaving him gasping a moment as he scanned the room looking for the particular computer system he needed.

As an MIT graduate specializing in computer science, he was an expert and knew what he was doing when it came to coaxing a computer to give up its darkest secrets. The room was well laid out with clusters of workstations placed strategically at the ends of columns of computer racks.

As he moved among the comatose boxes of blowing fans and whirring disks, the dim lighting cast shadows of autonomous ogres which darted all around him. He located the system he was looking for and sank into a nearby wheeled chair. Gliding up to a keyboard his fingers began to carefully pry and interfere in the computer’s business.

His mind became completely absorbed in the secrets he was learning and was shocked to discover that nearly an hour had expired since he began his probe. He had to tread lightly among the computer’s files so as not to set off any internal alarms or leave behind telltale traces of his visit. Suddenly, his suspicions become solid facts. Only in this case, the ramifications were more scandalous than he imagined. What he found was no an ordinary cover up. This was purposeful. Intentional. Planned.

The race in his mind went out of control as thoughts of what to do began crashing about overwhelming him with indecision. This knowledge could not stay secret, but who could he tell? Who would believe it? What he needed was evidence. But wouldn’t the evidence belie his own criminal nature in attaining it? Now he fully understood the expression, between a rock and a hard place.

He suddenly had that instinctive prickling sensation of alarm. Was this more paranoia? Just as he was smothering those feelings with logic and facts. He heard the delightful and terrifying tone that announced that someone successfully convinced the door to open indicating the end of his victory. How could he get the necessary evidence out of the data center? Better yet, how could he get himself out of the data center? He could not just abandon the workstation, his efforts would be revealed. Some work remained to cover his tracks. The frantic rush in his head began to smother the drone of machinery around him.

His efforts at the keyboard became desperate. He soon noticed the same deathly shadows darting among the equipment at the approach of the intruder. There simply was no place to conceal himself – everything was made out of computers. But then, would it really matter if he was caught? After all? The temporary access did let him get to where he was. He knew these thoughts to be futile when compared to the value of his discovery. There was no way anyone was going to let him just walk out of here now.

Soon, an idea began to form that offered a delicious glimmer of hope. Perhaps even a chance to legitimize his work tonight! He tried to clear his mind and focus on this new hope. However, his hopes were soon deflated as a man approached – a man that gave the uncaring appearance of someone about to take out the trash. Unfortunately, this man was not alone. These men were stereotypical thugs. One a bit shorter, the other wearing black gloves. Without speaking a word, the man with gloves pulled a small case from inside his jacket.

A wave a nausea stuck as the man opened the case to reveal a syringe which he simply removed and filled from a vial of clear liquid.

Flight instinct took control of his body. Struggling to maintain control of his bladder, he dove under the table supporting the workstation and scrambled out the other side. He glanced back to see the tall man actually smile at the feeble attempt at refuge. They simply walked either side of the workstation and stalked in for a final close. He was able to evade them for a moment and actually make his way back to the workstation. He frantically worked to attempt to work his final plan when he was brusquely lifted from behind by the taller one. At the same moment, the gloved one simply walked up and punched him in the breadbasket. They let him droop to the floor where he lay clutching his stomach trying to entice his lungs to work again.

He labored to his knees and reached out to give a quick and final jab at the computer Enter key. Then the ice stab sensation of the needle. He stretched his hand up and back as if to slap a bug from the back of his neck, but his arm weighed too much to make the effort. His head landed on the work-surface and he could see the computer screen appearing sideways. Then he peacefully drifted away to sleep…

Chapter 2

Another day of cold November morning peering gloomily into her windows. Pulling herself out of bed was perhaps the most difficult task of the day. Especially when the chasm between her bed and the thermostat seemed like traversing the arctic tundra in bare feet. Her brief morning workout held the chill at bay and ignited the fuse of motivation to get showered and dressed. She often skipped breakfast, but today she had a minute or so to grab a couple of slices of toast and peruse through yesterday’s mail, if you could call it that. So much of it addressed to resident or occupant she began to feel a pedestrian veil of conformity fall upon her. The usual credit card pre-approved offers, advertisements, a phone bill, nothing interesting. She felt guilty being the consumer of so much waste.

It was time to meet the day head on.

She cloaked her trim figure in a warm, full length winter coat and eagerly greeted the icy morning air. She briefly savored the crisp early chill as she strolled to her car parked on the street next to her apartment building. It took longer than usual for the overtaxed dashboard heater to shove aside the stubborn reach of the morning frost. Just as she pulled through the security checkpoint of the office parking lot, the heat began to make a significant impact making it a shame to park the car.

Mara had been working with the company for two years now. It was hard to believe that much time has gone by. She enjoyed her work for the most part, but work was work and she was not the type to become a slave to her career. She used her encoded ID card to pass through the employee entrance and headed toward the elevator for the ride to the third floor. She noticed that a surprising number of others had beaten her to work today.

The layout of the office was typical of many in the modern corporate world. Offices were located along much of the perimeter so the people who occupied them could boast a window seat with a view of the other buildings with their respective people who has similar window seats. The majority of the floor space of the wing was covered with Work Stations which amounted to nothing more than a maze of tiny, identical work locations constructed of fabric coated dividers to provide some level of individual privacy. Desks look more like countertops with built-in areas to house phones, computers and the like.

Mara’s particular spot fell somewhere in between. She did not merit the level of tenure to achieve office status, yet, as a supervisor by title, she was awarded something more than the standard 6 by 7 cubicle. An office constructed of the same fabric coated divider material with an extra seat and room for a guest to sit, more file space and a bit more work surface.

Officially her Title was Staff Development Supervisor. As with most corporate organizations, others in the company had mixed feelings toward human resources in general. The department title Human Resources itself seemed rather cold and impersonal to begin with – treating people as if they were a commodity to be mined like copper or coal. And human resources, or HR as it was typically referred to, was often considered both a champion of the employee as well as a spy in the organization.

As staff developer, Mara cared for a variety of tasks. She was involved in most areas of the employment process for the company. She or one of her staff would routinely interview potential new hires. She also provided assistance to those leaving the company, whether by choice or by force, to ensure their employee rights were protected, that they received the appropriate vested retirement benefits, health benefits and so forth. Also, HR was responsible for managing any potential layoffs, though none had occurred lately due to the tremendous success of the company. She actually felt fortunate to be working here given the weak economy and poor employment statistics in general.

Today, like most days, she went through her normal daily routine. It was a Wednesday, so she would have to meet with the team as the staff she worked with was most often referred to – Although it was hard to imagine what sort of sport her team would venture to play. She checked her messages. The term Message sounds innocuous, much like a rat – seemingly insignificant. One rat could be dealt with, a thousand rats would be a much bigger problem. Messages seemed to be devouring her life sometimes. E-mail, voice-mail, interoffice mail, postal mail, pagers, cell phones it was a wonder that anyone could get any real work done with the constant interruption of messages one was forced to receive.

The voice mail light was off, so that was good – no messages there. Postal mail from the previous day was distributed and routed by the corporate mail room staff. Her mail in-box had nothing more that some offers from a training company for a discount on efficacy training. Human Resources was primarily responsible for managing most of the non-technical training for the corporation. Even on-the-job she was a guilty consumer of more wasted junk mail.

She booted up her desktop computer and went to get some coffee while her machine initialized. In the coffee nook she met Jan, one of her benefits administrators rinsing out her mug making it ready to receive a fresh day’s worth of the office elixir.

Hi Jan! Don’t forget, it’s Wednesday…

Jan replied with a sleepy look. I’ll be there, I just need a little wake up first.

Mara thought it was amazing how much some people couldn’t seem to function without that first cup. Upon returning to her desk, she selected her e-mail program from the choices available and skimmed through the items in her e-mail inbox. Nothing really important. An message from executive management to all employees about the promising results of this quarter’s corporate earnings, a request from one of the marketing managers for a training program schedule for new marketing representatives course all new sales employees received.

Here’s a good one: A new message that slipped through the corporate junk email filters from a person who claims to be [e-mail]. The subject field was blank. Even mail of the electronic variety seemed prone to fall victim to the junk category. Why would anyone even bother to open, much less read, a message from a person or place identified as anonymous? She highlighted the message and hit the delete key. At least getting rid of junk e-mail was as easy as blinking your eye.

She had to spend a few minutes preparing for the 9:30 meeting with the team. The department was getting an increasing number of complaints from employees expressing dissatisfaction with the current health benefit plan. A key topic would be discussing the issues and determining if seeking an alternative health insurer would be a viable, if not a little radical, solution.

She wondered why she hadn’t heard from Chris in a while. Usually they had contact about once a week. She called and left a message at his apartment but he had not returned the call. Lately he seemed a little preoccupied. Probably some big work project keeping him busy. Should could call his office phone, after all, he worked in the same building, just down on the second floor. But she hated to interrupt. She didn’t want him to beef up the teasing about having his big sister still baby-sitting her little brother. That he was a big boy now and didn’t need help from her.

Of course it was all just playful banter. But she had to be careful. With her working in human resources, some could misinterpret his employment as favoritism on the part of his sister. She knew that he landed this job all on his own. She merely suggested that he apply here. In fact, she couldn’t even understand half of what he did. Graduating with honors from MIT was certainly his achievement and getting hired by the software development group was also something that he could only do by impressing the department with his clear math skills and evident knowledge of internal computer operation.

She decided that if she doesn’t hear from him in a day or so, she would give his office number a try. Meanwhile, she dashed off a quick e-mail:

Lunch? was all it said.

* * *

Well Damian? Did you take care of it? The powerfully built man who spoke with an impressive baritone was obviously in command of the meeting.

Yes, it was rather trivial. Caught him snooping around where he shouldn’t have been. Came the reply from Damian, a lanky but remarkably thin man. Damian had an unusual combination of mismatched facial features that produced an exceptionally homely result. Most would feel sorry for him, that is until they met the even homelier personality. Judging from his apparent age of mid-forties, he was suffering from early hair loss along with an evident ignorance of good dental care. Most notable was the scar that ran from his left cheek to a bit below the weak jaw line. Altogether, not an attractive package. In the weakly lit office, he looked even frightful.

How much does he know? The commanding voice seemed to make the man in charge even a little taller.

We can’t really tell. Our methods of getting him to converse so far have been, shall I say, somewhat less than effective. Replied Damian.

Our real concern is not what he knows but who else could he have been talking to!

After a brief pause, Damian went on. So far we believe he only had some suspicions which he was unable to confirm. If that’s all, we can simply shut him up for good. According to the intelligence we have on him, he has no real attachments to anyone. The appearance of a simple accident should do just fine.

According to YOUR INTELLIGENCE!? Your ‘intelligence,’ or lack thereof, is what got us into this mess! Don’t get rid of him just yet until we are absolutely certain he didn’t leak information or make contact with anyone else.

Damian blinked a few times, somewhat offended by the implied blame that seemed to somehow be settling around him like a bad odor before continuing. We could move him easily enough. In fact we could use the corporate jet and ‘store’ him away indefinitely for that matter. As soon as we are positive of any important details, then we could lose him.

The man in charge spun and pointed a stern finger at Damian. "Since those two knuckle heads you call security agents don’t even share one full brain between them, you need to find out what he was doing in there! I don’t need to tell you what could happen if this gets out!"

Damian was used to the spirited disposition of his employer. But he was agitated much more than Damian had ever seen him before. Yes, he reflected, while this was serious, Damian didn’t want to be the fall guy on this one. I’ll put Sonner and Morgan on it, they’re the best. Plus, no one would notice them poking around the systems, that’s what they do anyway. They understand how important this is.

Keep me posted. Let me know immediately if they find anything or if he talks. I think we all have work to do.

Clearly dismissed, Damian turned, happy to escape the tense confinement of the meeting.

Chapter 3

The rest of that day was predictable. The benefits discussions went well, but no decision to stay with the current provider of medical benefits or switch to a new insurer had been made. Mara’s attention was directed in several different directions throughout the afternoon and before she knew it, most of the staff had left for the day. She wanted to finish up a few minor tasks before leaving and really hadn’t thought about her plans for the evening.

She had been working more than usual, but this didn’t bother her. She was well liked by the team and was generally noticed with favor by her management. While Mara and her immediate superior often did not see eye to eye, for the most part, they stayed out of each other’s way.

She thought about going for a workout. She joined a body conditioning club and there was a well-equipped workout center right here in the corporate headquarters building. She hadn’t been for a while and she felt a bit of buyer’s remorse to make more use of her membership since she had paid enough for it. She was often critical of her appearance and a good workout would relieve a little of her guilt over the occasional overindulgence in fast food.

Most would consider Mara cute with brunette hair cut in a chin length straight bob, bright blue eyes and just a few well-placed freckles on her petite nose. She also had the unique ability to lift only one eyebrow. This allowed her to appear almost poetic with facial expressions of surprise or concern. She didn't do it consciously, it just happened naturally. Not to be misled by her small size, many were surprised by her direct and firm management style and ability to get others motivated to perform.

As for the rest of the evening, she didn’t feel like cooking. Besides, cooking for one was just a ridiculous undertaking. She considered take-out but reflected how that would be another evening of junk food that she would have to work off in the end, so she decided to punish herself by planning to have a healthy salad, juice, tuna (straight) and some fruit. She wouldn’t need to stop by the store. Besides, this way she could postpone the workout and not feel too guilty about it.

She checked her email inbox one more time before shutting off her desktop computer and remembered her message to Chris that morning about getting together for lunch. He hadn’t responded. Then she noted that the message status was marked delivered but not opened by the recipient. Typical. Probably so consumed with the latest elaborate math problem or trying to de-bug some rat’s nest of computer code that he didn’t even bother to check his messages. She would try again in the morning.

She reflected for a moment on how well her and Chris were getting along now. While he was in college, he certainly had his irritating moments. His know-it-all attitude and lack of regard for just about anybody eventually eroded their relationship into something like an open sore. Don’t touch it and it won’t hurt. But, upon reflection, she could remember her college days not so long before his. What was it her mother used to say? full of herself. That’s how she described Mara. Here they were now, both working in the same town, in fact the same corporation.

In May of the past year, Chris was seeking employment opportunities through the campus placement office. He had a few good prospects and even with the difficult job market, could afford to be a bit selective. He graduated from a prestigious educational institution with honors. His major was computer science with a strong background in mathematics. A very desirable choice indeed for many high-tech organizations. His most promising prospect was working for the National Security Agency, but Chris was pretty laid back and would probably be considered a rebel when compared to the stiff geek types often popular among such agencies.

When Mara suggested he give Viiradium Corp. a good look because of their high-tech computer focus, he thought, Why Not? Viiradium was a highly regarded computer software application development company specializing in network security products. In fact, many of the network encryption methods that were developed at Viiradium have become world standards used heavily throughout the Internet. There was a continual effort to strengthen internet security because hackers the world over continue to improve their hacking skills and techniques. Keeping the internet secure was one of the foundation ambitions of Viiradium. These security techniques combine a bewildering array of computer software programming with complex mathematics – both of which were what a rebellious geek like Chris considered fun.

Eventually, Viiradium made a generously attractive offer that drew Chris here. He was a little concerned that perhaps Mara might have had some influence with the company to