Grandfather Crypto: Old Code, #5

By Anthony W. Eichenlaub

Aged, annoyed, and ready to tear it all down.

 

Ajay Andersen broke cryptography, but there are still plenty of secrets.

 

A work of art is stolen from the Minneapolis Arts Institute, but there's something strange about this modern Russian masterpiece. It's a callback to a simpler time and a step forward into the future. Its value is not in provenance or materials. It's in knowledge.

 

And someone's desperate to learn the truth.

 

When the thieves ask Ajay to solve this unsolvable puzzle, he needs to decide what he cares about more: staying hidden or staying safe.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony W. Eichenlaub
• Release date: Jun 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215522028

Book preview

Chapter One

It was too late, and Ajay Andersen knew it.

Too late in the day to visit Mia, the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. There was no way they could cover Mia’s two expansive floors of exhibits in the time left before closing. Even with the thin crowd of the January afternoon, there was just too much to explore.

Ajay cast a sideways glance at his granddaughter Kylie as they battered themselves against the cool January wind. The girl stood so tall these days. When had she gotten taller than him? His granddaughter had inherited the light brown skin of their south Asian heritage and the defiant attitude of his hacker roots. With her brown hair pulled back, the fourteen-year-old could pass as eighteen or twelve. She could pass as an Indian from India or a Native American from Minnesota. Usually, she made an effort to defy definition.

He wondered briefly if it was too late to be a positive influence on the girl’s life. Too late to turn this kid into a healthy, happy adult.

It was definitely too late in Ajay’s life to start a relationship. On his other side walked Kate Ludwig. Kate was almost as ancient as Ajay, but the retired farmer’s boundless energy kept him on his toes. She made him feel twenty years younger. She always seemed to know more about him than he knew about himself. Whenever he wondered if their relationship could possibly go anywhere, there she was, stepping on his trepidation with her quick wit and gruff farmer’s logic.

He felt a flutter in his heartbeat whenever he looked at Kate, but that might just be the failing of the old ticker. It was hard to tell.

"You’re not that old, hon, Kate said, hooking her arm in his. She wore a thick flannel coat and a pair of battered gloves. Kate also had a knack for knowing what he was thinking, and Ajay never quite understood how. You lean more heavily on your cane when you’re thinking about how you’re too late for everything." No idea at all.

The museum will close soon, Ajay said.

Might as well take advantage while we’re here, then, said Kate, releasing his arm.

She was probably right.

A black car with all the style of a well-formed turd drove past at a snail’s pace. The polarized sunglasses that covered half of Ajay’s face let him see the shapes of two men riding inside.

Ajay. Kate’s voice dripped with warning.

Too late to drive around town trying to shake their obvious tail. Ajay had been in hiding for over a decade, so when the goons recently started following, he picked it up pretty quickly. He had tolerated the two when they had first started following him around, but he didn’t want goons from Frontier Arms interfering with this trip. It was none of their business.

Kylie, dear? Ajay said.

Kylie flashed a quick sideways smile. It was a mischievous look that Ajay associated with far more dangerous women, but on Kylie, it simply looked like she was a kid playing a particularly interesting video game.

Which was funny, because she was actually quite dangerous.

Fourteen-year-old Kylie’s life was strange and difficult, but she and her older sister, Isabelle, had the ability to interface directly with wireless computer systems. Nobody else in the world had managed to replicate their skills. Isabelle used her abilities to take control of the powerful mercenary company Frontier Arms. Kylie usually just did her best to be a kid. The sisters could communicate with wireless computers the way other kids spoke a native language. Growing up, they had always had a knack for knowing each other’s thoughts.

Kylie’s eyes narrowed, and the effect on the dark sedan was immediate. The self-driving car stopped pulling over into a parking spot and veered back into the flow of traffic. It rounded the corner, squealing tires and narrowly avoiding pedestrians.

Kylie, Ajay hissed.

Sorry, Papa, the girl said. I needed it to go fast or they were going to jump out.

Kate grinned. I’ll never get used to that, kid.

I sent them to Dairy Queen, Kylie said. I figured they would appreciate it.

A stiff wind blew through Ajay’s coat. There weren’t many Dairy Queens open in the vicinity. Minnesota winters saw most of them temporarily closed. Wherever the goons ended up, they wouldn’t be back for hours. Maybe that would give them enough time. Maybe they weren’t too late.

Ajay stood at the bottom of the few stairs leading up to the museum. Its ionic pillars towered above them, reaching up into the gray winter sky. Minnesota had endured colder winters before, but it had experienced warmer ones, too. The breeze was cool but not dangerously so. His gloved hands gripped his cane, and he became intensely aware of how he leaned more heavily on it.

The flowers covering the right side of the steps must have been fake. Real flowers wouldn’t have held up against the brutal Minnesota nights. Ajay stepped closer to the memorial display. It had only appeared over the past month as the special election for Governor ramped up. Ajay didn’t know if people really cared about the governor who had been killed by a crazed gunman, or if the impending special election drove their show of concern. Were the flowers a tribute or a signal of support for progressive politics?

It was too late for Ajay to do anything about any of it. The election was in only a few days, and he couldn’t do anything from where he lived in the shadows. Not anything he was willing to do, anyway.

Long ago, he had influenced elections when he worked for the NSA. No elections were safe from tampering. Not state, federal, or foreign. He had sent embarrassing video at the perfect moment, unearthed messages that gave dark impressions, and even seen ballots destroyed prematurely. The thought of it left a sour taste in the back of his mouth. It was too late to go back and fix his many wrongs.

Too late to put right the world he had broken when his innovation had driven a spike in the heart of encryption. He had been the one to crack the quantum algorithms that unraveled everything from cryptocurrency to online privacy to the most secret government security codes. The world was still recovering, and if anyone knew who he was, he’d have to own up to every bit of it. He dreaded discovery. That fear drove him.

You could just let them accompany us, you know, Kate said.

For a moment, Ajay didn’t know who she was talking about. The Frontier goons?

Sure. Easier to keep track of them if they’re with us. Maybe we can even learn a little something about your granddaughter’s organization.

I think I know everything I need to know. Frontier was an evil organization, and even if he believed that Isabelle might turn things around, he still couldn’t bring himself to trust them.

Nor could he believe that Isabelle would turn anything around. The same modifications that allowed her to communicate with machines allowed her to change the structure of her own brain. To avoid pain, she had dampened certain parts of her own empathy.

In short, Isabelle was now a monster. Was it too late for her? Ajay didn’t know. All he knew was that she had murdered the upper leadership of the Frontier Arms organization in her bid for control. It had been brutal and complete. Efficient and deadly. Sometimes Ajay worried that Kylie was following in her sister’s footsteps. He worried that he was too old to raise her properly. To give her the guidance she needed.

You’re not too old, said Kate.

Ajay stopped leaning heavily on his cane and ascended the stairs to the museum. Inside, a wave of warm, dry air assaulted them. Ajay touched the head of his cane, which housed a powerful computer, to the ticket kiosk. He could have hacked his way into free admission, but he hadn’t bothered. Art was a good cause, after all. The Mia was a proud Minnesota institution, and he wanted to do his part to keep it funded. The kiosk flashed and waved them forward.

Standing in the corner of the lobby was a man Ajay wished he didn’t recognize. The Russian was almost as old as Ajay and twice as big. His square jaw matched his square gray hair, and the corded muscles of his arms pressed against his expensive-looking braided red sweater.

Olexie Sokolov, said Ajay as the man approached. Can’t a man just enjoy an art museum for a bit?

But, of course, Olexie’s message had been the reason Ajay had chosen to come. Olexie wanted to talk. Olexie always wanted to talk. He fought more conspiracies than could possibly exist, and often Ajay was the man’s only tenuous tie to reality. The Russian’s skills as a hacker were impressive, though, and Ajay had to admit that the man’s grasp of the various flavors of social media was nothing to scoff at.

Kylie said, I’m going to Modern Art upstairs.

The smile lines at the corners of Olexie’s eyes deepened for a fraction of a second.

Don’t say a thing, said Ajay.

She is growing up.

Yeah, kids do that. Ajay waved Olexie forward and took Kate’s hand. You said you had to meet here.

Hours ago, said Olexie.

Kate said, I don’t think it’s too late. The crowds have thinned out and the traffic won’t be too bad when we leave.

Too late, hissed Olexie. Always too late. That is what I get for wanting to help Ajay Andersen, the notorious Grandfather Anonymous.

Ajay drew up short before passing into the first exhibit. Olexie, you said you needed to tell me something. What is it?

No, said Olexie. "I needed to show you something. Upstairs."

Then meet us upstairs. We have art to—Ajay waved his hand noncommittally—enjoy.

Meet me in the special exhibit, said Olexie. He stalked through the door, and his footsteps echoed down the vast hall.

What’s his deal? asked Kate when he was out of earshot.

Deal? Not everyone’s got a deal.

Everyone has a deal.

You’re a farmer, Ajay said. Isn’t that supposed to be the simple life?

One, she said, ticking off numbers on one of three fingers missing the bone above the first joint, "I’m a retired farmer. Two, farmers can be pretty damn complex. Three, if he were a farmer, I’d say his deal was farming."

Ajay took her hand before she could tick off any more points. You’re right, he said, Olexie’s a paranoid hacker with too much time on his hands.

Sound familiar?

No, I don’t think I know anyone like that. Ajay plucked a brochure from the wall sconce. The cover was a clash of color depicting a winter landscape and a stern gray building rising from the snow. Dimitri Volkov. Do you think this is what Olexie wants us to see?

Kate took the brochure and peered at it. My kids could have made this.

Your kids are adults.

They’re terrible artists.

Don’t tell Olexie that, Ajay said. It says here that Volkov was one of Russia’s greatest artists of the modern era. His work incorporated technology in ways never attempted in the Western arts. He was a pioneer of data-driven AI art mixed with the traditions of brutal abstraction.

Sounds more like what you do than what an artist should do.

It does. Ajay walked slowly from one exhibit to the next, but as he moved, it became harder and harder to resist crossing straight to the Russian artist’s exhibit. There was something about the image on the front of that brochure. The building, the tech, the harsh lines. Ajay couldn’t identify it until they were halfway up the stairs and on their way to the special exhibit hall. He stopped where he was and stared at the piece, understanding exactly what Olexie intended.

What? Kate asked, holding his elbow as the realization rocked him back on his heels.

Olexie’s going to steal that piece, he said. He’s going to do it today, and it’s probably too late to stop him.

Chapter Two

Kate Ludwig hated keeping secrets.

She stared down her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Hazel eyes stared back at her, judging all the sins she’d committed throughout her long, long life.

I thought I was done with this, she muttered. A long damn time ago.

But she wasn’t done with it. Not if Mr. Black had anything to say about it. That shadow from her past had emerged, and she owed him a call after what Ajay Andersen had said about Olexie stealing from the museum. Even if Ajay were wrong about his assumptions, it was something Black would want to know about immediately.

That, or Black was already listening, and he could use this to test her. Over the past months, her former CIA colleague had gotten more and more insistent that Kate collect information about Ajay and his granddaughter. At first, it had been easy. The pair had their drama, of course. What teen and grandfather pairing hadn’t ended in the catastrophic grounding of a superyacht under the lift bridge in Duluth? Regular family stuff.

Exciting stuff. Kate loved that about Ajay. No matter his faults, he had a knack for finding the most exciting, most dangerous conflicts around. Olexie was just one of many in a long line of strange people Ajay worked with.

I’m aware of the Russian, drolled Mr. Black when Kate called him on her clunky old fidget computer. The glove-like device fit poorly on her right hand, but she couldn’t switch it to her left because the controls had never worked correctly with her three missing finger segments. He’s not dangerous.

That’s your assessment of Sokolov? Kate whispered. She was afraid of her voice carrying in the acoustics of the marble-walled bathroom. Mostly harmless?

I’m aware of his activities, is all, said Black, and he’s not there to steal the art.

Kate cut the feed. She despised working for Black. Thirty years prior, he had been a rookie with the CIA, and she was months away from plunging into witness protection. He’d been a hapless boor back then, and age hadn’t improved him one bit. She drew a long, slow breath, sectioned all her betrayal and deception into a forgotten corner of her brain, washed her hands, and left the bathroom.

She stepped into an atrium dominated by the sculpture of an abstract elm with arching branches like coiled muscle stretching up to the high ceiling. Next to her, in the corner of the atrium, a waif of a woman and a tall man worked the room high-grade cameras.

Kate took a moment to watch them. Some instinct from deep in her past told her they were more than casual tourists, and she didn’t like it. As they recorded, she saw that the focus of their work wasn’t the complex tree above them or even the smaller paintings decorating the walls.

They were recording Ajay.

She shuffled up beside the man, who had the nicest camera. Pretty sexy, isn’t he?

What? the guy asked.

That man. You’ve been on him for a few minutes now. I happen to know he doesn’t like being recorded, and if you’re here to give him trouble, then I gotta tell you you’re going to get more than you give.

None of your business, bitch, the guy said. He towered above her, but she was pretty sure she could snap his arms in half with her strong farmer’s hands.

Luckily, she didn’t need to. The woman stuck out a hand for a shake. Bella, she said. Bella Stern. I’m a documentary filmmaker, and I’m very interested in the people here. It sounded rehearsed, as if she’d designed the introduction to be as distinguished as possible.

Then as a filmmaker, you probably know that you need to get permission before driving a camera up someone’s ass, Kate said a tad more aggressively than she intended. And you’re not getting it, so…

Bella was conventionally pretty, with a regal nose and wide, bushy eyebrows. Kate stood half a head taller than the woman—her equal if Bella’s large swoosh of hair were taken into consideration. The woman’s voice shook a little as she pressed her point. I have the right to film in a public space. Kate couldn’t tell how old Bella was, but she sounded like a kid when she spoke.

Kate glanced at the tall guy. Look, kids, I don’t know who’s been filling your head with advice, but this isn’t how you get a decent documentary made. Not in Minnesota.

Bella put her fists on her hips. Oh yeah? How would you do it?

It’s not a matter of how.

What then?

"It’s a matter of where."

Bella blinked at her.

As in, do it somewhere else, kid. This is a private party.

This time, the big guy stepped forward, gesturing for Bella to stay quiet. He must have had more experience as a documentarian because he didn’t threaten with sour looks or clenched fists. He wielded his camera, the most dangerous weapon of them all. Look, old lady, we’re here to collect some footage. That over there is a dangerous man, and we’re aware of it. He’s a friend of yours? Go tell him we’re onto him, then watch what he does because whatever it is will be great material for Bella’s project.

Kate took a step back. The guy had a point, and she had no doubt that he was filming in intricate detail the emotions crossing her face. Doubt. Anger. Resignation. If she told Ajay about this, he might retaliate. They’d film him hacking into every online account they owned, digging through their personal lives, and deleting everything that made them unique entities in the modern age. He could be ruthless.

He wasn’t usually, but he had the skills.

Either way, it would be good footage. If they were smart enough to keep their cameras off the network, they would probably walk away with a whole pile of information Ajay wasn’t too keen on sharing.

What’s your film about? Kate asked.

It was Bella who responded. Cryptography, she said. Like they had in the old days.

The old days? Suddenly, Kate felt like some kind of dinosaur.

"People used to do all their banking online. They hid behind false identities. They used to put everything on the network."

Kate stuck her thumb out toward Ajay, who was staring at an abstract representation of a cat. What’s that guy have to do with that?

Are you kidding? The girls grew wide as she spoke. That’s him. He’s the guy who brought it all down. She pulled a picture out of her pocket. Kate recognized the young, handsome newsprint photo of Ajay. Here it is in the Star Trib. ‘Hacker Ends Cryptography’ right there in bold print, and that’s the guy over there. I’m sure of it.

Sure, it is, Kate deadpanned.

"It is! Look at the jawline. Look at his eyes. I’m serious, that’s him, and we were just here to take some stock footage of