15

Toronto, Canada

Sarah mechanically adjusts the skirt of her suit after crossing her legs again. Pale, she tries to absorb the last piece of information delivered by the strange individual: her husband was assassinated!

Suddenly, Jeremy stands up, hitting the table, breaking the silence established by the visitor's insinuations of murder.

"Who are you?" he inquires coldly, glaring at his interlocutor. "Who do you think you are, entering people's homes with your shitty attitude to announce things like this?"

The man gestures calmly.

"Calm down, Mr. Baltac. I'm on your side, I'm trying to understand what's happening too."

"Is that why you bugged my phone?"

"What?" the stranger asks, surprised.

"Stop playing games... You want to use me as bait, is that it? I'm the last on the list, so you think by monitoring me, by hacking into my phone, you might be able to catch the culprit?"

The man suddenly stands up as well, his gaze becoming sharper. His cloak of certainty seems to have been shattered, and his attitude changes accordingly.

"Are you sure your phone is tapped?"

"Oh! Come on, don't act surprised now!"

"Mr. Baltac? Are you sure your phone is tapped?" he insists, excessively articulating each syllable.

Taken aback by the tone, Jay softens. "Yes..." Then, fearing to implicate the Doctor, he adds: "It's my job, I do security, and I have sensitive clients, it's normal for me to monitor my networks and my mobile from time to time. I noticed it a few days ago."

Immediately, the man becomes frenzied, ignoring his hosts.

He activates a communicator previously concealed by his overcoat's collar. Begins to shout precise orders. Pulls out his phone to send messages to unseen collaborators. Paces the living room, nervous. And finally heads to the door to step onto the porch where the rest of his instructions are lost.

Now alone, Jay and Sarah exchange puzzling looks. They try to understand the situation. Jay approaches the armchair, and Sarah stands up, uttering a single word that translates all her bewilderment.

"Why?"

It's the stranger, returning from the porch, who answers the question: "Because whoever is orchestrating all this thinks your husband's old team might stop him in his plans."

He closes the door behind him. "Sorry, I wasn't authorized to tell you more before now."

"And what changed in the last three minutes?" Jay asks sarcastically.

"Believe it or not, we have nothing to do with the wiretapping of your phone. The only explanation is that the person we're looking for is monitoring you. And if that's the case, it's the best chance we've had in weeks to spot him."

"Oh, so now you need me?" Jay continues in the same tone.

The other lowers his eyes.

"Yes... In exchange, I've been cleared to share with you what we know... But first, let me introduce myself: Major Dex Lewitt, intelligence service, NSA."

"Sit down, 'Major,'" Jay says, emphasizing the rank. "Sarah? I think you should sit down too. Sir has some explanations to give us."

Everyone resumes their initial position in the armchairs and sofa around the living room table.

Determined this time to take the lead, Jeremy reopens the conversation without giving the other a chance to steer the direction. A classic method of destabilization, but always effective.

"For starters," he invokes, "I'll tell you what I already know, it might bring a bit of honesty to this table."

"I don't..."

Jay interrupts him with a gesture. "To begin with, which of your rank, first name, or surname is real? I'm asking just to know how to call you; otherwise, I'll continue with 'Major'..."

The other scrutinizes Jeremy, then drops: "I don't see what you're implying."

Jeremy grants him the look of a disillusioned parent, used to his teenager's lies.

The major thinks for a moment to persist in denying, but in front of Jay's piercing gaze, he gives up and almost reluctantly states: "Kyle Kinkaid, you can call me Kinkaid."

"You see, that's enough for me, 'Major Kinkaid'... If not your real identity, we can all agree to use this official name your employer has probably bestowed on you."

The major adjusts his position in the armchair, evidently intending to comment, but Baltac preempts him. "Secondly, you're no more part of the NSA than I am of Barbie's fan club. Those folks are too happy to flash a nice badge or a pretty card around to assert their authority and impress people."

The man pretends to dive a hand into his jacket, but Jay interrupts him once again.

"No need to brandish your fake accreditation. I don't doubt for a second you have a few at the ready for every occasion... FBI, CIA, NSA, Interpol... But personally, I think you're so deep in the maze of paramilitary organizations, even you, probably don't know who you're working for exactly..."

Kinkaid displays a questioning look to which Jeremy responds.

"It's the quality of your French that gives you away. Despite a slight accent I initially thought was Acadian—since we're in Canada—your proficiency is perfect ... for a Cajun, if I'm not mistaken?"

The questioning look turns into a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment.

"The NSA is too 'made in America' to have trained its agents with such a high level of French. Your employers must be more international than that, deeply rooted in diplomatic circles where French remains the language of choice."

The major breaks into a wide smile.

"Thirdly, Jeremy continues, what did Phoenix steal from you that has you in such a state?"

The pseudonym mention of RoTP's supposedly deceased creator introduces a pause in the room. Then the Cajun slumps back in his armchair with the gesture of a defeated opponent.

"Your file doesn't do you justice, Baltac. It states you have above-average intelligence and are a keen analyst, but I think the profile we made of you still falls short of the truth... How did you figure out Phoenix wasn't dead?"

"The Phoenix, deceased in his car fire? Really? Come on, I know my classics of ancient mythology, major..." Jeremy pushes his glasses up his nose before continuing: "A bit of deduction as well. All members of RoTP have disappeared except for me. Well, I know I have nothing to do with their deaths... QED ... one of them is the culprit and is therefore not really dead... The nickname already raises suspicion, but it's the only one not recently vanished. It's also the only death disguised as an accident."

"I see you've read not only ancient legends but also Conan Doyle," comments the major with a smile. "OK, cards on the table then... I'm not part of the NSA as you've so eloquently pointed out. Let's just say my employer prefers to remain anonymous. As for Phoenix, he faked his death years ago to join an ultra-secret research program."

"When you say 'he,' I assume it means some entity staged his disappearance? Your employer, perhaps?"

Kinkaid shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Really, Mr. Baltac, it doesn't matter who, nor even how. What matters is why..."

"That too I could deduce," Jay retorts. "Just before our group split, Phoenix was increasingly insistent on making our activities profitable. He was talking purely and simply about stealing intellectual property to sell or ransom companies to regain access to their data and systems. He also wanted to target financial institutions to divert funds. 'Rise of The Phoenix' had never been involved in cyberterrorism, quite the contrary. But I believe Phoenix thought he could change our minds. In fact, the pressure within the group rose, and it was the main reason for our dissolution."

The major nods, and with a gesture, invites Jeremy to continue.

"As I've told you, except for Brian, I didn't know the people in the team, just their pseudonyms. Tell you if any followed Phoenix? No idea... However, I can easily imagine that Phoenix must have pursued down that slope, perhaps with another group. He must have ended up penetrating a sensitive system and getting noticed. It wasn't rare at the time for apprehended hackers to strike a deal with the authorities or the attacked company to work for them."

The Cajun furrows his brow.

"You're not far from the truth indeed. Phoenix was already engaging in these practices behind your backs. Once your team had broken security or identified vulnerabilities, where you stopped your collective effort, he took advantage to place a Trojan to collect information or access it later.

The tendency of your group to warn companies about their security problems and weaknesses went against Phoenix's intentions. Firms became more and more reactive; he often found himself blocked by new preventive measures, even with his Trojan in place. That's why he probably thought it best to push your team not to reveal the vulnerabilities it discovered but rather to exploit them."

"Alright," declares Jeremy. "So we've established Phoenix was a bad guy. But from information theft to murder, there's still a gap... What makes you think he's behind the assassination of my former team members?"

"And more importantly," interrupts Sarah with a cold voice, "why? What motive could he possibly have after twenty years?"

Jay stands up and moves behind Sarah's armchair to calm her by placing a hand on her shoulders. Evidently, the little composure she had managed to regain in recent days is crumbling under the pressure of the terrible news that her husband's death was premeditated. She puts her hand on Jay's and turns to him. Her look full of incomprehension says enough. The only thing this woman now wants is to know.

Jeremy reassures her quietly with a smile that clearly expresses he will see this story through to the end. With him, she will get her answers.

Sarah settles back into her armchair after their silent exchange. Her arm crossed over her chest, she leaves her hand on Jay's, which still grips her shoulder.

"If Mr. Baltac has finished?" Kinkaid declares. "I might also state what I know..."

As neither Jeremy nor Sarah seem to interrupt him, he resumes: "We believe Phoenix is orchestrating a large-scale operation. Theft, blackmail, extortion... We have no precise idea at the moment. The role of your team is not very clear either. Does he need certain skills that only you possess? Do you pose a threat to the successful execution of his plans? Is he acting out of pure vengeance? We approached you to try to find out."

He pauses for a second, then continues in a cold tone. "What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room, is that understood?"

Sarah and Jeremy nod in agreement.

"In 1999, after the breakup of your hacker brotherhood, Phoenix had already extorted quite a few companies. He didn't have the knowledge to circumvent new security systems on his own, but he's an exceptional programmer, and his Trojan collected information on infrastructures previously penetrated by your team and infected by him. Those who did not heed your recommendations, or only implemented a superficial solution, paid—sometimes very dearly—the price.

Due to the rising surge of the Internet at the time in the United States, certain parts of this originally military network, which had too quickly extended its ramifications to major universities, were still sensitive. Your group had highlighted some University of Missouri system's weaknesses but by an unfortunate set of circumstances, Phoenix managed to trace back to the servers of a company called 'Emerald Pyramid.' The Emerald Pyramid was nothing short of a front conducting the most secret research for one of the CIA's cells. The ramifications of its network extended to the campus.

Soon after your team split, Phoenix, analyzing the information captured by his Trojan left in place on one of the university servers, stumbled upon data that intrigued him. 'Emerald Pyramid,' had been mandated to work on a cutting-edge espionage project. Before he realized the content of this information was highly classified, the CIA was alerted to the diversion of this data by their surveillance systems, and came knocking on his door. Without your group, Phoenix was far from being as effective in covering his tracks.

As you surmised, he was recruited by this branch of the CIA. Not for his hacking skills, however, but for his programming abilities. His Trojan had greatly impressed them. 'Emerald Pyramid's' specialty was indeed the use of new technologies for practical applications in espionage. Phoenix joined their facilities under a fake identity, after 'Thomas Andrews' had officially died in a car explosion.

For years, he supplemented his developer talents with advanced training in micro-technology. Between programmer and researcher, he managed to significantly influence this sector. Imagine a microphone so tiny it could pass through all detection techniques. Agents could then infiltrate entire organizations with minimal risk. Of course, there still were insurmountable problems of transmission and autonomy. Most of his work was theoretical. However, the advancements made in miniaturization thanks to his efforts were enough to justify continuing research for a while. Soon, Phoenix entered the era of nanotechnology, microscopic electronic components he ingeniously thought to power from the electromagnetic field generated by the human body to overcome autonomy issues. Still, a practical application for this extraordinary discovery was missing. It was a bit like having a box of Lego pieces devoid of studs and holes to connect them to each other. Sure, a microscopic component could be placed on an agent's body and receive a weak electrical supply, but then what? How many of these components, or 'nanites,' as he called them, were needed to create a microphone, a transmitter...

Phoenix's research became increasingly expensive, and practical applications were less and less obvious. In a world of exponential computerization, someone higher up decided it was more profitable to use this money for digital surveillance. Traditional espionage was out of fashion. Squandering taxpayers' contribution on research, ultimately aimed at equipping agents in the field, was no longer unanimous. Despite his protests, his budget was cut, and Phoenix had to abandon his program. Still under federal contract, he was then ordered to join the development team of the 'Echelon' project."