The Network Read online

  © 2018 Nicholas Yong

  Ebook edition created 2018

  Negotium Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  Some of the events in this work of fiction are a matter of public record; everything else are from the author’s imagination. Resemblance to parties living or dead, businesses, locales, or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art design concept © Nicholas Yong

  Cover design © Alexander Yong

  ISBN 978-1-7750200-0-4

  DEDICATION

  To the people I love. Your story matters.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  I packed my laptop and grabbed my jacket. I couldn't wait to get home and pick them up.

  Today is my 13th wedding anniversary.

  Cynthia and Nelson were waiting to go out and celebrate at the new AYCE - All-You-Can-Eat Sushi restaurant - SushiU.

  I checked their flight schedule - Air Canada Flight 7723 arrived from Los Angeles twenty minutes ago.

  I texted Cynthia and told her I'll meet them at home.

  Flashing lights. Police lights. Never a good sign.

  As I approached our house, my palms became slick and rows of small beads of sweat formed on my nose and hair line.

  Sweat pored down my back. I gripped the steering wheel until my skin stretched, turning it reddish-white.

  A police officer stopped me.

  I pressed the controls for the driver side power window and it seamlessly slid down.

  "Sir, we're not allowing any cars to go through at this time," the police officer said.

  He must have seen the look on my face - the dread.

  "Do you live around here?" he asked.

  I don't remember pulling out my wallet and showing my driver's license. I don't remember him asking for me to pull to the side. I don't remember him and several other officers asking about my whereabouts.

  All I remember is screaming.

  Chapter 1

  Homicide Detective Mike Jones looked at me. I could tell he was sizing me up, trying to determine the best way to say the traumatizing news he knew he had to say.

  Jones felt the intensity of my gaze. His green eyes were searching, looking for common ground. "Los Angeles police found your wife."

  "Detective, please. Please say what you have to say," I said as my hands clenched and unclenched.

  Jones dropped his gaze, noticed my fingers curling and uncurling into fists and said, "Your wife was found dismembered."

  Tears streamed out of my eyes, down my face, onto my shirt, onto my pants and hit the hardwood floor.

  Jones stood perfectly still.

  Out of the corner of my left eye, I saw our living room fill with more officers and trauma EMT's.

  I blinked and looked at Jones. "And our son Nelson, was he…?" I asked.

  "No, your son Nelson was not amongst…" Jones said, looking relieved.

  "So, where is he?" I asked.

  Jones looked away - was it shame? - and said, "Los Angeles police haven't found him yet. He's still missing."

  More tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. My wife. Our son.

  A female trauma EMT took my left arm and placed a blood pressure armband around it.

  She pumped the armband, looked at her watch while carefully avoiding too much eye contact.

  I tried to smile and felt my lips curl. She noticed and gently nodded her head.

  She took the stethoscope and checked my pulse. Her name was Josie.

  Josie glanced over at Homicide Detective Mike Jones and handed me two eighty-one milligram aspirin pills. Aspirin is given in case of heart attack.

  I declined.

  "I'm allergic to aspirin," I managed to get out. I didn't like the sound of it. My voice was hoarse and raspy. My throat was dry and my tongue felt heavy.

  Josie the trauma EMT stayed behind and the rest of the trauma crew left.

  Jones and one other officer, Sergeant John Mathews of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Toronto Division remained.

  "What now. What happens now?" I asked.

  "Los Angeles Police transported your wife's remains. The US State Department and the FBI felt that her remains should be sent to you, here, in Toronto," Jones said.

  "I spoke to her at 14:30... sorry, 2:30 Eastern Standard Time, 11:30am Pacific Time, Los Angeles time. We were going to celebrate our 13th wedding anniversary at SushiU - the new All-You-Can-Eat Sushi Restaurant," I said.

  My mouth was working. And the words kept tumbling out.

  "I texted her at 7pm Eastern Standard Time as her flight would have landed at 6:40pm Eastern Standard Time. We would have been enjoying sushi now." I blinked.

  A new stream of salty tears flowed down my face. I stood up quickly. Jones stepped back. I realized that my sudden movement threw him off.

  I'm not your stereotypical Asian man. I'm 6'5" and weigh 212 pounds with 8 percent body fat. My head is shaved bald. I've been shaving my head before it became a fashion statement. It was one of the reasons Cynthia fell in love with me. She loved my bald head.

  "My face... I need to wash it," I said.

  Jones nodded and Mathews remained silent.

  I walked to the main floor washroom and kept the door open so that Jones, Mathews and Josie could see me.

  It's bad manners to have your guests needlessly worry. I didn't need that.

  I washed my face and another torrent of tears flowed out of my eyes. I washed my face again, grabbed the face towel, dried my face, took the box of facial tissues out of the washroom and walked back to where Jones and Mathews were now sitting.

  It was 12:31am. The digital readout of our Harmon Kardon iPhone docking station burned bright blue.

  Josie remained standing.

  I motioned for her to sit. She shook her head and declined.

  "Dr. Chun, your work with both the US Government and the Canadian Government is partially classified," Jones said. "And I know that I probably wouldn't understand all or even any of it…" He paused, searching for the right words.

  I nodded, gave a weak smile and he continued. "Can you tell me what you're working on - the non-classified parts?"

  "I'm working on helping both the Canadian and US government understand how the new EU - European Union - GDPR - General Data Protection Regulation - affects these governments interaction with the data they may receive on any EU citizen," I said.

  "I'm working here in Canada first because our privacy act - PIPEDA - Personal Information Protection and Electronic Documents Act - already has acceptance amongst EU countries."

  I paused. I breathed in deeply and continued.

  "This wouldn't have been possible without the tireless effort of Dr. Ann Cavoukian, the first Privacy Commissioner for the province of Ontario and on the federal level Jennifer Stoddart who in 2008 called on Facebook to disclose its privacy policies as well as Daniel Terrien the present Privacy Commissioner of Canada."

  I paused again. My throat was dry and I could feel more tears coming. I breathed slowly and continued.

  "Currently, in the US, those privacy waters are opaque and we know the results. With the Patriot Act, law enforcement agencies can search and seize without normal civil liberties attached, including spying on citizens and broa
dening the seizure of assets."

  My breathing returned to normal. I wanted to wrap this up before I completely lost control...

  "And that's why the EU is concerned and made the GPDR - to protect its citizens and control its domestic policies," I concluded.

  Jones smiled and said, "I actually understood that."

  He relaxed as did Mathews. They were just as tense as I was. Remember, they're human beings, with feelings and also have people they love.

  I must have sent the right body language because Josie took a chair and sat down as well.

  "Can you tell me if there may have been a reason, any reason why your wife was singled out?" Jones asked gently, yet with intent.

  I breathed in and exhaled sharply. "Cynthia was visiting Los Angeles because a friend of hers was having financial problems. My wife is - more tears - was a fund manager. In fact, you're probably well aware she managed the police and firefighter's pension fund. She brought 15% gains year-over-year for the past twelve years. She made both pension funds a lot of money from the crash of 2008," I said proudly.

  My face was wet again, with a fresh set of tear tracks. Cynthia, what am I going to do without you? Nelson, our only child. Where are you?

  The emotion across my face must have troubled Josie because she was at my side asking if I felt any pain, tingling or weird sensations.

  I shook my head as she pulled off the blood pressure cuff and sat back down. I noticed she had her AED - automatic external defibrillator, ready to go.

  "That's good, Dr. Chun," Jones said. Mathews remained silent. He was observing me and he knew I was observing him.

  I understood what Jones and Mathews were doing. Working in information and cybersecurity - these fields borrow from military and police science with similarities between the roles such as handling of evidence and the role of investigators.

  What's different is that often there aren't real human bodies. There's a digital death of online personas, identity theft, credit stealing and bank accounts drained. Financial death, online persona death. Physical death - very rarely.

  As a result, I knew what to say and how to say it. I decided to take the direct approach.

  "When do I leave to find Nelson?"

  Sergeant John Mathews, white, 6'3", looked to be approximately 250 pounds. No middle paunch. No fat stomach. No skinny stick-like legs. Hockey glove sized hands. He looked fit and answered me.

  "We're working with the FBI and Homeland on this. We know you have contacts in the NSA for some work you did with them. They've been contacted. You might receive a call."

  I had turned off my cell and had to turn it back on. I got up and noticed all eyes were tracking me. "I've got to get my cell phone. I had turned it off," I said to everyone in the room. I found my jacket, took out my cell from the left pocket and turned it on.

  After initial boot, the phone was programmed to ask for a one-time password.

  I pulled out a USB thumb drive and it had a flashing series of numbers and letters. I entered in the code and the phone sprang to life. I had missed thirteen phone calls and twenty text messages.

  I sorted through the messages from FBI, Homeland, CSIS, RCMP, Toronto Police, CBSA and NSA. I read the message from the NSA first. Dylan, call me. I have news about Nelson. Steve.

  "Detective, Sergeant, Steven Gabriel, NSA Director has news about my son, Nelson. He wants me to call him."

  Homicide Detective Mike Jones and Sergeant John Mathews both nodded their heads and I made the call.

  Chapter 2

  Nelson felt the roughness of the bag around his head and his neck was stiff from being hit. His stomach ached from being punched six times. He hoped his Mom was OK.

  He kept remembering how it all happened. How he and his Mom were abducted.

  "Mom, I can't wait to eat at SushiU!" Nelson said, smiling.

  She'd enjoyed taking this time to visit her friend and more importantly to be with her eleven-year-old who thinks he's thirty-years-old - son.

  She also needed a break. After twelve years as a fund manager, managing the pension fund for the Toronto Police Department and the Toronto Firefighter Association, she was one of the handful of fund managers that escaped unscathed when the 2008 housing crisis and financial meltdown occurred. She had 15% gains - minimum - for twelve years.

  As a result, she had been courted by all the major funds to lead them, take charge of their teams and grow their funds.

  After what happened with Bernie Madoff - the fake financial guru who was running an elaborate ponzi scheme, trust amongst financial companies and advisers came under scrutiny.

  Her trust went unquestioned and she politely declined all of the offers. Toronto Police and Toronto Fire had regarded her as a sister. She had looked after their money and they valued her for it.

  She had instituted important policies that other fund managers had failed to implement.

  She had put members on voting notice that the monies in the fund may expect volatility and had the members vote to take a reduction in pension in case the fund decreases due to market turbulence and other unforeseen actions.

  Members of both the Toronto Police and Toronto Firefighters had unanimously voted to reduce their pension payouts in times of financial prudency.

  Both member groups had seen the wisdom in having the fiduciary responsibility for all members, not just a few. Cynthia didn't expect the vote to be smooth and was pleasantly surprised by their co-operation.

  In return, Cynthia had the power to protect the fund assets that she had built up by protecting the underlying core principal assets.

  That piece of financial legislation would enable her fund successor the power to be prudent. Cynthia knew that she had to put controls in place in the event she wouldn't be there.

  It was her unwavering responsibility and duty that Toronto Police and Toronto Firefighters had felt, which enabled Cynthia to be one of the most successful fund managers.

  "Yes, Nelson, I can't wait to eat at SushiU and to celebrate our 13th wedding anniversary. You remember the reason for SushiU, right? Our wedding anniversary?" she teased.

  "Oh, Mom, don't be so corny. You and Dad are like the most corniest parents I know. So lovey dovey in public. Even my friends have seen how lovey dovey you guys are," Nelson said grinning like only an eleven-year-old who thinks he's thirty-years-old can get away with. "And anyways, I wouldn't change it. You guys are the best!"

  Cynthia smiled and hugged her eleven-year-old who thinks he's thirty-years-old - son. Her only son.

  The memory of the good times Nelson and his mother had was rudely replaced with a black bag over his head.

  The personal protection that was assigned to him and his mother were also gone. Gone as in dead.

  Before the bag was placed over his head, he'd seen Mr. McKray and Mr. Simmons lying still with their heads off to the side after their kidnappers had dragged Mr. McKray's and Mr. Simmon's bodies into their hotel room.

  Nelson remembered a dead bird he'd seen. It was still with its legs curled. He also remembered seeing his Aunt. She also was very still, pale and waxy like the wax figures he'd seen in Louis Tussaud's Waxwork's in Niagara Falls, Ontario.

  Because of his parents jobs, they'd felt it necessary that he learn how to defend himself and think under stress.

  He'd been learning Krav Maga and Pencak Silat. Krav Maga had originally been developed as a fighting system for the Israeli Defense and Security Forces. In movies, the system could be seen in Collateral and Million Dollar Baby.

  Pencak Silat is an Indonesian martial art that uses the entire body as a weapon. This style has largely avoided being a 'sport' martial art and has maintained its combat roots. In movies, The Raid and The Raid Redemption.

  Nelson remembered he'd watched those movies, and although extremely violent and not meant for child consumption, he'd been allowed because those movies featured real action sequences and showed what happens to the human body when hit, attacked, shot at, stabbed and killed.

/>   He watched his mother and as soon as two armed men were close enough, she struck.

  She hit the assailant on her right first in the stomach and then in the neck. He went down. All guns were on her and then Nelson struck.

  He hit the assailant closest to him in the groin, twice, and then with an uppercut to the jaw. The assailant dropped, groaning and two more assailants focused their weapons on him.

  His Mom grabbed the AR-16 and jabbed it into the other assailant on the left. Their leader had enough, pulled out his gun and shot his Mom in her leg.