Patience Schumacher and the computer issues. According to my best buddy down there,” she said in a tone heavy with sarcasm, “if Internet fraud is involved, then it’s for the Feds to work.”
After mimicking the dismissive tone of the head of the Wausau Crime Lab, she fixed Osborne with a long look. The director of the crime lab made no secret of the fact that he believed women in law enforcement belonged behind a desk. No guns, no cruisers, no surveillance training “for girls.” Hence no love was lost between Chief Lewellyn Ferris and the professional she had to rely on when the crime lab and its technicians were needed.
“Good. Gets that jerk off your back, Lew. I’d call the FBI right now,” said Osborne.
“I did and that went nowhere. They think it’s just a couple of college kids hacking in and they don’t have time to bother with it. Plus they loaned their computer tech to Ironwood where some bank has had a rash of identity theft.”
“But Ironwood is in Michigan!”
“That’s what I said. All I could get out of the FBI agent this morning was that if we can find the student behind this, then they will step in. So we do the work, they handle the arrest and get the credit. Any way you look at it, I’m screwed.”
“Maybe not you, but Patience Schumacher sure is. And her campus.”
“Exactly.” Lew’s eyes widened. “Campus? Campus. There’s a thought, Doc. Gina Palmer! Why didn’t I think of her before? She was awarded a fellowship to teach computer-assisted investigative reporting this year at the School Of Journalism in Madison. I’ll bet she’s got a grad student who can help us out.”
“Worth a try,” said Osborne.
C HAPTER 15
“H ey, bad girl!” A husky voice with a mobster edge crackled over the speakerphone on Lew’s desk. For Osborne, the staccato burst of harsh sound triggered an instant image—a pixie of a woman always in black. A cap of glossy straight black hair, glittering ebony eyes, a wicked sense of humor and that dark voice: Gina Palmer.
She didn’t strike Osborne as an academic—someone adept at the sketchy politics of university life—though he knew she had talents unique in the world of journalism. Gina was one of few journalists mathematically inclined to design the software needed to support database-driven investigative reporting. From workman’s comp to illegal processing of human tissue, she could tackle innocuous-appearing data and distill patterns both informative and damning.
“Yeah, well, I made one big mistake two months ago,” Gina’s voice came through the speakerphone, her signature staccato that made you feel like you were running to catch up instead of listening. “My appointment ran out end of December and for some crazy reason I accepted an offer to teach for another two years. I have a terrific team of grad students and our department just won a big grant from the federal government to continue developing investigative software for the FBI, CIA and NSA. Fun stuff. What are you folks up to?”
Lew waited before answering, not sure if Gina really was ready to listen—but it was a legitimate opening
“Hey,” said Lew. “If I can squeeze a few bucks out of the budget, I sure could use help from you or your students on a case I have. The FBI should have taken it—computer fraud—but they’ve blown me off saying it’s small potatoes and they’re too busy. The situation is that we have a new tech college at the mercy of a hacker or team of hackers rampaging through their system.”
“Tell me more,” said Gina.
“Thank you,” said Lew with a sigh of relief. “I would very much appreciate your feedback.” She described the disturbances Patience Schumacher was experiencing with the computers in her home and at the college. “Sound like anything your team might help us with?”
“Help you? Tell you what,” said Gina, sounding excited, “I’ve been looking for a case study like this to complete my dissertation. “Let
After mimicking the dismissive tone of the head of the Wausau Crime Lab, she fixed Osborne with a long look. The director of the crime lab made no secret of the fact that he believed women in law enforcement belonged behind a desk. No guns, no cruisers, no surveillance training “for girls.” Hence no love was lost between Chief Lewellyn Ferris and the professional she had to rely on when the crime lab and its technicians were needed.
“Good. Gets that jerk off your back, Lew. I’d call the FBI right now,” said Osborne.
“I did and that went nowhere. They think it’s just a couple of college kids hacking in and they don’t have time to bother with it. Plus they loaned their computer tech to Ironwood where some bank has had a rash of identity theft.”
“But Ironwood is in Michigan!”
“That’s what I said. All I could get out of the FBI agent this morning was that if we can find the student behind this, then they will step in. So we do the work, they handle the arrest and get the credit. Any way you look at it, I’m screwed.”
“Maybe not you, but Patience Schumacher sure is. And her campus.”
“Exactly.” Lew’s eyes widened. “Campus? Campus. There’s a thought, Doc. Gina Palmer! Why didn’t I think of her before? She was awarded a fellowship to teach computer-assisted investigative reporting this year at the School Of Journalism in Madison. I’ll bet she’s got a grad student who can help us out.”
“Worth a try,” said Osborne.
C HAPTER 15
“H ey, bad girl!” A husky voice with a mobster edge crackled over the speakerphone on Lew’s desk. For Osborne, the staccato burst of harsh sound triggered an instant image—a pixie of a woman always in black. A cap of glossy straight black hair, glittering ebony eyes, a wicked sense of humor and that dark voice: Gina Palmer.
She didn’t strike Osborne as an academic—someone adept at the sketchy politics of university life—though he knew she had talents unique in the world of journalism. Gina was one of few journalists mathematically inclined to design the software needed to support database-driven investigative reporting. From workman’s comp to illegal processing of human tissue, she could tackle innocuous-appearing data and distill patterns both informative and damning.
“Yeah, well, I made one big mistake two months ago,” Gina’s voice came through the speakerphone, her signature staccato that made you feel like you were running to catch up instead of listening. “My appointment ran out end of December and for some crazy reason I accepted an offer to teach for another two years. I have a terrific team of grad students and our department just won a big grant from the federal government to continue developing investigative software for the FBI, CIA and NSA. Fun stuff. What are you folks up to?”
Lew waited before answering, not sure if Gina really was ready to listen—but it was a legitimate opening
“Hey,” said Lew. “If I can squeeze a few bucks out of the budget, I sure could use help from you or your students on a case I have. The FBI should have taken it—computer fraud—but they’ve blown me off saying it’s small potatoes and they’re too busy. The situation is that we have a new tech college at the mercy of a hacker or team of hackers rampaging through their system.”
“Tell me more,” said Gina.
“Thank you,” said Lew with a sigh of relief. “I would very much appreciate your feedback.” She described the disturbances Patience Schumacher was experiencing with the computers in her home and at the college. “Sound like anything your team might help us with?”
“Help you? Tell you what,” said Gina, sounding excited, “I’ve been looking for a case study like this to complete my dissertation. “Let
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