don't know if he's still there.”
“Why don't we have video feed in that room?”
“It's just information technology. No need, sir.”
“What do you mean no need? Someone is down there right now, and I need to know who it is?”
Marshall frowned. “Randy Jacobs, sir?”
“That's not possible. Randy Jacobs left for Mexico this morning, and according to procedure, left his security badge with me at the end of his shift last night.” Daniel held up the security badge that was displayed on the monitor before them.
The copied badge easily gained Isaac access through the employee entrance and into the bowels of The Castle. The maze of corridors was empty as he traveled beneath the near-deserted building. Had he run into anyone, it would not have mattered. Not only did he have the proper clearance, but he wore the gray uniform of a Smithsonian guard. Although his initial breach of security had gone off smoothly, Isaac knew he had no time to relax.
His footsteps echoed on the sterile concrete floor as he walked through the information technology storage room. Dozens of fluorescent lights flickered above the sea of computer processors. Row after row of stainless steel shelving held hundreds of black boxes, each sprouting wires, cables, and plugs. The room hummed with the whirring of computers and the rush of air-conditioning. In a colossal effort to keep the machinery from overheating, the temperature inside the room was easily twenty degrees colder than in the hallway.
Isaac pulled a small flat black box from inside his uniform and made his way down the center aisle, stopping occasionally to check the numbered rows. Fifteen rows in, he turned left and knelt before a processor halfway up the shelf. It was labeled: Museum of Natural History, Floor Two, Janet Annenberg Hooker Hall of Gems.
Daniel Wallace had spent the majority of his career working security management as a naval officer assigned to the State Department. After retiring from the Navy at the age of thirty-eight, he took a job as head of the Smithsonian Office of Protection and was charged with the oversight of security for all Smithsonian facilities. Twenty years of wiretapping, terrorist surveillance, and special operations had piqued his appetite for adventure, and he was pleasantly surprised with the level of intensity in this government position. So it was with keen anticipation that he leaned over Marshall's shoulder and attempted to discover the identity of the stranger on his turf.
“Which security team is closest to the Server Room?” Daniel asked, running a finger over the master list of teams on duty.
“That would be Security One. They're on the first floor, but on the other side of the wing.”
“Send them to check it out. Now.”
Marshall tapped into the security communications system. “Control to Security One.”
A few seconds later came the reply. “Security One.”
“We have a disturbance in the Server Room. How close are you?”
“Less than five minutes away.”
“Check it out and report back.”
“Yes, sir.”
Isaac's black box contained a flash drive, a small keypad, and a six-inch video display. He pulled a smaller black pouch from his pocket that held a razor blade, a pair of wire strippers, plastic ties, and black electrical tape. He usedthe razor blade to cut the tie binding the mass of wires coming from the processor and let them dangle until he located a thick black cable that ran to the input plug. He stripped the plastic casing, exposing raw copper wire beneath. Isaac spliced the recorder to the exposed input wire and began typing on the small keypad. He inserted the flash drive into the recorder, pulled up the needed information on the video display, and recorded two years' worth of video surveillance. It only took three minutes. Then Isaac covered the exposed section with electrical tape and bound the loose wires with a plastic tie, just like he found it. Pleased with his work, Isaac slid the black box
“Why don't we have video feed in that room?”
“It's just information technology. No need, sir.”
“What do you mean no need? Someone is down there right now, and I need to know who it is?”
Marshall frowned. “Randy Jacobs, sir?”
“That's not possible. Randy Jacobs left for Mexico this morning, and according to procedure, left his security badge with me at the end of his shift last night.” Daniel held up the security badge that was displayed on the monitor before them.
The copied badge easily gained Isaac access through the employee entrance and into the bowels of The Castle. The maze of corridors was empty as he traveled beneath the near-deserted building. Had he run into anyone, it would not have mattered. Not only did he have the proper clearance, but he wore the gray uniform of a Smithsonian guard. Although his initial breach of security had gone off smoothly, Isaac knew he had no time to relax.
His footsteps echoed on the sterile concrete floor as he walked through the information technology storage room. Dozens of fluorescent lights flickered above the sea of computer processors. Row after row of stainless steel shelving held hundreds of black boxes, each sprouting wires, cables, and plugs. The room hummed with the whirring of computers and the rush of air-conditioning. In a colossal effort to keep the machinery from overheating, the temperature inside the room was easily twenty degrees colder than in the hallway.
Isaac pulled a small flat black box from inside his uniform and made his way down the center aisle, stopping occasionally to check the numbered rows. Fifteen rows in, he turned left and knelt before a processor halfway up the shelf. It was labeled: Museum of Natural History, Floor Two, Janet Annenberg Hooker Hall of Gems.
Daniel Wallace had spent the majority of his career working security management as a naval officer assigned to the State Department. After retiring from the Navy at the age of thirty-eight, he took a job as head of the Smithsonian Office of Protection and was charged with the oversight of security for all Smithsonian facilities. Twenty years of wiretapping, terrorist surveillance, and special operations had piqued his appetite for adventure, and he was pleasantly surprised with the level of intensity in this government position. So it was with keen anticipation that he leaned over Marshall's shoulder and attempted to discover the identity of the stranger on his turf.
“Which security team is closest to the Server Room?” Daniel asked, running a finger over the master list of teams on duty.
“That would be Security One. They're on the first floor, but on the other side of the wing.”
“Send them to check it out. Now.”
Marshall tapped into the security communications system. “Control to Security One.”
A few seconds later came the reply. “Security One.”
“We have a disturbance in the Server Room. How close are you?”
“Less than five minutes away.”
“Check it out and report back.”
“Yes, sir.”
Isaac's black box contained a flash drive, a small keypad, and a six-inch video display. He pulled a smaller black pouch from his pocket that held a razor blade, a pair of wire strippers, plastic ties, and black electrical tape. He usedthe razor blade to cut the tie binding the mass of wires coming from the processor and let them dangle until he located a thick black cable that ran to the input plug. He stripped the plastic casing, exposing raw copper wire beneath. Isaac spliced the recorder to the exposed input wire and began typing on the small keypad. He inserted the flash drive into the recorder, pulled up the needed information on the video display, and recorded two years' worth of video surveillance. It only took three minutes. Then Isaac covered the exposed section with electrical tape and bound the loose wires with a plastic tie, just like he found it. Pleased with his work, Isaac slid the black box
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