Countermeasure Read online

  “Cassandra Cristina.” She winced at his tone. “I asked what your thoughts were regarding the security needs for Bristol Pharmaceuticals, our new client.”

  Scrambling for an intelligent response, she hesitated, and Robert’s frown deepened when she failed to reply fast enough. “You’ll be heading the detail on this one.” He dropped the thick folder on the table and shoved it toward her. “Read through that and give me your assessment by twelve-hundred hours.”

  She stopped the momentum of the folder when it reached her. Cassandra had to work hard to maintain a straight face and keep the shock out of her voice. “Yes sir. By noon.”

  With one last look in her direction, Robert turned back to the room as a whole and dismissed everyone to go about their duties.

  ****

  Cassandra stood by the door of the conference room waiting for Jessica. She hid the embarrassment caused by the verbal beating she had taken from her father and held a serene expression as the other team members filed out of the room, avoiding her eyes. The beating was a non-event for her. It had been the same story since her mother, Cecilia, had been killed in a car accident. After all those years, she had gotten used to it. What did bother her, though, was that, due Robert’s treatment of her, the rest of the employees showed no respect for her, even though she was a top performer. At James Security, she had kept a low profile to prove she was not riding her father’s coattails.

  Lead on the project. Cassandra was slightly stunned that Robert had assigned it to her and didn’t quite know what to make of it—definitely not something she ever thought she would see this soon since coming to work for him. It has to be a test, she thought as Jessica joined her, linking arms with her before they fell in step.

  “Damn, girl, this is the third time you’ve been late in two weeks,” Jessica commented as they entered Cassandra’s office.

  “Don’t remind me,” Cassandra shot back, tossing the file on the desk and walking around to her chair, wincing slightly as she took her seat.

  Jessica plopped down in the chair opposite and frowned at her. “The scar is bothering you again, isn’t it?” Cassandra looked over at her, and Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Are the dreams back, too?”

  Cassandra shrugged and reached for the Bristol file.

  “Cassie? You have to talk about it sometime.” Jessica’s tone was low and coaxing.

  She glanced at her friend. “Not going to happen, so drop it.”

  Cassandra returned her attention to the file, flipped it open, and began to read through the information and photos.

  Sighing, Jessica watched her friend closely. “Fine, but you know I’m here for you, right?”

  Cassandra nodded as she continued to scrutinize the dossier on the company housing the data they had been contracted to safeguard.

  Jessica knew Cassandra well and recognized that she wouldn’t budge. She sighed again at Cassandra’s stubbornness, stood, and paused at the door. “Lunch?”

  “Yeah, Jess, that’ll be fine. Meet you at the elevators around 12:30, after my meeting with Bob.”

  “It’s a date. See you later,” Jessica called out as she left.

  Once alone, Cassandra focused her attention on the file and noted that Bristol Pharmaceuticals, the client, was using top-of-the-line servers for its in-house data center and a third-party provider, EXClinic, to manage their clinical trials. The servers’ security protocols were pretty standard stuff, and she skimmed over the specifications quickly.

  She noticed there was no mention of what kind of drug formula they were working on, but it had to be something important for the company to have major concerns over its security, primarily that others might try to steal their cutting-edge research. Their concern wasn’t too surprising, given how cutthroat the pharmaceutical industry was.

  The process of drug discovery and development was very expensive; if a drug failed part-way through the process, it incurred large costs and didn’t generate revenue. The expense of developing a new drug could range in the billions of dollars. Getting no return from such an investment could break a company, especially if a competitor released a “me-too” drug—a drug with chemically similar compounds but without the same investment behind the initial process. It would cut deep and hard into their profits.

  She jotted a couple of notes in the margin and glanced at the clock. It was already close to noon—Robert’s deadline. Picking up her notebook and the file, she walked down the hall to his office at a fast but not frantic pace. When she reached his door she did a quick mental check—notebook, file, clothes orderly—and glanced at her watch: on time. She knocked on the door.

  After a few seconds Robert called out, “Come in.”

  Her father was standing by the window with a frown on his face. She took a deep breath as she walked to the guest chair, setting the file and her notebook on the desk before sitting with her hands folded on her lap. Some ingrained behaviors never changed.

  Not knowing the first thing about bringing up the sad, lonely daughter his wife had left him saddled with, Robert, an ex-Navy Seal, had raised her on military stories instead of fairytales; trained her on survival tactics—yeah, camping trips were a blast—instead of sleepovers; and drilled her on use of weaponry and self-defense instead of playing with Barbies.

  While memories of her mother had faded long ago, to this day she wondered what life would have been like or whether her relationship with her father would have been different if a woman had been in the picture when she needed a feminine touch growing up.

  Some of her almost automatic behaviors, such as calling superiors “Sir” or “Ma’am,” perfect posture, perfect manners, and punctuality—all military style—made her the butt of many jokes told by her friends and team members. There were also some who considered her a “brown-noser” and treated her as such. They didn’t understand that was the behavior expected of her as a child. They always watched and waited for her to screw up, which didn’t happen very often.

  Unconsciously, her hand drifted to press against the scar, which burned at the unpleasant memories. One in particular sliced through her like a hot knife through butter. She had been betrayed by one of her own CIA team members. During one job, he had withheld a critical piece of information that would have been cause to abort. They had continued with the fateful meet-and-greet that ended in her injury. It was only happenstance that Nathan Nelson, a friend since her first day with the CIA, had caught sight of the sniper.

  When he had yelled the warning, she, being the closest to the action, became the shield, blocking their assignment from danger. The memories of the betrayal swirled in her mind. Lost in thought, she unconsciously continued to rub across the spot.

  Cassandra could still feel the pain, the shock, and could still hear her name being called over and over before everything faded to black. It was a miracle no one had been killed. It was a miracle she hadn’t been killed. She knew the culprit had been punished, but his actions had killed her trust in others. Now she counted only on herself.

  Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra snapped back to the present. She clasped her hands on her lap and waited for her father to take his seat. Across from her, Robert pressed his fingers together in a steeple and contemplated her. She maintained eye contact and tried not to squirm as she heard the unsaid reprimands in her head.

  “Cassandra,” her father finally broke the silence with an exasperated voice.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Over the past two weeks you’ve arrived late at least three times. Not like you.”

  “I know, sir. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Cassandra picked up her pencil and opened the folder. Robert got the drift and dropped the subject, but not before giving her a long, hard stare.

  “You requested a briefing on my thoughts after reviewing the Bristol file. Would you like to hear it?”

  Robert waved his hand indicating she should start. She quickly glanced through her notes and proceeded to give
him her report.

  “It looks like the company is using pretty reliable servers, but what I found interesting is that, even with all that power, they’re still using an outside source to manage, monitor, and run their clinical tests. This leaves them vulnerable to hacking. Too many cooks stirring the pot. Too many opportunities for someone to pinch data files, both internally and externally, through EXClinic, the third-party provider.”

  Glancing up, she thought she caught a glimpse of a smile lurking around her father’s mouth but she couldn’t be sure.

  “Take Jessica and whomever else you need and check them both out. Once you have the dates and times for the recon, let me know and I’ll advise them you’re coming.”

  Robert turned his chair to look back out the window. Dismissed, Cassandra collected the file and her notebook and walked to the door. She paused and looked back. “Sir?”

  Robert glanced in her direction, “Yes?”

  She heard the distraction in his voice. “Thank you for giving me this chance. I promise not to let you down.”

  “You won’t, Cassandra. You won’t.” Robert turned to the window again.

  She closed Robert’s office door and sighed in relief at having the meeting behind her. Ever since she was a little girl, her survival instincts always kicked in where her father was concerned. His military training and high expectations had been drilled into Cassandra’s makeup; to this day she had never rocked the boat. Someday maybe things will change and I won’t feel like a child in his presence. The fleeting thought crossed her mind, but deep in her heart she knew it would take a damn miracle.

  Back at her office, she tossed the file on the desk, grabbed her bag, and headed back out the door to meet up with Jessica.

  Jessica stood outside the building tapping her foot impatiently, a sprite of energy as usual.

  Cassandra grinned as she observed her friend of many years. A petite, blue-eyed, blonde-haired pixie, Jessica had always been easygoing and carefree—so different from Cassandra in every way.

  Ten years back, they had become fast friends after Cassandra tackled and humiliated the school bully, who had been harassing the tiny blonde. They still laughed at how red his face had turned and the ribbing he had taken from his friends when he couldn’t push Cassandra off his chest. Pinning his forearms with her knees, she had refused to budge until he had sworn before the entire school that he would leave Jessica alone.

  Jessica always told the story as one where Cassandra had saved her from the school bully. Little did Jessica know, she had in fact been the one to save Cassandra when she introduced her to a world with fewer rules and more fun. Since that day, Jessica’s self-proclaimed mission in life had been to break Cassandra’s straight-laced shell wide open—but so far she had only managed to crack it.

  “About time, Cassie,” Jessica sighed.

  “Oh please, Jessie. I am only a minute late. Besides, it’s not like we don’t know where we’re going; you’ll whine if we don’t go to Fuego’s in The Alley for Mexican.”

  Laughing, Jessica grabbed her hand and dragged her down the street. “Well, they do have the best enchiladas in town. What can I say? You can’t fix perfection.”

  Their walk to the restaurant was quick and Jessica kept Cassandra entertained with her description of her nap during Robert’s morning meeting. Apparently there was a lot of head bobbing involved, much to Cassandra’s chagrin.

  Reaching their destination, they walked through the door of the restaurant and waved to Eduardo, their regular waiter, as they headed to their favorite table. Within minutes, tea and chips and salsa were set before them as Eduardo let them know their lunch would be served shortly.

  Shaking her head, Cassandra grinned at Jessica. “Damn! Gotta love a place where you just have to walk in the door and have your every need met.”

  Jessica guffawed. “Well, almost every need. It will be every need when we walk in the door and they have gorgeous men waiting for us as well.”

  “Nope, not happening.” Cassandra took a chip, dipped it in the salsa, and popped it in her mouth. “Not interested in a relationship. Men are high maintenance, and relationships only bring pain.”

  Jessica flicked a chip across the table at her and sat back in her chair. Her expression became sober as she looked at her best friend. “Seriously Cassie, you don’t believe that.”

  Cassandra brushed the chip off her lap where it had landed. “Yes, I do. Look at Bob. My mom has been gone since…forever. He has never even so much as looked at another woman. I never want to feel that kind of pain.”

  Jessica shook her head and suddenly grinned widely. Seeing the grin, Cassandra shot her a questioning look.

  “Oh man, Cassie. When he walks through the door, you’re going down!”

  Cassandra, still not understanding, looked behind her at the restaurant’s door. “Who? What door?”

  Jessica let out a deep belly laugh. When she could finally breathe she gasped, “The man who is going to sweep you off your feet, sister. And the door? It’s the one you keep so tightly closed around your heart. It will happen. You have my word on it.”

  Cassandra narrowed her eyes at Jessica’s and leaned back so Eduardo could set their lunch plates down. Thanking him, she inhaled the enticing aroma of the enchilada. When he left, she picked up her fork and pointed it in Jessica’s direction, grumbling, “Not interested, Jessie. I have enough problems already.”

  They pushed the discussion about love aside and dove into the delicious food. Over the next half hour, they ate in comfortable silence intermingled with a soft moan each time Jessica took a bite.

  Cassandra sat back in her chair and groaned. “Damn, I’m stuffed!”

  Watching her friend still eating with gusto, she recalled how mealtime used to be a military chore as a kid, one of necessity and always conducted in silence. Jessica had introduced Cassandra to “culinary delight” and had showed her what it was like to dine—how to enjoy good food and drinks in the company of friends.

  Jessica slumped back against her own chair and unbuttoned the top button of her slacks. “That was so good, but now I feel like I could burst.” Taking a sip of tea, she caught Cassandra’s gaze. “So how did it go with Bob?”

  Cassandra gnawed on her lip a second before answering. “Well, believe it or not, I’m lead and you’ve been assigned to the job, too. Snap, Jessie! I can’t screw this up.”

  Contemplating her friend, all signs of humor disappeared from Jessica’s face. “Cassie, you’re good at what you do. You have to stop beating yourself up.”

  Cassandra knew her friend was right, yet the promise she had made to herself after she had been shot played in her mind. To avoid another possible betrayal, she never delegated. It had become her policy to personally explore all possible outcomes down to the smallest detail whenever working a case—no stone unturned. “I know, Jessie, but easier said than done. Anyway, want to know what we are up against?”

  Jessica nodded and Cassandra began to brief her. She smiled at her friend’s military-style report. “Our client is Bristol, a large pharmaceutical company. They are conducting Phase IV clinical testing on a revolutionary formula that promises to make them a ton of money. Billions have been spent in the initial phases. It seems the stockholders are all happy about the future cash cow. Because of the use and worldwide ramifications of the new formula, there is a data security concern on their behalf.”

  Jessica processed the information. “So what’s the big deal? We go in, check for traps and back doors, plug them up, and get out.”

  Cassandra nodded, “You’d think it would be that easy. But it turns out that Bristol is using a third-party host to run, manage, and analyze their latest trials and data. That is where the risk comes in. EXClinic was founded in 2000. Their products are designed to support the end-to-end process in Clinical Data Management, from trial set up to implementation and archiving. Most of their clients are big pharmaceutical companies, medical device manufacturers, and some clinical researc
h organizations. It’s the archiving piece that we will be focusing on, making sure that all security protocols are in place. We need to meet face-to-face with the Bristol people to collect access codes and naming conventions they’ve used for the clinical trials.”

  Puzzled, Jessica asked, “What do you mean by ‘naming conventions’?”

  Raising her hand to catch Eduardo’s attention and signaling for the check, Cassandra continued, “In the pharma industry, paranoia runs amuck so they tend to assign a random string of letters and numbers instead of names to the drugs they’re testing. Sometimes they do name them like they do in the movies—you know, like the drugs Chimera and Bellerophon in Mission Impossible? They actually do that in the industry. Once we have all the information we need, we can check EXClinic security protocols in depth. I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

  They paid the bill and left the restaurant, waving goodbye to Eduardo on their way out. Stepping into the bright sunlight, Cassandra said, “I’ll tell Bob to schedule the meeting with Bristol for the day after tomorrow.”

  They walked the short distance to the office in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Once back at work they headed their separate ways with a hug, after making arrangements to meet the next day to prep for the Bristol visit.

  ****

  After several hours deep in analysis, Cassandra realized that time had flown by. It was late. Sitting back in her chair, she stretched and rolled her shoulders. Robert had called earlier to confirm the meeting to take place in two days. She was more than ready for it. Running through her to-do list, she checked off some items: Jessica notified of the meeting; Bristol project file created; information and background checks on key employees listed in the file. Last on the list was groceries.

  Damn. Cassandra rubbed the bridge of her nose, mumbling, “Hate grocery shopping.” She continued to mumble to herself while downloading the project file to her thumb drive and shutting down her station. Cassandra mentally inventoried the contents of her refrigerator—leftover Chinese, leftover pizza, jelly, and a Guinness. She perked up at the image of the Guinness in her mind and chuckled, “I bet that isn’t considered a food substitute.”