Real life sucks.... I'm sorry that the update took so long. In any case, here is the sixth chapter. Thanks to my beta readers Anne and Ash; without them this story would not be possible. Thanks also for just reading this; reviews and comments are always appreciated.
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The white Lexus sat in the street, lost among the other luxury vehicles in this high-end neighborhood. The only difference was this Lexus didn't belong to anyone who lived there.
Inside, Moriarty munched on a granola bar as he browsed the internal CSI network. It was where he had gotten the idea for using the meat bullet, and he was again turning to it for criminal inspiration.
A pity they use a different system for their current investigations. I haven't been able to break the encryption and security for that. Yet.
It's interesting to see their previous record. Las Vegas isn't the top crime lab west of the Rockies for nothing. They are a worthy opponent.
In the background, the small portable TV on the dash droned on.
"Las Vegas police today refused any comment on whether the investigation into the so-called Moriarty cases had made any progress. The anonymous criminal is believed responsible for the theft two days ago of several million dollars from an account of the Rampart casino, owned by Las Vegas legend Sam Braun. Police have also indicated they believe he is responsible both for one murder and a robbery at UNLV earlier this week. Sheriff Rory Atwater expressed confidence that, quote, 'this vicious criminal will be brought to justice in the soonest possible time,' unquote."
The same broadcast was in a small room at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. The ill-lit room, with no windows and only one door, was dominated by several PCs and shelves full of assorted computer parts. All three people were huddled around one of the computers.
They belonged to the IT Unit of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and their primary task was to maintain and secure the extensive network of computers that the crime lab used in its day-to-day work.
The self-proclaimed geeks were installing a new security system on the network. The software package was said to be the most powerful security system available commercially. While powerful, it was far from user-friendly. The IT guys had spent the last four hours trying to get it to work, and their hard labor had just been rewarded. The new system was now installed and seemed to be working well.
They celebrated their achievements over the only food and drinks at hand: energy drinks and granola bars. As the boss finished his first bottle, he noticed that the monitor was blinking, and there was a faint beeping in the air.
All three noticed that and approached the computer. They soon knew what it meant: somebody had hacked into the crime lab's network, and was freely accessing one of their databases.
A few clicks and keystrokes revealed which database was being accessed. It contained the information from inactive investigations, dating back several years. Whoever was inside, they noted, was taking his sweet time going over the files.
"Damn, Eric, how the world could we have missed this before?" the boss said.
"Dunno, Chief, but if he bypassed all the lockouts, passwords, and firewalls we put in place, then he is damn good," Eric replied.
The other system administrator, Robert, went to another computer off to the side. "Let me check how the hell he got in the network," he said.
For several minutes, nothing could be heard except for the whir of computers and the furious pounding of keyboards. Robert finally yelled, "I got it!"
Their boss went over to Robert. "What d'ya got?"
"He got in through our web server. Once he compromised that system, he put in a back door so he could enter whenever he wanted."
"Chief, I've gone over the access logs," Eric said. "He's been doing this for at least a few weeks, from the looks of it."
Everyone was soon standing around Eric. "What's he been checking out?" the Chief asked.
"First it was just procedure manuals, administrative stuff, all ordinary stuff. About two weeks, though, he started going over the old cases."
"Not the new ones?" Robert said.
"No, we use a different security system for that. Whoever this guy is, he is very good."
"Yeah, well, good or not, he's giving us a major-league headache. Cut him off, now. I'll go talk with the grown-ups now."
"Sure thing, Chief."
The boss turned towards the door. He had dealt with tough bosses before, especially in his previous employment with the Navy. Still, nothing would probably compare to the wrath of angry CSIs discovering that what they thought stayed inside the lab... didn't.
Meanwhile, a flood of dialog boxes came up on Moriarty's laptop. They all said more or less the same thing: access denied.
Ah, so they've finally wised up... I was wondering what was taking them so long. Time to send an e-mail, then.
There's the name I want. Grissom, Gilbert. Age, address, there, e-mail.
After he had sent his e-mail, Moriarty shut the lid of his notebook and placed it on the seat beside him. He drove away, annoyed at this turn of events. I was hoping to use their inside information for my next crime. Oh well, there are ways around that.
Still, it will take more time than I thought. Perhaps I should arrange for a surprise for CSI...
---
The news about the virtual break-in had spread quickly through the crime lab, both officially and unofficially. Grissom had spent the better part of an hour explaining the situation to everyone.
As a result, he already felt tired. This is going to be a long shift. It's barely begun and I already need a cup of coffee. With a sigh, he entered his office where Sara was waiting for him.
"You ready to start? It could take us a while to write this report," Sara said.
"Yeah, just give me a moment," Grissom said. He went behind his desk and popped open his notebook computer, which automatically checked his e-mail as it turned itself on.
While waiting, Grissom and Sara chatted. Sara thought to herself, this is the most comfortable I've ever felt around him. And to think, several weeks ago we were barely talking.
Sara was as hopeful as she had ever been with Grissom. Still, the events of the past four years had put in place a nugget of doubt that wouldn't go away easily. We're close and comfortable NOW. The question is whether he'll still feel the same way later on. It's that same old game, he gets close, he pushes me away, he gets close...
I'll be damned if I do anything to make him go behind his emotional walls again. I'm going to make sure he can't push me away this time, no matter how hard he tries.
Sara didn't know that far from pushing her away, Grissom was thinking about how to draw her closer. I've nearly lost her before... it seems like you have another chance with her, one I'm not sure I really deserve.
Turning his attention back to his computer, Grissom saw that he had only a few new e-mails. Going through them, he saw they were all entirely routine except for the last one. Grissom became a bit confused, something Sara noticed.
"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked.
"Take a look at this," he replied.
Sara went over to Grissom's side of the table; she was leaning over so closely her chest was leaning on Grissom's arm and shoulder. She saw what had confused Grissom: the last unopened e-mail was from an address that neither one recognized, and all it said was, "Call IT." Some sort of picture was attached, but Grissom hadn't opened it.
"You're the one who's good with these things, Sara. You know what this is?"
"Well, it could be a virus, but all our e-mail gets scanned, so that's not it... I don't know."
"Should we open it?" Grissom said, quite curious as to what the mystery attachment was.
"It should be safe, but... you never know."
"No such thing as totally safe, Sara," Grissom said, smiling as he did so.
Their mouths both opened wide when they saw what the attachment was. It was a picture that was identical to the postcards left at the earlier crime scenes. Both knew what that meant.
It had not been just some random hacker who had broken into their computer systems just for the heck of it. It had been Moriarty, and whatever he was up to, it was no good.
---
Grissom and Sara sat in the A/V lab, with Archie beside them. While angry that the crime lab's security had been violated so blatantly, both CSIs recognized that it gave them one very good lead.
The IT department had been able to find out the IP addresses from which the internal network had been compromised. The IP address was rather like an address for the Internet; by itself it had no direct connection with the real world.
With help from service providers, though, IP addresses could be traced to physical addresses. It had taken a fair amount of arm-twisting, but they would soon know from where Moriarty had accessed their network.
"Alright, the look-up is done," Archie said. "Here's a map of Vegas, and here's where he accessed the network from." The tech pressed a key, and instantly dots appeared all over the map up on the large screen before them.
Grissom and Sara were both unpleasantly surprised. They had expected that there would be some pattern, but that was not the case. Instead, the dots were spread all over the map, without no apparent rhyme or reason.
"How did this happen? He couldn't have been in all of those places, right?" Sara asked.
"Archie, group them by date and display them one day at a time," Grissom said.
He did so, and they could soon see a pattern of sorts. For every day, there were still many dots on the screen. However, they tended to be in one part of Las Vegas.
"I still don't get it. How could he have accessed our network from all these places every day?" Sara said.
"This isn't something I know very well," Grissom admitted. "We may need to call in an outside expert. Archie, can you tell us anything about those places?"
"Sure. Most of them appear to be homes, with a smattering of coffee shops. Almost no large offices, and the businesses are almost all small mom-and-pop ones except for the cafes."
"Time of day?" Sara asked.
"Mostly mid-morning or the afternoon. Almost none from the evening, though."
"So that rules out Moriarty breaking into homes. Doesn't seem like his style, anyway," Grissom said.
"Wait a minute, I think I know what this is," Archie said, receiving two stares from Grissom and Sara in reply.
"The cafes are the tip off," the tech continued. "Most of them now allow you to browse the Internet – they provide the connection and you connect to them wirelessly."
"WiFi," Sara said. "There's a cafe near my place which does it free, I spend a lot of time there."
"Alright," Grissom said with a nod. "What does this have to do with our case?"
"Well, lots of homes with broadband connections use the same stuff. You can buy the base station for around a hundred bucks," Archie went on. "Unfortunately, wireless is, by nature, less secure, and you have to work at it to make it secure."
"Let me guess. Most people don't?" Grissom said.
"Yeah. Some PC guys actually drive around, looking for vulnerable wireless networks. It's called wardriving."
"Wait a minute," Sara said. "So there are guys who drive around looking for people with security holes, and break into other people's networks? Is this legal?"
"Most of them don't break into the network, Sara. They just look for them, but they don't enter," Archie said.
"Alright. So our guy drives around Las Vegas neighborhoods, looking for homes with vulnerable wireless connections. How far do you have to be from the base station to do this, wardriving?" Grissom asked.
"WiFi's pretty short-range," Archie replied. "A few blocks, maximum, with a standard notebook. You could build or buy better antennas, but they're pretty big. People would notice you holding them."
"Alright. Archie, go back to the last break-ins and zoom-in," Grissom ordered.
The tech complied, and the map zoomed in on a fairly well-off suburb. "So, we know our suspect was somewhere in this neighborhood, accessing other people's wireless networks, most likely from a vehicle," Grissom said.
"Didn't Brass get a description of the vehicle the guy was driving from the bank guards?" Sara said.
"White Lexus. No license plate on it, and none have been recovered since the bank job."
"It's a start. White Lexus with a lone occupant that doesn't belong in the area."
Grissom appeared thoughtful for a while, and then nodded. "You're right. Archie, good work. Sara, we need to call Brass."
---
The gray armored van pulled out of the Bellagio and onto the Strip. As it did, a white car followed right behind it as headed for McCarron International Airport.
It's like clockwork. Every Tuesday and Friday, at four PM, the armored van leaves the casino and heads for the airport. Within an hour, it arrives at the airport, where the cargo is transferred to a warehouse, awaiting air transport.
Oh, and what is the cargo? Nothing more than sacks and sacks of cash. Soiled money, supposedly, money that the feds have decided to pull out of circulation. Be that as it may, it's still legal tender.
Security? You'd think there would be more, but no. Three guards – one in the front, driving, and two in the back.
Yes, this is possible... but it requires more planning and time than I expected. Oh well, plans are always too optimistic.
What about CSI? I certainly don't want them twiddling their thumbs, going about rather pedestrian crimes. No, I want to give them something to do.
Maybe I will. Maybe I will... his mind went back to several addresses and phone numbers pilfered from the police's database.
---
Sara was walking down the corridor when Grissom came up to her. "IT tell you anything?" he asked.
"They checked out all the files and the access logs, and they're sure nothing was modified. He just looked, he didn't touch."
"Good. Brass has some leads for us, a white Lexus was spotted in the neighborhood from where our network was last accessed. You coming?"
With that, Grissom and Sara headed for the PD, to join Brass in following up on their leads.
As they were leaving the lab, they ran into Nick. "Hey, were are you guys going?" he asked.
"PD. Brass has some leads for us to follow up on."
"Okay, see you around."
Nick had barely begun going over the messages left for him at the receptionist when he heard an entirely unexpected sound.
From down the corridor, towards the administrative offices and the PD, gunshots and shouting. Nick turned towards the sound and realized who had last been down that way.
Grissom and Sara.
Startling the receptionist, Nick wrenched the pistol from his hip, moving slowly towards the exit.
---
To be continued...