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In addition to Madison’s colorful hair and her collection of superhero T-shirts—today’s was Captain Marvel—his daughter possessed a breathtaking fluency with computers that put Chase’s own proficiency to shame. When he compared his own hard-earned information operations skills from his army days to Madison’s natural cybersecurity gifts, it put him in mind of the opening scene of2001, when the film transitioned from cavemen to astronauts.
Brilliant as she was, Madison was in a mood today. She was coming down with a spring cold and her normal high wattage was dimmed. Chase overcompensated with cheer.
“And the two of us are a team. Positive visualization, Mads.” He gestured at the empty seats around the too-large table. “These seats will be filled soon enough, mark my words.”
“Start with the bad news,” she said and sighed.
“I received an early morning call from Avalon’s CEO and he’s decidedly apoplectic.”
“Do I look like a thesaurus?”
“Gillen’s super-pissed.” Chase grimaced, and continued, “Apparently, when thirty thousand fans flee in terror from your brand-new ballpark, it tends to make you cranky. I reminded him—between his epithets—that we were only contracted a month ago to assess Avalon Park, and were still in the information collection phase. I explained that I had only made the introduction yesterday.”
“Yikes. What’s a billionaire in a rage like?”
“Considering Gillen makes about $1.5 million per hour, let’s just say it was the most expensive ass-chewing I’ve ever had. In a weird way, I’ll savor those seven minutes.”
“Didn’t you say there wasgoodnews?”
“We’re not fired yet,” said Chase, raising his arms in mock triumph, as Madison groaned.
“Jesus, Dad,” she said, “you really need to work on your sales pitch.”
Chase sat down at the head of the table. “Gillen wants us to fast-track the assessment and assist with Avalon’s internal investigation. Figure out who did what—then stop it from ever happening again.”
“So where do we start?”
“What can you tell me about the jumbotron?”
“First of all, it’s not ajumbotron,” she said, as if the word was a personal affront. “That’s like calling a Corvette a Chevy. We’re talking about an Avalon/Techtronics Echelon 4.”
“Fine, what can you tell me about the fancy jumbotron?”
Madison rolled her eyes as she tapped on her keyboard, then spun her laptop around to show the screen to Chase. “Bleeding edge, integrated LED system, with scoreboard and displays in-bowl, around the concourses, and outside the stadium.”
“Can it be hacked?”
“Anything can be hacked,” she said and shrugged, “but an Echelon would be tricky. It’s a closed system, operated by a trained controller. If I could get a peek at it—”
“Today’s your lucky day. A Techtronics field rep is arriving this morning to go over the Echelon with a fine-tooth comb—I want you breathing down his neck. Gillen says you can take the damn thing apart and put it back together again to your heart’s content.”
Madison rubbed her hands together. “Merry Christmas to me. What are you going to do?”
“Talk to anyone and everyone who had access to the Echelon, starting with yesterday’s controller. Daniels grilled him pretty hard, and the poor guy seemed legitimately shaken, but I want to take another crack at him. And anyone else who has access to the Echelon.”
As Madison headed for the door, Chase stopped her.
“Can you run a quick diagnostic on this before you go?” he asked, handing her his smartphone. He gave her the passcode as she scrutinized the device.
“Any particular problem?”
“I received a strange text from a blocked number.”
“That’s not really a performance issue, Dad.”
“No, but it could be an OPSEC issue.”
“I’ll take a look under the hood.” Madison stopped short. “Wait…” she said, turning in the doorway, her brow knitted. “You mean strange like this?”
