False Witness - Softcover

Singer, Randy D.

 
9781400073344: False Witness
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1400073340 ISBN 13: 9781400073344
Verlag: Waterbrook Pr, 2007

Inhaltsangabe

An Explosive Secret.
An Invaluable Code.
An Unreliable Witness.

Three ambitious law students at a local legal aid clinic watch as their routine case representing a man named David Hoffman ignites an incendiary trail of deception and betrayal. A member of the witness protection program, Hoffman has defrauded the government and eluded the Mob’s pursuit of his stunning secret: a coded algorithm capable of crippling the Internet and disarming national security.

Because of the intense threat posed by such a code, federal agents want Hoffman dead or alive. But the Mob wants him alive, more than willing to obtain the algorithm by whatever means necessary. And the would-be lawyers–caught in the middle of this deadly triangle–must overcome their differences and work together if they’re to survive long enough to graduate.

Bestselling author Randy Singer offers up his most dynamic legal thriller yet in a story based on his own real-life experience as an attorney assisting the U.S. Witness Protection Program. With page-turning suspense and heart-stopping twists, False Witness delivers on every level.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Randy Singer is the best-selling author of five legal thrillers, including The Cross Examination of Oliver Finney, Self Incrimination, and Directed Verdict, which won the Christy Award in 2003 for best Christian suspense novel. He also wrote the novella, The Judge Who Stole Christmas, and two nonfiction books. A veteran trial lawyer, he teaches at Regent Law School and serves on the Board of Legal Advisors for the American Center for Law and Justice. He and his wife, Rhonda, and their two children live near Atlanta, Georgia.

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Prologue
THE PROFESSOR

Courage is fear that has said its prayers.
Dorothy Bernard

If anything happened to this kid, the professor would never forgive himself. The young man was more than just a brilliant protégé; he was like a son. He reminded Professor Dagan so much of himself at that age. Too much, sometimes. Except that Chow was brasher, bolder than Dagan had ever been.

Chow Zhang possessed his mentor’s gift for complex mathematical theories, but he had something more. At heart, Chow was a businessman. A capitalist. A risk taker.

He had grown restless as a teaching assistant at the university; Dagan could see that. Chow stayed out of respect for the professor. When Professor Dagan told his protégé about the Abacus Algorithm, the young man’s eyes burned with entrepreneurial fire. To Chow, it was more than a math formula. It became an opportunity to piece together a historic agreement that might help millions of his fellow Chinese countrymen and women. He proposed the plan with such zeal and attention to detail that the professor couldn’t say no.

This meeting was the culmination of Chow’s plan.

Dagan said a prayer, his head bowed as he sat in the driver’s seat of the Ford Windstar rental van. He had a bad feeling about this meeting, something he just couldn’t shake. He had insisted on elaborate security precautions to protect the algorithm.

“You worry too much, grasshopper,” said Chow from the passenger seat, trying hard to inject a worry-free tone into his voice. Dagan had once asked Chow about the grasshopper reference; it was an allusion, as best Dagan could remember, to some old American movie or television show, the type of thing that didn’t interest Dagan in the least.

“That the birds of worry fly above your head, this you cannot change,” the young man continued, with mock solemnity. “But that they build nests in your hair, this you can prevent.”

Dagan did not smile. He was known for being jovial and outgoing, having a type of mad-professor personality, which, he had to admit, was a reputation he did little to dispel. But this was not a time for smiles.

Chow had never been one to pick up on subtle unspoken messages. He ran a hand over his own shaved head. “No worries here,” he said.

“Be careful, my son,” Dagan said.

This time, Chow took the cue, wiped the smile from his face, and instantly became the earnest young businessman. He looked professional in his dark blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. Professional, and almost American. Still, he was so inexperienced to be handling such a sensitive transaction.

Dagan wanted to give Chow a lecture, one of Dagan’s patented professorial pep talks, more about life than about academics. But Dagan sensed that the young man had already surpassed his teacher in so many matters of life and faith. The time for lectures had passed.

“God be with you,” Chow said.

“And with you.”

The young man climbed out of the van, grabbed his briefcase, and strode confidently toward the MGM Grand. He did not look back to see the lines of worry etched into his mentor’s face, the birds beginning to nest in the professor’s hair.

“Protect him,” Dagan prayed. He pulled away from the front of the casino, cutting off other drivers and ignoring their horns.

Twelve minutes later, Dagan entered his apartment, breathless from his climb up the outdoor steps. He disabled the alarm system, locked the deadbolt, and pulled the chain lock into place.

The living room and dining area, one long, L-shaped open space, was littered with twenty-four interconnected desktop computers and enough wiring to make the rooms look like a den of snakes. There were no pictures on the walls, no couch or recliner or television set. Just twenty-four desktop units, a small card table set up in the dining area, two folding chairs, and a beanbag.

In the single bedroom were two air mattresses.

Dagan had chosen this unit twenty days ago because it met all three criteria on his list: high-speed Internet access, a monthly lease, and anonymity. He paid cash in advance and signed the application using a phony name.

He hustled across the room, accidentally kicking one of the computers. He checked the lock on the sliding glass door that led to a small patio. He pulled the blinds on the glass door and placed his laptop on the card table so he could hook it up to his improvised network.

Each computer had been maxed out with memory upgrades, according to Chow, and then linked in such a way that the total network capacity exceeded 72GB of RAM. The network was protected by three separate firewalls.

Dagan’s screen flickered to life, and he entered his password. He connected immediately to the Internet, and an instant message from Chow flashed on the screen: Let me know when you get this. Dagan typed in his reply and simultaneously pulled up the video and audio feed from Chow’s computer. When the MGM Grand conference room came into focus, with the same grainy resolution that Dagan had witnessed during the trial runs, he began to relax just a little.

Chow, the more electronically savvy of the two, had wired his laptop with a hidden video camera on the back of the computer, inside a port that looked like an Internet connection. He squeezed a corresponding microphone inside what appeared to be an expansion port on the side. Using a wireless card that connected Chow to the Internet through cell tower technology, his computer now fed Dagan a live, blow-by-blow broadcast of the meeting.

Though the resolution was not the best, Dagan could make out three business executives within range of the wide-angle lens. They sat across from Chow, separated by a large polished-wood conference table. The man in the middle had dressed casually; the others wore suits. All three appeared younger than Dagan had anticipated.

The Chinese American man on the right looked more like a thug than a businessman. He had a low brow and thick neck, with veins bulging from a too-tight collar on his shirt, as if he couldn’t afford a custom fit. On the right side of his face, a scar started at his sideburn and ended at his jaw. His right ear was smaller than the left, as if he had lost part of it in a knife fight and a plastic surgeon had just sewn up what was left. A tattooed cobra was coiled on the left side of his neck, poised to strike at any moment. Dagan pegged him as security.

The man on the left, pale-skinned and tall, seemed infinitely more sophisticated. Eastern European perhaps, with ice blue eyes and short, Nordic-blond hair. He slouched in his seat, a cool, disinterested look on his face.

In the middle, the position of influence, sat a young man approximately Chow’s age, probably the CEO, dressed in a black linen shirt, with long dark hair, a trim goatee, and dark brooding eyes that seemed to pierce Dagan’s screen.

Dagan had missed the introductions and casual conversation, if any had taken place. Chow was sketching out the logistics of the transaction, a complicated matter since Chow had insisted on having the fifty million dollars in the bank before the algorithm was transferred. The men opposite Chow were employed by a deal-brokerage agency that represented the three largest Internet security companies in the world. Understandably, they wanted to test the algorithm before any money changed hands.

“You will forgive my skepticism,” said the middle man, his expression difficult to read, “but the implications of your claims are enormous. Not to mention the fact that our top consultants believe rapid...

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Verlag
Waterbrook Pr
Erscheinungsdatum
2007
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1400073340
ISBN 13 
9781400073344
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
343
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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