Red Flag

42. Mounted Hackers

After a pause for breakfast, the three went back to their computers on the kitchen island. A while later, Lorne looked up from his and said, "Here's another blogger who's deleted his reviews. This one admits he got sucked in, and he has apologised for misleading his readers."

I pointed at Lorne's screen. "How many is that now?"

"He's the fourth to comment about it to me. There are likely many others who were not so open about it, and they quietly deleted their posts."

"Hoping nobody remembers them." I chuckled. "They'd have a huge gap in their posts – we saw dozens of reviews from some of them."

"Dozens?" Cynthia shook her head. "Surely you exaggerate."

"No, not at all, Cynth. We saw that during our first digging into this on Friday afternoon. Lorne shot photos of all the framed reviews in the lobby of Bistro du Midi, and we –"

"How does this give dozens?"

"We followed links to their blogs, leading us to hundreds of reviews, and as Lorne built a spreadsheet, we increasingly saw patterns. Many of them took advantage of the free dining several times a week – a few of them every day. It didn't take us long to identify four newspaper reviewers and twenty-one bloggers who were playing a game with twelve restaurants."

"The twelve in Metro Vancouver." Cynthia blew a loud breath. "I should have noticed something."

"None of us did, Cynth." I shrugged. "Neither Lorne nor I use the media handouts from events, not wanting to bias our observations. We didn't even know the reservation instructions existed until we began analysing the bag's contents after Nuance on Saturday evening."

"Reservation instructions?"

"We left the kit with the Vancouver police, and I've forgotten the exact wording. But it was something like, for special service and reduced prices, please include a link to your blog or column when you reserve."

"Oh!" Cynthia winced. "Another reason Frank took over doing the packages."

Lorne nodded. "I would think so – to have full control of the manipulation. Also, while Kate and I were being taken to our table at Nuance, the manager showed us a dinner meeting in progress in one of the larger private rooms. I recognised several from your events, including the concierges from Hotel Vancouver and the Pan Pacific. Seems they coerced the tourism influencers this way."

"Didn't miss a trick, did he?"

"Indeed, but fortunately, that includes the dirty tricks that will convict him. His outer layers appear to be rather smooth and clean, but he has dirty underwear. That's what'll nail him, and ..." At the ping, Lorne paused and pointed to his computer. "A new email from the task force. Let me open it."

He read for a while, then looked up at us and winced. "Another pattern the police have found – declining business followed by suicide. They've reopened the investigation of six of these."

Cynthia slapped a hand to her mouth and spoke through it. "Oh, dear Lord. And I helped him."

"Helped him with openings, Cynthia. Not with acquiring the restaurants." Lorne nodded at his computer. "So far, starting back east, the leases are all to numbered companies, and they've begun digging in the Provincial Registries to untangle ownership. With the time zones, Winnipeg is as far west as they've come so far – they're two hours ahead of us."

I grimaced. "How difficult a task is that? To find the people behind the numbers?"

"Depends on how complex. Some companies, such as mine, are owned by several companies, and each of those is owned by several others."

"So, nearly impossible."

"Except in this instance, Kate. And that's likely another of his blunders."

"Hunh? How so?"

"I would think there's a company common to them all, and with the quantity, the Mountie's geeks will easily see the match. Those frequently listed will stand out, and the Mounties can focus on them, narrowing it down to the one common to them all. That should be him."

"Then what?"

"Follow it and get his contact information. A chain of numbered companies has to start somewhere, and that is with registering a company to an actual person at a physical address."

"Why couldn't he do that with yours? Track you to here? To us?"

"He could. But think – with each layer of mine, the possible choices expand – there's only one of me. But with his dozens of locations, each layer of ownership increases the possibility of repeated companies, and the more layers, the more it zooms in on him."

Lorne shrugged and went back to the email to read a bit more; then, he fist-pumped. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! They've tracked his email to a server in Vancouver."

Cynthia raised her clenched fists and shook them as she whooped, then she asked, "So, what can they do with this?"

"They've found its location, and if it's a private server, and it would be illogical for it not to be, it'll pinpoint his office to within a few metres."

She shook her arms again and smiled. "Then, nab the bastard."

"No, far too soon for that. They have his email address, and they can use a back door, a trojan horse, whatever, to install firmware. Enable them to record keystrokes, monitor online activity, execute commands. Give themselves permissions and access the data."

Cynthia stared at Lorne, eyes wide and mouth agape. "They can do that?"

"Skilled hackers aren't limited to dishonest pursuits. The Mounties have a pool of them to assist in countering cybercrime and to find ways through chinks in organised crime's armour." Lorne laughed. "One of my colleagues calls them the Royal Canadian Mounted Hackers."