Ready. Set. Psycho.

Chapter Twenty: Solomon

           

Solomon sat in his car. Lisa knocked on the window, and he unlocked the doors. She entered and sat with a thud. "What did you find?"

"I found the container," Solomon said.

"And what was inside?"

"Literally, shit," Solomon said. "Nothing but a bucket of shit, food wrappers, empty plastic bottles of water. He called me when I arrived. But there was no clue, no next step."

Lisa shook her head. "That was the clue."

"What?" Solomon replied.

"He saw you. It means he's watching the place. It means there is a remote camera somewhere there. Or something."

"Something," Solomon said. He picked up his phone and made a call. "Kevin, can I take you for a ride?"

***

Solomon drove. Kevin sat in the car, fiddling with the radio, and stopped on a pop station. Solomon shot him a disappointed glance, and Kevin said, "I listen to it ironically."

They drove back to the harbor. When they arrived, they got out and walked to the warehouse where the container was located. Solomon let himself back into the warehouse. It was open, and no one was around. "It was in here. I figure if we stand at about where the container was located and look around, we could probably find a camera that doesn't fit. Something like that."

"Got it," Kevin said

"Good," Solomon said, walking forward.

"No," Kevin said. "I got it."

"Already? Found the camera?" Solomon said.

"It's not a camera," Kevin replied. "It's an IMSI."

To Solomon, it sounded like he said imm-see. "I don't get it. Dumb it down for me, Kevin."

"A fake cell tower. It's a man-in-the-middle attack. It picks up cell signals from phones and then snoops around before passing it on to the real cell tower. There are thousands in America. Mostly they're ours — CIA, NSA, etc. But plenty of Chinese, Russian, German, and general baddies. Almost impossible to find them all. They act with near impunity. There's one here." Kevin held up his phone. "I've got an app on my phone that warns me when I connect to one. Blocks the signal so I'm not passing my info along."

"He made one? Or bought one?"

"Well, probably made one. It isn't that hard. Then he waited for you to connect, knew you were here, and called you through the tower. It's what I would do. A lot of what he would do is what I would do." Solomon looked at him askance. "Minus the murder," Kevin added. He walked back outside of the warehouse toward a telephone pole. His phone was beeping faster and faster as he approached and emitted a near continuous beep when he arrived at the foot of the pole. "Here it is."

Kevin scampered up the pole and removed a black box about eight feet up. He jumped back down and opened it. Inside was another cell phone, as well as the guts of the unit itself. "Can you trace him with this?" Solomon asked.

"Not likely," Kevin said. "He left this to be found. So once he made contact, he'd be sure to burn any traces to him."

"Except that he wants to be found," Solomon said.

Kevin shook his head. "No, Sol. He wants you to think that he wants to be found. He wants you to have hope, and then he wants to take it away when you fail."

"He's not making it easy, but I know this guy."

"You're lying to yourself, Sol. The only way to win this game is not to play. Feedest ye not yonder trolls, as the saying goes. You lose just by playing the game, Sol. Even if you win, you lose. Engagement is the loss, here."