Chapter 1: Chime! You Got Case (Part I)

The cell phone on Elaine’s hip chimed.

She had it unholstered and flipped open in one deft motion. The message glimmering on the screen brought a smile to her lips:

You have a case. Possibly a big one. Client is offering full retainer. See you at the office.

At least that meant something to look forward to.

Somewhere nearby water leaked from an overtaxed A/C unit. The smell of mildew on concrete fought with the scent of ozone and plastic. The College of Education building wasn’t that tall on the surface, but its basement did descend two stories into the ground, bringing with it a particular chill reminiscent of lack of sunlight and visitors. The perfect place for a data center.

Professor Nickolich led the way, a heavyset fifty-something with an Einstein explosion- of-grey haircut and horn rimmed glasses. Elaine had told him that she could find the server closet herself, but he insisted on escorting her. Then he talked the entire way. During all of her encounters with the man, she’d discovered that he either loved the sound of his own voice or he just liked to know that other people were listening. He was also a worrier.

Helicopter client, she’d pegged him. The last time she fixed one of his computers he stood over her shoulder the entire time, steaming cup of coffee in his hands. It took her half-an-hour to finish something that should have taken five minutes because of his constant pestering and continuous monologue that stuttered into repeated questions, forcing her reply, when she didn’t respond.

Like she didn’t respond now. Instead she set one part of her brain to parse his ramble in case he said something useful to the task at hand

Elaine hoped she would never need to take one of his classes. Sociology, someone said.

Her eyes followed the haphazard bundles of CAT5e cables that ran along the top of the corridor as she walked. Timing her footsteps with the rattle and chink of the keys swinging from her guide’s belt, she also counted her paces. Adjusting for her own stride, she measured almost two-hundred feet from the elevators, vaguely west, putting them, she guessed, somewhere beneath one of the public restrooms in the building.

The technician kit felt light in her hands she let it swing side to side. Working on a Saturday. Not exactly how she wanted to spend the weekend, but she needed the hours. Computers were always breaking, especially on campus, and the extra money would come in handy for that new video card.

“Here,” Professor Nickolich said; his keys jangled in the lock. The door swung open into a dark room the size of a walk-in closet. A gush of frigid, dry air blew out of the room. “The trouble seems to have started in here. These machines are MSTATS A, B, and C. Originally we thought that C was suffering hard drive failures—but then the issue migrated to A and B as well. We replaced all the hard drives, still happening. Don said to give you full access to everything. Here you go.”

The telltale sound of computer fans and clicking hard drives greeted Elaine as she peered inside— constellations of lights glittered there in the gloom. A moment later the tzz bzz of fluorescent lamps started as several bars lit up in the ceiling, triggered by the door.

“Thank you,” she said. She put on her best I’m-a-cheerful-geek smile as she slid past him hoping that he would take it as a gesture of friendship to offset her speechless accompaniment. The body language cue appeared to mollify him, as he nodded and let her slip past him without further comment.

The mess of CAT5 slewed like bundles of spaghetti through a roughly cut hole in the outside wall, and broke into a vein-like spray that connected the numerous machines in the room. Someone had never heard of Ethernet switches. That was when she noticed something odd—stripped wires in a three-bundle of CAT5. Copper glinted from the bare wire here and there in a most unseemly manner. Elaine felt a sudden sense of empathic hurt for the damaged network.

The professor shifted behind her, noticing her sudden change in expression. “Do you see a problem already?”

‘Mynocks,” she said, her fingers straying over the frayed CAT5, “ chewing on the cables.”

“What?”

“I can handle this from here.” She grabbed the door and started to swing it closed. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“But I—”

“Thank you, Professor. I can handle this from here.” With that she shut the door and leaned against it as if he might open it.

Muffled by the door he said, “If you need any help just come to my office.”