Page 40 of Filthy Liar

“The EXIF data was wiped,” Wilson said. “One of the first things we looked at. But let’s look at the other metadata.” He right clicks on the image and opens the properties tab. It all looks exactly as one would expect, with no flashing lights that pointed to an evil enterprise having created it.

It was created the day it was emailed to Jeff Mayfair, which doesn’t surprise me. The time matches up to the email almost exactly, so the previous metadata was wiped. It wasn’tactuallycreated four and a half minutes before being emailed, it was just copied into existence in its new location then.

I frown.

Four and a half minutes.

“Show me the other email. The other image. The times.” I trace my finger over the metadata on the screen. Four and a half minutes again. “That’s weird, right? And it’s not precise, it’s a few seconds off. But the files were created, then roughly four and a half minutes later, they were emailed. What if that’s how long it takes to transfer the images from one part of a network to another?”

“That’s a slow-ass network.”

“Dial-up speeds.”

Wilson does some quick math on a pad of paper. “Worse.”

“What if they’re using something like that, a dial-out technology, to create temporary connections across a network?”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, I mean it’s possible. But I have another idea. It’s possible to use FM frequency signals to cross an air-gap to a closed network. Usually it’s a hacking scenario, but what it could be used deliberately.”

My eyes light up. “Wait, it can be used to hack into a system?”

“Sure. Easier for an insider to do it than an outsider. But not impossible. There’s been some good research about jamming those networks with radio waves, too. How much do you know about closed systems?”

“It’s not connected to the internet, so there’s no way for hackers to get in. And they can’t order takeout.”

He laughs.

“I have my priorities straight,” I point out.

We’re still talking about what those systems look like—including the wild potential of custom storage devices to avoid any USB thumb drive access—when Jason returns.

“Food’s here.” He hands Wilson a takeout bag. His gaze lingers on me. “Are you guys done? Do you want to eat in my office?”

A flush of heat sweeps through me. “Yeah. Almost, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Wilson doesn’t acknowledge the undercurrent, but I’m sure he caught it. Wilson doesn’t miss much. He opens his dinner—a rice bowl with spiced meat, pickled onions, and a couple of lemons on the side—as I flip through my notebook.

“So if there is a database locked away in a closed network like that, what you’re saying is, it would take being physically present to copy it, and then I’d need some way to read a custom storage device if we were able to even get to that point.”

He shrugs. “Pretty much. But data is all the same. Building a reader would be the easy part. Which is the thing that’s always the weak point. Data exists, ergo, data can be copied. Better to have tight op-sec than build a labyrinthian system. Besides, someone can always just take the entire computer. And there are downsides to an air-gapped network, too.”

“Like what?”

“The most obvious is that if the servers are destroyed, it’s gone. No cloud backup.”

I scribble down,what are the chances a narcissist destroys that kind of record?

Wilson reads my mind. “That kind of total destruction is always done as a last resort. People like Lively—and you and I both know there are others out there, exactly like him—they don’t think they’re going to get caught. He didn’t think he was going to get caught the second time, even after we took him down once.” He grins. “That was very well done on your part.”

But it wasn’t enough. “He still weaseled out in the end.”

“Yeah. They do that.”

“They?”

“Motherfucking assholes.”

“Amen.” I flip the notebook shut. “Thanks for the context.”

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