Start at the Prologue and First Chapter here

Frank was feeling uneasy as he and Delhohn left their weekly meeting on the sixty-fifth floor. There had been another run of attacks against alt coin exchanges and the press was running with the theme that  cryptocurrency systems were inherently insecure. The banks still hadn’t been attacked, but how long would that last? Now that so many alt coin thieves had grown rich, wouldn’t more and more criminals want to stick their greedy hands into the alt coin cookie jar?

“I have to say,” Frank said to Dirk as they walked to the elevator, “it’s hard for me to feel as confident as you are about BankCoin. There’s too many bad guys out there, and only so many alt coins to go around.”

“Only so many, yes,” Delhohn replied, “but that is not the same as ‘not enough.”

“Sure,” Frank said, “but why shouldn’t they go after BankCoin, if that’s where the most money can be found?”

“Because the security is so much stronger and there are so fewer points of potential weakness, of course,” Delhohn said.

“I’ll grant you that as well,” Frank said. “Without wallets and exchanges the threat surface is much smaller. But how about this? The more the valuations of the other alt coins go down, the bigger the prize BankCoin becomes in comparison?”

“Yes, but so what? When speculators lose money, people say ‘Who cares? What should they expect?’ But if the global banking system gets hacked, every law enforcement service will say ‘Oh my! We must catch these bad guys!’ Does that not make the criminals stop and think?”

As always, Delhohn made sense, Frank thought as they left the elevator and went their separate ways. Still, higher stakes might make some black hats pause, but maybe not all. He also wasn’t as impressed with the security of BankCoin as Delhohn. Not all the banks were in developed countries. Some of those foreign banks weren’t as sophisticated in their controls or as diligent in paying attention to them as developed nation banks.

That much was certainly clear. Hackers had penetrated the network of the Central Bank of Bangladesh in 2016. At first, they laid low and watched how the bank managed its electronic transfers. After they’d seen enough, they followed the same steps to successfully instruct the New York Federal Reserve Bank to wire sums totaling almost one billion dollars to the hackers’ accounts. The Fed wired over eighty-one million dollars before it caught on and turned off the tap. And North Korea, chronically short of hard currency, was believed to have been behind the theft of over a hundred million dollars from South Korean banks.

If hackers could do that with the traditional inter-bank SWIFT system, why couldn’t they figure out how to miss-direct payment of BankCoin as well? All they’d have to do would be to direct hundreds of transfers to every bitcoin exchange in existence, and then redirect those coins to ten thousand new bitcoin wallets. Bingo.

So, no, he didn’t feel nearly as confident as Delhohn. Now what was he going to do about it?

*  *  *

Frank wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy at the end of the meeting. Nukem hadn’t been reassured by Delhohn, either.

“So, the analysts are starting to question BankCoin’s security. What do you plan to do about it?” Horace Nukem said bluntly.

Benson Cronin looked at Audrey Addams. But she shook her head, no – she didn’t have any bright ideas.

“Well,” Cronin said, “let’s be fair, Horace. BankCoin isn’t exchange-traded, so we’re nowhere near as vulnerable as the other cryptocurrencies. And, sure, our stock price is down some due to the alt coin bad press. But it’s hardly taken a beating the way the other cryptocurrencies have.”

“I couldn’t care less if anybody else’s stock goes all the way to zero. We’ve got a fiduciary duty to our stockholders to manage this bank to their advantage, and a stock hit is a stock hit. You promised the board the markets would reward stockholders if we converted to the BankCoin blockchain and we’re down 10%. I’m only surprised some strike-suit lawyer hasn’t hit us with a shareholder class action suit.”

Cronin would have loved to break the uncomfortable silence with a bright idea. But no idea was forthcoming. “Well –” he began. But Nukem cut him off.

“How about getting our cybersecurity guy out there? Isn’t why you told the board you wanted to hire him?”

“You mean Frank?” Cronin said, frowning. “Frank Adversego?”

“If everybody thinks he’s such a cybersecurity genius, why don’t you start trotting him around and tell everybody why BankCoin is different – why the stockholders don’t have anything to worry about? Have him hold a press conference – visit with the big pension plan gatekeepers – make the rounds on the financial cable news shows.”

Nukem was warming to his own idea. “And hit up the analysts, too. Schedule some cocktail parties here and in San Francisco – make that D.C., too. I don’t want the regulators down our necks. Yeah. Let’s do all that. Gosh knows we’re paying him enough.”

Audrey Addams’ eyes were wide. Nukem wanted them to use the next best thing to a mute idiot savant as a spin doctor?

“Good!” Nukem said. “It’s settled then. Send me a copy of a draft schedule by the end of the week so I can coordinate some publicity from my end, too.”

Then he left.

“Well,” Cronin said, looking at Addams, “I guess we have our marching orders,” clearly meaning “you” when he said “we.”

“But Ben,” she said, “this makes no sense.”

“Then you’ll need to figure out how to make it make sense. Have our public relations people come up with the right talking points. Then have one of our lobbyists prep Frank the way they would if he was preparing for a tough hearing on the Hill. They can do some mock interviews with him until he sounds good.”

Addams nodded. “Okay, that would be a good way to start.”

Cronin continued. “And assign one of our PR folks to work with you directly until this is all over. They can hover at his elbow wherever he goes. Don’t worry. You can make it work.” Cronin smiled, projecting a comforting sense of assurance he didn’t share. Then he looked at his watch. “Looks like I need to get ready for my next meeting.”

Addams stood up, resolving to make the best of this unexpected situation. She was already planning Frank’s new wardrobe.

*  *  *

Two days’ later, there was a knock at the door of another conference room, which opened to reveal a striking young blonde woman. Frank noticed with mild alarm that, like everyone else of her gender on the sixty-fifth floor, she was dressed for success and anything else that might come along. She walked straight towards him, and he scrambled out of his chair to accept the hand she thrust forward to be shaken.

“Hello Frank. I’m Lola Logan from PR Outreach.”

Frank shook the offered hand lightly and quickly. “Hi Lola. Pleased to meet you.” It occurred to him a more candid response would have been, “Hi, Lola. I’m Frank Adversego from PR Purgatory.”

“Perfect timing,” said Ted Miller, the public relations manager assigned to set up Frank’s schedule. “We just started reviewing Frank’s first round of meetings. Here.” He slid a sheet of paper across the table to Logan.

“So,” Miller continued, “Thursday morning we’ve got Frank giving the keynote presentation on the second day of the big investor conference at the Javits Convention Center – nice work grabbing that slot when the Wells Fargo guy cancelled out, Lola. That night you and Frank will be covering the cocktail party we’re hosting at L’Auberge. That runs from 7:00 to 9:30.”

Frank’s head popped up. “Two and a half hours? Really?”

“Don’t worry,” Miller said. “Lola will be at your side the whole time. She’ll manage the list of people we want you to chat up. She’ll spot them in the crowd and walk you over and introduce yourself. All you’ll have to do is be yourself.”

Frank cringed when he heard the phrase “chat up” and tried to put on a better face. Being himself at a cocktail party would involve assuming a fetal position in the darkest corner of the room. He decided to water that down a bit and make a joke out of it.

“If you really mean ‘be myself,’” Frank said, “I’ll be in a cab on my way home before Lola is halfway across the room.”

Miller didn’t laugh, but Lola generously gave him a knowing smile.

“Now on Friday…” Miller continued.

When the meeting was over, Lola and Miller hung back after Frank left.

“So, what do you think?” Miller asked.

“I’d say he’s all you said on the sociability scale and less.”

“Think you can make this work?”

“Sure. I enjoy a good challenge.”

“Well, thank goodness for that. Let me know Friday afternoon how everything went.”

*  *  *

Lola was already in the town car when Frank got in. She was smartly dressed and gave him a warm smile.

“I hear your keynote went great today!” she said.

It had, and Frank was pleased with himself. But then again, he’d always found it easier to talk to a hundred anonymous faces a dozen yards away than a single one up close.

“I guess it went okay,” he said. “Much better than I expect I’ll do tonight. This isn’t my kind of event.” As if that wasn’t blindingly obvious.

“Oh, you’ll do just fine,” she said, reaching over and patting his hand. “I’ve got a list of points I’m supposed to look for an opportunity to make, so you don’t have to worry about the conversation stalling.” That list didn’t exist, but she was sure she could make up something on the fly whenever the need arose.

“Oh – that’s good. I’m glad to hear that.” The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself over and over again in front of her.

“And don’t forget,” she said. “You’ve spent plenty of time prepping. You’ll do fine.” Another pat.

Frank smiled and then looked out the window. He was already feeling tongue tied.

“Let me take a look at you,” she said on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. She eyed him head to two and adjusted his tie. “There!” she said. “Now you’re ready for anything.”

A doorman ushered them in, and Lola spotted a placard on an easel. “Here we go. Off to the left.” Frank walked dutifully along beside her to a large table covered with name tags. One of the young women sitting behind them smiled.

“Hi Lola. We’ve got a nice crowed already.”

The young woman found two tags and attached a lanyard to Lola’s. “Here you go.” Lola took both and pinned Frank’s to his lapel before looping the lanyard around her neck. “It was great when these things came along,” she said to him. “You can’t imagine how many dresses got ruined by sticking safety pins through them.”

And then they were inside the private dining room, with a bar set up at each end and a spread of heavy hors d’oeuvres in between. “Nice crowd indeed!” Lola said. “Now it’s time to get to work. All set?”

“Sure,” Frank said, smiling weakly. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“There’s the spirit!” Lola said, and dove in.

*  *  *

Frank was feeling positively smug as he rode the elevator up to his midtown flat later that night. Of course, Lola deserved most of the credit. She’d been masterful at making each conversation successful, not least by charming all the men and becoming friends with all the women. But still.

Inside his apartment, he poured himself a scotch. He was drinking the Dahlwhinnie Distillers Edition scotch now. According to the label, it had enjoyed, “a second maturation in Oloroso sherry seasoned casks to bring out still more depth of character.” He held up the glass and complimented the distillers on their success. He was becoming quite the scotch connoisseur, if he did say so himself. And his closet was close to full, what with all the new custom-tailored clothing Addams kept sending his way.

He loosened his tie and turned to face the sparkling city beyond his grand windows, swirling the scotch around before bringing the glass up to his nose to appreciate its aroma. No ice in his scotch now!

Yes, he thought. I just might learn to enjoy this.

*  *  *

Author’s Notes for this Week: Astute readers will note that while we have the beginnings of a personal story arc for Frank, a lot of detail on this book’s Dr. Evil, and various subplots under development, Frank hasn’t really done anything yet. And other than a wave of attacks on cryptocurrencies, there hasn’t been much action, either. Given that this is supposed to be a mystery/thriller and we’re already at c. 35,000 words (or a third of the way through the targeted length), that’s a problem that has me a little concerned. It also provides another example of how a book often evolves in a non-linear fashion during the process of creation, at least for me.

In this case, what I need to do is put more time into the story line that involves Frank thinking through what might be going on, starting to try out different strategies for discovering what’s up and who’s behind it, how he’ll catch them, how they’ll try not to be caught, and how Frank will eventually save the world from this instance of disaster. Usually this would be the first story line I would write from beginning to end, after which I’d add in some additional sub and parallel plots. This time around, it’s been evolving the other way around.

When I do have the central plot line fully developed, I’ll chop it up into pieces, some of which will almost certainly be injected in between chapters you’re already read in order to arrive at the final draft.

The action challenge is a bigger one, as this time around we’re dealing with financial crimes. In my past books, either the particular cyberthreat has lent itself to dramatic attack scenes, or I’ve worked in physical travel, dramatic locations and various visuals to keep things moving. But there’s only so many times I can ship Frank off in a camper, and I may have already done that one too many times. While I do have a good action sequence in mind for the end of the book, I don’t have a lot in mind to include between here and there. If I don’t come up with some good ideas, it may be that this book turns out to be more mystery than thriller, with me working harder than ever to make individual scenes more interesting to take up the slack. We shall see.

Finally, if you didn’t notice the brief note I posted here on Friday, there was interesting story in The New York Times recently about possible Russian efforts to build back doors or other nastiness into blockchain standards. You can read my take on that here. And you may recall that in The Doodlebug War the non-Caliphate bad guys were also subverting a standards development process to do their dirty work. So I get a predictive twofer for this one.

Next week: We’ll follow along as Frank takes part in his first RussCoin task force meeting at CIA headquarters. We’ll also meet Doogie.

Continue to Chapter 16