The Meeting, Part 5

"Why do you think that I'm here?" asked Davis, still facing away, his voice surprisingly calm. When the Boss didn't respond, he turned back to us.

"That scenario of yours is a good one," he said. "I thought so the first time I heard it, from a hacker in Chile." Davis smiled grimly. "That's what I've been doing these last few months – hiring outlaws, and searching for answers."

Davis sauntered to the back of his chair. The Boss didn't even look up. "The hacker said that it was beyond him – entering the security system, leaving without a trace - but that he thought he knew someone who could." Davis laughed his unpleasant laugh. "Three contacts later, I found someone who really could – a group based in Russia called Blackbone."

The Boss stirred at the name, and Davis noticed. "You know them?" he asked.

"I do," said the Boss, grudgingly. "Competent."

"They are," agreed Davis. "They said that the scenario was possible, and then they proved it by hacking into the Richard's security system at the Ahmed estate and downloading the surveillance footage. I was there when they did it. We watched the video together."

Davis smiled. "You might find this amusing – when I returned, I had the police to check the security system again. He came back three days later, and swore to me that had never been touched."

If the Boss was amused, he didn't show it. Because he would not respond, Davis responded for him.

"What does that prove?" asked Davis-as-Boss. "Isn't that just more support for the scenario?"

Davis walked around the chair, and sat down, meeting the Boss's eyes. "I had Blackbone analyze the footage. They compared every frame, from the time Sonia came home that afternoon until the police arrive that night, against all the rest of the footage as far back as it went. According to the scenario, they should have matches. Instead they found nothing."

Davis fell silent. The two men studied each other.

At length, Davis spoke, his voice very low. "Would you like to suggest another explanation? Take another guess?"

"No," answered the Boss.

Another pause, but neither man gave way. "I don't know whether to be impressed or annoyed," said Davis finally.

He leaned back and crossed his legs. "The team at Blackbone did have another suggestion. Basically, it was the same scenario, but with one difference. Instead of replacing the real footage with older footage from the same camera, generate and paste in artificial footage."

"I won't bore you, describing all the ways to can synthesize footage," Davis said lightly. "You probably know them all already."

"Besides, it hardly matters. What does matter is how to find it. Blackbone pointed out that, whatever replacement footage was used, the one thing it could not do was match reality. Certainly not in the fine details."

Apparently, when Davis lectures, he doesn't need any feedback. He was at ease, not trying to convince anyone. He could have been dictating a letter.

"Remember, this took place in April. Leaves are out, wind was blowing, birds were flying. All these things, or their shadows, passed in and out of view of the various cameras on the estate."

"Blackbone thought there were enough cameras, close enough together, to let them model the entire estate, and simulate all of this motion. They even suggested breaking into the security on neighboring estates, just to get a few more details."

"You know, I had no idea how watched we all are, until they told me." This last was not part of the letter. It was an aside, directed at me! I most have looked like a deer in headlights. Davis made an amused sound, and thankfully left me out of it.

Back to dictation. "Blackbone's idea was to create this three dimensional model, render it from the point of view of each camera on the estate, then compare the results against the actual surveillance camera footage.

"You do grasp the concept, don't you?" The Boss did not answer, but Davis hardly seemed to notice. Now he was talking for himself. He held up both hands side-by-side, palms out, and shook one of them gently. "Leaves flutter on camera 1, but not on camera 2, which is focused on the tree beside it." He stopped shaking his hand, and looked at it. "That would be a mismatch, an indication that something's not right." Now he turned his two hands flat, palms down, and spread them wide, fingertips pointing to his right. He patted his left hand through the air. "Or a bird flies past camera 3," he said, stopping his left hand, then starting to pat again with his right, "and a second later on camera 5." He stopped patting and turned his hands over, forming a "V" with his arms. "But it never appeared on camera 4, which was covering the area in between them." He dropped his arms. "That would be an anomaly, a sign of tampering."

"It was an ambitious project. I knew it was a long shot. I approved it anyway."

Davis got up again, and walked slowly to the back of his chair. "It took two months, but they did a wonderful job. The model is beautiful - unbelievable detailed." He put his hands on the back, and leaned down low toward the Boss.

"And do you know they found?" Davis asked intensely.

At first, I thought that Boss was going to ignore this question too, but then he moved. He shifted in his seat. He looked down for a moment, then up to David's face. He was clearly working himself up to something. Whatever it was, when he finally spoke, he did not answer Davis's question.

"Why did you ask me?" asked the Boss. He cleared his throat, then spoke again. "Why did you ask me if I had solved the problem?"

"Why?" asked Davis. He smiled, showing his teeth. "Why? Because you're an ass!" He straighted, and let go of the chair. "Because you made me talk about things I did not want to discuss. Because you were determined to do this your way. Because you were so sure of yourself. Because to you this is all a puzzle!"

Davis stalked to the table, and loomed over the Boss. "They found nothing," he hissed. "No anomalies, no mismatches – nothing!"

"You wasted your money," said the Boss.

"Money be damned!" Davis cried in rage. "I wasted time!" With that, he threw himself backwards into his seat, hiding his perfect gray face in the collar of his shirt.