Free Vapor by David Meyer Page B

financial support to develop a more efficient solar panel.
    At first glance, the proposal sounded perfectly reasonable. And most likely, it was perfectly reasonable. Hooper had crosschecked over a dozen fraudulent files with simple Internet searches. It turned out the more technical aspects had been directly lifted from real-life companies.
    He tossed the file to the side. The theft was incredibly smart. But it had still required one very important ingredient.
    Access.
    The Columbus Project, for all of its faults, had been designed to minimize the risk of theft. The database was carefully monitored. Applications required multiple layers of checks and crosschecks before receiving approval. Milestones were tracked and tied directly to payments. In short, the system should’ve been above reproach.
    The thief had beaten it by exploiting two loopholes. The first loophole had allowed the thief to insert fraudulent paperwork into the mix. The second loophole took advantage of informational deficiencies between those who analyzed the applications and those who approved them.
    More specifically, the analysts prepared reports on their respective companies. The president’s cabinet read those reports. However, there was no actual interaction between the two groups. So, the analysts didn’t know fraudulent reports had been filed under their names and the cabinet didn’t know they were reading forged documentation.
    The discrepancy had been discovered by accident. One of the secretaries met one of the analysts at a private function and made an offhand remark about a company supposedly recommended by the analyst. Confused, the analyst had checked the database. He was shocked to see his name on numerous documents for Batteroids, a supposed manufacturer of batteries for electric vehicles. He’d immediately called an old friend, the president’s senior advisor.
    Hooper twisted around in his swivel chair. More reams of documents rested on the floor behind him, encircling his desk like tiny walls. He scooted his chair toward a particularly small pile and picked it up. It contained about two-dozen folders, stuffed with information about every single person with access to the database. The files were unmarked, but Hooper suspected one of Washington’s many secret agencies had a hand in creating them.
    He flipped through the files. The analysts worked for the U.S. Department of Energy. They appeared to be environmental gurus to the core, active in animal rights groups and conservation agencies. Of course, billions of dollars had a way of tempting people from their ideals. Still, he didn’t consider them serious suspects. They were all loners, who joined groups to make change rather than meet friends. And by themselves, none of them exhibited the necessary computer skills to pull off such a fraud.
    He moved on to the cabinet members. The first three files held little interest for him. But the fourth file, that of Secretary of Energy Barney Samuels, piqued his curiosity.
    Hooper skimmed the file. Apparently, Barney’s wife, Patricia, was an executive of a small computer company based out of Washington, D.C. A dozen years ago, she’d been a person of interest in several computer-related crimes. The nature of the crimes intrigued him. Patricia Samuels hadn’t always been the corporate type.
    Once upon a time, she’d been a hacker.

 
    Chapter 21
    “What the hell is this thing?” Graham asked.
    “It …” Wind howled, drowning out Beverly’s response.
    Twisting around, I pulled the panel shut. Swirling dirt particles fell to the metal floor. The wind diminished in volume.
    Beverly switched on a flashlight. We stood inside a small passage, barely large enough for walking purposes. Bundles of wires and cables ran alongside the walls and ceiling.
    I took a few breaths. The air felt heavy, aided by heat emanating from the metal walls.
    I followed Beverly through the grit-covered passage. The lack of windows and cabin door indicated the