[2] Remote Sensing

A few weeks later, Teri flew into the Canyonlands Field airport eighteen miles north of Moab to discover, much to her chagrin, she’d arrived during the annual event, Jeep Week.

Appalled to find the small city glutted with all manner of 4x4 vehicles there for the series of day long trail rides along the canyons and rims, she nearly declined to revise her bid for the generous contract that instant, regardless of the outcome of her additional testing. If this was any indication of how summer tourism expanded the city’s population, she worried about camps and care for her daughter while she was working.

But when she reached the medical campus, the hospital staff assured her the city would return to its typical idyllic demeanor after the end of the yearly off-road festival and that even though summer tourism did increase the population, it wasn’t the same crowd as for the 4x4 challenges.

It took only a few hours before she’d completed her testing, pleased to find only minimal additional issues that would require fixing prior to initiating the needed security upgrades. Once she was done, Nick Johansen personally escorted her from the IT department to his office.

Teri studied him covertly during the walk. At well over six feet tall and a relatively fit two-hundred-sixty pounds by her estimate, she could concede his physical stature was striking, even if Nick Johansen was only marginally attractive at best. He had a weak square jaw and an awkward smile, with a heavy brow over unnerving steely blue eyes. While time had tempered the abrasiveness of his younger years, he still exuded a subtle aura of grasping control and an obvious self-appreciating egotism, with an almost sinister undercurrent of constant lasciviousness.

To her face, he conducted himself like a gentleman, calling her Ms. Munro and opening doors for her, but she could feel his large hand at the small of her back just a bit too low to be appropriate, his unsettling eyes skimming her body with overt depravity. It was all she could do to suppress her repulsed shivering.

She learned that in addition to his position over information systems and security, Dr. Johansen held a seat on the hospital’s Board of Directors, which explained how he’d been able to manipulate her contract so completely. As they walked, he talked mostly of himself and his accomplishments, peppering the conversation with dull tidbits about the hospital and Moab and boasting in thinly veiled innuendos of his IT department’s ‘large’ capacity and ‘robust’ protections.

Directing her into his office, he offered the seat across from him, then sat at his expensive executive desk, framed medical diplomas and other acknowledgements prominently displayed above and behind his head like some kind of intellectual intimidation halo.

Neither intimidated nor impressed, Teri lowered herself gracefully into the chair. Sun streamed through the broad windows of Johansen’s corner suite, emphasizing the deciduous trees lining the walk around it crowned with bright green new leaves. Focusing her attention outside the office door, Teri heard the typical faint chatter and noise of the hospital’s administrative department.

A subtle smile curled the corners of Teri’s lips. This location would do perfectly.

From her bag she removed her laptop and a small black device about the size of a smartphone with a short antenna. Lacking an alternative, she set up on her lap while the overconfident Nick Johansen smirked at her over his desk.

Confirming the Wi-Fi connection with her physician host as she switched on the antennaed device, she launched a few programs on her laptop. Within seconds, her screen was populating rapidly with scrolling red, blue and green lines. With smug satisfaction, Teri folded the laptop into tablet mode, then held it up before her chest, displaying the screen for Dr. Johansen.

When it quickly became clear her device had connected—hijacked, actually, though she’d never use that term with a client— to the desktops, laptops, smartphones, and tablets of nearby hospital staff, Dr. Johansen’s expression morphed from confident conceit to wholly shocked.

Unnecessarily vindicated, Teri maintained her polite professional mask, watching with growing satisfaction as his eyes flicked frantically, skimming the data that scrolled briskly up her screen.

Fixed intently on his face, she waited for the instant the text identifying some personal device as his flashed across her screen. That information, she knew, would be followed in short measure by the Wi-Fi networks to which he’d recently connected and the last five or so internet searches conducted using each of them. Most would, more often than not, easily—and alarmingly— identify public, home and departmental locations.

As if on cue with her thoughts, her host blanched and looked peaked, his mouth dropping open in undisguised panic.

Restoring the laptop mode, Teri scanned the connections, looking for the one that was likely his, a knowing smile pulling one corner of her luscious mouth. Among the obvious ones, Johansen’s personal Wi-Fi networks would, of course, be composed of random numbers and letters, making them hard to trace to a particular location.

Amid the easily identifiable networks, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Teri typed a command on the keyboard, consolidating that specific data into a condensed view, overlaying it on top of the scrolling data being continuously collected beneath. Immediately visible were Johansen’s logins on the networks at Chicago O’Hare airport and United airlines. Most recently, he’d connected at the coffee shop and bistro not far away from the hospital’s campus.

Then among the internet searches, Teri spotted her own name. Without displaying her surprise, she located the associated network among the data. SLPRN-HOME. A private network. Interesting, she mused, unconcerned.

Well acquainted with what the internet could do, her electronic devices were up to date with the latest encryption and security software. She avoided social media, online shopping, email lists and publications except as it applied to her business which she conducted and managed exclusively online. Even then, she appeared only as Lead Consultant T. Munro of Information Security Consulting, Inc., assuming it hadn’t been misspelled as the more common ‘Monroe’, an error she didn’t often correct.

Essentially an internet ghost, Teri existed mostly to the limited few with access to healthcare or government databases. Despite his interest or effort, Nick Johansen would’ve found little about her, if anything at all.

She scanned through the rest of the readily visible data from Dr. Johansen’s phone, selecting and highlighting the pieces she expected to have the greatest impact. Turning the laptop to face him again, she asked politely, “How’s breakfast at the bistro?”

To her amusement, she was pressed to sign a non-disclosure agreement immediately. As she did, Teri mildly suggested three additions to her previous bid, providing a verbal timeline for completion and an estimated fee for the service.

“I’ll need to confirm your system specs before I can finalize my bid.” Shutting down her electronics, she packed them away. “I have contact information for someone here who can provide those specifications, so I should be able to get you an estimate for the additional work before the end of the week.”

Without batting an eye, Dr. Johansen assured her, “There will be no problem.” Then, with a smile that raised the hair on the back of her neck, he offered, “Let me take you to lunch.”

Clearly, the contract was hers.

The question was whether she wanted it.

**

“I’m taking you to one of the city’s historic hotels for lunch,” Dr. Johansen explained as he drove the short distance, parking his pretentious, shiny black Mercedes in the hotel’s lot. “The restaurant’s food is fantastic, and I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.” As he opened the door on her side, Nick continued, “Let me give you a walking tour.”

Tucking Teri’s hand into the crook of his elbow, Johansen led her along a secluded path from the lot behind the hotel’s main building and past a private park with a flowing waterscape between several clear, shallow pools for wading. The early leaves on the Cottonwoods scattered about the grassy oasis promised shade for lounge chairs and hammocks nestled among them.

“It’s a shame you aren’t able to stay longer.” Johansen gestured towards the building, its private balconies and patios positioned to offer a singular view without intruding on others. “The sunsets from the rooms are spectacular.”

Teri smiled politely, avoiding mention of any desire to see one. Counting on her instincts—that Johansen resented and grew bored when anything stood between him and his current object—she replied, “I’m certain they are. If my bid’s approved by the Board, perhaps I’ll bring my daughter. She and I are fond of exploring historic places.”

At the mention of either the Board or her child, Dr. Johansen’s expression soured, then a smile unfurled on his face that set Teri’s skin crawling disturbingly. Directing her towards the main building, he led her inside to the dining area. As they approached the politely smiling hostess, the young woman looked them over speculatively.

Oh no, Teri thought, following the hostess to a private dining room, barely large enough for the four tables it held and looked more like an afterthought hastily pulled together from an unused closet than any deliberately design. Near the floor to ceiling windows, just one table had been set. Their hostess laid out the menus, scuttling away quickly when Dr. Johansen moved behind her, brushing against her body with his, to pull Teri’s chair for her.

Excusing herself to wash her hands, Teri followed the hostess out of the room, waiting until they were out of earshot. “Will there be others seated in the room with us?”

The hostess shook her head, half apologetic and half frightened. “Dr. Johansen joins us here frequently, but he always has a private room.” Her tone amplified Teri’s core disquiet. “Just make certain you exit by this door,” she whispered, pointing to the main entrance then darting away and leaving Teri standing, stunned, near the restrooms.

When she returned to the dining room, she found the door was closed. Hoping this meant there would be others seated with them, she opened it tentatively, but when Teri saw only Dr. Johansen, she took the opportunity to prop the door open again before starting towards the table. She frowned, realizing in her absence, water and bread had been delivered. Johansen had also ordered champagne.

Threading her way stealthily through the tables, Teri took her seat before the startled Dr. Johansen could rise to help her. After she sat, he lifted the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket standing tableside.

“No, thank you.” Teri placed her fingertips over the mouth of her flute, declining politely. “I don’t drink when I fly. It’s too dehydrating.”

“It’ll be at least a few hours before you do and there’s water, Teri. We’re celebrating. I insist.” Taking the glass by the stem, Nick slipped it from beneath her fingers and poured a generous portion. Returning the bottle to the ice, he set the glass before her, then lifted his toward hers, waiting.

“What are we celebrating, Dr. Johansen?” She kept her expression blank and neutral but didn’t touch the glass.

“Please, call me Nick, Teri. We’re old friends after all, and I’m happy for the opportunity to get reacquainted.” He nodded to her glass, his look booking no refusal. “Your bid was approved by the Board, by the way. You’ll arrive home to find your contract awaiting your signature.” He tinged his glass against hers as she lifted it.

Teri gasped, concerned. “What I gave you was an estimate. I haven’t finalized that.”

“I submitted your estimate.” His lips to his glass, Johansen gestured for her to do the same, a demanding glint in his steely eyes. Clearly, he didn’t like when his generous hospitality wasn’t appreciated. “With an added fifteen percent as a buffer.”

Her mouth fell open, stunned. “That’s— very generous. Thank you, Dr. Johansen.” Teri put the glass to her lips, but only wet them before setting it down.

“Nick.” He tipped his glass, draining half of it as their waiter arrived.

Teri bristled at the uninvited familiarity he assumed. Skimming the menu, she selected an entrée at random, responding to the waiter’s prompts about preparation and sides. Pretending to study the view, she watched Johansen covertly in the reflection of the glass as he ordered without looking at his menu. What kind of power did Johansen have here? And more importantly, what was she getting herself into if she took the contract?

As the waiter departed, Dr. Johansen leaned towards her, his elbows on the table. “You mentioned a daughter. I have children myself now, though younger than yours, I think. You have just one?”

Surprised by the conversation’s abrupt turn, Teri nodded. “Yes, one. She’ll be eleven this winter.”

“Well, I must say, motherhood suits you.” His eyes flicked down her body appreciatively before returning to her face and Teri blushed.

Nick Johansen preferred petite women—they were easier to control—but it wasn’t merely Teri’s delicate frame that had attracted his attention years ago and held it now. She was spectacularly pretty as well. Descended of Black Irish stock, her chestnut hair and fair skin set off a full, perfect mouth, rivaled in its ability to mesmerize only by her striking hazel eyes, dark, arching brows and thick lashes. He’d pulled off quite the coup to have dated her in college, and he’d liked what it did for his ego.

“You’ve always been a beautiful woman, Teri, but you were quite thin when you were young, in my medical opinion. Having a child has— rounded the edges into curves.” Though they’d never been intimate, the subtle knowing in his expression set her on edge, but his next statement stunned her.

“Your husband’s a lucky man, married to both beauty and brains.”

Caught off guard, Teri took an uncomfortable sip from her water. She wore no ring and still used her family surname. It was unlikely Johansen was confused on the topic, after all, he’d been in the ER when she’d learned she was pregnant with Zoe. She doubted he’d forgotten. Centering the glass carefully on the decorative cardboard coaster as she set it down, she said nothing. What’s he fishing for? Surely not my relationship status—he’s wearing a wedding band!

She’s single, Nick’s mind crowed. He settled back in his chair, prepared to pursue her personal details at his leisure. “My apologies. I recall now that was an unfortunate issue.”

Suspicions confirmed, she thought ruefully. Everything was something with Nick Johansen. Apparently, some things don’t change with time.

“It was also a long time ago, Teri. Things are more progressive now.” Johansen’s steel gray eyes skimmed her. “Still, I know it’s difficult to be a single parent.”

As a married man and a physician? I doubt you have a clue.

Though her income was nothing to be ashamed of, she had no doubt it was less substantial than his. Not that she cared. As long as she had what she needed to give Zoe a good life, she was happy. Teri’s gazed dropped to the ground before she focused on him again.

Johansen gestured at her champagne glass with his hand around his own. This was what she remembered disliking most about him. The looming over her with his dictatorial commands as though she was an object to be manipulated and used as he pleased.

Reluctantly, Teri raised the glass to her lips, taking a sip. Where’s that waiter?

Mercifully, Nick focused out the window and no longer on her. “There are a lot of nice things about a small city like Moab.” He rubbed the backs of his fingers against the grain of the hair growth on his chin.

The bristly, scratchy sound matched the sensation under Teri’s skin.

“Small town charm. Good schools. A great deal of history. Abundance of exciting activities.” The last in his list was almost purred. “I spend a lot of time outdoors, particularly this time of year, but relaxing in front of a fire during the cold months can be exciting too.”

Thank heaven! Teri thought as their waiter arrived to serve their meal. Johansen stared across the table at her as the dishes were set, as their water and champagne glasses were topped.

When the waiter retreated, he closed the door behind him again, much to Teri’s vexation. She tucked into her meal in an attempt to avoid further conversation. She had no desire for elaboration on Nick Johansen’s personal activities.

Across from her, Johansen smiled. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

Teri covered her lips with her napkin, chewing slowly, and nodded.

“Excellent. I appreciate a woman with an appetite for fine things. Especially a beautiful one.” His smile slithered wider. “What Moab lacks, Teri,” he cut a piece of steak, put it in his mouth, hardly chewing before swallowing, and something about the way he did it reminded her of a carnivore devouring prey, “is skilled professionals. Young people, like yourself, with talent.”

“Respectfully, Dr. Johansen—”

“Nick.”

She nodded with no intention of abiding his wishes regardless of how insistent he became, and drawing a deep breath, replied, “Once a system is up-to-date the need for maintenance is minimal, and my services unnecessary.”

“Perhaps generally.” Setting his flatware down on his plate, he propped his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. “As an independent consultant, your work from home can be anywhere, Teri. One of the drawbacks of a small town is the struggle to find competent individuals for my department. I find myself in the unique position to ensure there’s lucrative work available for an enterprising and—open-minded— individual possessed of talents like yours.”

There could be little doubt about his meaning. Deciding the safer option was to control the conversation herself, Teri smiled sweetly without acknowledging anything Johansen had said. “How did you wind up in Moab?” Knowing he would be happy to elaborate on the topic of himself, she kept the conversation focused there for the remainder of the meal.

When he returned to clear their meal, the waiter presented a dessert tray. Though she declined quickly, Teri’s gaze lingered a few seconds too long looking over the delectables presented, a sumptuous display of petit fours, rich chocolate cake and berry-topped cheesecake, sugar-crusted crème brulee and pie a la mode.

“Something for your sweet tooth, Teri?” Dr. Johansen reviewed the bill as their waiter departed, his eyes flicking up to hers when she took too long to answer.

“No thank you, Dr. Johansen. Never when I’m this full. They did look delicious. In fact, everything was superb. Thank you.” Glancing at her watch, Teri raised her brows in mock surprise. “I must apologize. It’s getting late and I need to get to the airport for my flight home.”

“Of course.” Johansen tucked his credit card into his wallet, dropping it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’ll take you now.”

“Actually, it’s included in my travel.” Her response came too quickly. “But thank you for the offer. I’m certain with your vast responsibilities you have a hectic schedule.”

Nick Johansen peered at her as she stood, collecting her laptop bag and clutch. “We didn’t finish the champagne.”

It was a non sequitur, and Teri waited, knowing he had a direction he was taking. She didn’t wait long.

“Once you accept our proposal,” he stood, taking a step closer to her, his voice lower when he continued, “we can celebrate again. Indulge our mutual sweet tooth.”

Teri shook his hand, skillfully hiding her revulsion at touching him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll need the ladies’ room before my ride arrives. It was good to see you, Dr. Johansen. Thank you for your consideration.” Backing towards the door, she darted towards the front of the restaurant as the hostess had advised.

Once in the bathroom, Teri washed her hands then removed her phone from her purse though she loathed the practice. Opening a ride service app, she connected, quickly arranging for a car to take her to the airport.

Estimated time to pick up: less than five minutes. It’s almost the best thing about this entire trip, she thought, sighing with relief. Tucking the phone away, Teri washed her hands again then stood waiting in the bathroom, hoping that Dr. Johansen had taken her at her word and left.

When the ride service notification put the driver at one minute from her location, Teri emerged stealthily. Making for the pick-up location swiftly, she cast furtive glances about for Dr. Johansen. Only as her ride pulled onto Highway 191 did she see him, pulling out behind them from a different lot than where he’d parked.

Teri’s reptile brain responded wildly, and her heart rate sped up. It took the entire drive to the airport, and the trip through security to calm.

Arriving at her gate, Teri selected a chair near the windows to await her flight, reading her book in between watching take offs and landings of the private commuter planes. Though it would be a few hours before her departure, she was grateful for the anonymity of the airport and the opportunity to simply ‘be’ that single motherhood didn’t often afford her.

Outside, a small Grumman aircraft taxied towards the runway. A logo on its tail for an archaeological consulting firm caught her eye. Interesting. I wonder how much archaeology gets done from the air.

Enough apparently, she answered herself as the plane took wing with a noisy push and a smoothly gliding lift off. She sighed. At least it’s on its way. She would miss seeing Zoe’s face after school—but at least the local airfield had enough connections that she could make the trip in a day—she’d have hated to be stuck here overnight. I wonder if the contract Johansen promised will actually be in my inbox tomorrow.

**

Teri’s plane touched down safely in Spokane, and a short time later, she was driving home to Coeur D’Alene to pick up Zoe from the friend watching her after school until her return that evening. During the drive, she considered. If the contract with the generous terms he’d outlined was in her inbox as Johansen had said, would she take it?

Some strange misgiving still needled her about the entire situation. It’s like funhouse mirrors, she thought. Everything feels distorted to Johansen’s ends.

But the same way she’d rewritten the code of her life, she could rewrite this too.

**

The contract was there, as promised, the next morning, to Teri’s internal consternation. To assuage her lingering apprehension, she emailed her own business agreement to Dr. Johansen, confident the expanded legal protections it gave her would make them change their minds.

But again, the agreement was returned promptly, signed by Johansen, with the request that she plan to begin work after the Memorial Day weekend, more than allowing for Zoe’s school to let out and the travel time to get to Moab.

Still, Teri vacillated taking the contract.

**

In the end, it was Zoe’s pleas that convinced her.

Her daughter’s wild heart brimmed with excited dreams of the adventurous camps she could attend and the host of previously untried activities they could pursue together in Moab after Teri finished work each day in the early afternoon. Zoe had argued her case well during their final discussion and her mother could hardly argue the opportunities the contract would afford them.

“Besides,” the precocious ten-year-old pouted, “I don’t want to spend the summer going to the same old camps at the museums here. They’re boring.”

Shuffling through the printed pages her daughter had printed and collected of youth outdoor programs available in summer Moab, Teri chuckled. “Kayaking. Ziplining. Rock climbing. I can see you have something more dramatic in mind.” She sobered, looking at the descriptions, mostly of outdoor camps many with camping, some four or five days long. “Kiddo, most of these are overnight camps. None of your friends or anyone we know will be there.”

Zoe rolled her eyes, sighing. “Mama, there’ll be other people there. I’m not like you. I can always find someone to hang around and talk to.”

Whether Zoe could make a friend anywhere wasn’t really the concern— when it came to her daughter’s safety, Teri felt exponentially more confident when someone else they knew tested the proverbial waters first.

That still said nothing about the problem she expected Dr. Johansen to be.