The Tree of Knowledge by Daniel Miller (room on the broom read aloud .txt) 📕

Eva strode around the side of the building and stopped outside the rear entrance. There would be almost no one left in the station at this hour. The property room technician and maybe a couple of cops. Eva calculated how the tech would react sitting in that dark, windowless room with the power out.

On cue, the tech opened the door and stepped outside. Eva wedged her foot in the door and slid behind her. She placed a gun to the technician’s head and whispered, “What’s your password?”

Trembling, the woman whined, “Whaaat?”

“What’s your password? To the evidence database.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Now, or you’re dead.”

“Uh, it’s Princeton2020.”

“Thank you.”

Eva placed a chloroform rag over the woman’s mouth, guiding her to the ground, then checked her breathing to make sure she was alive. The mistake with Wally McCutcheon would not be repeated.

Eva took the security keys off the woman. Peggy Johnston was her name. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Peggy.”

She opened the steel access door and crept down the rear hallway. Darkness covered the station. She had done her research this time. No mistakes. The Princeton police force had thirty-five officers and seven support staff. The support staff had gone home for the day, save the technician. Nearly all those officers should be done with their shift or on duty right now, but there could be a handful of stragglers. She had a few officers and a property room technician to disable in five minutes without being seen. The property room tech was already out. Now to the cops.

With the power out, all the entrances were locked. The variables had been limited. The tree had been simplified. She placed her backpack on her shoulder, slid along the side wall of the rear entrance hallway, and edged around the corner. Two officers stood in the office bullpen. One officer was digging for his cell phone while the other reached for a radio.

Eva smiled as she remembered what the general had taught her: “To disable a cop, don’t go for his gun, go for his radio. Their power is in their numbers, not in their guns.” She pulled out two devices from her pocket. The first was a handheld electromagnetic pulse generator. The device issued high-frequency waves that fried any electronic equipment within a fifty-foot radius. She pushed the button and watched the first officer’s phone screen flicker on and off in the darkness before finally settling to black. Next, she turned on a portable signal jammer and smirked with delight while the other officer’s radio crackled with static.

Objective one was complete. The doors were locked, the power was out, the police communications equipment was disabled. Now it was time for objective two: Remove suspicion.

This would be more difficult. Police logged evidence both physically and virtually. Hard evidence was bagged and sealed in a property room, and pictures of evidence were uploaded to a secure database. The evidence was organized by case number. A case number that Eva didn’t have. To find the evidence in the McCutcheon case by hand would take her hours. She needed the case number, and to find the case number, she needed access to the intake room computer, and for that, she needed the property technician’s password. Fortunately, “Princeton2020” gave her all the access she needed.

Eva entered the intake room. A series of evidence lockers lined the right wall. In the darkness sat a lone steel desk and computer. The keys to the kingdom. She pulled out a portable charger and plugged the computer into it. The white screen jumped to life, brightening the room. Eva paused to see if anyone was coming, attracted by the light. Nothing.

In the password field, she quietly typed the password that Peggy had given her, “Princeton2020.”

“Incorrect password” showed on the screen.

Eva’s forehead creased as she retyped the password, “Princeton2020.”

“Incorrect password.”

Eva typed again, this time in all caps. “PRINCETON2020.”

“Incorrect password.”

Eva pounded the desk with her fist and whispered to herself, “Ohhhhhhh, Peggy, you bitch.” She heard the footsteps of cops down the hall. They’d be coming soon.

Once again, she closed her eyes and steadied herself. She imagined a tree of passwords spanning out into infinity. The possibilities were limitless, but that was the power of the tree . . . to take limitless possibilities and make them actionable probabilities. Eva calculated the probabilities.

Twenty percent of all passwords are simple. “123456,” “Password,” and the like.

She entered each password. “123456”:

“Incorrect password.”

“Password”: “Incorrect password.”

The footsteps were coming closer now.

Sixty percent of passwords use personal information. Thirty-three percent incorporate a pet’s name.

Eva jumped on Facebook and navigated to Peggy’s page. She grinned. There in front of her was one of the fattest cats she’d ever seen and a post from Peggy: “Mr. Bubblesworth loves to cuddle.”

She typed “MrBubblesworth,” in the password field and watched with glee as a database of police files opened before her.

The footsteps came faster now. Whoever was coming could see the light. Eva rose from the desk and slid behind the door. She heard a single cop enter the room. The smell of aftershave overwhelmed her. Through the crack in the door, she saw him enter. He approached the desk and assessed the computer screen glowing in the darkness.

Eva envisioned what he would do next.

He will check the cord to see why it was on. He will look around to see who was here. He will check the hall. He will get backup. That can’t happen.

The cop went behind the desk and looked at the computer. He fiddled with the cord to determine how a computer could be on in a powerless building. He reached for his radio, temporarily forgetting that it wasn’t working. He stepped toward the hallway, oblivious of Eva’s presence. She waited to see his neck enter her line of sight. The carotid artery and ten seconds were all she needed.

As the officer passed, Eva took one step left and wrapped her right arm around the officer’s neck, driving her forearm into his carotid artery. The cop clawed