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I was looking at the packets. They contain dense binary data being sent at the rate of about two kilobytes every second.”“What does that mean?”“That’s how much throughput is needed for low fidelity audio. My guess is that the software lets those guys in Manhattan eavesdrop on your teleconferencing sessions.”“Can you stop it?” Boris asked.“Sure. Many routers can filter packets based on address or protocol. But it wouldn’t do any good.”“Why not?” Jake asked.“You communicate with people who use the same software. Right?” Wolfe asked.“Right,” Jake said.“We can stop your computer from sending your audio to Manhattan but the remote machine, the other guy you are talking to, will still be sending the audio from his end. You can’t have a private conversation unless you have the other guy filter out his audio stream, too.”Jake floated on his back, looking at the sky above. It looked like a thunderstorm was brewing in the southwest. They were going to have to get out of the pool soon. He went. It had been a little less than a week since she’d surrendered her pictures to me and neither of us had spoken about any of it since. “No.” “Want to hike up the tubs with me?” “You have work,” she said glancing up from her checkbook. “I’ll call off. I haven’t missed a day yet.” “It is nice out.” “We can do the whole loop, up through the bolder field. Then have lunch down by small waterfall.” “Buy sandwiches at Cellastino’s?” “Hot peppers and provolone.” “Okay, call up and see if you can get it off.” “I’m feeling pretty sick,” I said, feigning a cough. “Ask for the day off. Don’t leave Mike in a lurch.” “Get changed,” I said happily as I snatched up my cell phone. The tubs were a string of huge potholes supposedly gnashed out of the earth by a glacier. Now a sparkling creek ran through them, cascading down through a series of higher and higher waterfalls, a trail maintained by private hiking groups. I’d been hiking it since I was a kid, my Mom often taking me up there, always angling.
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