Resonance, part 4
Office of Daniel Dickinson
U.S. Secret Service HQ
Washington, DC
Getting into the building was relatively easy. All it took was Artie's good suit, a confident stride, and a well-forged ID card. Getting into the office was a little harder, but the keycard 'lock pick' that he and Esponson made a few years ago did the trick. Now he just has to wait until the password cracker finishes its work and gives him access to Dickinson's computer. Artie's glad he thought to bring a snack; the password cracker is reliable but extremely slow.
After what feels like an eternity, the computer beeps at him, acknowledging that he's been granted access. "Finally."
Which is, of course, right when the Farnsworth starts buzzing at him.
"Oh for crying out loud..." Artie headdesks and fishes the device out of his bag. "Yeah?"
It's Myka, looking more manic and focused than Artie has ever seen her before. "You know how when you sing in the shower and it bounces off the tiles and you sound spectacular?"
"No, I, I never sound spectacular. W-what are you talking about?" And can it wait until I'm done here?
"The banks are all like that, Artie. They're all marble and stone and this--this music is knocking people sideways because it--"
"It resonates inside the banks," finishes Artie, comprehension dawning.
"Like. Mad."
Of course. Why didn't he think of that? "So something in the source material is..."
"...amplified by the bank's designs. Okay, I need you to compare all the architecture and interior dimensions of Fidelity Mutual against all the banks in the Chicago area that haven't been robbed."
"Yet."
"Yes."
Artie's already started getting the search set up. Dickinson's computer isn't as sophisticated as the one he has back at the Warehouse, but it'll do. "What about Marsden? Is he still a suspect?"
"No, he's dying of cancer. But his sound engineer, Jed Fissel, the guy who actually made the recording? Is unaccounted for..."
Yeah, yeah--hold the line, please?" Artie wants to listen to Myka's report, he really does. It's just that he has more pressing concerns right now. Like the sound of someone unlocking the office door.
The computer desk isn't in Daniel Dickinson's direct line of sight as he walks back into the office. That gives Artie just enough time to reach into his bag and pull out a hefty black-and-white SLR camera. "Forget something?" asks Artie as he points the camera at Dickinson.
Dickinson turns. "Who the--"
FLASH.
Certain tribal superstitions hold that taking a photograph of a person will steal that person's soul. The Levitt camera doesn't do anything quite that dramatic, but it serves its purpose well enough.
"What was that?" asks Myka.
"Uh... a Kodak moment." Artie takes one last glance at the flat black-and-white cutout standing where Dickinson was a moment ago. "Okay. The number of unrobbed banks that fit the acoustic profile of the already robbed banks, is that what you're looking for?"
"Yes."
"It is exactly... two."
"Two. Great. Where?"
FLASH.
"--hell are you?!" Dickinson finishes, glaring at--well, at an empty chair, actually, since Artie is now standing behind him.
"My name doesn't matter," says Artie (Dickinson whirls round to face him), "but I think you know who I represent." He brandishes his Tesla meaningfully.
Dickinson's eyebrows go up. "Flash Gordon?"
Oh, like Artie hasn't heard that one before. He scowls. "Y'know, I did a lot of work, a lot of research, I traced packets from network systems all over the world, until I finally figured out it was that computer, your computer, right over there, that initiated a security breach into my business." Artie takes a deep breath. "Why'd you do it? What do you want?"
Dickinson has regained most of his composure. "Now, listen to me, whoever you are. If you're gonna kill me or whatever that thing does, just do it. But if you're gonna talk about things that make no sense, then get the hell out of my office!"
"I know that you did it," snaps Artie. "Warehouse 13. I got hacked."
Dickinson stares at him for a moment, then huffs a laugh. "Buddy, you got punked. I didn't hack you."
Artie's opinion of Daniel Dickinson has gone up considerably over the course of the last five minutes. He clearly knows what he's doing, and is willing to do what it takes to prove that he's not responsible for the Warehouse hack.
"See, whoever did this mirrored these twelve proxies and ran the breach through here," says Dickinson, pointing at the monitor they're both huddled over.
Artie gapes. "Agh, I didn't see that!"
"I bet there's an entire floor of analysts at the NSA would've missed it too."
"Well..." They're not me, thinks Artie, but he has enough good sense not to say it out loud.
"You traced it this far," says Dickinson encouragingly. "The rest should be easy. Let me work it from here."
"Let--?" Now he's going to far. It's bad enough that Artie's gotten non-Warehouse personnel involved already. "No, no, no. I--what I need is thirty minutes alone with this terminal."
Dickinson lets out a huff of incredulous laughter. "Not possible."
Artie would protest, but the Farnsworth's buzzing cuts him off in mid-thought. "Don't ask," he says to Dickinson as he picks up the device and walks a few paces away. "Yeah?"
It's Myka again. "Artie, I need you to find my cellphone."
"F--!" Artie gives Dickinson an exasperated look before hunching over the Farnsworth again "I am not your personal cellphone locator, okay?"
"No, we just lost a suspect. They hit us with the music and took him."
"Are you okay? I-is Pete okay?"
"I'm fine. Pete's still, uh..." She looks over her shoulder, briefly; she looks faintly disgusted when she turns back. "...a little 'affected' by the music. He's making a love connection."
"He's ma--?" Artie glances at Dickinson again, who shrugs and rolls his eyes. "He's making a what??"
"Look, I managed to get my cell phone into one of their pockets. Find it and tell us where we need to go."
"Okay. I-I'll get back to you as soon as I can, alright?" Artie snaps the Farnsworth shut.
"So how're they doing?" Dickinson rises to his feet. He sounds faintly concerned; Artie can't begrudge him that.
"Huh? Oh, y'know, they're..." Artie sighs. "Mostly they're a pain in my ass."
"So am I. I'm not leaving."
"This is Warehouse 13," protests Artie.
"This is my office," says Dickinson firmly. "Okay? You want to use my computer to poke around in your problem, I'm staying. You've got your thirty minutes. I suggest you not waste it."
Artie hesitates, then heads back to the desk. "Could you at least--avert your eyes, alright? I mean, occasionally?"
Dickinson shrugs. "Okay."
"Thank you." Artie leans over the desk and starts typing.
"Don't you wanna find Myka's cell phone?"
"--oh, right." That, at least, shouldn't take long.
"You're putting that back together, right?"
Artie doesn't look up from the tangle of wires and circuit boards that was Dickinson's CPU tower ten minutes ago. (It was a good system, but not quite sophisticated enough for the trace ye needed to do; a few tweaks were required.) "Uh... yeah. Good as new."
Dickinson just shakes his head and returns to his magazine.
"Okay, Mister Knock Knock," Artie mutters to himself as he clips the last wire into place. "I'm gonna open the door and see who you are." He pushes the button and--
and a million sensations stream over him like a fire hose, light darkness sound faces cold metal electrical shock being pulled apart at the seams...
He's lying flat on his back, a bright light in his face even though there's darkness all around him. A man's voice, one he'd swear he's heard somewhere before, calls out from far away and inside his own head at the same time.
you have to stop her
"Hello?" He holds up a hand, trying to block the light, but it's no good, it's everywhere.
cut the tether
"Who's there? I..."
you have to stop, gotta stop her
"Someone's there, I can--"
And as suddenly as it began, it's over, and he's on his hands and knees under Dickinson's desk again as if nothing had happened.
"...what the hell was that??"
Dickinson puts down the magazine and leans over. "You okay?"
"Oh, I--sure." Slowly and carefully, Artie pulls himself out from under the desk. "Y'know, just--a little--shock."
(For a man who's worked for a top secret government agency for the last forty years, Artie is a terrible liar.)
[Dialogue from Warehouse 13 episode 1x03, "Resonance"]
U.S. Secret Service HQ
Washington, DC
Getting into the building was relatively easy. All it took was Artie's good suit, a confident stride, and a well-forged ID card. Getting into the office was a little harder, but the keycard 'lock pick' that he and Esponson made a few years ago did the trick. Now he just has to wait until the password cracker finishes its work and gives him access to Dickinson's computer. Artie's glad he thought to bring a snack; the password cracker is reliable but extremely slow.
After what feels like an eternity, the computer beeps at him, acknowledging that he's been granted access. "Finally."
Which is, of course, right when the Farnsworth starts buzzing at him.
"Oh for crying out loud..." Artie headdesks and fishes the device out of his bag. "Yeah?"
It's Myka, looking more manic and focused than Artie has ever seen her before. "You know how when you sing in the shower and it bounces off the tiles and you sound spectacular?"
"No, I, I never sound spectacular. W-what are you talking about?" And can it wait until I'm done here?
"The banks are all like that, Artie. They're all marble and stone and this--this music is knocking people sideways because it--"
"It resonates inside the banks," finishes Artie, comprehension dawning.
"Like. Mad."
Of course. Why didn't he think of that? "So something in the source material is..."
"...amplified by the bank's designs. Okay, I need you to compare all the architecture and interior dimensions of Fidelity Mutual against all the banks in the Chicago area that haven't been robbed."
"Yet."
"Yes."
Artie's already started getting the search set up. Dickinson's computer isn't as sophisticated as the one he has back at the Warehouse, but it'll do. "What about Marsden? Is he still a suspect?"
"No, he's dying of cancer. But his sound engineer, Jed Fissel, the guy who actually made the recording? Is unaccounted for..."
Yeah, yeah--hold the line, please?" Artie wants to listen to Myka's report, he really does. It's just that he has more pressing concerns right now. Like the sound of someone unlocking the office door.
The computer desk isn't in Daniel Dickinson's direct line of sight as he walks back into the office. That gives Artie just enough time to reach into his bag and pull out a hefty black-and-white SLR camera. "Forget something?" asks Artie as he points the camera at Dickinson.
Dickinson turns. "Who the--"
FLASH.
Certain tribal superstitions hold that taking a photograph of a person will steal that person's soul. The Levitt camera doesn't do anything quite that dramatic, but it serves its purpose well enough.
"What was that?" asks Myka.
"Uh... a Kodak moment." Artie takes one last glance at the flat black-and-white cutout standing where Dickinson was a moment ago. "Okay. The number of unrobbed banks that fit the acoustic profile of the already robbed banks, is that what you're looking for?"
"Yes."
"It is exactly... two."
"Two. Great. Where?"
FLASH.
"--hell are you?!" Dickinson finishes, glaring at--well, at an empty chair, actually, since Artie is now standing behind him.
"My name doesn't matter," says Artie (Dickinson whirls round to face him), "but I think you know who I represent." He brandishes his Tesla meaningfully.
Dickinson's eyebrows go up. "Flash Gordon?"
Oh, like Artie hasn't heard that one before. He scowls. "Y'know, I did a lot of work, a lot of research, I traced packets from network systems all over the world, until I finally figured out it was that computer, your computer, right over there, that initiated a security breach into my business." Artie takes a deep breath. "Why'd you do it? What do you want?"
Dickinson has regained most of his composure. "Now, listen to me, whoever you are. If you're gonna kill me or whatever that thing does, just do it. But if you're gonna talk about things that make no sense, then get the hell out of my office!"
"I know that you did it," snaps Artie. "Warehouse 13. I got hacked."
Dickinson stares at him for a moment, then huffs a laugh. "Buddy, you got punked. I didn't hack you."
Artie's opinion of Daniel Dickinson has gone up considerably over the course of the last five minutes. He clearly knows what he's doing, and is willing to do what it takes to prove that he's not responsible for the Warehouse hack.
"See, whoever did this mirrored these twelve proxies and ran the breach through here," says Dickinson, pointing at the monitor they're both huddled over.
Artie gapes. "Agh, I didn't see that!"
"I bet there's an entire floor of analysts at the NSA would've missed it too."
"Well..." They're not me, thinks Artie, but he has enough good sense not to say it out loud.
"You traced it this far," says Dickinson encouragingly. "The rest should be easy. Let me work it from here."
"Let--?" Now he's going to far. It's bad enough that Artie's gotten non-Warehouse personnel involved already. "No, no, no. I--what I need is thirty minutes alone with this terminal."
Dickinson lets out a huff of incredulous laughter. "Not possible."
Artie would protest, but the Farnsworth's buzzing cuts him off in mid-thought. "Don't ask," he says to Dickinson as he picks up the device and walks a few paces away. "Yeah?"
It's Myka again. "Artie, I need you to find my cellphone."
"F--!" Artie gives Dickinson an exasperated look before hunching over the Farnsworth again "I am not your personal cellphone locator, okay?"
"No, we just lost a suspect. They hit us with the music and took him."
"Are you okay? I-is Pete okay?"
"I'm fine. Pete's still, uh..." She looks over her shoulder, briefly; she looks faintly disgusted when she turns back. "...a little 'affected' by the music. He's making a love connection."
"He's ma--?" Artie glances at Dickinson again, who shrugs and rolls his eyes. "He's making a what??"
"Look, I managed to get my cell phone into one of their pockets. Find it and tell us where we need to go."
"Okay. I-I'll get back to you as soon as I can, alright?" Artie snaps the Farnsworth shut.
"So how're they doing?" Dickinson rises to his feet. He sounds faintly concerned; Artie can't begrudge him that.
"Huh? Oh, y'know, they're..." Artie sighs. "Mostly they're a pain in my ass."
"So am I. I'm not leaving."
"This is Warehouse 13," protests Artie.
"This is my office," says Dickinson firmly. "Okay? You want to use my computer to poke around in your problem, I'm staying. You've got your thirty minutes. I suggest you not waste it."
Artie hesitates, then heads back to the desk. "Could you at least--avert your eyes, alright? I mean, occasionally?"
Dickinson shrugs. "Okay."
"Thank you." Artie leans over the desk and starts typing.
"Don't you wanna find Myka's cell phone?"
"--oh, right." That, at least, shouldn't take long.
"You're putting that back together, right?"
Artie doesn't look up from the tangle of wires and circuit boards that was Dickinson's CPU tower ten minutes ago. (It was a good system, but not quite sophisticated enough for the trace ye needed to do; a few tweaks were required.) "Uh... yeah. Good as new."
Dickinson just shakes his head and returns to his magazine.
"Okay, Mister Knock Knock," Artie mutters to himself as he clips the last wire into place. "I'm gonna open the door and see who you are." He pushes the button and--
and a million sensations stream over him like a fire hose, light darkness sound faces cold metal electrical shock being pulled apart at the seams...
He's lying flat on his back, a bright light in his face even though there's darkness all around him. A man's voice, one he'd swear he's heard somewhere before, calls out from far away and inside his own head at the same time.
you have to stop her
"Hello?" He holds up a hand, trying to block the light, but it's no good, it's everywhere.
cut the tether
"Who's there? I..."
you have to stop, gotta stop her
"Someone's there, I can--"
And as suddenly as it began, it's over, and he's on his hands and knees under Dickinson's desk again as if nothing had happened.
"...what the hell was that??"
Dickinson puts down the magazine and leans over. "You okay?"
"Oh, I--sure." Slowly and carefully, Artie pulls himself out from under the desk. "Y'know, just--a little--shock."
(For a man who's worked for a top secret government agency for the last forty years, Artie is a terrible liar.)
[Dialogue from Warehouse 13 episode 1x03, "Resonance"]