by Mark A Pryor
Falcon shook his head. “He’ll pay all right. Be a lesson to others. No one holds out on me. No excuses.”
Shit! He’s testing me.
A tire iron rested against the desk. Falcon picked it up and offered it to Niko. “Give him twenty-four hours to pay. And show him you’re serious.” Those black eyes bored into Niko. “Make sure he never walks again.”
For the first time since leaving his mother’s home, Niko regretted the life he had chosen. He didn’t want to do what Falcon ordered, but now was not the time to resist. “I understand, sir.” He grabbed the tire iron, turned, and walked out the door.
Niko shivered from the cold, but his face was hot. His stomach cramped, and he thought he might puke. He wanted to run—and keep running. But Falcon’s men would find him and bring him back. This was a test, and Niko was on a short leash.
Gotta get out of town. Head for the docks. Join a crew. Sail for America.
But right now, he had to shake anyone who might be tailing him. He walked two blocks and turned into his favorite pub. There were a few open stools at the bar.
The bartender spotted him. “Hi, Adam. Beer?”
He waved and kept walking. “Of course. Be right back. Gotta piss.”
Niko walked down the dimly lit hallway past the men’s room, opened the back door, and stepped outside. Five feet in front of him was the last man he ever wanted to see again. Falcon! No way to get around him. Falcon!
A woman’s voice called out. “Niko! Wake up.”
Falcon’s jet-black eyes bored into him.
***
“Wake up,” the woman repeated. “You are dreaming.”
Niko shot straight up in bed, naked and soaked with sweat, the sheet twisted around one arm. As he freed himself, the sheet pulled away, exposing the lower half of his body.
Vyper stood at the side of the bed, wearing a T-shirt with the cartoon Linux gnu over baggy pants dotted with small penguins, her breasts larger than he remembered, her nipples erect against the fabric.
He grabbed the sheet and quickly covered himself.
She appeared oblivious to his stares and the brief exposure of skin. “Are you all right? What were you speaking? It sounded Russian.”
“I had a dream about my life in Sevastopol. The language was Ukrainian.”
“You yelled about Sokolov, or maybe Sokol.”
Suddenly, everything made sense. “Sokol. That’s falcon in Ukrainian. I knew Sokolov as Falcon. We’ve got to stop him!”
Tracker
Chapter 8
Niko awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. Sunlight fought its way through the closed shades, brightening an unfamiliar room. This was Vyper’s home, not his. He would never see his own apartment again—the Last Jedi poster, his mug collection, or his favorite recliner. He would never see his friends, either.
He pushed the vision of the Action Center fire out of his mind.
The clock on the dresser said 11:45. After his disturbing dream, he’d slept soundly the rest of the night and all morning as well. A bathrobe lay across a chair and Niko slipped it on. After a quick stop in the guest bathroom, he followed the sizzling sound and inviting aroma to the kitchen.
Vyper stood at the stove, spatula in hand, apparently unaware he was there. Her beautiful black hair, still moist from a shower, flowed down the back of a gray sweatshirt. Her pants revealed little of her shape
Niko cleared his throat. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
Her breasts moved freely when she turned, but her hazel eyes never met his. It reminded him of last night, when her nipples had pressed firmly against her tee shirt.
Vyper placed a knife and fork on the table. “Yes, except when you started screaming about Sokolov.” She turned off the stove and slid two eggs onto a plate. “You should take a shower. I will make you breakfast when you are done.”
“Did you find out anything this morning? How many people survived?”
“Only the one in the ambulance last night. We can talk about everything after your shower.”
Niko walked back to the guest room and unpacked the only clothes he had in his “go bag.” He stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water, letting it run over his body while his thoughts drifted to Marko, Rocky, Gato, and the others.
One survivor. Who?
Later, refreshed and wearing clean clothes, Niko walked into the dining room.
Vyper sat at the table in front of her laptop. She looked up. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy.”
She stepped into the kitchen and began preparations. “Have a seat. How many eggs?”
“Three would be great.” Niko sat at the small table. “Do you know who survived?”
Vyper walked back to her laptop and located a picture. She rotated the screen toward him, then went back to the stove.
Niko recognized him right away. “Gato! That’s Gato!”
“His name is James Harper. He is in Sterling Hospital, being treated for smoke inhalation—no other injuries reported. The datacenter damage was not as extensive as the rest of the building, and James was found inside. Your friend will be fine.”
Niko read the report on Gato. He found two more articles by other news sources, but they added nothing. “I’m going to call him. See how he’s doing. See what he knows.”
“You cannot make contact. The Russians are still out there. They will try to find anyone who contacts James … Gato.” Vyper set a plate in front of him—eggs and three strips of bacon. “Do you want coffee or juice?”
“I’d love some juice.” Breakfast looked great, smelled good, too. But eating was the last thing on his mind. Only Gato survived, and Niko couldn’t even speak with him.
Vyper poured a glass of orange juice and set it before Niko. She took a seat at the table in front of her laptop. “Eat your eggs. We both need energy and clear heads to deal with the Russians. First, they must believe you are dead. I have already taken care of that. Do not let them know otherwise.”
“Dead? You took care of it? How?”
“All records in the action center were erased as required, following established emergency procedures. The only official records that remain are on the backup server in Beltway Recovery Systems. I modified the security data on the backup server. Records now show you entering the building before the attack.”
“Vyper, you’re amazing. I thought the Russians would never stop looking for me.” Niko bit off a piece of bacon followed by a forkful of eggs. “You’re a good cook, too.” That first bite reminded him of how hungry he really was, and he ate like he’d been starved for a month.
She smiled and turned away. “The Russians might still be searching for my Taurus to find out who was driving. I fixed that. If they ever find the car and look up the registration, one of the action center operators is listed as the owner. The security data shows the two of you returning to the center at nearly the same time.”
Niko finished the last piece of bacon. “You think of everything.” He carried his empty plate and juice glass to the sink. “Are you and I the only people monitoring the nation’s critical infrastructure now?”
“NSA engaged Cybercade to take over from Kozel Group. Their personnel have already begun downloading data from Marko’s backup server. Of course, it will take them a while to get up to speed, so the infrastructure depends on you and me for now. Remember, no one knows about us—not Russia, our government, or Cybercade. We cannot reveal our existence.”
Vyper selected a file on her laptop. “I downloaded the archived security video from Alpha World. It shows the person who poisoned Marko.” She pressed play.
Niko pointed to the screen. “There’s Marko. The camera’s above the end of the bar … and that’s the old woman.”
“It is a man.” Vyper pressed pause. “Facial recognition software from two video feeds agree. There is a 92% probability this is a man.”
“She … uh, he … looks like an old woman.”
“My sof
tware is not confused by a disguise. His head and facial data points strongly correlate to a man. The poor lighting and angles made it difficult to identify him. His face may not even be on file.” She pressed play. “Watch the purse.”
When the “woman” got close to Marko, the large purse bumped into his leg, causing him to turn suddenly. Niko felt sick. “Sonofabitch! She … he did it. Poisoned Marko … killed him! The purse … it hit his calf, same place as the sore spot. Marko showed me where it hurt.”
Neither of them spoke for a long time, even after the video clip ended. Sadness and anger paralyzed Niko until the logical part of his brain regained control. “No one will suspect murder. We can’t let the Russians get away with this.”
Vyper shook her head. “I can send this video to the police anonymously, but they may not see it as murder.”
Niko replayed the video in his head. “Something had to penetrate his pants leg creating a hole. It should line up with his sore spot. We have to tell them to look.”
“We cannot tell them. We do not exist. But last night, you agreed to be Deep Throat … or Trotsky. It is time for Trotsky to send out his first communication.”
Shit! She’s right. Mourn Marko later.
Niko stood up. “I’ll draft something right away.” He went to the bedroom, grabbed his laptop, and returned. “I prefer to use my computer. Can you help me set this up on your network?”
“Sure.” Vyper took the laptop from him, configured the network, and installed additional software before handing it back to him. “You are all set. Now you can be Trotsky.”
Niko had always known how to tell a convincing story. His mother had been a grifter, always working on schemes to con people out of their money. She taught her son well. Here in America, Niko applied his manipulative skills to social media—first to convince gullible victims to send him money, then later to do legitimate intelligence gathering for Marko.
He leaned on the arm at the end of the couch and began to compose Trotsky’s first anonymous leak, starting with the facts. He omitted the clandestine theft of Russian money and any reference to himself or Vyper. He read his first draft, made some changes, and read it once more. A good investigative reporter should feel compelled to follow the facts and expose the truth.
Vyper interrupted him from the other end of the couch. “One of our trackers reported in. It looks like a Russian hacker violated security and logged into FANTAZIJA.COM, a gambling site for auto racing.”
“What did the tracker tell you?”
“The Russian computer remained on an isolated network for several hours. My tracker recorded information but could not call back until the Russian got the urge to gamble.”
Niko glanced at her laptop. “Can you trace him backward from the gambling site?”
“Better than that. My software was running on the Russian computer for hours before contact. This hacker used the Far Eastern University network to access FANTAZIJA.COM. Far Eastern is located near Vladivostok, Russia.”
Niko closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table. “That’s Siberia—near the North Korean border. I expected the hacker team to be in Moscow or St. Petersburg.” He leaned back to process the information. “How does this help us? The guy could have been an innocent student whose laptop was infected by a hacker.”
“For one thing, I collect unique information from each computer that responds—CPU ID, motherboard serial number … and a few other items. It is like a fingerprint. I will recognize it if I ever see it in the future. But you are right—we need evidence of more Russian hackers from the same region.”
Vyper logged into FANTAZIJA.COM. Athletic-looking men in colorful clothes stood next to race cars of all kinds. “If one of the Russians likes the site, I imagine some of his friends might visit it, too. When they come to gamble, I will infect their computer, and then trace them back through the network as far as possible. Often a pattern emerges. I expect to see visitors from Siberia.”
An instant message popped up on Vyper’s screen. She clicked on it, and the screen displayed more information. “It is about your friend Gato,” she said. “He went into cardiac arrest.”
“Impossible!” said Niko. “He’s not even thirty.”
Trotsky
Chapter 9
Niko stared at his laptop screen, willing a message to appear. The people in the Center had been his only family, and now they were dead … except for Gato … if he survived.
Finally, a news alert flashed on the screen—the victim was stable but comatose.
Gato’s still alive!
Niko knew something about comas. Years ago, his mother had gone into a coma after an overdose. Eventually, she woke up confused, and remained that way until her death. The same thing could happen to Gato.
Vyper sat at the other end of the couch. Niko had known her for less than twenty-four hours, but they’d been through a lot together. She was an amazing woman, cute but all business.
She reached out and touched Niko’s arm—something she hadn’t done before. “I am sorry about your friend.”
He gently touched her hand and gazed into her eyes.
She looked away but didn’t recoil from his touch.
Niko took this as a positive sign. “Gato’s the last friend I have … at least from my past life. I feel so alone.”
Vyper’s eyes connected briefly with his. “Marko was my only friend. You are my friend now.” She turned to her computer. “We must fight back. You should send out a message from Trotsky.”
All things considered, her warm response was a breakthrough. With any other woman, this occasion would merit a hug … or more. But she was different.
Niko searched online for press coverage of yesterday’s events. Most of the major news services carried the story distributed by National Press:
DEADLY EXPLOSION AT GOVERNMENT FACILITY
An explosion and fire destroyed the Kozel Group Action Center in Ashburn, Virginia, Monday evening. Authorities fear dozens of casualties. One survivor was taken to Sterling Hospital where he is reported to be in serious but stable condition. Recovery teams, including canine units, began searching for bodies Tuesday morning. The cause of the explosion is under investigation.
Niko checked the Loudon County Times website. Their coverage was more extensive. It mentioned that the CEO of Kozel Group suffered a heart attack and died the night of the explosion.
Damn right! Russians killed him.
The Times, in a separate story, reported that emergency responders were delayed because the county’s emergency phone system failed.
Failure? Russians rerouted the number.
Niko filled Vyper in on the limited news reports before updating his Trotsky message. If the reporters couldn’t connect the dots, he’d do it for them. He also included a short clip from the Alpha World security video, along with a description of the injury on Marko’s calf.
Vyper angled her screen toward Niko. “Those Russians chasing us on Ashburn Ridge Road died. Here’s the accident report.”
Dead? Niko had done many things in his life he wasn’t proud of, but he’d never killed anyone. This was self-defense, though. “If I hadn’t pointed that laser in the driver’s face, no telling what would have happened.”
Niko skimmed through the report. Both victims had Russian names, but he didn’t recognize either one. He considered including this in the Trotsky communication, but decided it would be an unnecessary distraction.
Niko started making a list of people to receive his anonymous messages—the Loudon County Times, the National Press, maybe someone in the government. If Marko were alive, he’d know.
“Vyper, do we have access to Marko’s archived email?”
She gave him the link. “You should add the Cybercade security manager to your Trotsky contact list. I sent you his address.”
Niko found several emails addressed to a DHS agent, and a few others to an FBI agent. He added them both. “My Trotsky message is ready. Will you send it anonymously? I
t should go to two reporters, two government agents Marko trusted, and Cybercade’s security manager.”
“Sure thing. But add a signature word on the DHS and FBI communications. Like a secret identity that only they know. Do not give it to the reporters or to Cybercade—they would not keep it secret.”
“Okay. I’ll add the name Mercader. He’s the man who assassinated Trotsky.”
“Appropriate name.” Vyper smiled. “I also have some good news. Marko’s killer is dead.”
“How do you know?”
“One of the victims who ran into the guard rail had a mug shot, so I ran facial recognition on it. The video image of the killer in the brewpub was a match.”
“At least we got justice for Marko.” The vision of the BMW swerving and crashing flashed through Niko’s mind. “You know, those two saw me, but now they’re dead. All the other Russians involved in the attack probably believe the reports of my death. I don’t have to hide anymore.”
“I agree, you do not have to hide your face—only your friend, Gato, will recognize you. But everyone believes you died in the fire, so you cannot use your real name and you cannot go home.”
Niko tried to make sense of everything that happened, and he decided that two heads were better than one. “Tell me, do you have any idea what the Russians are up to? Are they simply probing our systems for intelligence, or are they planning a serious attack?”
“I am good with computers, not with human motives. The Russians are gathering data from emergency services computers in Fairfax County.”
“I figure Sokolov needed to eliminate the threat from Marko’s team—for fear we’d take his money—so he’d have to hold back on any planned cyber-attack until he could neutralize the threat. My friend Joey sometimes bragged a bit too much when he drank. He probably led them to Marko. If they learned he was in on it, they could have traced him to the Center.”
Vyper set her laptop aside. “If he attacked the Center immediately, he only would have killed the staff on second shift. That is why they sent out the false message from Marko, calling in the day shift. It would not work if Marko was in the building at the time, so they poisoned him.”