Cyberian Affair

by Mark A Pryor

  “Okay, you win.” Niko changed his clothes. “I won’t drag you out to dinner again … at least not for a while.”

  Vyper got dressed and went to the couch. “Come on. We have work to do.”

  He joined her. “Sokolov’s going to have a hard time finding you. Ever since his nephew was killed, he’s been hiding. And I don’t blame him.”

  “We cannot let up on Sokolov’s team until they arrest him and put him away.” Vyper tapped a few keys on her laptop. “It looks like Zatan’s team is stealing data from pipeline and refinery systems, so someone must be paying them. I want to find out who it is.”

  Niko searched through news and online postings. He found a positive article about Sokolov, published by a Russian newspaper a few hours ago. The story made the billionaire sound like the savior of Chechnya. As the CEO of Rusmir, he had built a broadband internet service in Grozny, and extended it into the more rural areas of the country.

  To counter this, Niko wrote an expose on Sokolov, starting with his time as a crime boss in Sevastopol. He added the story of the billionaire’s role in money laundering and skimming. Once he was satisfied, he pushed the story using Vyper’s sock puppets.

  As people responded to his expose, Niko engaged more sock puppets to express outrage and to reinforce the negatives.

  When he searched for more news, he discovered something that stopped him cold. He raised his voice. “Vyper! This is it! The news we’ve been waiting for!”

  “What?”

  “Sokolov and his wife were killed. Found a couple hours ago in a cheap hostel in Kiev.” Exposing this powerful man had been their only focus for four months. Putting him away was their goal. Now the Russians found him—murdered him—his wife, too. Niko wanted to celebrate, yet he felt bad about the wife’s death.

  Vyper tapped away on her keyboard. “The official report says they were killed in their room by a team of violent criminals. Shot in the head. His hands were cut off—missing. The place was trashed. Nothing valuable was found in the room.”

  They stared at each other in silence until Niko finally spoke. “We have no reason to feel guilty. We probably saved lives.”

  She smiled. “I want to celebrate with video games. We can test your concentration.”

  ***

  Whoop … Whoop … Whoop

  Niko bolted upright in the bed at the sound of an alert.

  Lying next to him, Vyper grabbed her cell phone and the whooping stopped. “Armed men. Three in my driveway. There could be more.”

  Niko caught a glimpse of her phone—green video with dark trees, plus three light green figures moving slowly. Then the night light under the bathroom door went out.

  “They killed power.” Vyper sat on the edge of the bed. “We are on batteries now. Maybe thirty minutes before the generator starts up.” She tapped on her phone. “This will encrypt all data, erase temp files, and shut down the computers. Whoever it is, they will get nothing.”

  Niko took her by the arm. “We don’t have thirty minutes. They’ll be breaking down the door in a minute or two. We could hide, but they’re certain to find us.” He snatched his Glock from the dresser by the bed and checked the magazine.

  “No!” Vyper grabbed his wrist. “You cannot fight them all. They will shoot us both.”

  A loud bang came from the front of the house—then a second one.

  Part II: Game Changer

  Mr. Bodnar

  Chapter 17

  Niko jumped out of bed, Glock aimed at the unlocked door, waiting for the inevitable. Armed men were inside the house. Heavy footsteps—lots of them. He jerked his head toward Vyper. “Move away from me!”

  “No shooting! We will die!” She slipped out of her side of the bed and grabbed a bathrobe.

  A commanding voice somewhere in the house shouted, “Bedroom. Two targets.” Bright lights moved back and forth under the door.

  English! Police?

  Niko set his gun on the dresser. He wasn’t going to shoot it out with Americans—especially if they might be cops.

  The door swung inward, hitting the wall with a thud. Two strong lights, one above the other, blinded him.

  “Hands up!” yelled a commanding voice, as the lights separated to opposite sides of the room.

  Niko raised his arms as a third light appeared. At least three different voices yelled out—some demanding cooperation, others giving status. He couldn’t keep track 0f everything they said.

  They weren’t Russian, and Niko was alive, but he was still in danger. He didn’t know who they were, or why they broke into the house.

  His eyes adjusted to the light, and he spotted three armed men in dark, SWAT-style clothing, wearing helmets with the visors raised. One man aimed an assault rifle at him. Another held his aim on Vyper, who stood shaking in her robe at the opposite side of the bed, hands above her head.

  The third man tossed the mattress up against the wall and lifted the box spring. Then he announced, “Clear.”

  Unseen men throughout the house barked orders and responses to each other. Niko heard someone say, “Check in there. Some kind of equipment running.”

  The nightlight came on.

  Power’s back.

  One gunman flipped on the overhead bedroom light, revealing a fourth man in SWAT gear entering the bathroom. His backpack displayed FBI in large letters.

  Whoa!

  Two men stood at the far corners of the room training their rifles on Niko and Vyper. The man who tossed the mattress seemed to be the team leader. He walked up to Niko. “What’s your name?”

  A gust of air reminded Niko he was naked. Then he realized what would happen if he told the FBI his real name. Adam Zima “died” in the fire at Marko’s action center. There was also the electronic theft of Sokolov’s money. He decided to remain silent.

  The man turned to Vyper. “What’s your name?”

  She lowered her arms and flapped her hands.

  The SWAT leader moved closer to Vyper, his face only inches away from hers. “Get those hands in the air, NOW!”

  She flapped harder, and her head rocked back and forth.

  “Stop!” yelled Niko. “She’s autistic. She’s having a meltdown.”

  The man froze for a moment, then raised his voice loud enough to be heard outside the room. “Get Jackson in here.”

  Several voices called out the name “Jackson” before a woman in SWAT gear entered.

  The team leader hitched his thumb toward Vyper. “This one may be autistic. Process her in another room once it’s cleared.”

  Vyper’s rhythmic movements continued as the woman led her away. An agent with a rifle followed closely behind.

  Niko let out a breath. This could have ended badly, but Jackson seemed to know what she was doing. Then a glance at the man aiming a rifle in his direction brought Niko back to reality—he might never see Vyper again.

  The leader turned his attention to Niko. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Tell me your name.”

  Niko shook his head. “I don’t have to talk. I want a lawyer.”

  “We’ll learn who you are soon enough. The court will assign you a lawyer if you can’t afford one.” The SWAT leader pulled out handcuffs. “Turn around.”

  “Can I put some clothes on? It’s chilly outside.”

  The man nodded and clipped the cuffs back on his belt. He inspected the clothing that Niko selected before allowing him to get dressed.

  “Turn around. Place your hands behind your back.”

  Niko did as instructed. “Am I under arrest? What for?”

  “We’re arresting you on suspicion of murder and conspiracy.”

  “Murder?” Holy shit!

  The agent snapped cuffs on Niko’s wrists and recited the Miranda rights.

  Niko had a million questions. Murder who? Conspire with who? He should wait for a lawyer. The FBI agent said the court would appoint one—if he couldn’t afford it. The only way he’d be able to pay for a lawyer was to use Marko’s money
, but he couldn’t let anyone know where it came from.

  While being led away, he saw half a dozen people in assault gear searching the house. Niko asked the FBI agent, “Do you have a search warrant?”

  “Of course. Are you the homeowner?”

  Niko ignored the question and walked outside to the waiting vehicle.

  ***

  At the DC Detention Center, Niko had refused to give his name, so the booking clerk designated him as John Doe. They took his mug shot, confiscated his clothing, gave him an orange jump suit, and fingerprinted him. It wouldn’t be long before they found out who he was.

  Now Niko sat on a thin mattress which covered a hard metal bed facing a toilet with a sink attached. A tray with the uneaten portion of his breakfast was on the floor. He wanted to know how Vyper was coping with everything. Did they put her in a cell like this? Did they charge her with murder?

  Originally, Niko thought he’d been arrested for stealing Sokolov’s money, or maybe for unauthorized access to a computer. But murder? Was this a mistake? Unrelated to the Russians? Not likely. The smartest thing to do was remain silent until he learned what he was accused of doing. He’d find out in a few hours when he appeared before the judge.

  A uniformed officer stopped outside his cell. “Stand against the far wall.”

  When Niko complied, the cop entered, handcuffed him, and led him out of the cell block and down a long corridor. Near the end of the hall, he opened a door and led Niko inside, sitting him down in a folding chair. He attached the cuffs to a rail on the only table in the room.

  Niko sat there alone, waiting for the inevitable interrogation. Vyper was probably going through the same thing. No telling how she would react to the loss of control—the handcuffs.

  Waiting gave him plenty of time to think—Russians, murder charges, and jail. But mostly he thought of Vyper.

  When the door opened, a tall man in a dark suit carrying a briefcase walked in. He stopped short when his eyes settled on the cuffs. He shouted a command loud enough to be heard outside the cell. “Remove my client’s handcuffs.”

  Client? Niko didn’t have a lawyer. “Who—”

  The man held a finger to his lips, signaling silence, then turned around and raised his voice. “Are you deaf? I said remove these handcuffs—now!”

  Niko sat silently as the uniformed officer rushed in, removed his cuffs, and left the room.

  The lawyer followed him outside the door briefly and looked both ways. When he returned, he closed the door and walked back to Niko, his hand extended. “I come from Provo.”

  Provo? That’s half of the passcode from Marko. Niko cautiously shook his hand. “Who are you?”

  “I am The Pythia.” He sat down. “But you may call me Mister Bodnar.”

  That was the proper response. Niko had to trust him. “Who sent you? How’d you know I was here?”

  Bodnar smiled. “Lydia Harris sent me. I’m her lawyer.”

  Vyper! “How’s she doing? Where is she?”

  “She’s doing fine. They’re holding her in a cell like yours.”

  “Is she really okay? I mean … she was upset last night. And she doesn’t like—”

  Bodnar held up his hand. “I’ve known Lydia for a few years, and I’m aware of her limitations. She told me she’s being treated well. Her cell is small, but they never restrain her.”

  “That’s great, but why did they arrest her?”

  The lawyer set his briefcase on the table and opened it. “Before we discuss anything further, we need to settle something. Lydia would like me to represent you … if that’s your wish.”

  “Um … yeah, but … I can’t afford a lawyer.”

  “No need to pay me a thing.” Bodnar pulled out a small packet of papers. “I’ve been on retainer to Marko Kozel for years. His estate will pay for everything.” He set the papers on the table facing Niko. “This is a standard agreement with an additional authorization for joint defense with Lydia. I will be able to share information with each of you about your cases. You can read the document, or I can explain it to you. If you’re satisfied, sign at the bottom of the final page.”

  On the top of the first page was the name Ivan Bodnar, Attorney at Law. Niko glanced through the verbiage, written in legalese. He skipped to the last page where his signature was required. Under the line, someone had typed the name Adam Zima.

  “Did Vyper tell you my name?”

  Bodnar nodded. “Lydia said you prefer to be called Niko, but all legal papers reference Zima. I know you haven’t revealed your name to the FBI, but they figured it out—I presume from fingerprints. Are you aware you were declared legally dead?”

  Niko ignored the question and signed the paper. “Now can you tell me why they arrested Vyper?”

  “She’s been charged with murder and conspiracy—same as you. You’ll receive the formal charges when you appear in court this afternoon. Lydia, AKA Vyper, is scheduled to appear later in the day.”

  “They told me what I was charged with, and it makes no sense. But Vyper? How can anyone think we’re murderers? Who do they think we killed?”

  The lawyer took the signed paper and placed it in his briefcase. “I don’t know. I could only speculate. The formal charges will be more detailed.” He stood up. “See you in court. Is there anything you want me to tell Lydia?”

  Niko stood to shake Bodnar’s hand. “Tell her I love her.”

  When the lawyer left, a guard returned Niko to his cell, where he sat alone with his thoughts for hours before he was taken to see Mister Bodnar again, and then the judge.

  Niko stood in court wearing an orange prisoner jump suit, Bodnar at his side. His hands were cuffed in front of him.

  The judge looked like someone’s grandfather sitting at the bench. He spoke with authority. “State your name.”

  Since the court already knew the answer, Niko responded, “Adam Zima.”

  The judge began to read the formal charges. It sounded like legal mumbo jumbo. Then he got to the point, “… Adam Zima provided material support and resources to Alexei Sokolov …”

  No! I didn’t help Sokolov.

  The reading continued, “… the murder of Marko Kozel and the attacks on the Kozel and Cybercade action centers …”

  Niko couldn’t believe what he heard. They got it all wrong. Why did they think he did it? It was the Russians!

  Then the judge said something that made Niko’s heart stop. “… conspired with Lydia Harris …”

  The rest of the reading went by in a blur. All he could think of was Vyper.

  Gotta be a way to set her free.

  Bodnar whispered into Niko’s ear. “Time to enter your plea.”

  The judge glared down from the bench. “Do I have your attention now?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “How do you plead?”

  “Not guilty, Your Honor.”

  Evidence

  Chapter 18

  Sterling, Virginia

  Niko paid the Uber driver and walked up to the front of Vyper’s home. The door was new. Someone must have replaced the old door after the FBI smashed it in last night. He pressed the doorbell and waited.

  This had been a long day, but Mr. Bodnar had moved things along quickly, posting bail as soon as Niko and Vyper agreed to home confinement.

  The door opened. It was Vyper, beautiful as ever, a broad smile on her face. She opened her arms wide.

  Niko stepped into her embrace, buried his face in her hair, and inhaled her intoxicating scent. He whispered in Vyper’s ear, “I love you so much. I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

  She tightened her grip. “I was afraid, too. We cannot let them separate us again.”

  Niko kicked the door behind him, shutting it with a bang. He looked into her eyes and brushed a tear from her cheek. Her lips were inviting, and he met them with his own, as their tongues wrestled playfully.

  His leg bumped something hard near her foot, and he spotted the ankle bracelet. “I
see they’re monitoring you, too.” He held out his own leg for her to see. “House arrest is much better than jail.”

  Vyper stepped back and held a finger to her lips, then pointed to her ankle. “Mister Bodnar is wonderful. He replaced the front door and bought us computers and phones.” She waved her arm toward the open door to the computer room. “The FBI took everything.”

  It had not occurred to Niko that these monitors could also be listening devices. On the dining room table lay a pad of paper and two pens. Next to the table was a shredder. He waved toward the table. “Bodnar should be here soon.”

  She took a seat, grabbed a pen, and wrote a short message:

  Mr. Bodnar swept the house—no bugs—except ankle bracelets

  The internet is turned off—police will come here tomorrow and turn it on

  Niko took the other pen and wrote on the same pad:

  Did you tell the FBI anything?

  Vyper scribbled a response:

  No—but I told Mr. Bodnar everything—you can trust him

  I want to tell the truth—it was Russians—not us

  Niko shook his head:

  Let’s talk to our lawyer first—we stole money—hacked computers

  FBI may not believe us—we could go to jail—prison

  The doorbell rang. Vyper ripped off the top sheet of paper and inserted it into the shredder. Then she got up and opened the door. “Good evening, Mister Bodnar. Come in and sit down.”

  Niko stood and pulled out a chair. “I can’t thank you enough, Mister Bodnar.”

  The lawyer nodded at Vyper, shook Niko’s hand, and took a seat. “Mister Kozel always said great things about both of you. It’s a pleasure to assist you in any way I can.” He opened his briefcase on the table and removed a manila folder. “Please call me Ivan.”

  Vyper sat next to Niko so they could face their lawyer across the table. “I want to thank you, too.”

  Ivan waved his hand dismissively. “No need for thanks.” He opened the folder. “We have a lot to talk about, but first, we need to discuss your GPS ankle bracelets.”

  Vyper pushed a small booklet across the table. “They gave us a user manual.”