Hacker For Hire (Ted Higuera Series Book 2)

by Wallace, Pendelton

  “Smells good,” was all that Catrina was able to say.

  “I have orange juice, toast and bacon. The eggs will be ready in a moment.”

  Catrina took the offered coffee cup. She took hers black.

  “Won’t you make a great wife someday?” Catrina said. “I’m surprised you stayed here all night.”

  Tom poured the eggs out onto two plates. “I thought it would be nice to wake up together.”

  Catrina took a bite of the eggs. “Nice. Maybe we should head back to bed after breakfast.” This break from the real world was too much to ask for.

  “Sorry. I’ve got to go into the station. Cap’n wants me to wrap up the Harrison case today. I’ve been thinking about the Metcalf case.” Tom took a sip of his coffee. “I like Alison Clarke for Metcalf’s murder. She’s the only one who benefits.”

  ****

  He set up the meeting for the next morning. He called Catrina and told her he had a dentist appointment. He was such a bad liar.

  Ted stood in the morning mist, waiting for the MT66. The bus stop was only a couple blocks from his apartment. He felt like a convicted murderer, waiting for the hang man.

  At least on death row, you get a priest. And a last meal. His stomach was churning so badly he hadn’t been able to eat that morning.

  “Hey, hero!” The bus driver held out his hand, palm up for Ted to slap. “Long time no see.”

  “Hey right back atcha, Garry.” Ted slapped Garry’s had with little gusto.

  The bus ride to Pioneer Square took a life time. Ted sat and stared out into space. So this was how it all ended? All he wanted to do was help people. He wanted to make a difference in the world. Well, I guess no good deed goes unpunished.

  “Your stop, hero,” the bus driver announced over the PA system. “Second and Yesler.”

  Ted flashed his bus pass and stepped down onto the curb. He stood for a minute and looked towards YTS headquarters. Could he really do it? He was selling Cat out.

  He was so immersed in thought that he paid no attention to the dark Chevy Malibu with a crumpled front fender that followed the bus. As the crowd on the corner dispersed, the doors of the Chevy popped open and two men, dressed in dark suits got out.

  Ted felt a hand on his arm, spinning him around.

  “Get in the car.”

  He was staring down the bore of an ugly semi-automatic pistol. It looked just like Cat’s.

  “Huh?” He couldn’t take it in. “What do you want?”

  “Get in the car, dumbass.” The taller man shoved Ted towards the car.

  Ted was so stunned that he complied.

  The shorter man put his hand on Ted’s head and shoved it down. The short man got in behind Ted and slammed the door. The barrel of the pistol never left Ted’s chest.

  “Who are you guys, what do you want?”

  “Shut up.” The short man slapped Ted across the face with the barrel of his gun. “You’ll see when we get there. Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  For the second time in his life, Ted was handcuffed. Then the short man pulled a black hood over his head.

  Ted heard the noises of Tuesday morning traffic around him; busses and cars starting and stopping, the occasional horn. They passed by the sound of a jack hammer. Must be a construction site.

  The car stopped and started. Then, the ride smoothed out. The traffic noise lessened. We must be on the freeway. The car made a sweeping turn to the right and slowed down. Again with the starting and stopping. Wonder where we got off? Finally the car made a hard right turn and stopped.

  “This is where we get out,” one of the pistoleros said.

  Ted heard the doors opening, felt hands grabbing his biceps, pulling him out of the car. He felt a man on each side of him, guiding him along. He heard a distinct hum in the air. High voltage power lines?

  They went up several steps, then through a door. He heard their footsteps echoing in a large chamber. Chemical smells assaulted his nose. They walked quite a ways, then stopped. That rattling sound, the tinkling of metal on metal, someone was fumbling with a key chain. He heard a door open. They walked through the door. The echo went away. They must be in a smaller room.

  Ted was shoved down into a chair. He felt someone grab his legs and tie them to the legs of the chair. His arms were pulled over the chair back and the handcuffs secured to the chair. He couldn’t move.

  “Well, well, well. Mister Higuera.” A new voice, it sounded like gravel being dumped down a chute. “We finally meet.”

  Ted heard a click, then felt a sharp blade running up his chest. The bastard was cutting away his shirt.

  “We’re going to have a little chat, you and me,” the rumbling voice said.

  His shirt and jacket were stripped away.

  “I hope you don’t mind the cold. It’s so expensive to heat this place.”

  He felt the knife working its way up his legs. His jeans were cut away.

  “I find that putting the subject in an uncomfortable position always helps me convince them to see things my way. It worked well for us at Abu Ghraib, didn’t it gentlemen?”

  Ted heard a murmur of agreement. There had to be at least three men here.

  The knife worked again. Ted’s boxers were cut away.

  “I think it’s time for you to ponder on the error of your ways for a while. We’ll be back. You can spend the next couple of hours thinking about all the things you’re going to want to tell me.”

  Ted heard feet shuffle and the door close. He sat strapped to the chair. His shoulders ached from having his hands cuffed over the back of the chair.

  After the initial shock of being stripped, he was freezing. It couldn’t have been more than forty-five or fifty degrees in there. How long could he last? He knew that hyperthermia would kick in.

  That would severely affect his judgment. That’s what the bastards wanted. They wanted to confuse and disorient him. They wanted him uncomfortable. He didn’t know what they wanted from him, but they were willing to break all the rules to get it.

  Who were these guys anyway? Were these the same sons-a-bitches who shot at Cat and him? Were they trying to scare them off of the case? Which case? Was this about Millennium Systems?

  Oh shit! Donna’s murder flashed through his mind. She was tortured. She was found floating in the bay, naked. She had been shocked. Was that what was waiting for him?

  He suddenly had the urge to pee.

  ****

  Catrina waited for Alison underneath the Hammering Man sculpture at the SAM, the Seattle Art Museum, on First Avenue. She looked impatiently at her gold Maurice Lacroix watch. The minutes passed so slowly.

  The cool air worked its way under Catrina’s short skirt and chilled her thighs. She was grateful for her knee-high boots. Why had she dressed up for Alison again?

  “Hi, Cat. Sorry I’m late.” Alison grabbed Catrina in a hug and lightly kissed on her cheek. “Let’s go inside.”

  Catrina allowed herself to be led into the two-story lobby. Hanging from the ceiling was a collection of fanciful cars. A pink Volkswagen Beetle with a pig’s snout for a hood and a curly tail dangled from the ceiling. A light blue and cream 1957 Chevy convertible had sprouted Pegasus wings and flew over the foyer. A tiny Fiat with a giant skate key on the back swooped down from above.

  Alison showed her membership card as they passed through the entryway. “I thought this would be a good place to meet.” Alison removed her tan camel hair coat revealing a dark blue business suit underneath. “I saw how you admired the Degas in my office. They have a special exhibit on the French Impressionist here this season.”

  “This is great.” Catrina looked over the program. “Manet, Matisse, Renoir. These are all the heavy hitters.”

  “Monet and Degas are my favorites,” Alison said as they strolled into the gallery.

  Catrina felt a little ill at ease. She was glad that Alison had selected a public place for their meeting. After their last get-together at Al
ison’s office, Catrina wasn’t sure she should be alone with her again.

  It was funny, Catrina wasn’t attracted to women. She certainly admired female beauty and she had no problem with lesbians. Some of her best friends and clients were lesbians. She had just never felt that pull.

  But, Alison was different. She admired Alison for her accomplishments and liked her for her personality, but she felt dangerously attracted to her. She remembered the feeling of electricity that consumed her body when Alison touched her thigh.

  Hold on girl, don’t even go there.

  “I think I owe you an apology.” Alison stopped in front of Manet’s painting of Berthe Morisot. “My instincts are usually better than that. I usually don’t misread people”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Alison.” Catrina took a deep breath. “Maybe I was sending the wrong signals.”

  “Doesn’t she look divine, just laying back there?” Alison motioned toward the Manet. “She’s so relaxed.”

  Catrina wasn’t a big art fan, but she did appreciate the Impressionists.

  “I’m sorry I misread you,” Alison said. “But I have a lot of respect for what you do for women. You’ve already done a lot for me, helped me. Now I can help you.”

  “Help me? How?”

  “I’ve been thinking about your problem.” Alison moved on to the next painting. “I think I can give justice a little nudge.”

  “Nudge? You mean with the district attorney?”

  “Yes. I have a lot of pull with the DA. I’ve known him for years. Let me have a talk with him. He goes for Von’s martinis.”

  ****

  “Rise and shine, Mister Higuera. Time for our little chat.”

  Ted must have dozed, despite the cold. He tried to bring himself back to the real world. How long had he been here?

  Every muscle in his body ached. He had never been so cold in his life. “W-w-w-what d-d-d-o y-a-a-a w-w-w-ant?” He shook and his teeth chattered so badly he could barely speak.

  “It’s very simple, Mister Higuera. You have been hacking into my network. Poking around in places you shouldn’t have been poking. Now you’re going to tell me what you found so interesting and why?”

  Hacking? This was about hacking? “Th-th-that’s ins-s-s-ane. Th-th-this is ab-b-bout h-h-hacking?”

  “You have been a very bad boy.” The gravelly voice seemed detached from reality. “Now I am going to have to punish you.”

  A gloved hand grabbed Ted’s penis. He tried to squirm free. The restraints held him.

  “You call this little thing a pecker?” There was a harsh laugh. “They should call you ‘little dick.’”

  “Yeah, well you sit in a meat locker for a couple of hours and we’ll see how big your dong is, asshole.”

  “Agaaah!” Something cold and hard bit into Ted’s penis.

  “I expect you and your friends know about Mrs. Harrison. A shame really. We never really intended to hurt her. We just wanted to persuade her to cooperate with us.”

  Ted felt fear creep up his spine. His breath came faster. He heard his heart beating in his ear drums.

  “We didn’t know she had a weak heart. It was really quite a surprise to us. It must have been a surprise for her, too, don’t you think? You don’t have a weak heart too, do you Mister Higuera?”

  “Agaaah!” Ted felt something hard and sharp bite into his testicles. He thought he was going to pass out.

  “Stay with me Mister Higuera. This is just the beginning. Are you starting to feel like talking with me?”

  “Go to hell.” Ted could hardly grasp a breath.

  “Good. You know, Mister Higuera, I am such a lucky man. It’s not often a man gets to make a living doing what he truly loves. If I did this on my own, I’d be considered a criminal, a pervert. But instead, I get paid a lot of money for it. I’m so fortunate.”

  An electrical charge surged through Ted’s body. He screamed. He jerked and lost control of his bladder. The warm urine felt good on his freezing feet.

  “Now then, time for the first question.” Gravelly voice moved a few steps away from Ted, his voice dropped to a whisper. “What were you doing in my network? Why did you choose to hack in from my home?”

  “Freeman? You’re Richard Freeman.”

  “I’ll ask the questions.”

  Another shock ran though Ted’s system.

  “You just answer them.”

  There was a pause. Ted gasped to get his breath back. Despite the cold, sweat drenched his face. The pain in his testicles wouldn’t subside. He squirmed in the chair. He couldn’t think.

  “What were you doing in my network, Mister Higuera?”

  “Playing Dungeons and Dragons.”

  The electricity shot through Ted’s body again.

  “I can do this all day, Mister Higuera. Can you? Would you like to talk to me now?”

  Think. Try to think. Ted tried to force the pain from his mind. If only it would stop hurting, for just a minute. What can I tell this asshole?

  “What do you want to know?”

  “That’s better.”

  There was no shock this time.

  “Let’s start with how you broke in.”

  “Cracker,” Ted gasped.

  “Cracker?”

  “Yeah, Cracker. A program we wrote at YTS. It’ll crack any password.”

  “Interesting. Where did you go? What did you find in my network?”

  “Embezzlement. We . . . were . . . looking for fraud.”

  The electricity shot through Ted’s system. He arched his back against the chair and cried out.

  “Come, come, Mister Higuera. You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? You went through all of this trouble to catch a thief?”

  “Schmidt. He’s making fraudulent billings. He’s draining money out of the company. Aghh!”

  The electricity shot through Ted again. He thought his cajones would burst open.

  “Let’s get something straight, Mister Higuera.” A note of anger crept into Freeman’s voice. “I am not a patient man. I know when someone is hiding something from me. You are hiding something now. I know you were in Metcalf’s files. I also know that Metcalf was stupid enough to keep incriminating evidence. What did you find and who did you share it with?”

  Another jolt hit Ted’s genitals. The world went black.

  Chapter 29

  “Ted’s gone missing.” Catrina plopped down onto Jonathan Jefferson’s desk. “He called in this morning, said he had a dentist appointment, then we haven’t heard from him all day.”

  Jeff looked up from his computer screen. “What was he up to?”

  “At first I was worried that he was talking to Petrocelli, that the DA took him out of circulation.” Catrina stopped and sighed a deep breath. “But Ted wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t turn on us.”

  “Are you sure? We really don’t know him that well. He hasn’t been here long enough to be vested in us.”

  The doubt in Jeff’s voice made Catrina pause and think.

  No. I have good instincts. “Ted’s good people. He hasn’t flipped.”

  “If you say so.” Jeff dropped the file folder on his desk. “So where is he?”

  Catrina crossed her arms over her blue denim work shirt. “I haven’t heard from him since early this morning. He hasn’t answered my calls, my emails or my text messages. He just dropped off the face of the earth.”

  “Has he run?” Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Has he gone to ground?”

  “I don’t think so. Jenn has the hacking case handled. He knew that she’s filed a motion to get the charges dismissed.”

  “If she can find a judge who agrees with her.” Jeff turned to his computer. “Let’s see if his cell phone is on. He has a GPS unit in the phone. If it has power, we should be able to track him.”

  Catrina watched Jeff type away at his keyboard with the grace of a virtuoso. He understood this technology crap much better than she did. It seemed like all young people did. When he ask
ed her to invest in databases, web sites and programs, she just trusted him.

  Now it paid off.

  “Got him. His cell phone is on Harbor Island. The warehouse district, Southwest Hanford and Sixteenth Avenue southwest, under the Spokane Street Bridge.”

  “What the hell would Higuera be doing in an old warehouse?” Catrina leaned in over Jeff’s shoulder. “Can you get a visual?”

  Jeff typed the location into Google Earth. The streets intersected to form a triangle. Warehouses filled the view. A long, ugly concrete bridge crossed almost directly over the shot. Old trucks and an aging Winnebago sat in the parking lot. “This is not a nice neighborhood. It’s the kind of place you go to meet someone on the quiet.”

  “Who would he be meeting?” Cat stepped back. “You don’t think he’s going off on his own without telling us, do you?”

  “Yeah, like to the DA.”

  “Get your stuff.” Catrina started towards the door. “I’ll get the car. No matter what’s he’s doing there, we better find him.”

  ****

  “He’s out cold, Cap.” The tall member of the Mutt and Jeff team pulled Ted’s head back and felt for his pulse. “You want me to wake him?”

  “No, let’s leave him for a while.” Richard Freeman looked at the divers watch on his wrist. “I have an appointment downtown in an hour. You guys keep an eye on him. I’ll be back by five.”

  Freeman turned and walked through the door of the decaying office into a giant, abandoned warehouse building. Streaks of weak November sunlight peaked in through grimy windows high in the walls. God knows what had been stored here, but an acrid chemical smell oozed from every pore of the building. It had to date back to early in the last century. This place was a Super Fund site if ever there was one.

  The triangular-shaped parking lot held a black Dodge Charger, a Chevy Malibu and an array of abandoned cars and pickups as well as an old Winnebago. High voltage power lines hummed overhead. Freeman heard the steady roar of traffic on the Spokane Street Bridge above him.

  What a depressing place. Gray skies over gray ground. Everything was covered in asphalt or concrete. Not a tree, not a plant in sight. Utilitarian concrete buildings and rows and rows of shipping containers filled his vista.