Chapter 9 – Nev and the Bug
During the war with the Junes over the Hermitage artifacts, Nev had had private investigators compile basic information about them and their associates. Information like street addresses, phone numbers, types of cars they owned, and email addresses. The investigators also had learned that Henric had leased an old auditorium on John Street, and had renovated it into a modern theater. Anna had told her grandfather she was working there, part of a team that was creating a new ballet. He hated the idea that she was working with the fucks who had done the Hermitage heist, but he couldn’t do anything about it. She was twenty-seven and had chosen a new course in her life, away from him, and towards the Junes. He could, and did, do something about the fucks. He raided the warehouse where they had the artifacts, and stole the entire lot, just as they had stolen it in Saint Petersburg. He had exacted revenge.
So Nev knew about The Hall, and he followed his boss’s orders to find out what was going on there. He went to the bank one morning and made a cash withdrawal. Then he went to the offices of the private investigators, which six months earlier had provided him with basic information about the Junes and their friends. When he was seated across the table from one of the firm’s principles, he took a manila envelope out of his tote bag and laid it on the table. He said, “I need you to do some work for me. Some private, confidential work, of a special kind. Can you do that?”
The guy said, “Maybe. We’ve done private, confidential work, of a special kind, before.”
Nev opened the manila envelope and took out $20,000 in hundred dollar bills. The guy looked at the money, and said, “We probably can help you with this private, confidential work, of a special kind.”
Nev said, “I need to get a bug into a place. A theater here in town. Then I need you to forget that you did this thing. Is that possible?”
“Do you need video or just sound?”
Nev thought, said, “Just sound, I think.”
“Do you need sound from every room in this place, or just one central area?”
“I don’t need to hear everything that’s said there. Just some stuff.”
“Is there a computer in the central area?”
“Don’t know.”
“We’ll get back to you right away, and let you know what we can do.”
The next day one of the firm’s men made a UPS delivery to The Hall. It was a case of wine, which can’t be left on the front doorstep of an address, because shipping rules say alcohol must be signed for by someone twenty-one years of age, or older. The guy got a signature from Pater, who wondered why Roger had had the wine delivered to The Hall, rather than to his home. Roger was a wine nut. The delivery guy took in the layout of the building, entrances, exits, side rooms, stage, balcony, back rooms, everything, including the fact that sitting on a table on the stage, with a printer and copy machine, was a computer.
When Nev had gone to the firm six months earlier, asking them for information about the Junes and a few other people, they had acquired that information by hacking into an email account, which then provided access to several computers. The hacker, the hackett, was the sixteen year old daughter of one of the investigators. It had taken her four hours to get the email addresses of the Junes and their friends, and to print out a collection of emails between the parties. For this, her father paid her $25 an hour. His boss had paid him a bonus of $1000. Nev had paid the firm $8000.
So the principle of the firm again went to his staff member, and asked if there was a way to get a bug into the place, without an intrusion, without actually planting a device in a teapot, or under a chair. The guy asked his daughter, who just had turned seventeen. She said, “If there’s a computer in the place, I can get you sound.”
He said, “How?”
“All new computers have video and sound components built into them. People always leave their computers running all the time now. I can activate the sound pickup on that computer, if there is one.”
“How?”
She looked at her father like he was a simpleton. “I just can.”
“Have you done this before?”
“Maybe.”
“Who, maybe?”
“Jonny.”
“Jonny, who?"
“Jonny the guy that comes to pick me up for dates.”
“You bug your boyfriend?”
“Only on weekends.”
“Why?”
Again she looked at her father like he was totally dense.
Her father thought about the bonus he would get if he pulled this off, and didn’t ask any more boyfriend questions. He said, “What do you need?”
“Is this part of the thing I did before? Is this the same people?”
“Umm, yes.”
“Then I don’t need anything. Just the address of the place where the computer is. And more money.”
“What do you need more money for? $25 an hour is good pay for someone your age. Most kids are making minimum wage.”
“I turned seventeen last month. You remember that, right?”
“So?”
“So, I got responsibilities now. Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
She looked at her father, who she liked a lot, but didn’t answer him. She had learned that the less he knew about her, the better.
“Ok,” he said, hoping his bonus would cover this increase in his costs.
The next day she went to her father and asked, “Where do you want the sound?”
“What sound?”
“The sound of the computer in that theater? Did you forget?”
“You got that already?”
Patiently she said, “Where, Dad, just tell me where. I need some money.”
The guy went to his boss, said he needed information about where the bug sound should go. Said it had to go to another computer. The boss called up Nev, asked for his IP address.
Nev said, “What’s an IP address?”
The boss couldn’t explain, so he asked his investigator, who asked his daughter, who told him. Nev then figured it out. Later that afternoon the daughter told her dad it was ready, who told his boss, who told Nev. Told him how to listen on his computer. Nev logged into some sort of messaging thing on his computer, and typed in a command. He waited a minute, and then heard sounds. Talking, some music in the background. Then he heard Pater ask Peter, “How’s your knee? You’re not supposed to jump around like that. The surgeon said you could tear it up again. Be careful.”
Peter said, “I gotta do something. Watching Bart down there makes me want to dance again. I can’t, but I feel like I want to.”
Nev couldn’t believe it. He was sitting in the sunroom of Stirg’s mansion, listening to a conversation a mile away at The Hall. He was listening to two of the fucks talking. Those investigator guys were good. Worth the $20K.
The daughter was happy with her $150, which had come at the rate of five hours at $30 per. Her father was happy with his bonus of $2000, less the $150. His boss was happy with his $18K, which had taken less than forty-eight hours to earn.
The Lost Ballet Page 9