White Knights

by Julie Moffett

  I blew out a breath. “Holy crap. I had no idea. I thought you were just blowing me off. What about you being Excalibur’s star quarterback? Wouldn’t kids from other schools see you and realized where you moved?”

  “We don’t play Catholic schools, which is the only reason I agreed to be on Excalibur’s team. That, and I really like playing football.”

  “Wow. This is so not fair.”

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed. “Regardless, my life is about to turn into a living nightmare at high school. Again.”

  Helplessness, shame, and regret swamped me. This was my fault, and I didn’t have a clue how to help him. Still, I had to do something, offer the one thing I had at my disposal.

  “I feel like a million apologizes from me aren’t going to be enough.” I paused and then said what I needed to say. “So, I’ll offer the one thing that might make a small difference—from here on out, I’m going to have your back, Colt. To be honest, I think you’ll find a lot of students at Excalibur won’t care what the heck your orientation is as long as you’re a good guy, an even better lab partner…and maybe a half-decent quarterback and/or pitcher.”

  He chuckled. “That may be the nicest thing anyone ever said to me.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” I warned him. “I don’t normally do nice.”

  “Oh, no worries, Angel. Your secret is safe with me.”

  I smiled for the first time in the conversation and leaned back in my chair. “Why are people so unfair?”

  “It is what it is.”

  “I know exactly what this is, Colt. It’s war. Nic Nerezza is going down. And this time, I’m not backing off until he’s finished for good.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  Less than four minutes after I hung up with Colt, Wally called me. “Red alert. We have an emergency. Have you seen Nic’s website?”

  “I’m looking at it now.”

  “Can you believe it?” He let out a loud sigh. “Nic is such a tool. Like Colt McCarrell would be gay. Seriously? Next thing you know, Nic will be telling everyone I’m gay. Just because I’ve never dated a girl, kissed a girl, or barely talked to a girl—other than you and Frankie, it doesn’t mean I’m gay.”

  “Wally, I don’t care who’s gay.” I gritted my teeth. “Will you zip it and listen? We must stop Nic and his toxic website once and for all. I can’t waste time bringing it down because he’ll bring it right back up. We’ll have to do something else to shut him down. Something that will discredit him and his website for good.”

  “I’m totally onboard with that, of course, but what do you have in mind? And what about the trap for the cracker? That’s why I called.”

  “Let me worry about the trap. I’ve got another task for you. We need to figure out a plan to deal with Nic. What’s your schedule look like tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Must you ask? My social schedule is always an empty book.”

  “Good. Come over at one o’clock sharp and bring your laptop. Oh, and can you see if Frankie is available to come, too?”

  “What? First I’m your chauffeur, and now I’m your secretary? This better be worth it, because I’m looking forward to some serious hacking.”

  My eyes strayed back to Nic’s website and the screaming headline. “Me, too, Wally. Me, too.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  ISAAC REMINGTON

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  Isaac held the burner phone in one hand and had the other hand on the steering wheel. He had a raging headache. The last thing he needed right now was a problem.

  “What is it? I just spent an uncomfortable hour on a Saturday in Candace’s office answering and evading questions about the investigation. She refuses to let me into the negotiations.”

  “Does she suspect anything?”

  “I doubt it. She’s keeping me abreast of everything. She wants to be in control so she can take all the credit, if she brings him in.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “I know. She kept harping on Lando’s accident. She claimed her gut told her it was related somehow and she was going to get to the bottom of it.”

  Silence, and then the person on the other end of the phone spoke. “She’d better be careful. Accidents can happen to anyone.”

  Isaac rubbed his temple. “The fact she’s personally invested in finding the Hidden Avenger and handling all negotiations is inopportune, to say the least. Still, she had to be pacified, so I did my best. Unfortunately, the woman has a nose for evasion, and it took a lot of hard work to pull it off.”

  “I bet.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” Isaac was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a quiet dinner, a bath, and a glass of brandy. Instead, he had to deal with a new problem.

  “The daughter has a special connection.”

  Isaac blinked and slowed the car to stop at a light. “What kind of connection?”

  “She has an internship at a cybersecurity firm called X-Corp.”

  “Why should I care about that?”

  “Her mentor is Lexi Carmichael.”

  The name was familiar, but Isaac still couldn’t make the connection. “Who is she?”

  “The live-in girlfriend of the new director of the Information Assurance Directorate.”

  “Our IAD?”

  “The one and only.”

  Isaac closed his eyes. “Slash?” He did not want—could not afford—to have Slash snooping around the operation. He posed a significant danger if he were to find out about the core group.

  “Yes. Slash.”

  “That’s not good. Do everything you can to keep her out of things. I want to be notified immediately if there is any involvement of her or IAD.”

  “Of course.”

  The car behind Isaac honked impatiently. He opened his eyes, moving his car forward. He felt rage rising and clenched one hand on the steering wheel, somehow managing to keep the anger in check. “I cannot emphasize how important it is that IAD does not become involved in this, especially Slash. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keep observing the daughter. I still believe she’s the key to finding him.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  The trap alarm went off at 8:42 the next morning, waking me from a deep sleep. I must have been having a nightmare, because my cheeks were wet when I awoke and bolted to my laptop. I slipped into the chair, my fingers flying across the keyboard even as my brain was still waking up.

  Someone had entered the mirror app and was already coding. My heart pounded as I studied the string of code he was writing, confirming I’d caught the perpetrator red-handed. I opened another window and started my trace. As far as I could tell, the cracker had no idea I was there or he was in a mirror site. After a few minutes, I located his IP address. I couldn’t get an exact address without a court order, but I had enough. A quick search indicated was using a block IP address owned by the Smithsonian. Although I couldn’t be sure, my best guess would be that the perpetrator was sitting in the new cybercafé in the Air and Space Museum, because any decent hacker would want the speed. It was only forty minutes away from my apartment.

  “Holy crap,” I murmured. “The cracker is right in my backyard.”

  I sent a group text to Wally and Frankie letting them know the cracker had sprung the trap and his location was right here in DC. My plan to bring down Nic’s website had just gotten pushed to the back burner in terms of immediacy.

  Frankie called me immediately. “What? The cracker is at the Smithsonian? Right now? This is so exciting. It’s like a James Bond/Jason Bourne/Scooby-Doo episode all rolled into one.”

  I resisted commenting. Not like I had a ready response. “It’s going to take some time for him to finish coding—a few hours, at least. If he’s in the café, we’ll find him. If he’s a Smithsonian employee, we’re in a harder place. It’s not like we can go knocking on office doors. But I don’t think he�
��s a museum employee. That’s a gut feeling. I think he’s there to use the Wi-Fi.”

  “Did Lexi call you back yet?”

  “No.” I blew out a breath. “But it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I called her. She could be on assignment or something. Regardless, I don’t think we can wait to do it.”

  “Do what?” Frankie asked.

  “Catch the cracker, of course.”

  Less than an hour later, Wally and Frankie were both at my apartment. My mom couldn’t have been more thrilled, thinking we were going to the Smithsonian to work on a school project. She’d even provided some homemade brownies to fortify us before she headed out to meet a friend for coffee and a movie.

  “You have mad cooking skills, Mrs. S,” Frankie said. She’d dyed pink streaks into her hair and wore matching pink leggings and a short-sleeved black tunic. Silver earrings with pink stones wound up her lobes. She looked like a cute Asian flamingo. “You’ll have to share the recipe.”

  My mom didn’t bat an eye at the outfit, so maybe it was just me.

  “You’re so sweet, Frankie.” My mom slung her purse over her shoulder. “There are more brownies in the jar on the counter if you want to take some with you.”

  After my mom left, I stood in front of the gang.

  “Are you ready?” I asked. “We all know there might be danger involved. Possibly even physical danger.”

  Wally crossed his arms against his chest. “Ha! I spit in the eye of danger.”

  “Of course I’m in,” Frankie said. “The White Knights are on the case.”

  Wally drove to museum, where we spent another fifteen minutes driving around until we found an open space at a parking meter. It was a pretty Sunday afternoon, still warm for September.

  As we walked toward the entrance, Wally filled us in on the history of the museum. “Did you know there are two National Air and Space Museums?”

  “I did,” I said.

  “Did you know the museum started in 1876 when a group of kites was acquired from the Chinese Imperial Commission.”

  “The museum started with a kite?” Impressed by his knowledge, I glanced at him. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Sometimes I wonder about all the trivial facts locked inside your head,” Frankie said. “You’re a walking encyclopedia.”

  “If that’s your way of saying I’m brilliant, I accept the compliment.” Wally grinned at her, and she laughed.

  We had to check our backpacks and computers through the magnetometer. We headed straight for the sleek, new cybercafé tucked into the corner of the upper floor. The museum was crowded, as always, but we found a table in the corner facing both the entrance and exit. As I glanced around, there were a lot of people, most with computers, naturally.

  We pulled our laptops out and plugged them into a nearby outlet.

  “How are we going to find who it is?” Frankie asked in a low voice as her computer booted up. “It could be anyone in the café.”

  “It could,” I whispered. “But I’ll figure it out. Let me make sure he’s still in the app coding. It’s only been about an hour and half since he, or she, tripped the alarm. I sincerely doubt that’s enough time to finish the hack.”

  Wally and Frankie began staring at everyone in the room until I told them to stop.

  “Can you be a little less obvious?” I snapped.

  “Sorry,” Frankie mumbled.

  It only took me a few minutes to confirm the hacker was still at work right here at the museum somewhere. “He’s still here,” I hissed. “And the odds are high he’s working right here in the café. We have to check it out.”

  Wally gulped, staring at his screen. “This was a lot more fun when it was theoretical.”

  “Walk around the room and take pictures of each other,” I instructed them. “Be casual, but try to get a look at everyone’s screen. Wally, it’s up to you. You know what to look for.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Grimly, he stood, grabbing his phone in one hand and Frankie’s arm in the other. “Come on, Cinderella. Smile pretty.”

  They started going around the room taking pictures. They did it right, two teenage kids having fun, posing for pictures. I took some notes and watched the cracker work online. He typed steadily away, which meant whoever we were looking for would be intent on his work. Focused, working, hacking.

  I pushed the lid of my laptop down and scanned the room. Wally and Frankie were on the left side of the café laughing, joking, and taking more photos. There were plenty of people working on their laptops, but where was my cracker?

  I ruled out several people right away because they were either not focused on their computers or weren’t engaged enough to be involved in a crack. I also eliminated, for now, those working on a computer who were there with other people. The person I was looking for would almost certainly be solo.

  There were a few guys on the right side of the room who seemed deeply involved in their work. It didn’t mean they were hackers, but I wanted Wally to get a better look at them. When Wally glanced my way, I tipped my head to that corner.

  He got the message. He began steering Frankie in that direction. They took a couple more pictures over in that area before Wally abruptly walked back to me. Frankie followed, clearly confused.

  “What’s going on?” I hissed as he sat down.

  “We don’t have to look anymore,” Wally said, his face serious. “I know who the hacker is.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  My eyes widened. “You saw his screen?” I asked excitedly.

  “Not exactly.”

  Frankie plopped into her chair. “Thank goodness that’s done. No offense, Wally, but my mouth is tired from fake smiling.”

  Wally didn’t answer and started typing on his laptop while I watched him, mystified. After a minute, he angled his laptop toward me.

  “Omar Haider.”

  The screen filled, showing a man with dark hair and a dark mustache. I looked between the picture and Wally. “The guy we are talking about at school in Red Teaming?”

  “The one and only.”

  Frankie peered at his screen over my shoulder. “Who is Omar Hairless?”

  Wally snorted. “Haider. He’s one of the architects of a bioengineering artificial intelligence research study.”

  I stared at Wally in disbelief. “Haider is here? In Washington?”

  “Not just here, but here, sitting right over there hacking.” Wally lowered his voice. “I got a good look at his face and his screen.” He held up his phone. “Even snapped a photo, too. I recognized him from the paper today.”

  My head was spinning. “What paper?”

  Wally tapped some more keys and pulled up the front page of the Washington Post. In the lower left corner was a picture of two men smiling and shaking hands. I scanned the article attached to the picture. I read the headline aloud. “‘Iraq’s New Cybersecurity Guru Pledges Cooperation With Director of US Cyber Command.’” Looking over at the corner, I tried to make out Haider, but he was too far away to see clearly. “Are you saying Omar Haider is here on some kind of diplomatic mission to pledge cyber-cooperation with the US?”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Wally said.

  “But why would he want to hack prostheses?”

  “Why, indeed?” Wally answered. “But I guarantee you this is our guy. Let’s see if we can find out what his deal is.”

  While Wally started his background investigation on Omar Haider, I watched the hack. The more I watched the things the cracker was doing—stuff I’d never imagined, let alone seen—the more I thought Wally might be on to something.

  “This guy is incredible,” I murmured. “Wizard level.”

  “He fits the profile.” Wally looked up from his monitor. “Omar Haider was born in Baghdad to a well-off family. His father is an engineer and currently employed at the Ministry of Health in an unknown position. No info on the mother. He has—make that had—one older brot
her, named Adir. More on that later. Despite wars, conflicts, government changes, coups, and so on, Omar managed to graduate with an undergraduate degree in computer studies from the University of Baghdad and went on to get a master’s of computer engineering at EPITA, which is a privately endowed technical educational institution right outside Paris. That’s probably where he met Gustav Monteray and they launched their research. Haider’s first job once he was back in Iraq was with the Ministry of Communications, where it looks like he was basically delegated to be the IT guy. Which means he was probably the only guy who knew anything about computers. He survived all the government changes and it looks like he got elected to form a cybersecurity framework for Iraq.”

  “Iraq doesn’t have a cybersecurity plan?” That was truly shocking to me in this day and age.

  “Nope. They don’t even have a government agency responsible for cybersecurity. Apparently, Haider is in Washington, in an official capacity, attending a three-day comprehensive cybersecurity building program, which he hopes to recreate in Iraq.”

  “So why in the world would he hack the prostheses of American veterans?” Frankie asked, her eyes wide. “You think he’s like a cyberterrorist or something?”

  “No.” Wally shook his head, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think it’s terrorism. I don’t think it’s a political statement, either. I think it’s personal.”

  That surprised me. “Personal? Why?” Another glance at my screen indicated the cracker was still deep into the hack. We hackers referred to that place as “the zone.” Under most circumstances, that meant we had a bit more time while he worked things out. But this wasn’t most circumstances, and Omar Haider wasn’t any run-of-the-mill hacker.