Hacker

by Camille Picott

  Maybe it’s just paranoia speaking. Maybe this is how someone feels the first time they kill someone. But Logan is smart. He doesn’t run a successful black-market body part business by being an idiot.

  She can’t hide from the truth. She aids in the murder of innocents and the trade of flesh. This is her life until Logan finds out she betrayed him. Then she’s dead. And so is everyone she loves.

  She realizes she only has one option if she wants to save her family and her dignity. It will mean sacrificing herself, but what is she really giving up? A life of slavery? At least when she’s out of the picture, Timmy will have a chance to grow up and make something of himself.

  Jaw set, Hank turns to her computer and gets to work.

  *

  Every good hacker has a stash of backdoors in cyberspace. Hank is no exception. Building backdoors has become second nature to her. Mr. Thames taught her to have more than one way into a site. She rarely goes into one without looking for a backdoor. If one doesn’t already exist, she builds her own. Sometime she builds her own just on principle.

  Over the past three years that Hank’s been in the employment of Logan, she and Mr. Thames amassed a collection of backdoors. Every bank, every credit union, every offshore account, every security feed, every law office—everything they touched for Logan got a backdoor.

  It’s best practice. Hank likes to know she always has more than one way into a site.

  When she launches her attack against Logan, it appears like an outside job. She makes it look like cyberthieves hacking into multiple accounts to steal money. She purposely trips every firewall, intrusion detection system, and anti-virus software she finds. It looks like someone stole a huge sum of money—which she does—but this also exposes all the laundering done on behalf of Logan.

  She finishes off the night by laundering her stolen money. By the time she’s done with it, it would take an army of cybersecurity specialists as smart as she is to trace any of it back to her. She isn’t worried about getting caught.

  She creates a fat fund for her family, then sets it up to close six months from now. Her family will get a fat check with three new identities. She might be in prison—or dead—but her family will get a fresh start.

  Smiling to herself, Hank strides out of East Bay Delivery with her head high.

  10

  Acceptance

  ––––––––

  It takes less than ten hours for Global Arms mercs to track her down and arrest her.

  Hank is awake and waiting for them, sitting by herself with her back against one of the basketball poles under the light of the moon. She waves them down as they swarm toward McClymonds High.

  “I’m the one you want!” she calls. “I’m Hank Simmons.”

  To her relief, they divert from the gym. At least her family won’t see her arrested. They’ll hear about it later when she’s already gone.

  Once upon a time, there was an idealistic law about everyone being innocent until proven guilty. There aren’t funds for such idealism anymore. These days, you get to sit in a prison cell until a panel of three judges reviews your case. Based on the evidence presented, the judiciary committee determines guilt or lack thereof and, if necessary, sentencing.

  People can sit in prison cells for years.

  The Global mercs deposit her in a city jail cell with half a dozen other women. As the steel door clangs shut, effectively locking her away from the world, Hank feels an invisible hand squeeze her chest.

  She is scared. Terrified. But she can’t let it show. This is how things need to be. She must embrace this and face it head on.

  Her only consolation is that Logan is also sitting in this place too, rotting away. And her family is safe from him.

  In prison, Hank dedicates herself to tracking the days. There are no windows in the cell. Luckily, she’s with a group of women who are as miserable and listless as she is. There are other cells with meaner, aggressive women who pick fights. Hank is grateful she doesn’t have to learn how to throw a punch—or take one—in the midst of everything else.

  She sits in the cell for thirty-eight days. In that time, she gets exactly four showers. Only one of the women has been taken away for a judiciary review; the rest are rotting away in the cell with Hank.

  Sometimes she thinks of Virtual High School, of that pie-in-the-sky dream that gave her false hope. Sometimes she thinks of Lydia, wondering where the girl is now.

  She does her best not to think of Jacob and Ace.

  “Ms. Henrietta Simmons?”

  Hank looks up from where she sits on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. She blinks in confusion at the two mercenaries standing in front of her cell.

  “I’m Henrietta Simmons,” she says.

  “Come with us.”

  “She’s getting her judiciary review?” one woman demands. “She’s barely been here a month!”

  “I’ve been here for over a year,” says another woman.

  Protests erupt in the cell.

  One mercenary silences them with a shout. “She is not getting her judiciary review!”

  “Then what’s she being called for?” A busty woman plants herself in front of the cell door.

  The mercenary stares down his nose at her. “That’s none of your business.” He draws his gun, motioning to his partner to open the cell door. “Miss Simmons, you need to come with us.”

  Hank’s mind races, cold adrenaline coursing through her. Has Logan found a way to get to her? She should have thought of this possibility. Are these mercs here to kill her?

  Of course they’re here to kill her. Logan needs to get rid of her. Her testimony can be used again him. He’s paid off these mercs. They’re going to take her into some back alley and kill her.

  As she steps out of the cell, her heart lodges in her throat. Her eyes dart first left, then right. Should she make a break for it? Would she get more than ten feet?

  No, not a good idea. If they really came to kill her, it will just give them an excuse to shoot her.

  Does it really matter if they kill her? If she’s destined to a life in prison, why not end the agony now?

  She jumps when one of the mercenaries prods her forward. Not knowing what else to do, Hank forces her feet to move.

  She is taken to a room with one narrow table and two chairs. The lead mercenary takes a seat. His dark hair is sculpted into a neat crew cut, his body well-muscled. His only distinguishing feature is a dark soul patch beneath his bottom lip. He wears a formfitting black jumpsuit, typical of mercenaries. The Global Arms logo is embroidered on the uniform.

  She freezes as the glass-windowed door closes behind her. Spinning around, she sees the other mercenary take up residence outside.

  “A little jumpy,” remarks the man at the table.

  Hank turns around to face him. “Did Logan send you?”

  “Logan?” The man snorts. “Do I look like someone who’d work for that piece of garbage?”

  His comment takes her aback.

  “Uh, no?”

  “No. I do not work for Logan. I’m not here to kill you, if that’s what you think.” The mercenary waves a hand toward the chair across from him. “Sit down. Quit staring at me like I might bite.”

  Hank sits, though her nervousness does not subside.

  “I’m here on behalf of Claudine Winn. She’s sent you gift.” The mercenary pulls out a tablet and hands it to her. He leans back, looking at her with expectation.

  Hank stares at him, hardly daring to breathe. Hardly daring to hope. She’s dumbfounded by the beautiful piece of technology in her hands. Never ever has she owned anything so wonderful. Even her hair, before she cut it all off, could not compare to the tablet.

  “There’s a message for you,” says the mercenary. “Turn it on.”

  She flips on the tablet. A smiling woman with brown hair falling in a neat cascade to her shoulders looks out at her.

  Hank recognizes her immediately: Claudine Winn. The niece of Regin
ald Winn, the owner of Global Arms.

  Claudine runs Virtual High School.

  Swallowing, she presses the play button. Claudine’s smile forms words as she speaks.

  “Miss Henrietta Simmons,” says the recording. “So very nice to speak to you. I was disappointed when you failed to send in your application to Virtual High. Your impressive credentials led me to believe you would be a great asset to the Global Arms family.”

  Hank’s mouth falls open. Claudine Winn knows about her? And thinks she would be an asset?

  “When your application did not arrive by the deadline, I had my people check to make sure it wasn’t lost in an electronic glitch. They happen, you know. Even at Global Arms. They assured me there was no glitch, that you had simply failed to hit send after completing your application. I was forced to conclude that you lost interest in the prospect of being one of our students.”

  Hank’s breath stutters in her throat. I wanted to apply! My boss threatened to kill me if I sent in my application! She bites back the words, knowing there’s no use saying any of this to a recording.

  “It came to my attention that you have done some compelling work in the private sector. Most recently you enabled us to conduct a . . . cleansing. A thorough one. We could not have done this without your initiative. I commend you for that.”

  Hank’s mouth goes dry. They know. Someone at Global figured out she was behind Logan’s takedown. How? She’d meticulously covered her tracks. Did they also know about Jacob and Ace? Lydia?

  “An investigation into Logan Wallace led me to believe that perhaps it was his influence that compelled you to hold back your application to Virtual High. If that is the case, I urge you to reconsider. Logan Wallace will never bother you again. I give you my guarantee. You have proven beyond a doubt you will be a tremendous attribute to the Global family. I urge you to attend Virtual High and be a part of Global. Minds like yours are a rare commodity. Good day, Miss Simmons.”

  The recording ends, freezing on the smiling face of Claudine Winn. Hank stares, bottom lip hanging open in shock. She’s so dumbfounded, so locked on the image of Claudine’s face that she jumps when the mercenary speaks.

  “It’s not often Ms. Winn delivers a personal invitation to Virtual High,” the mercenary says. “I hope you will not disappoint her.”

  Hank jerks her eyes from the screen. “No,” she says. “I mean, yes, I want to go to Virtual High. And no, I won’t disappoint her.” Her eyes flick to the door, which is still guarded by the other Global merc. She lowers her voice. “But I’ve been arrested.”

  The man raises an eyebrow. “That has been taken care of.”

  Hank gapes. Taken care of? She has no idea how that is possible, but she is going to go along with this. There will be no argument from her.

  The merc glances at his watch, ignoring Hank’s wide eyes. “I have other errands to attend to. Can I tell Ms. Winn you will be joining Virtual High?”

  “Yes!” Hank catches herself, trying to regain some composure. “Yes, I would be honored to attend Virtual High.”

  “Good.” The mercenary picks up a black canvas backpack from the floor and sets it on the table in front of her. “Inside here you will find a Vex set and everything else you need to attend Virtual High School. Your first semester starts on Monday at seven a.m. sharp. Also inside the bag are security badges for your parents. They can catch the downtown shuttle tomorrow at five a.m. to Global Arms. Ms. Winn has found a way to make them useful at the Global compound in Livermore. There is no need for them to continue in their current capacity.”

  Jobs? Her parents were being given jobs?

  “Because of your living situation, Ms. Winn is extending a special bonus for you. For every A you receive in class, you will be given five hundred dollars. This will keep you fed and clothed so you can focus entirely on your studies. Ms. Winn expects great things from you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hank nods vigorously, hoping the merc sees how much she wants this. If she has to survive on mouse droppings and sewer water, she will not let down Claudine Winn. She will show her she made the right decision to bring Hank into Virtual High.

  She reaches out, touching the backpack. The canvas is thick, new, and better made than anything she’s ever owned. When she unzips it, her heart nearly stops beating.

  Inside is a Vex set. A sparkling, never-been-opened Vex set. Not even her fantasies about getting a real job and renting a nice apartment for her family included enough money to buy a brand-new Vex set.

  “You ready?” The mercenary rises, glances at his watch. “If you don’t have any questions, I have places to be.”

  “Is this for real?” she asks, feeling dazed. “It’s not some sort of trick?”

  “Claudine Winn doesn’t play tricks,” the man replies. “She does nothing without purpose. If she handpicked you for VHS, it’s because she’s making an investment in you.” The look he levels at her is severe. “Make sure you live up to the gift you are being given.”

  Hank nods, getting to her feet. The mercenaries escort her out of the prison and into a car—a real car. She holds the backpack containing the Vex set against her chest, marveling at the sleek hum of the vehicle beneath her. It is, undoubtedly, the nicest thing she will ever sit in.

  She thinks of the fund she set up for her family using money stolen from Logan. She will reroute it, send it to a local clinic. The money will do something good for the community.

  As McClymonds High comes into view, anxiety flows out of her, replaced with a glowing sense of relief and gratitude. This really is happening.

  A five-hundred-dollar bonus for every A? Claudine Winn could expect straight As from Hank Simmons. A plusses if Hank can manage it. She will manage it. She will make sure the Winns never regret bringing her—no, her family—into Global.

  She will make them proud.

  Hank recognizes the golden ticket she’s just been handed. As she lets a giddy smile overtake her, she makes a silent vow never to put her family at risk again.

  Never again.

  “Make Claudine Winn proud,” says the lead mercenary as Hank steps out of the car.

  “I will, sir. Thank you.” He nods and closes the door.

  Hank watches them drive away, then hurries toward McClymonds High gym to find her family.

  ––––––––

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  As always, many thanks to my wonderful beta readers!

  Arlene Ang

  Lan Chan

  M.G. Alves Jr.

  Free Excerpt

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  Sulan, Episode 1: The League

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  Sixteen-year-old Sulan Hom can’t remember life before the Default, the day the United States government declared bankruptcy. As a math prodigy, she leads a protected life, kept safe from the hunger and crime plaguing the streets. She attends Virtual High School, an academy in Vex (Virtual Experience) for gifted children.

  Beyond the security of Sulan’s high-tech world, the Anti-American League wages a guerrilla war against the United States. When their leader, Imugi, publicly executes a teenage student, Sulan vows to learn self-defense. She acquires Touch, an illegal Vex technology that allows her to share the physical experience of her avatar. She then joins a Vex mercenary club and convinces a stoic teenage boy named Gun to teach her to fight.

  Soon, Imugi turns his attention to the kids of Virtual High. Will Sulan’s Vex training be enough to help her survive his attack?

  Click here for your free download!

  About the Author

  Camille Picott is a fifth-generation Chinese American. She's been writing novels since she was twelve years old. Among her books you can find Asian-inspired science fiction and fantasy novels, zombies stories, and how-to manuals for speculative fiction authors.

  Camille loves cooking and running absurdly long distances. It'
s not unusual to find her chopping veggies in the kitchen late at night or hitting the trail in her running shoes long before the sun rises. She considers sleep to be optional and largely overrated.

  Visit Camille at

  www.camillepicott.com

  or follow on Facebook @ultrawriter

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  Also by Camille Picott

  Sulan

  Hacker

  Sulan Box Set (Episodes 1-4)

  Watch for more at Camille Picott’s site.

  About the Author

  Camille Picott is a fifth-generation Chinese American. She's been writing novels since she was twelve years old. Among her books you can find Asian-inspired science fiction and fantasy novels, zombies stories, and how-to manuals for speculative fiction authors.

  Camille loves cooking and running absurdly long distances. It's not unusual to find her chopping veggies in the kitchen late at night or hitting the trail in her running shoes long before the sun rises. She considers sleep to be optional and largely overrated.

  Read more at Camille Picott’s site.