Crash Into Pieces (The Haylie Black Series Book 2)

by Christopher Kerns

  “Unfortunately, that class of attack isn’t enough to set off alarms,” Wilcox replied. “Six days later, it looks like the same hacker found an unsecured test server on the network, a web dev machine. Once inside, he used a cracking tool—something called BeachDogz—to secure credentials from the box.”

  Haylie nodded. “BeachDogz. It’s a package that grabs passwords out of memory. Once you’ve breached the first level, it’s a great tool to get anywhere you want, really cool stuff.”

  Agent Wilcox did a poor job of hiding her scowl, if she was even trying, and continued. “From there, he used credentials for a Vegas administrator who had been out on a visit to the Pennsylvania location a week earlier. Once he got into the central server, he made his way through every system he could find—he was pretty messy, left a lot of traces behind—and had himself a field day.”

  Haylie leaned back and stared down at the folder.

  He was sloppy—that will help. If I can get into the server logs, I can write a script to create a timeline to retrace his steps, pull the whole picture together. This might actually work.

  “Do you have a clue who this guy is?” Haylie asked. “Or if it’s even more than one person? Any idea at all?”

  “We have a few leads, but nothing I’d call substantial,” Wilcox said. “Turns out my team are some of the best in the world when it comes to tracking down known suspects—terrorists, drug lords, those types of people—but we usually know who they are before we start hunting. With the Xasis hack, we don’t have a name. At least, we don’t have his real name.”

  Real name?

  Agent Wilcox reached inside her jacket, retrieving a folded, crisp piece of white paper from inner pocket. “The hacker left a calling card, something for us to remember him by. Wanted to make our acquaintance.”

  Wilcox unfolded the paper and slid it across the desk, turning it in Haylie’s direction. Haylie slapped it to the table to halt its movement. Slowly, she drew her palm back from the paper and studied the image printed on the sheet.

  It was a black and white photo of a pigeon, its feet resting gently on a diagonal wire etched across the bottom of the picture. The bird’s back was turned, a single black eye gazing out into the gray sky. Underneath the image was printed:

  THEY CALL ME

  THE ENDLING.

  SOON EVERYONE

  WILL KNOW

  MY NAME.

  “What’s an endling?” Agent Hernandez asked, pulling the paper gently from Haylie’s grasp.

  “That’s exactly what I asked,” Agent Wilcox said. “Turns out it’s the scientific term for the last member of a species. When an animal is heading for extinction, the last survivor is called an endling. We did a reverse image search on this one here—the bird’s name is Martha … The last passenger pigeon on Earth, died in 1914.”

  “If he wants you to know his name, then he’s not done,” Haylie said, pulling the paper back over to her. “This wasn’t a one-time thing. He’s going to strike again.”

  “As it turns out, the Xasis was the second attack,” Wilcox said. “That’s the reason we’ve brought in … additional resources. A hacker calling himself ‘the Endling’ struck a few weeks ago. The target was a major credit card database.”

  “The Voyage Card hack?” Haylie said, leaning in. “Vector told me all about that—it was huge.”

  “Correct,” Agent Wilcox replied, her eyes falling down to her notes. “One of the biggest I’ve seen. Twenty-six million people’s personal information exposed through the exploit. Our experts suspected that a foreign government was involved, which is why my team is here.”

  Shaking her head, Haylie thought through the connections. “Foreign governments wouldn’t leave a calling card—they’d just get in and out. They wouldn’t want to taunt the FBI or NSA, either.”

  “Agreed,” Agent Wilcox said.

  “Well, if these guys are sloppy, that’s good for us,” Haylie said. “Let’s talk logistics. I’ll need a MacBook—I can build it myself, just give me something vanilla and out of the box, and I’ll add all the packages I need to replicate the Xasis attack. Once I get access I’ll—”

  Wilcox looked over to Hernandez, and then down to the signed agreement at her fingertips. She closed the folder and leaned back.

  “Now, we should be clear about our arrangement, Ms. Black,” Agent Wilcox said. “Like I said before, we have one of the best teams in the world working on the exploit side of this case. What we’re looking for your help on is more on the observing and consulting side of the equation.”

  Observing and consulting? What the hell does that mean?

  “You said,” Haylie said pointing across the table at Wilcox, “you said I could get back online. You said I’d be part of the team.”

  “And you will be,” Agent Wilcox said. “But not on the front lines, Ms. Black. You must understand—you’re one of the most dangerous hackers in the world. I’m not going to just give you access to the NSA’s network in hopes of some kind of Hail Mary here. I’ll get run out of this agency faster than … well, you know. We’ve brought you in for your counsel, with some technology exposure. To help advise.”

  “Advise?” Haylie yelled. “Observe and consult? This isn’t what I signed up for.”

  “Actually,” Agent Hernandez broke into the conversation, “this is exactly what you signed up for, Haylie. As I said before, you probably should have had a lawyer look at the—”

  “Shut up, Hernandez,” Haylie snapped. Turning back to Wilcox, she took a long breath, trying to calm herself. “So what kind of access will I have? What are we talking about here?”

  “I think you’ll actually enjoy it, Ms. Black,” Agent Wilcox said. “We’re looking for you to monitor the hacker community. You know—message boards, IRC channels—the different online nooks and crannies that you know about. We think that a hacker who leaves a calling card is bound to talk about their exploits somewhere.”

  Haylie’s face dropped as she realized what she had just gotten herself into. Watch hacker forums? I don’t even get to write any code?

  “You’ll be in there anonymously, of course,” Wilcox continued. “The last thing we want to do is raise your hand as Crash or anyone connected with the NSA. The good news is that our plan allows you to be online, at least in a limited capacity. Now if—”

  “A limited capacity?” Haylie said, leaning in close to Agent Wilcox’s eye level. “Let me get this straight. You bring me here to ask for my help. You dangle this idea that I can get out of my sentence, get back to my normal life.” Haylie began wringing her hands together, the sweat sliding between her palms, as the anger rose in her eyes. “But I’m not allowed to do any of the stuff I’m good at? You want me to just load forums into a web browser and just … hit refresh all day?”

  Agent Wilcox replied without flinching. “That’s correct. We have an entire team here working forensics on any and all digital signatures hiding in logs and servers. But if someone out there is talking about this, we need to know who they are and what they’re looking to do next. That’s the plan, and we stick to the plan. We always stick to the plan.”

  “The chance that I’ll find something,” Haylie said, “that I’ll actually be able to find this guy are almost zero this way. This is a waste of time.”

  There was a quiet knock on the door. The knob turned and an analyst walked in with a laptop under his arm. Nodding to Agent Wilcox, he stepped towards the table and laid the machine down. Haylie looked down to see an ancient gray and black plastic laptop with a large black and white government ID tag glued to the top. It looked like it weighed ten pounds.

  “No hacking, just observing,” Agent Wilcox said, motioning towards the laptop. “This is the machine you’ll be using. Agent Hernandez here will be watching over your shoulder every time you’re online, just so you don’t get lonely.”

  Haylie stood, pressing her palms on the table for support. She stared down at the dusty machine, its lid tightly shut.

 
“Haylie,” Agent Hernandez said taking on a helpful, optimistic tone, “if you think about it, there’s really no downside to—”

  “Shut up, Hernandez,” Haylie said. “I’m doing it. Just shut up.”

  She slunk back into her chair, pulling the laptop in her direction with a grunt and cracking the lid open.

  “One last thing before we get started,” Haylie said. “How much money did this guy take from the Xasis? And from the credit card company? What levels of theft are we talking about here?”

  Agent Wilcox looked over to Hernandez with a cautious glance and closed the folder with a gentle sweep of her hand.

  “That’s what I can’t figure out, Haylie,” she said. “He hasn’t taken a dime.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Luna Park

  Sydney, Australia

  October 26th, 10:17AM

  Caesar had a spark in his eye as he was carried by the flow of the crowd towards the audacious entrance to the amusement park. The gate was shaped like a giant mouth, complete with a row of jagged, bright-white teeth hanging above the hordes of excited children underneath. As he passed through, his view met the cartoonish eyes of the thirty-foot-wide face as it welcomed visitors to the park.

  That thing is going to give me nightmares.

  Caesar strolled past rows of carnival games as the scents of popcorn and wafting sugar mixed with the salted air from Sydney Harbor and blew back the lapels of his jacket.

  “Not sure we could have picked a place any creepier than this. Char—this is the last time you get to pick the location.” He spoke softly, his chin nestled slightly into his right shoulder to make sure his Bluetooth earpiece picked up his voice.

  “No worries, mate,” Charlotte said back over the channel. “I came here all the time when I was a little girl. I was always fine with it, not sure what that says about you. Besides, you can consider it payback for the Skull and Bones op.”

  “Deal. We’re even,” Caesar said with a smile. “We good with meeting up with our contact today?”

  “I know this guy,” Charlotte said. “Friend of a friend. Nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m not worried,” Caesar said, tilting his head back to enjoy a ray of sunlight across his forehead, drinking it in. “Feels like the government is peeling off a bit recently. Maybe they have bigger fish to fry. Kind of makes me wonder if we shouldn’t get working on some bigger projects, you know?”

  “I like this speed just fine,” Charlotte chimed back.

  “Any change to the meeting spot?” Caesar asked.

  “Negative,” her voice rang through his ear. “We’re all set. The client should be at the meetup point with the code phrase—standard protocol. I’ll be in an adjacent building to the right, second floor if you need me.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” another voice rang over the line.

  Oh, hi Sean.

  “Sean,” Caesar said. “Haven’t heard your voice in a week or so.”

  “The Malta mission is a wrap,” Sean replied over the earpiece. “I took an extra day for some beach time. I’m in Sydney—downtown with Phillip and Margo. We’ll be on the channel, but from a distance.”

  “So, what you’re saying is,” Caesar said, “you were going to be here and overslept?”

  “I’m not the one heading all the way up to Yale just for some Skull and Bones nonsense,” Sean shot back with a chuckle. “We should talk about that.”

  “Consider it my vacation,” Caesar laughed. “Char loved it. Didn’t you, Char?”

  “Did not,” Charlotte said over the line. “Did not love.”

  Caesar smiled as he traced one hand along the chipping red paint on the railing. The beat of the tide drummed and sloshed under the boardwalk and meshed with the rush of the roller coasters rattling across their tracks. The air filled with the slow grind of organ music, cut into every few seconds by eager screams from above as passengers hit sharp corners. Crowds with floppy hats and sunscreen followed children running with hopeful eyes, never wanting their day to end.

  “One more thing,” Sean said. “I have an update on the Eagle project: Phase two of five is complete, we’re a go for the third.”

  “Sounds good,” Caesar said. “Hopefully we won’t even have to go ahead with the final stage, but it’s always nice to have an insurance policy. After we get this op kicked off, I’m going to take lead on Eagle. Get me in contact with the guy in the field.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Sean said. “We don’t use outside people all that often, not sure it makes sense to—”

  “Quiet on the channel,” Caesar said. “I’m almost at the location. All idiots who don’t need to talk should go silent.”

  “I have a higher IQ than you,” Sean muttered back. “So you’re going to need to turn your radio off first.”

  Caesar felt a smile creep across his face. Haylie used to say the same thing. I wonder what she’s up to right now. I wonder when I’ll get to see her again. The past six months had been a revolving door of fake passports, aliases, and new projects every few weeks. Buying new clothes at every port of call, paying for dinner bills with discreet stacks of cash. No matter how good he felt about his team’s rhythm right now, he always got nervous before a first meeting. Always. That rush of adrenaline, a new spark of energy caused by knowing he could change someone’s life.

  Let’s find out what this guy wants. Let him know we can help. Let’s do some good today.

  As he continued down the main strip, a giant Ferris wheel came into view. Alternating green and blue and red passenger cars flew through the air, with the Sydney Harbor Bridge serving as a majestic backdrop. The wheel spun, gently rocking the cars, some tipping back and forth, as passengers scurried about, checking different windows for the best angle to take a selfie.

  Turning to his right, Caesar saw a carousel in the distance. He walked under a sign reading ‘100 Years of FUN!’ and took a spot on the rail next to a man in a gray jacket.

  “The Ghost Train is catching fire,” the man next to him said in a thick French accent, checking over his shoulder with a nervous twitch.

  “Calm down, friend,” Caesar said. “Can you say that again?”

  Clearing his throat with a subtle nod, the man repeated, “The Ghost Train is catching fire,” this time with a more pronounced tone.

  Caesar looked down at the ground and kept his voice low. “So you must be Moreau?”

  “You’re late,” Moreau said in a low voice, turning to face Caesar.

  “Sorry about that,” Caesar said. “You don’t have a phone on you, do you?”

  “No phones,” Moreau whispered back. “Just like the instructions said.”

  “Then we’re good,” Caesar said, raising his voice to be heard over the shouts and screams from the rides above. “It’s crazy, I know. But governments have access to the microphone and camera in any phone they want. They can just—click—turn them on whenever they feel like it. We can’t take that kind of risk.”

  Moreau looked back with worry weighing down his cheeks, whispering back. “Keep your voice down. Someone will hear us.”

  Caesar pivoted on his heels, pointing around at the different rides, vendors, and children skipping by. “What, here? It’s an amusement park. There’s no better place to not be heard. People aren’t paying attention to us, they want to go ride the giant worm or stuff their face or whatever. Did you see that clown on the way in? Was that freaky or what?”

  “You’re not what I was expecting,” Moreau said, staring at Caesar. “Can we get down to—”

  “Again,” Caesar said, “you need to calm down. You’ve been watching too many movies.” He waited for a smile that Moreau never gave him. “All right, down to business, then. What can I do for you?”

  Moreau took a long breath. “It’s my brother—the captain of an ocean freighter. The Blue Queen. He was hijacked last week, taken hostage by pirates.”

  “Where?” Caesar asked, leaning back against the rail.

 
“Off the coast of Somalia,” Moreau replied.

  Caesar nodded. “And you know he’s still alive?”

  “I think so,” Moreau said. “I hope so. These pirates, they usually just take the ships for ransom. Insurance payoffs, you know? They don’t mess with killing people. Not usually.”

  “Not usually. Famous last words.”

  “He’s a good man,” Moreau pleaded. “He has a young son and daughter—twins—and a wife at home. She’s scared to death. The families of the captain and crew, we don’t have any resources; no one is listening to us. I’m the only one that is even able to function well enough to ask for help, but no one is doing anything.”

  Gazing out to the water, Caesar watched the ferries and pleasure craft gliding slowly by on the choppy sea.

  “Seems like a job for the military,” Caesar said.

  Moreau shook his head. “We’ve tried that but the group is French, a few Italians. No Americans—Americans are the only ones with the resources and the balls to go in and take out pirates these days.”

  “Can you just raise some money?” Caesar asked. “Pay the ransom?”

  “We would, but they don’t want money this time,” Moreau said. “They want prisoners released from jails across Europe, stuff we can’t do.”

  “I can’t release prisoners. You know that.”

  “I’ve heard that you—you and your group—you have exactly what I need. You can break into any computer in the world.”

  Caesar took a breath. “And what makes you think any of that is true?”

  “All that business in London last year—Prime Minister Crowne trying to take over the world. You were there—I just know you were. And if you and the rest of your team got out, that means you got their code. From what I’ve heard, you’re the best shot I have.”

  Caesar looked on without a word.

  Moreau continued. “Ocean freighters these days—they are like floating supercomputers. Navigation systems, inventory control—everything is done by machine. With your access, you can get into their system, steer the boat someplace where we can intercept it.”