by D. B. Goodin
“When I call your number, please line up,” Natasha said.
Nigel looked around for numbers but couldn't find any. At that moment, five people came into view, each with a giant number card.
Natasha called out numbers one through four. All other interns except Nigel were lined up.
“Each number represents a skill level. Your assignments will be based on these numbers until a new skill level is assigned.”
Of the thirteen interns present, there were six Level Ones, four Level Twos, one Level Three, and one Level Four.
“Interns, please welcome our newest Level Five intern, Nigel Watson,” Natasha said. She was looking directly at Nigel.
Nigel got up and stood next to Natasha. After the ceremony, each student was handed a packet and was instructed not to open the packet until they returned home. This was the last time that Nigel saw Natasha.
Nigel waited a very long time before Rocky came with the car. All other interns had already left with their respective rides. “Get in, Kid.”
As Nigel got into the car, an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion came over him, and he fell into a comfortable sleep.
Chapter 9
After a week of planning in various internet cafés around Chechnya, Gregor finally decided on several small financial institutions. A large bank with millions of customers would draw unwanted attention, but smaller banks would not have the resources to track back as easily.
Gregor deposited the $7,002 worth of Digibit to cover the cost of the transaction. Seconds later, an encrypted file with digital goodies arrived. He knew that there would probably be some bad identity information in the file, but the seller had a great reputation in the online dark market community for having the best prices and merchandise. Gregor stood up and stretched. Time to get to work.
The room was getting darker. Gregor had to work quickly. The longer he sat on the identities, the more likely they would depreciate in value. He set his plan in motion. He wouldn't just assume the identities; he would own them. They would be owned.
“It’s time to launch Operation Midnight,” Gregor said to himself. He had a codename for each hacking adventure.
Several hours later, Gregor was able to liberate tens of thousands of dollars from accounts listed in the file. He opened lines of credit; it was too easy to buy stuff and have it shipped while “waiting” for the physical credit card to appear. His newly purchased items were on their way to several predetermined drop sites around the world. He crafted messages containing instructions for his network of mules responsible for picking up the items and delivering them to any number of Gregor's safe houses. The familiar glow of sunlight stretched across the horizon.
“It’s time for Operation Midnight’s cleanup phase,” he said to the empty room.
He moved with the precision of a ninja, carefully closing all traces of his existence. The “cyber-warriors” on the other end had grown sophisticated over the years, but he still schooled them with the cat-and-mouse games he loved to play.
Gregor was living a double life, hacking at night and protecting his company's network by day. His head started to bob like a fishing lure, but he shook off the exhaustion as best he could. During these nighttime adventures, he would only get two or three hours of sleep if he was lucky, but for some reason, he seemed to do his best work when he was sleep-deprived.
At that moment, he couldn't remember the last time he slept. Had it been over forty-eight hours ago? He wasn't sure. Lately his employer, Pretzelverse Games, was under attack by all manner of threats. Most of the alerts were caused by gamers trying to break into the system using bot programs, and Gregor spent most of his time tracing down the Internet Protocol (IP) address of “script kiddies,” called such because minimal skill is required to use their hacker kits.
One major difference between the script kiddies and a professional hacker was the point of entry and methods used. The script kiddies would start their attacks on the game servers directly. The professional hacker would always try to get in another way—through an open port on the email server, through a malformed script, via a phishing link, etc. The professional hacker was always looking for a payday, not access to the game servers to level up characters.
While there was some profit to be had selling fake or stolen game credentials, it was usually not profitable enough for the professionals—with one exception. If the professional hacker could get their hands on the key generator that produced the keys for access into these online worlds, then that was the biggest threat of all. This thought floated through Gregor’s mind as he shut the lid of his laptop. He was starting to see double. He glanced at his watch. 5:32 a.m. He needed to rest before using the goldmine that he just acquired. Only a few hours, he told himself as he reclined in his chair.
“Bingo! There he is,” Jake said.
“What are you talking about?” Donnie asked.
“The signal from the kid, Ralphie. He must have a phone. His blip has been constant since leaving school this afternoon.”
“I believe this is the opportunity that we have been looking for,” Donnie said. “Let’s track him for another day or two to see where he is most vulnerable.”
“Right. I want to teach the little twerp a lesson,” Jake said.
Just after school, Ralphie retrieved his bike from the school lot. The chill in the air reminded Ralphie that there may only be a few more days of bike-worthy weather this year.
Just as Ralphie mounted his bike, a large hand grasped his shoulder tightly enough to hurt.
“Hello, Chum.” Ralphie turned around and saw a large brooding man who looked more like an overgrown child.
“Who are you?” Ralphie’s voice shook.
“I’m here to collect on your brother's debt.”
“Who are you?” Ralphie cried again.
“I’m Jake, and I plan to take my $150 out of your hide, Little Man.”
Before Ralphie could say anything else, he felt a punch in the small of his back. Ralphie noticed the kid who bumped into him last week during class. Jake pulled him off the bike and kicked it out of the way.
“Ahh! Stop!”
“Not until your brother coughs up a level-seventy character and my $150,” Jake screamed. “Shut him up, Donnie!”
Donnie put his hand over Ralphie's mouth. Jake punched Ralphie in the stomach until he grew limp. Donnie's hand was wet with tears.
“Leave that boy alone!” called a man whose voice Jake recognized. It was Mr. Robinson.
“Time to go.” Donnie and Jake ran until they were out of Mr. Robinson’s reach.
“Emergency at the bike rack on the elementary side. Code red,” is the last thing that Ralphie heard before passing out.
Ellen knew Martha Hickham well; they used to work together and were distant friends. Since Martha’s son Jake seriously injured Ralphie, she felt she had to give her a call. Martha picked up on the second ring.
“Hi, Martha. Do you have time for a quick chat?”
“Ellen, it has been a while. Is everything okay?”
“I’m afraid it isn't. Ralphie has been attacked.”
“Oh, my god, what happened?”
“This is going to sound awkward, but Ralphie said your son Jake bullied him.”
“What!?! Jacob wouldn’t…” Martha trailed off.
“Ralphie has no reason to lie. He said that my other son Nigel and Jake had some sort of disagreement. Do you know what that might have been?”
“Can I call you back, Ellen? I want to get to the bottom of this.”
“Please."
Ellen’s phone rang as she was making her grocery list.
“Did you confront Jake?”
“It took some doing, but Jacob finally admitted to harassing Ralphie.”
“He did more than harass.”
“I’m sorry, Ellen. I think we need to have Jacob and Nigel work their differences out.”
“I agree. Ralphie is an innocent in all of this,” Ellen said.
&nbs
p; “I will talk with Jacob. I think you should talk to Nigel.”
When Nigel noticed his mother’s sedan was in the driveway after school, he instantly got a bad feeling. He heard sobs when he entered the house and froze in the living room when he saw his mother holding Ralphie in her arms.
“Now there, Mommy is here,” Ellen said in a reassuring tone.
“What happened?” Nigel demanded.
“Ralphie was attacked today.”
“What? Who?” Nigel felt the rush of blood flow through his face.
“Martha’s son Jake. Ralphie was apparently attacked because of something you did,” Ellen said in an accusing tone. “I’m not a fool, Nigel. I know what you have been up to with your side business, and I’m putting an end to it.”
Nigel’s throat felt constricted.
”I also want you to refund Jake’s money. Martha has assured Jake’s cooperation.”
Nigel said nothing. He only nodded in frustration and shame.
“Martha and I are expecting a resolution between you two by the end of the day,” Ellen said cooly.
Nigel went to his room and immediately called Jake on his cell.
“Hey, Bonehead. How’s Bonehead Junior doing?” Jake chuckled.
“Leave my brother out of this. If you have a problem, you come to me!”
“I tried, but you have been gone. I want what's owed to me.”
“If I refund you, will you leave us alone?” Nigel asked.
“Give me $300 for my account and another $300 for Donnie's account by tomorrow and we will be square,” Jake said.
“That's double the amount you originally gave me!”
“Then you can pick which one of you gets beaten until I get the full amount,” Jake demanded. “Think of it as an interest payment.”
“Okay, you win. But I need your word that you will leave us alone,” Nigel said.
“Get me the money and unlock my account and you have my word.”
Nigel could feel his smug smile through the phone. “I will need some time.”
“A refund will buy you a week's worth of grace time, then the beatings will continue.” Jake hung up.
Nigel took in a deep gasp of breath, then fell to the floor. His head began to spin. His vision blurred with tears.
After what felt like an eternity, Nigel got up and attempted to regain his composure. As he was wiping away tears, he noticed the large envelope that sat on his desk.
He pulled out a large folder that had his name on it. Under his name, the words “Senior Student Researcher: Level Five” were handwritten in elegant cursive.
The envelope contained an information packet detailing information about the internship, including procedures for rooting and sideloading applications on the student's smartphone and details on encrypted secure communications and how assignments were to be delivered via an app.
The last page of the packet contained scholarship information. To get the scholarship, students had to complete a minimum quota of assignments as determined by the level of the position. The higher the student’s level, the more assignments were assigned. Nigel had a feeling the difficulty would also be higher. Nigel supposed he should have felt excitement, but all he felt was dread.
When Ellen went back to work, Chuck Stevens was in the front entrance of her office. He was chatting with the receptionist, a cute young woman in her late twenties. Ellen rolled her eyes. The receptionist was too young for him by at least twenty years.
“How’s my favorite call girl?” Chuck said in a mocking tone.
Ellen felt the weight of his smile.
“I’m fine, Chuck. Thanks for the afternoon off.”
“Is everything okay?” Chuck tried to feign concern.
“Everything is fine, Chuck. I need to get back to my desk.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Ellen logged back in to the phone system but couldn’t think straight. She should have taken the day off, and she would have if she didn’t need the money.
Several hours later, she logged out of the phone system and made a list of items that was needed at the market. Ellen made a mental note to try to get more child support from Rick.
Ellen signed back in to her company computer and was shocked to see that she had a negative balance from overdraft charges.
A “bank transfer” of $999.99 got declined, but beneath it was another transfer of $899.99 that was approved! The next four lines of the statement were automatic debits and overdraft fees for a total negative balance of $36.86.
She couldn't believe it. She had no money! She felt stunned, confused, and angry. Someone had transferred money from her account! She would need to hurry if she wanted to get to the bottom of her banking problems; the bank was closing soon.
She arrived just in time. Only one other person was in line. She felt an urge to cut the line and demand to be seen, but she didn't think that was a good idea. The bankers were her neighbors and friends. Milford was a small town, and it didn't pay to be rude. A few minutes later, she arrived at the counter.
“Hello, Ellen,” Joyce said.
“Oh, hi, Joyce. I have a problem,” Ellen said. She felt disjointed, apprehensive, and angry at the same time.
“What sort of problem?”
Ellen’s mouth was completely dry, and her thoughts were difficult to express. “Someone made unauthorized transfers from my account.”
“Let's look into your account.” Joyce was silent as she typed. “It appears like you transferred $899.99 into your second checking account.”
“I don't have another account!”
“According to the computer, you opened this other account online last Thursday,” Joyce said. “We had a promotion; open an account with an amount over $800 and receive a $50 bank credit.”
“But I didn’t do that!”
“Your new account now has a zero balance. The entire amount of 899.99 was transferred to a Payfriend account,” Joyce said, frowning. “The $50.00 credit shows as unavailable until tomorrow, since the credit promotion had a forty-eight-hour waiting period.”
“How do I get my original account restored?”
“You need to transfer it back from your Payfriend account.”
“I don't have a Payfriend account,” Ellen shouted.
“Okay. I need to speak with my manager to do this. Unfortunately, Gordon, the branch manager, is out today.”
“Is there someone else who can help me?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
Ellen walked out of the bank in stunned silence. She checked her wallet. She had $13.48.
Chapter 10
Nigel’s heart sank when he saw his mother in tears. His mother was strong and rarely showed signs of weakness, so seeing her in a vulnerable state disturbed him.
“Mom? What's the matter? I took care of the Jake problem!” Nigel said. “Or, I’m taking care of it…”
Ellen composed herself. “Nothing’s wrong, Sweetheart. I just received some bad news.”
“Did someone die?” Nigel asked.
“No, Honey. I got hacked,” Ellen said in a rather matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“Hacked? How? When?”
Nigel’s mind was swimming. The Watson household was under attack, and Nigel was determined to find out who was behind it all.
“All I know is that my bank account was drained and someone may be using my identity. The bank has been useless,” Ellen said, disgusted.
Did someone breach the defenses of our home network? Nigel left his mother and set out to find the culprit or culprits behind the hack.
Nigel pulled an all-nighter scanning his network for vulnerabilities. He did find an exploit on the router that his Internet Service Provider (ISP) managed. Nigel tried to patch it, but wasn’t able to directly manage it.
“Hello, ISP Systems Technical Support. This is Marcy. How can I help?”
“Ah, hello. This is Nigel Watson calling.”
“I see that you are an authorized caller,
Mr. Watson. How can I help?”
“I found a major vulnerability related to your router and want to request a patch.”
“Let me check.” Marcy typed. “According to my records, your router’s firmware is the most up-to-date version.”
“No, it’s not!” Nigel demanded.“The X11R has a major flaw that allows attackers to remotely control any system on the network. It was only discovered last week! Please check again.”
“Our system is updated each Sunday. It’s possible that I don’t have the same information. I suggest that you call back on Monday,” Marcy said.
“That is days from now. I need to protect my network,” Nigel said.
Marcy didn’t have anything helpful to say. Nigel slammed the phone shut in frustration. How can a provider of internet service have such antiquated systems?
Nigel woke up exhausted. As he walked downstairs looking for breakfast, he hoped his mother would be in a better mood.
His mother was crouched over the kitchen table, surrounded by jewelry, hands covering her face.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Nigel asked.
“No, Nigel. It’s my day off, and I need to visit the pawn shop.”
“I will give you the money,” Nigel insisted.
Ellen took Nigel’s hand and wept.
“Thank you, Son.”
Sally noticed that Ellen was not her usual positive, cheery self. Ellen's face had taken the form of a permanent scowl, unnatural on her pretty face.
“What is it, Ellen?”
Ellen just sat there and said nothing.
“What’s wrong?”
“All my accounts are hacked, and the bank believes that my identity is stolen,” Ellen said in one breath.
Sally hadn't a clue what to say next and was silent for a long moment.
Ellen’s lips started quivering uncontrollably, and she started sobbing.
“There must be something that the bank can do,” Sally said.
“Nothing. They can't do anything.”