by D. B. Goodin
He began scanning for anything with a radio frequency. He had had the feeling that they were being watched that day but failed to act. He felt guilty for not at least saying anything. Jet and Nigel probably would have dismissed the feelings anyway. Milford was a small town, and nothing like this had ever happened—in his lifetime anyway. The frequency scanner would emit a loud, high-pitched tone if the scanner came too close to a device that had a frequency.
Milo didn’t find anything for a long time; he was about to give up when he heard a slightly higher tone than usual. The difference was subtle but there. The picnic table was clean. Milo confirmed by physically checking it. Judging from the signal strength, Milo determined another signal was being transmitted from another location nearby, within thirty feet. Other than some scattered debris, there was little else an intruder could bug. Perhaps the assassin had a powerful directional microphone?
Frustrated, Milo leaned against a wooden fence separating the alley from the back ends of other businesses. His scanner screeched to life. He jumped at the abrupt sound. Milo examined the fence; although he could not see anything, his scanner told a different story. He moved the probe methodically across the fence until he found what he was looking for. He examined the probed area in more detail and noticed an imperfection in the wood. Someone went through a lot of trouble to conceal whatever this was. He took out his Swiss Army knife and poked at the edges. Something dislodged. A pill-looking thing was attached to a stiff wire. He tugged on the wire and felt it pull. He also heard something fall. From the other side?
Milo scaled the fence and saw what he was looking for: A small box was attached to the wire. He jumped to the other side, detached the wire, and shoved the box and the wire into his backpack. He wanted to investigate at a safe location because he didn’t know who else might be watching.
After the attack, Nigel wanted to ensure secure communication with his friends, since their previous communications via the game were breached somehow. Nigel smiled at the idea of communication via a mobile app.
Milford was a small town, but not so small that it didn't have a local computer shop. Mr. Henry, who ran Better Buy Computers, spent a lot of time with his customers, a move that set his shop apart from the big guys. He held free seminars and classes, teaching local townsfolk anything from spreadsheets to internet access.
It was even rumored that Mr. Henry was a former government agent. If anyone knew how to protect communications, it was Mr. Henry!
The day he got out of the hospital, Nigel walked into Better Buy Computers. Mr. Henry was helping an elderly woman with her tablet.
“Be right with you, Nige.”
Nigel thanked him as he browsed the display cases. Approximately ten minutes later, Mr. Henry called out for Nigel. As Nigel approached, he involuntarily looked around the store for any threat that may have been lurking.
“Can we talk in private?” Nigel asked.
“Sure. It's time for my lunch break anyway.”
Mr. Henry turned over the "Be Back Soon" sign and locked the front door. Nigel followed him toward the back of the store. The hallway narrowed to reveal a room just big enough to fit a desk and a couple of chairs.
“Have a seat, Nigel.”
Nigel sat in the small guest chair.
“How can I help you?”
“Mr. Henry, if I wanted to send a message securely without having to rely on email client encryption, how would I do it?”
“Why are you so interested?”
“A school project, just doing research. As part of the project, I need to interview an expert on the subject and submit a written report along with a prototype.”
“Oh! Well, email is the most common method, but you do have a couple other options. You could use a mobile encryption service that actually uses its own network. While it's secure, the only one I know of is run by a company in Russia.”
“What if I wanted to send messages through cryptocurrency networks?” Nigel asked.
“Before I answer that, how much do you know about cryptocurrencies?”
“I know they are a new form of digital money, but that is about it.”
“Correct. Some of the secure coins offer messaging services, but there is a catch,” Mr. Henry explained. “Cryptocurrency networks charge a small fee for the service. The downside is that everyone on the recipient list must have a ‘wallet.’ This wallet not only stores the cryptocurrency, but the messages as well.”
“Right, each recipient of the secure message I send will need their own address and wallet to send messages to. Any other downsides?”
“Transactions, including secure messages, take time to process. Remember that the transactions need to be verified a number of times before the cryptocurrency can be transferred, and the same is true for a message.”
“Would you be willing to help me put something together?”
“Absolutely!”
Agent Appleton did his daily search on Collective activity and found some pattern matches showing up when certain encryption activity was present on publicly routable networks. Agent Appleton was shocked when he noticed all coordinates of the matches were strangely concentrated in and around Milford, that town where he helped that woman who got hacked a couple weeks ago.
This couldn’t be a coincidence.
Helping Ellen Watson wasn’t Agent Appleton's primary goal—finding what possible network activity that placed a member of The Collective behind her keyboard was. Agent Appleton needed to know what technical information could possibly be in the logs that were gathered by the FBI forensics team. The only problem was that team was already overcommitted and equally overworked. He needed to find a technically capable person that would keep a secret. Maybe that Henry fellow...assuming he wasn’t a Collective spy.
Chapter 18
The more Milo thought about the encounter, the less it made sense.
Was the alley bugged? Were they being watched from above? Milo pondered these questions as he called Nigel.
“How are you feeling?” Milo asked as soon as Nigel answered.
“I feel sore all over. I’m also pissed and confused.”
“Did the police say if they had any suspects?” Milo asked.
“No. They’re completely useless. This detective interrogated me for hours before I could even see my family. As if I was the bad guy!”
“Have you seen Jet or George since you got home?”
“They haven't returned my calls or texts, but I’ll keep trying.”
“I can’t get what happened out of my mind. I thought both of you were dead.”
“If Jet hadn't tackled me, I would be,” Nigel said bitterly.
“I think that we were being stalked from above. There are a few tall buildings close to our meeting spot,” Milo said.
“Someone had to know we would be there. The only communication we used was in The Colossal Machine. Obviously someone hacked the game, or else one of our phones,” Nigel said. “But I have an alternate communications solution. Mr. Henry from Better Buy is going to help us.”
Milo picked up his phone. It was Nigel.
“That is strange. I was just thinking I should give you a call and you rang.”
“I just sent you a text. Please tap on the link to install it.”
Milo did as Nigel asked.
“A cryptocurrency app?”
“It is a Digibit communications app that I wrote. It will allow you to send covert messages through the Digibit network.”
“Wow, I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Normally it isn’t, but Mr. Henry knows a lot about encryption, and between my programming and his skills, I was able to develop an app.”
“Awesome! How does it work?”
“First, I will need to send you some Digibit crypto. Once you have that, it costs a small fraction to send a message through its secure application programming interface, or API.”
“Are our phones safe?”
“I’m not sure if the Pre
tzelverse communication app installed any malicious code; I haven't been able to find any, but I don’t want to take that chance.”
Several minutes later, they were talking over a secure Digibit link. The communication wasn’t instant, but at least Nigel was positive that it wasn’t being tapped.
“Jet contacted me. She wants to meet,” Nigel said via the Digitbit link.
“When and where?”
“At the computer lab after school tomorrow.”
“I don’t have access to that lab yet. But I think I know a way in.”
“Okay, in the back of the lab there is a break room that students can reserve for collaborations. I have made a reservation.”
“See you tomorrow, Nige.”
Milo had to work quickly if he wanted to enter the school’s computer lab undetected tomorrow. He took a large binder that contained his plans from a shelf and took out the plans for the radio frequency cloner. Milo subscribed to several hobbyist websites that contained radio frequency schematics. He scanned the parts list. He had most of the parts, but he needed more. Since Milford didn’t contain an electronics store, he had to improvise. He scavenged the part from his scanner. A few hours later, he had a radio frequency (RF) cloner.
Milo’s third-period class was close to the computer lab, and all he had to do was wait outside the door of his class while the kids entering the computer lab used their access cards. I will see how simple this really is, Milo thought.
The next morning, he almost failed before he could even scan a single card. A large oaf of a boy slammed into him just before his third period.
“Move, Slow Poke,” a voice called out. It was Jake.
Jake slammed into Milo with enough force to make his project inoperable. Milo went to the restroom and made some quick field repairs, then was only able to capture a few RF signals before he had to get to class. He needed to work through lunch if his plan had any chance of success.
As soon as the lunch bell rang, Milo headed to the school library, where he could work on his project undisturbed. It took some time to verify and transfer the clone card data and imprint a new card. He placed the imprinted card just behind his school ID so it would go unnoticed until he needed it.
Nigel got to the computer lab early enough so he could work out what he wanted to say to Jet. About twenty minutes later, Jet entered with a grimace. She was sweating from the exertion of the effort it took to come to the computer lab. Nigel hadn’t seen her in any of their shared classes. Did she make a special trip?
Nigel hurried to the door to help her. She made a go-away gesture.
“Let me help; you’re in pain.”
“Sorry, I want to try it myself. No one at home will let me do anything. Even George has been helping.”
“I didn't see you at school today, or even this week so far.”
“Your wounds can be concealed…” Jet trailed off, lost in thought.
Nigel gave Jet a light hug, not wanting to cause any more pain than necessary.
After the embrace, he noticed that Jet was on the verge of tears.
“Have a seat,” Nigel said, pulling a chair out.
“I'm surprised you wanted to meet at school of all places.”
“Right now, it is one of the few places I feel safe.”
Nigel didn’t say anything for a long time. He frowned and pressed a finger around the bandages.
“How are you holding up?” Jet asked. “You seem to be in pain as well.”
“It’s fine. The doctor said the bullet grazed my scalp. It hurts like hell at times, but eventually it goes away.”
“My dad’s coming home early from a long-term assignment.”
Does she not want her father to come home?
“In fact, I cannot stay long. My mother wants me to be home when my father returns.”
“I was going to wait for Milo to show up, but I think we need to talk about the incident. Do you have any clue as to why we would be targets? Does it have anything to do with the Dark Web?” Nigel asked.
“I can’t see why. Everything we did was anonymous. Have you explored the Dark Web on your own?”
Dark Glider, but I was careful. “I downloaded a Colossal Machine automation tool. I was careful.”
“Careful or not, someone wanted you dead,” Jet said.
Nigel looked down.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”
“Which way?” asked Milo.
Nigel didn’t hear him come in. Jet looked surprised, too.
“We were just going over what happened.”
“Oh.”
“Do you even have access to the computer lab, Milo?” Jet asked.
“Well—technically, no, but I was able to clone an ID that helped me enter the lab.”
Nigel smiled; his friends always found a way to help.
“We were trying to figure out how the killer may have found out about Nigel,” Jet said. “It wasn’t a random shooting; it was targeted.”
Milo seemed lost in thought, then finally spoke. “When I heard shots, I ran and hid in a dumpster.” He looked ashamed.
“Go on,” said Nigel.
“From inside the dumpster, I heard footsteps come and go. When I thought it was safe, I turned on my dad’s radio that I was going to show you guys.”
Milo swallowed. Nigel could see his Adam’s apple move in his throat.
Nobody said anything for a long time.
“The voices I heard had accents,” Milo said. “I can’t place them, but it could be Eastern European. I’m not sure. I did hear some names.”
Milo thought some more before continuing.
“I heard names like Viktor, Owen, I think, Alexei, and Greg or Gregor. I also heard something about a Collective. Any of those names mean anything to either of you?”
Jet shook her head.
“I think I know. After my mom was hacked, I applied for a job to make ends meet.” Nigel flushed, licked his lips, and fidgeted in his seat.
It wasn’t easy, but Jet put her good hand on one of Nigel’s hands. After a few minutes, he regained his composure.
“A few weeks before the incident, I was invited to a weekend retreat at Eldon Tage’s mansion.”
“And you just now mention it!” Milo exclaimed. “It is Eldon Tage we are talking about? He is the largest employer in Milford. My dad works for him.”
Nigel looked at Jet. She was stone-faced.
“I was going to tell you, but it must have slipped my mind.”
Nigel relayed most of the events from the weekend as well as some of his assignments. He felt it was wise to leave out the intimate details concerning his encounter with Natasha.
“Is it possible that someone from the event would want to harm you?” Milo asked.
“I kept getting programming assignments that had misinformation or errors. I corrected them when I submitted the assignments. I actually got a personal thank-you from Alexei Breven himself.”
“Who?” Milo asked.
“Mr. Breven is the CEO and Founder of Collective Systems, Inc.”
“What does that tell you, Nige?” Jet questioned.
Nigel’s eyes widened as he thought about the implications.
“Is there someone you trust—I mean really trust—inside Collective Systems?” Jet prodded him further.
Nigel thought for a moment.
“Natasha always has my back.”
Ioann received an urgent message on his burner phone: “Call dispatch!”
From the inside coat pocket, he pulled out a pair of glasses and a woolen flat cap. After several minutes, he took out the flip-phone and held down the number two button. The words "Joe's Plumbing" were briefly displayed on the device.
After the second ring, someone picked up.
“Joe's Plumbing, dispatch speaking.”
“I have an emergency situation. My upstairs pipes are leaking,” Ioann said in a perfect American accent.
“What is your location?”
“In an upstairs apartment near the water.”
“I can have someone there very soon.”
Rocco's phone rang just after picking up his oldest child Louie from soccer practice. His dash read, "Joe’s Plumbing.”
He thought they would never call again. How long had it been? Two, three, four months? That didn't matter now. Rocco tapped the ear icon on the phone control panel so his son couldn’t eavesdrop.
“Your services are required, Mr. Surelli.”
“Who is this?” Rocco asked.
“Dispatch,” the voice said. “You have twenty seconds to accept. I need a verbal answer.”
“Affirmative,” Rocco said.
“I will text you the details in Sandbox now. You need to respond within ten minutes.”
Without missing a beat, Rocco pulled over to the side of the highway. Rocco pulled out the burner smartphone he kept in his coat's inside pocket, tapped in the code, verified facial and thumb biometrics, then pulled up the app called Sandbox.
The icon for this app looked like any normal game. It even had a splash screen that briefly showed a happy shovel and several bugs playing around the shovel. One of the bugs looked like a mean centipede. If it were real, it would surely sting Rocco. It was irrational, but Rocco got nervous just looking at that splash screen.
The main interface for Sandbox was visible now, and after a few taps, Rocco was at the message section. He tapped the message, and a thirty-second timer started counting backward.
Great, lots of words! Rocco thought.
Rocco was good at memorizing addresses, especially around Milford. He immediately recognized 3358 Lighthouse Drive. That was in the center of town. He tapped the accept button with just two seconds to spare.
Rocco was currently on the north side of the inlet that led into town. It was easily a ten-minute drive.
“Louie, I have a work emergency. Are you cool with hanging out at the coffee shop?”