by Tara Oakes
A spill of items before me breaks my attention as I watch the oddly shaped packages fan out on the clear surface near the register. Beau’s strong arms set them all down before moving quickly to catch one of the bags before it falls to the floor.
I watch him expertly catch the bag of what appears to be some sort of salty popcorn, then raise my eyes to him and arch my eyebrow in question. He’s worse than a kid in a candy store right now.
“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. “I told you I was hungry.”
Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. Whatever. If he wants to act like a college kid with the munchies, then who am I to stop him?
“I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t have any purple hair brushes.” The clerk returns to us with a small box filled with random looking items.
My heart sinks. Fuck!
That was the code phrase we’d agreed upon. I can tell by the dumbfounded look on his face that he really has absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. I try to think quickly of some sort of way to salvage this situation.
“Um, perhaps there is someone else who works here that may know if you have a purple hair brush to sell?” I’m grasping at straws, but have little choice, even though I realize that this makes me sound like a moron.
Normally, all of these transactions would be handled online. Unfortunately, with some of the recent developments, mainly someone trying to give me a hair cut with a semi automatic weapon not long ago, I’ve had to resort to old fashioned methods. I can’t risk whoever is on my tail to catch wind of where I am going. I’m not naïve. I know they’ll probably figure it out soon enough, but I can get a good head start by then.
The only downside to doing business like this, in person, is that you have to rely on other people and, unfortunately, that leaves room for human error.
I think that’s why I like computers so much.
They don’t let you down.
They don’t disappoint you.
They don’t… fuck up.
“No. No one else.” The portly middle-aged man begins to make tally of the junk food on the counter. The cash register isn’t modern and actually rings out with each button pressed. He raises his head to look at Beau while giving the total due.
The amount is equal to roughly about thirty-six U.S. dollars when converted. Damn. He really must be hungry.
“Her treat,” there is amusement in my accomplice’s voice as Beau casts off responsibility to me for the tab. He jabs me playfully in the ribs. “Would’ve been cheaper for you to just go to the restaurant like I suggested. Maybe you’ll listen to me next time.”
A deep breath does little to calm me. I dig into my pocket and grab the cash as Beau relieves the clerk of the overstuffed bag of food, wasting no time in picking his first choice and opening the plastic wrapper before taking a loud bite of what looks to be some sort of dehydrated meat.
“Thank you,” I take my change, disappointed.
The man nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t have what you were looking for.”
His words are sincere, but offer little to no value to my predicament.
We turn to leave the store just as a young kid, who can’t be more than sixteen or so, walks in carrying a large box. Beau steps aside to let him pass.
“Here’s the delivery, Papa. Now, please, I’m busy. Don’t ask me to run any more errands for you.” His whiny and nasally voice is reminiscent of every angst-ridden teen I’ve known.
Beau holds the metal and glass door open for me, but I freeze in place with one last ditch hope of a thought.
“Excuse me, but you wouldn’t happen to have a purple hairbrush in that delivery, now would you?” I remind myself that salvaging this is next to impossible.
The pimply kid bites his lip while darting his eyes back and forth between his father and I. “Um. I think I actually saw a purple hairbrush in the back room. Let me go check.”
My eyes grow large and I thank God for taking some mercy on our situation. Beau continues to devour his late night meal and the clerk just shakes his head in confusion while moving the newly delivered box to the corner shelves for stocking.
In no time at all, the geeky looking kid returns with a small paper bag. “Here it is. I knew we had one left. That’ll be three hundred. U.S.”
Oh really?
“You’ve already been paid,” I remind him sternly.
Once again his eyes dart over to his father who’s watching the transaction like a hawk from twenty feet away.
This kid’s got some nerve, but not enough to see this through. “Do you know who I am?”
He swallows. Nods.
I step closer to be able to speak low. “Good. Then you know that it’s in your best interest to hand that over and go about you merry little way before I decide that I’m bored and ruin your life. All it takes is one key stroke and you won’t know what the hell happened.”
It’s true, although I’ve never used my cyber skills to inflict damage on anyone who wasn’t deserving of it. He has a choice to make and only about a second to do it before I make good on my threat.
The paper bag crinkles as he promptly gives it over, a nervous smile playing across his lips.
We may be speaking a foreign language, but Beau picks up on the sudden change in vibe and stiff unease that takes over the boy’s body. He stops chewing his food and watches intently to gauge the situation.
I take the package and nod my appreciation to the kid. He made the right choice. Before leaving, I decide there’s one last way I can use this to my advantage.
“Fifty dollars,” I tell Beau. “The kid wants fifty bucks to keep quiet.”
Inwardly, I’m laughing. This kid would never even think about blabbing to anyone about what’s transpired here. He knows better. But, it doesn’t hurt to throw a couple of bucks to him to show our appreciation.
Beau slowly takes out a pile of folded bills from his pocket and peels off the top one. The kid wastes no time in snatching it and making it disappear.
With business done and the next part of our trip secured, I lead the way from the store into the night, smug in knowing that I just suckered Beau into paying for his own groceries in a round about way.
~*~
BEAU
I’m used to sleep deprivation. It was a very uncomfortable exercise they taught us in the Academy. There’s a gnawing feeling in my gut telling me that this little mission on with Raven can get hairy in the near future and I doubt we’ll be getting much sleep. One of us might as well get some while we can.
“Here. Toss me the keys. I’ll drive and you can rest.” I hold up my hand, waiting for the cold metal object to be thrown across the hood and into it.
Once we’d left the poorly stocked store behind, Raven wasted no time ripping open the package that contained nothing at all resembling a purple hair brush.
She made no effort to hide the true contents and I made no effort to hide the fact that I was looking.
Two more passports, this time both English. Some cash in the local currency, and last but not least, a single car key and a note.
Being a head taller than Raven has its advantages and one of them was being able to perfectly see that note while standing behind her. My Russian is more than rusty but there are some things that don’t need a translation.
There was a web address of the variety that most people would never even be able to find. The Dark Web isn’t a place your average person knows how to get to, but people like Raven and me? That’s where we’re most comfortable, among people of our own kind. People that talk and read in code and laugh to ourselves at the insinuation that there are any rules online. We know better.
We’re the ones who break them.
Well, at least Raven does. I used to, but am now a reformed anarchist of sorts, paid to use the skills I honed back then to now track down the people that are doing the same thing that I used to.
The web address on that slip of paper, which Raven read and then burnt to a crisp with her cigarette lighte
r, was one deep in that intricate, and dangerous place we all affectionately call The Void.
The Dark Web, The Void… they both mean the same thing. The freedom to move about without any spyware being able to detect who you’re contacting, what you’re doing or what you’re sending.
But, it also means you’re in a back alley of sorts. A place where nothing is off limits. A place where people with scores to settle enact revenge with nothing more than a few well typed keys.
Raven’s made her fair share of enemies down there, people that wouldn’t think twice about selling her out to the highest bidder given the chance. Now that we’re being hunted in real life, the risk of traveling down into the dark underbelly of the cyber world is more than risky.
She must know that.
“You know how to drive stick?” she asks mockingly while holding the keys gingerly.
I cock my head to the side. “Sweetheart… I know how to do a hell of lot more than just drive with my stick. Now throw.”
The corner of her lip twitches, fighting against itself to show the reaction to my innuendo. Once the keys are in hand, we climb into the compact sedan. Poland is much like the U.S. when it comes to driving, at least on the same side of the road. I’m thankful for that right now. It’s been a long day of sitting on my ass in that smelly beat up bus. I don’t have the energy to have to remind myself constantly that I’m on the wrong side.
“Where to?” I ask my co-pilot as the engine is started.
She settles deep into her leather seat. “Warsaw. Airport.”
Simple enough. The highway has few signs, but several are for the main city that we’ll be travelling to. This time of night, the roads are empty so the drive is easy. I decide to take advantage of the quietness to get my answers.
“Now, talk.”
The road winds and snakes its way passed the border town we’ve just visited, passing aging buildings and even older looking houses.
“We’ve got at least four hours of driving ahead of us. Do we really need to do this right this second?” I can tell she’s growing tired. The usual bitchy sarcasm is missing from her voice and replaced by fatigue.
She snuggles her head into her right shoulder and closes her eyes. “Let’s talk about something else instead.” It’s a distraction, I know. “Tell me about before you got into the Bureau. I couldn’t find anything on you from before then. Nothing.”
What she’s saying is true, and with good reason. Whatever the Bureau didn’t scrub from my past, I made sure I did. Just like there wasn’t much on her to be found other than a couple of pages of info. Information can be used by your enemies. We both know that.
“Not much to tell,” I lie. “I’d much rather talk about what we’re getting in the middle of here.”
Raven yawns. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine. Otherwise, I’m getting some sleep. You decide.”
The road is dark, with overhead streetlights few and far between. I decide rather reluctantly to tell her something, anything to keep her awake, afraid the silence will only make me drowsy if I don’t.
I take a deep breath. “Usual story. Kid grows up, likes to play video games, work on computers. Learns a trick or two. The Feds notice. Recruit him. And here I am now… running from the Eastern Block with a notorious cyber criminal and a half eaten bag of chips to show for it.”
Her left eye opens and settles on me. “Done playing games?” she calls me out. “Now tell me about the Stock Exchange and what really led to your illustrious career with the government.”
Holy. Shit.
She’s better then I thought.
There’s no way she could have easily gotten the information which she seems to know. I can’t help but be curious as to exactly how much of it she knows so I decide to lay out some bait and see for myself.
“Someone’s been digging around… I’m flattered you’d put your talents to use on me. But, I’m afraid the real story is nowhere as interesting as you’d think. It’s not my fault the New York Stock Exchange didn’t invest enough in their firewall security. I mean, if a thirteen-year old kid can hack into it, then he deserves every penny he gets. What’s two million in the grand scheme of things when they deal with billions every hour?”
“Two million? Don’t you mean eight?” Her eyes remain closed, but she’s obviously listening enough to jump in.
So, she knows details, huh? There’s no way that information could have come easily for her. My bait has just been thrown back at me.
“Two. Eight. Not much of a difference,” I reluctantly admit that she’s right.
“Look, Beau…” Raven sits up now. “We’re going to have to trust one another. That’s the only way this is going to work.”
Now she wants to talk about trust? I’m not sure luring someone under false pretenses and drugging their drink qualifies as trustworthy behavior.
I feel my eyelids grow heavy and realize that I need to keep talking to keep myself awake.
“Fine, Eight million. Taken in small increments that were never noticed during wire transfers between brokers and the Exchange. Hidden and itemized as service fees and currency exchange rates. All pretty simple. The fact that it went unnoticed for as long as it did pretty much meant that they deserved to lose that cash since they were that careless in safeguarding it.” I use the same rationalization I did all those years ago while being questioned and interrogated for the cyber crime.
“But it was eventually noticed, wasn’t it?” Her question is kind of like a hacker dare, pointing out another’s failure to pull off a job successfully.
“I was thirteen. I’ve learned a lot since then. I seem to recall that out of the two of us, I’m not the one who tripped up and pissed off someone enough to put a cyber bounty on my head.” I quip back, pointing out her situation and the recent assassination attempt.
She ignored the dig. “You’ve learned a lot since then but don’t use any of it? What’s the point in that?”
It’s interesting to see how we view things differently.
“I use it every day. Sure, I could do the easy thing and put myself out there for “pay for hire” gigs, but then I’d always be on the run, always be looking over my shoulder. There’s no real life in that. It’s not real. I made my choice and I’m happy with it. I have a life. I have friends. I have family.”
I don’t mean for my words to be cruel, but it’s not entirely lost on me that to her they might be.
The sharpness to her tongue returns. “You have a life?” There’s an extra dose of mocking sarcasm in that one. “You have no life. You hide away in some underground computer lab for hours on end. You then make yourself feel better by spending an almost equal amount of time in the gym after work. You go home. You shower. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. That’s no life. That’s a prison.”
I swallow hard as I listen to her take on my routines.
“And your friends? Sure. You see them on the weekends. You share a beer. You share a laugh. Pick up a random girl for the night. But, then, when it’s over, you go home to that empty little apartment, so don’t go telling me you’re happy with it. You couldn’t even manage to get that blonde girl you liked so much to hang around for more than a couple of months.”
What. The. Fuck.
That’s more information than simple cyber stalking will get you.
I pull the steering wheel hard, swerving the car off the road and into a dirt patch beyond the row of roadside shrubs. She’s startled, on alert next to me, wondering what the hell I’m doing.
The engine is cut harshly and my door thrown open as I march into the dark abyss that’s lit by nothing more than the car headlamps casting beams of yellowish light into the vast darkness of the open field.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
My chest is heaving. “Am I crazy? You’re the one who knows more about me than my own mother! Care to share, Raven? How the fuck do you know the things you do?”
She stands defiantly, popping out a hip and crossing her ar
ms tightly. “It’s not important. It’s true, isn’t it? You have so much promise. You have so much talent. You could do anything, but, yet, you waste it working for a government that could care less about you. They’d replace you in a heartbeat with the next up and coming thirteen-year old prodigy, and you damn well know it! You’re nothing but a sheep to them, doing their bidding.”
She’s using anything she can to get off topic, but it’s not going to work.
“Don’t even try it, Raven. I want to know how you know so much about me. You following me?” I get right back to the point at hand. No detours. No side-stepping.
I can see the frustration building through the muted light being cast off by the car lights. “We don’t have time for this! We have to catch a plane!”
Not gonna work. We’re not doing this her way any more.
“That car’s not fucking budging until you tell me,” I draw my imaginary line in the sand.
“Beau!” She protests and steps forward, closer to me, no doubt to try and grab the keys form my hand.
She’s quick, but I’m quicker.
In one swift motion, I move my belt aside and drop the keys down into my boxers. The cold tang of the metal against my dick sends a shiver right up it, but it’s squashed by the building heat of my anger.
There’s aloud whooshing sound as she exhales deeply. “Don’t think I won’t go get them,” she dares.
“Go ahead and try it, babe. See, one of the things you failed to mention in your stalker report is how I not only got accolades in my cyber skills from the Academy, but just as many in hand to hand combat. Come and get it and I can guarantee your ass will be on the ground without even having to touch you to do it.”
Now it’s my turn to be cocky, to play the upper hand. “So, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, but, either way, you’re doing it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Raven thinks on it, walking and pacing back and forth, weighing her options in. I’m patient. I can wait.