Cora retrieved a copy of Nicki’s book, Beware the Trolls, from her purse and handed it and a fountain pen to the woman to my left. “It would be an honor if you would sign it.”
Nicki turned the color of strawberry ice cream and stammered, “I-I make it a policy not to.”
Cora’s face betrayed she already knew this tidbit. “That’s right. I remember reading that somewhere. Don’t feel pressured to conjure the perfect note. Your name will suffice.” She still held the pen out to the reluctant Nicki.
My gaze traveled back and forth, trying to figure out the Mexican standoff. Not once had Cora asked me to sign a copy of my book.
Nicki relented and scrawled two letters that resembled an angry D and E.
There was a lull in the conversation. Perhaps Cora sensed she was out of her depths with an expert on the denizens of the Dark Net, or she was still stinging from the initial rebuff, though I couldn’t recall a time when Cora felt out of her element when chasing a story.
“What kind of information are you seeking?” Nicki asked, cracking through the surface of the tension at the table.
“Seeking?” Cora turned to me, stalling for time. “Not really seeking. I just want a better understanding of the mechanics.”
I rested weight on my forearms and cleared my throat. “Here’s the thing. We have a lead on someone who doesn’t want to be found, but we want to find them.”
“And you want my help?”
“Guidance, really. Is it possible to stay completely hidden online?”
Nicki traced the tines of her fork with a fingernail, which had the hallmarks of being gnawed on regularly. “Yes and no. Depends on how good the person is—not with computers, but with his or her ego. That’s the key component. The entire concept of staying anonymous online discounts the human ego. For the most part it works, but it’s also been the way to suss out key players of the anonymous random board, for example. Even the most experienced hackers or social engineers leave a calling card of some type. Sometimes without knowing it.”
“Meaning in order to track down someone, we have to figure out their calling card?”
“Essentially, but you have to know what you’re looking for and not the bread crumbs the person wants you to find, such as someone claiming to be a different sex, living on the other side of the world—false trails. Maintaining the narrative has tripped up some people. For example, logging in at certain times of the day with a good morning message that doesn’t mesh with the time zone they claim to be from. Using British words and spelling, while an online pseudonym claims to be from America. Little things like that add up over time. A more disciplined and informed anonymous user is like a ghost. The harder someone squints to make out the details, the less a person sees, making them wonder if what they saw existed in the first place.”
Cora shifted in her seat. “How’d you get so many to trust you while researching your book?”
“Simple. I didn’t try to bullshit anyone.” Nicki’s tone was level, but it called Cora’s intention out into the open.
Cora didn’t attempt to conceal her smile. “All right. I want your help.”
Nicki leaned back in her chair, looking out the window. It was a dark cloudy night, and the only light came from a lone streetlamp across the street. “I’m not sure I can help without knowing the why.”
“True. It’d be hard to research without knowing what you’re looking for. The sticky issue is I need to know you’ll be discrete even if you don’t jump on board,” Cora countered.
Angelo approached with our meals, the steam from the plates fogging his glasses. He set down the dishes before dashing back to retrieve a small bowl. “Fresh Parmesan?” He held a simple white bowl and spoon.
“Please.” I gestured for him to not be shy, and he sprinkled on the grated cheese, repeating the routine for both Nicki and Cora. The three of us tucked into our meals, savoring the homemade meatballs and sauce.
“You weren’t kidding.” Nicki pointed to the plate. “This is good.”
Cora laughed. “I don’t always bullshit.”
“But it’s an occupational hazard.” Nicki raised a chiseled brow.
“Exactly.” Cora was too seasoned of a media mogul to take offense. “I wheel and deal with bullshit on a daily basis.” She leaned closer to Nicki. “I also know when to call someone out on their crap.”
Nicki set her fork down, lining it up perfectly with the checkered cloth. “Are you calling me out?”
“No one is as pure as driven snow. Just saying.” Cora held up her palms.
Nicki’s eyes flitted to mine once more, but I couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed by me or for me.
“And everyone has their price.” Cora swirled noodles around her fork with the aid of a spoon.
Nicki now gave Cora her full attention. “I’m not going to like what comes next, am I?”
Maybe it was Cora’s no-holds-barred reputation that lit up Nicki’s oh shit meter. Or maybe she was that good at reading people. I’ve learned, from experience, the people with the biggest and most embarrassing secrets were the best at ferreting out essential information with just one glance.
“I find it fascinating someone who never graduated from high school has such a mastery of the English language.” Cora pulled a copy of Nicki’s 643-page tome from her bag. “Your way with words bordered on poetic. The writing is better than most thrillers.” Cora flapped the hardcover book shut. “And everything you learned about computers—how is that? It’s my understanding your family never owned one. You, in interviews, have mentioned you didn’t have a personal computer until you started researching this book. That was quite a crash course.” Cora laid a hand on the book’s dust jacket.
Nicki’s tell was that she didn’t fidget. She froze completely in her seat. I would have preferred if she had squirmed somewhat. That would have been an indicator her secret was minor, enough to be embarrassing but not heart-stopping. Not moving, not even breathing meant the secret could destroy her. If that was the case, Cora already knew somehow, or she knew enough to force Nicki to play ball.
“When your parents died before you were ten, you moved in with your aunt, who didn’t have enough money to feed you. She tried to earn money, even tried to make you and your younger sister earn money…”
I sucked in my breath, aghast at what I was hearing and how Cora presented the evidence in her stating the facts way.
Cora plowed on. “Both of you ended up in foster care, but you ran away when you were fifteen. The system gave you up for dead. Then twenty years later, you popped up with a best-selling book about the Dark Net.”
Nicki still didn’t move. My eyes wavered back and forth between Cora’s commanding face and Nicki’s frozen visage.
“You don’t like bullshit, so I’m going to be blunt. I suspect the reason you don’t like to autograph books is guilt since you didn’t actually write the book.”
I laughed, thinking Cora was overreaching. Plenty of people didn’t enjoy being thrown into the limelight. Success and celebrity sounded nice until it was foisted on someone.
“I’m not saying you aren’t brilliant. You are. You’d have to be to pull off this con. But you aren’t the author of this book.” Cora tapped it with a manicured nail. “I want to get in touch with the person who is. That’s how you can help me, and in turn, I’ll help you.”
“And you think I’ll lead you to this fictional person?” Her wavering voice was no match for the truth.
“You’ve already left enough bread crumbs to force your hand. Like you said, a person’s ego leaves unintentional calling cards. I have hard evidence, including a recording of you admitting to someone in your inner circle—I won’t say who—that you didn’t write the book. Such an amateur mistake, confiding in someone who loved you and then dumping that person when you got too big for your britches. There’s a reason journalists and the police love finding the ex.” Cora resumed eating.
Moments
earlier I had been famished, but now I couldn’t touch a morsel. It wasn’t that I hadn’t been a bitch in the past when tracking down a story. That came with the territory. But, to badger a survivor like Nicki left a nasty taste in my mouth.
I knew the cost of Cora’s help. Nicki seemed smart enough to grasp the ramifications of joining Cora’s team of knowledgeable sources. The pluses would have to outweigh the minuses.
That was why Cora arranged to have the meeting here, in my state, and in my presence. Not because I had to be included in the conversation. She and Janie had been keeping me out of the loop for most of the stuff going on behind the scenes. But I was the example. I had been a Nicki once, and with Cora’s help, I was a millionaire (on paper at least) with a family and a thriving up-and-coming business. People respected me. If Nicki pined for respectability, I was Cora’s shining example.
Try as I might, I couldn’t hate Cora. She was the one I would reach out to if ever in a bind again. Cora could be brutal. Of that, there was no doubt. But if she liked a person, and she didn’t like many, she would protect them at all costs.
The way she left Nicki to her thoughts showed respect. Hell, who wouldn’t respect a runaway, whose own aunt had tried to sell her body and who had eventually conned the publishing world into believing she was the whistleblower of the Dark Net. This unassuming woman had cajones of steel. Unfortunately for Nicki, so did Cora.
“I won’t work for you.” The fierceness in her tone and expression made it clear how Nicki had survived all these years.
Undeterred, Cora responded, “Wouldn’t dream of tying you down. I’m hoping we can collaborate.”
Nicki’s expression said, Yeah, right.
“Listen, we don’t even need to meet your partner. All we need is your partner’s help. It’s as simple as that.”
Nicki glanced over one shoulder and then the other. The waiter had his phone at eye level, presumably reading a text. Nicki smothered the exposed side of her face with a palm and leaned closer to Cora. “You have no idea who or what you’re messing with, do you?”
For once Cora didn’t seem so confident, leaning in, she whispered, “That’s why I need you.” She sat back in her seat, pushing her plate to the side. “The way I see it, we both need each other. Writing for MDD will add credence to your name, bolster your image as the expert. And I can keep your ex happily distracted with money and travel.”
“I thought you wanted help with research.”
“I do, and why not a few articles? With the amount of hacking into major companies lately, people are concerned about their private data. I’m sure you can provide some guidance on how to protect oneself.”
Was Cora looking for advice since she’d been scooped up in a hacking debacle? Maybe she and Nicki could collaborate on an article on how not to get caught, using Cora’s mistakes as an example. The thought made me smile.
Nicki’s grimace wasn’t buying Cora’s good guy glare. “Do I have to work with you personally?”
“Nope. I think you, JJ, and our assistant will get along famously.” With that, Cora excused herself, claiming she had a plane to catch. It was the first honest thing she’d said all night.
As the glass door shut on Cora’s retreating frame, Nicki gave me the once-over, her arms folded in front of her chest. “So you’re the good cop.” Her flat voice implied she wasn’t asking.
“Not at all. I’m the same as you.”
Nicki’s chest heaved in anger, and her eyes sought out the door like a cornered animal trying to find the safest escape route. “Whatever. I can’t agree to anything until I talk—”
I put a hand up. “The fewer details I know, the better.”
That put her at ease some, but I could tell if she had a gun in her hands, she’d seriously consider using it. Or would she enlist her computer buddies to make my life a living hell? If I were her, that would be the route I’d take. Considering we were trying to track down an internet ghost with zero morals, it’d be nearly impossible for me to determine who was responsible. The further I went down this road, trusting the likes of Ballbuster Cora, Blackmailing Janie, and now Con-Woman Nicki, the more I realized the stickiness of the situation.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” she asked.
I didn’t like that she was able to read my emotions. It seemed useless to deny since her eyes transmitted not to bother.
“At least you’re not stupid. If you weren’t terrified, I wouldn’t be able to trust you. I don’t know who you’re after, but if you need my help, that means you’re in way over your head. The other one”—she jerked her head to Cora’s vacant seat—“may be ruthless in the business world, but the likes of those I rub elbows with eat people like her for lunch. Ever hear of Aaron Barr, the dude who thought he had found a way to unmask members of /b/, Ashley Madison, Sony, WikiLeaks, and the subsequent attacks on Visa, MasterCard, and PayPal? That’s only the beginning. The shit that’s possible keeps me up at night. And I’m not talking about simple credit card or password theft.” She smiled. “Although if I were you, I’d start stashing a lot of cash and ditching all of your electronics, even USB drives, keyboards… everything.”
“Should we hire Kevin Mitnick, the guy who wrote Ghost in the Wires about his adventures of being the world’s most wanted hacker?”
“Couldn’t hurt. If this person gets wind of your desire to find him, he’ll come at every angle of your life, business and personal. I’m talking about a complete life ruin from the likes of which you won’t recover. You thought writing your memoir was bad. Just you wait.”
Maybe she noticed me flinch, because she laughed and tossed an arm over the back of her chair, knowing she had me on my heels. “Here are some tips to know you’re on the radar, personally. A lot of it can seem pretty harmless, and you may try to let it go”—she straightened in her chair and grabbed her knife—“but if the person pulling the strings is badass like I suspect, you’re in some deep shit. Like a cat playing with a mouse for fun until he goes in for the kill.” She dragged the dull knife across her throat.
I attempted to steady my breathing.
“First sign: You open your front door and see a delivery of a shitload of pizzas. Second: You’re getting rickrolled.” She raised an eyebrow to determine if I was following. I was, but to be safe, she continued. “It’s when you receive phone calls with people playing the Rick Astley ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ song.” Two of her fingers were splayed in the air. She added a third. “Faxes of black paper to drain your printer cartridges. Does your company still use a fax machine?” I made the universal sign for kinda but not a lot. “Another is unwanted taxis. Keep an eye out for that shit. The lulz drive most of them. And it can be frustrating, but here’s the best tip I can give you. Never feed the troll. If you fight back, it makes them laugh all the more and keeps them engaged. If you don’t, they move on. The Scientology folks learned the hard way.” She leaned forward and repeated, “Never feed the troll,” thumping the table with a finger to emphasize each word.
The question was who was the troll, and if we enlisted Nicki’s help, would we be piling on more enemies to fuck with us? The further we went down this path, the more people we would irritate. And they were the very types Nicki was warning me against.
Chapter Eighteen
Avery waltzed into my office and said in a stern voice, “You have dinner plans tonight.”
I studied the stern woman through the V of my feet propped up on my desk. On my lap was a pile of printouts I’d been reading with a highlighter. “Aves, I’m flattered, really, but I’m engaged.”
“Funny you should mention that, because it’s your fiancée who threatened my life if I don’t get you home on time for dinner.”
My feet dropped from the desk onto the floor. “I’m in the doghouse?”
“From my perspective, you’re not only in the doghouse, but one drowning in a sandpit of shit with the smallest chance of clasping onto a rope to pull yourself out.�
�� Her coldhearted delivery stifled my laughter over the absurdity of the image coming from straitlaced Avery, instilling a cold sensation in my chest. “Just in case you aren’t aware, in the past month, you’ve traveled to LA three times, New York twice, and had two other random overnights.”
I nodded. “But—”
“Claire understands how busy you are, but she still wants you to make an effort to show she and the kids matter.”
“She told you that?”
“Not those exact words, but you don’t have to be Oprah to see the writing on the wall.”
“I knew she was slightly miffed by an e-mail she had sent earlier with the subject ‘Just In Case You Forgot’ and the body only contained our home address. I thought it was funny and responded with a happy face.” No wonder she’d turned to Avery, who would take action and not brush it off with an emoticon. With all the travel and planning for the upcoming television show, I’d been forced to work in the Denver office more than normal. I put the papers on a stack of others on my desk and rubbed my eyes. “What should I do?”
The expression Avery wore conveyed I was more of an idiot than she gave me credit for. She sighed. “Go home. It’s as simple as that. Eat dinner with your family. Read a story with Ian. Give Mia a bath. Have a conversation with Claire. How did you ever win her back?”
“You’re annoyed with me.”
Avery’s spine snapped broomstick up the ass straight. “I just don’t get… you.” She let the meaning sink in. “And if I don’t, Claire really doesn’t.”
“How much do you make?”
She balled up her fists.
I waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’m out of touch in all aspects of my life. But whatever you make, add five grand to it.”
The Fall Girl Page 16