Candace was already seated at the table with a notepad in front of her and pen in hand. She looked surprisingly relaxed given what they were about to do. Jim Avers, the deputy director of operations, sat next to her. He looked a lot more nervous.
Candace waved Isaac to the chair in front of the laptop without greeting him. “Have a seat, Isaac. You’re going to be the one corresponding with the Avenger today.”
He hadn’t seen that one coming. “What? You set this up for me to talk to the Avenger?”
“Sure. Why not? Of all of us, you’re the one who knew him best.”
“I didn’t know him. We worked in the same division on a couple of the same projects.”
“That’s more of a connection than anyone else here has. Sit down, Isaac. Don’t worry, we’ll tell you what to say. You don’t have to give him your name—we just want your take on his questions and answers.”
Isaac took the seat, his fury building. How dare she order him about like a subordinate. They were equals in terms of position and she thought she could demean him? His first action as director would be to get rid of her. He took a breath to calm himself. For all her show, she’d given him exactly what he wanted—a front seat to the exchange.
“What do you want me to say?” Isaac asked.
“Tell him we need to know his demands before we can deal fairly.” She glanced at Jim. “Can you proof his message before he sends?”
Isaac bristled at the suggestion he needed oversight for one sentence. He almost rose out of his chair to confront her but with supreme effort remained seated. His jaw was clenched so tightly, he couldn’t speak.
After Isaac finished typing, he leaned back so that Jim could proof it. Jim leaned forward and nodded his approval. Isaac hit the Enter key with more force than required.
“It’s been sent,” he said. “I hope our adversary is paying attention.”
Candace studied Isaac. “Adversary? You think he’s our adversary?”
Isaac stared back at her in surprise. Could she really be that stupid?
“Have you forgotten that he terminated the access to the back door we were using to monitor terrorists worldwide? No telling how many lives were lost in terrorist attacks since then that might have been prevented.”
“That’s only partially true.” Candace spoke lightly, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “We were also using it for a lot of other unauthorized activities.”
“All in the name of national security,” he shot back.
“That’s fine, when it’s approved by Congress. What was going on was largely unregulated. There is a reason this country has checks and balances.”
“Those checks and balances are useless.” Seriously? Was she really that naive? The woman who wanted to be the director of the NSA?
Candace raised an eyebrow. “Isaac, I’m astonished you feel that way.”
Isaac clamped his mouth shut. He had no idea why she was baiting him, but he wasn’t going to accommodate her any longer. As of this moment, his first act as director of the NSA would be to find a way to fire her.
Jim stood, walking around the room while swinging his arms back and forth in a stretch. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around the Avenger. He’s puzzling, to say the least. We know he’s identified dozens of security holes worldwide that could have been compromised, but he doesn’t take advantage of them. He doesn’t appear to be working for a foreign entity or tied to any specific cause. Now he’s offering us information to stop what he claims could be a potentially devastating terrorist attack. He certainly doesn’t fit the profile of a hacker who does it for attention or fame. What’s his deal?”
“His deal is that he’s a criminal and a traitor,” Isaac said. “By all definitions. Just the fact that he’s asking for immunity implies he’s conducted criminal activity.”
“True,” Jim conceded. Still, he looked troubled at the suggestion. “However, he’s not another Edward Snowden. He didn’t provide direct intelligence to our adversaries. He didn’t spill any beans on the NSA, either, at least as far as we know. He just shut the door.”
“We don’t know what he has or hasn’t done,” Isaac snarled. “Don’t make him out to be a hero. He cut us off. We needed that access.”
“We also need those innovative tools from the research and development shop you promised were on the way at the last agency budget presentation,” Candace said mildly.
Isaac glared at her, but she didn’t seem to care. He was thinking of an appropriate response when the laptop dinged.
“We have a response,” the technician said.
Isaac opened the email and read the message aloud.
“‘Before I list my requests, I offer to you, in good faith, the most current information on the terrorist plot. It can be found in the file labeled ‘Initial Downpayment.doc.’ It will reside there for precisely three more minutes, and then it will be deleted. It contains names, email addresses, and phone numbers, as well as IP addresses and a synopsis of the planned attack. They intend to target the large crowds celebrating in the streets following the Super Bowl when most of the security precautions will be relaxed. A so-called soft target. The file also contains the IP address of the next server through which we will communicate using the same process as this. This is proof of my good intentions and capability.’”
“Get me that file,” Candace said coolly, pointing at the technician. “I want a transcript of his message as well.” He nodded and got to work on his laptop.
Isaac continued reading aloud.
“‘In exchange, my requests are simple. Federal protection for myself and my family for at least two years, with an agreement in writing by the Department of Justice and the FBI that I will not be investigated, prosecuted, or convicted of any crimes related to my hacking or online activities, to include the real or accidental disclosure of classified information. Finally, I would like to have a personal one-on-one meeting with the director to discuss a personal matter I would like him to consider investigating.’”
“He’s deluded,” Isaac muttered.
“Keep reading,” Candace instructed him.
“‘By the time you have read this, you probably have less than two minutes to finish the download of the file. We will communicate again in exactly one month, via this account, as I know you will need time to discuss my offer. I will also consider the possibility of providing the key to ShadowCrypt to the NSA under certain conditions. In the meantime, do not try to contact me or track me down or this offer becomes invalid. Trust me, I’ll know. Be fully prepared to address all of my requests in one month’s time.’”
Candace turned to the technician. “Do we have the file yet?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m reviewing it now to ensure it’s legitimate. It looks good. We also have a backup of the email itself.”
“Excellent.” She turned her attention to Isaac. “Tell him we agree to his terms and will speak with him in one month.”
Isaac typed the message and after Jim gave him the thumbs-up, he pressed Send. They waited for a response, but one never came.
“He’s gone, ma’am,” the technician said.
Candace breathed out a breath. “At least we got the file. Send it up to the director right away.”
“Will do.”
Isaac leaned back in the chair, his brain on overdrive. What game was the Avenger playing? What did he want to talk about with the director?
“Thoughts, anyone?” Candace’s question snapped Isaac from his reverie.
“Did you notice he didn’t make demands?” Jim said. “Just requests. That seems odd for someone of his reputation.”
“So it matters that he’s a polite criminal?” Isaac snapped.
Candace didn’t respond. Instead she was looking at the wall, deep in thought. After a bit, she turned to Isaac. “Why do you think he wants to talk to the director?”
“He probably has delusions of grandeur. No one with his record would be granted such high access to the NSA.
It would be a dangerous—not to mention stupid—precedent to set.”
“That’s a strange thing to ask for,” Jim observed. “It does lend credence to the fact that he might be one of our own. If so, what would he want to talk about that would be for the director’s ears only?”
Candace nodded. “I agree that everything we’ve seen so far implies he is one of ours. I’m leaning strongly toward your theory, Isaac, that this is, indeed, Ethan Sinclair. What I want to know more about is who he was connected to, what he did at King’s Security, and whether he had a specific insight to an operation. We’re going to have to dig deep to see what we can find out about him.”
“What about bringing in the FBI to help track him down?” Isaac asked. “We could use the help in finding his physical location.”
“You think he’s in the US?” Candace asked.
“I do. Just a gut feeling.”
She picked up a coffee mug and took a sip. “Well, I met with the FBI, and their response was complicated. They were obviously very concerned and, naturally, wanted any information on the terrorist attack. That was their top priority. But they were less interested in investing any resources to try to track down the Hidden Avenger. Without proof of criminal activity, and given the lack of information on him, they could not justify the resources. They recommended that we continue to negotiate with him and get the information we need on the terrorists that way.”
“Are they willing to grant him immunity?”
“They don’t have the power to do that. It depends on the Justice Department. I’m meeting soon with a contact over there to see for how they feel about something like this. I’ll be honest—I’m not sure how well this will be received, especially when I can’t provide information on what the immunity would be for.”
“I don’t get why he’s making this so hard,” Jim said.
“I don’t think he trusts us,” Candace said. “And we have to find out why.”
“I’ll take the lead on that angle,” Isaac offered. “I knew him the best, which wasn’t much, but it probably means we probably have contacts in common somewhere. If there is anything to find on him, I’ll find it.”
Candace and Jim both dipped their heads in agreement.
“Okay, Isaac,” she said. “The ball is in your court. Just get that information to me as soon as possible.”
“I’m on it,” he said.
But not in the way they expected.
Chapter Twenty-Five
ANGEL SINCLAIR
I loved my internship at X-Corp. I’d only been working there since early June, but it was beyond prime. Wally, Piper, and Brandon had been interning a bit longer—since last February—but we all knew we had it good and appreciated every moment under Lexi Carmichael’s excellent tutelage.
Lexi had been on my radar ever since she’d saved the school last winter. She was one of the few female tech heads I’d ever met and was, by far, the smartest.
I’d first met Lexi last May, just before she and my sister left on a trip to Egypt. That chance meeting afforded me the opportunity to help Lexi and her boyfriend, Slash, with an important mission. Slash is tall, dark, and Italian, and he works for the government in one of the intelligence agencies. He is hotness to the max and a wizard, which is what we hackers call a true god at the keyboard. I wish Lexi would tell me how she managed to find him and if he has a younger brother available. However, I seriously doubted she’d tell me. Lexi hates talking about her personal life even more than I do.
Just then, Lexi strolled into the cubicle area where we were working. She wore black slacks and a plain white sweater. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was devoid of makeup or jewelry. A pair of black computer glasses hung from the front of her sweater.
“Hey, guys. How’s it going?”
Wally looked up and lifted a hand. “Great. Piper and Brandon located the test firewall. Angel penetrated the device, and I’m running programs to determine what hosts are behind the filter—a router, packet filtering, or a redirection application. And that’s in the first ten minutes.”
Lexi patted Wally’s shoulder. “Right on schedule. Carry on.”
I stood nervously. “Hey, Lexi. Can I talk to you for a minute? Privately?”
“Sure.” She waved an arm at me. “Let’s go into my office.”
I followed her into a prime corner office. A long, sleek desk with a laptop and several monitors was flanked by bookshelves, and another corner featured a couple of laptops side by side, probably running algorithms or detection software. There were ceiling-to-floor windows and a coffee mug that read I’m Not Bossy, I’m the Boss. Lexi was twenty-six years old and she had shattered—no, obliterated—the glass ceiling in her corner of a heavily male-dominated tech industry. My hero—correction, heroine—indeed.
Instead of sitting behind her desk, Lexi perched on the arm of one of the visitor chairs while I sat in the chair adjacent to her. Even so, I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. What if she thought I was crazy, like the police did? I wasn’t sure I could handle that from her.
“So, Angel, what’s up?” Her eyes seemed interested and kind.
It took me a few moments, but I took a deep breath and told her. I started with the events from the very first day of school and brought it forward. I told her everything that had happened, omitting only the mention of my questionable mental state in the police report.
Lexi listened carefully, not interrupting me once. When I was finished, my hands were shaking. I held my breath, practically cringing, waiting for her response.
She looked at me thoughtfully and then stood, reaching across to her desk and plucking off a pen and pad of paper. “What are the names of the four prosthetics companies you came up with?”
That was it. No disbelief, no thinking I was a loon. Just straight to the facts. My estimation and appreciation of her rose another notch.
“DuoMed, Flex Force Ltd., BioLimbs, and Kinetic Bio,” I said. “I went through the company websites, but no executives named Vincent are listed for any of them. I started looking through LinkedIn to match employee profiles named Vincent, but I haven’t got far yet.”
“But you saw him, so you can identify him.”
“Yes, that’s why I was hoping to see a profile listed on LinkedIn.”
She tapped the pen against her chest and looked off above my shoulder, thinking. “You could be going about this all wrong. He might not be connected to any of the prosthesis companies.”
“He might not,” I agreed. “I’m going on nothing more than a gut feeling.”
“I trust gut feelings.” She slipped on her computer glasses and went to her desk. I remained quiet while she typed something in. A minute later she looked up at me.
“One of those companies you just named hired X-Corp about three weeks ago to investigate a suspected cyberpenetration. I couldn’t work directly on it as I was focused on something else at the time, but my staff researched it exhaustively and found no evidence of a break-in. I remembered thinking something seemed off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Now that you bring this up, my hackles are raised.”
“Which company was it, if you’re permitted to say?”
“You’re an intern here, so you can legitimately be informed. It’s BioLimbs.”
“Wait.” My mind raced through information. “One of the Vincents in Mr. Matthews’s contact list at school was a Vincent with the letters BL after it. It might be completely unrelated, but I’m not a big believer in coincidences.”
“Neither am I. Do I want to know how you got hold of Mr. Matthews’s contact list?”
I gulped. “Nope.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She fell quiet until I asked, “What should we do, Lexi?”
She gazed at her screen and then back at me. “As my intern, I may assign you to take a closer look at the situation with BioLimbs, under my careful guidance, of course.”
My eyes lit up. “Really?”
&nb
sp; She smiled. “Really. Come sit next to me, Angel. Let’s see what we can find out about this mysterious Vincent.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
ISAAC REMINGTON
As soon as Isaac Remington left the NSA compound for the day, he activated another one of his burner phones and called his contact.
“I received your message. Do you have something for me?”
“I do, but it’s not what you may be expecting. It just so happened that a report from the National Security Operations Center crossed my desk today. They’ve traced a series of hacks coming out of the target’s house.”
“What? He’s in the house?”
“No. It’s not him. Here’s the interesting part. It’s the daughter. She’s a minigenius. Hacking, math, and science are her things. She goes to a special school for science and math in DC. I’ve been watching her work, and she’s good. Very good. We’ve been monitoring all communications coming in and out of the house, but she bypassed our monitoring without even knowing we were there.”
“Interesting. So she takes after her father. What’s she hacking?”
“Once we figured out how she was bypassing our monitoring, we adjusted and began tracking her activity. So far, her searches appear focused on one person—Ryan Matthews, a former marine sergeant. Matthews was wounded in action in Iraq, honorably and medically discharged. He’s her school vice principal and was recently involved in a vehicular accident involving the serious injury of a female pedestrian. He is under local police investigation for deliberately targeting the woman.”
“Other than the fact that he’s her vice principal, why does the daughter care about him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does he have any connection to her father?”
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