Crash Alive (The Haylie Black Series Book 1)

by Christopher Kerns

  That’s not to say she still didn’t have options on how to get into the room. The first option was to simply get access to the clipboard; just erase or white-out a name and pick your spot. But to do that, you need to get inside the building without anyone seeing you. The staff was probably already working this morning, preparing for the day, so that approach wouldn’t work. The second option was pretending to be someone that had already made their way onto that list. Haylie didn’t like that tactic, either.

  Luckily, she had thought of a third way.

  With all the valuable stuff in this place, there’s going to be a ton of security: cameras, police, and guards. Just focus on solving the problem. Get what you need and get out.

  She checked the timetable one more time and clicked her laptop shut. Ideally, she would have had two more weeks to design this type of exploit.

  Checking her watch, she had about fifteen minutes.

  > > > > >

  Titanhurst - London

  March 10h, 1:42PM

  “Ok, this should be simple enough,” Caesar called out, speaking to the group of fifteen engineers and security experts that had assembled around him. Each member of the team watched on as he paced before a giant whiteboard. The board was filled with all-caps writing, outlining the steps to catch the person trying to solve Raven as they entered the Morgan Library.

  “You’re all now familiar with the Raven steps,” Caesar said. “The easiest way for us to stop the puzzle hunter would be to shut down the clue electronically, cancelling out any of the hosted files, QR codes, or other digital clues. Unfortunately, most of the remaining steps are physical, so that’s not a viable option. But don’t worry, we’ll still get our guy. To begin with, we’re monitoring all the major hacking chat rooms, boards, and groups where someone might be bragging about their progress to others or asking about specific systems. If they talk about Raven, we can identify them and intercept.”

  Members of the group nodded as others rolled office chairs over, apparently expecting this to take more than a few minutes.

  “When I solved the Morgan Library step myself, I remember thinking about how well-designed it was,” Caesar looked over to Martin, almost apologetically. “Most of the early puzzle steps could have been done by pretty much anyone. Hobbyists or thirteen-year-old script kiddies in their parent’s basements. But the physical stuff really upped the ante. The Bohemian Grove required technical knowledge but also stealth and stamina. The Morgan required something else: a level of polish and sophistication. A kid in a black hoodie with a laptop isn’t going to work his way into the Reading Room of this place, it’s just not going to happen.”

  “Sure,” Sean said from the crowd, “but what can we do from here in London, seeing as we’re a few thousand miles away?”

  “We already have a physical presence on the ground in New York. One of your agents has been assigned to this operation,” Caesar said, checking a note on his phone before continuing. “We’re just calling him Agent Blue. He’s heading to the Morgan this morning. But in addition to boots on the ground, there’s plenty we can do from here.” Caesar pointed back to the whiteboard to a section reading ‘#1: Video.’

  “We’ll start with video surveillance to monitor activity within the museum,” Caesar said. “We don’t have time to add our own cameras, so we’ll just have to hack into the museum’s security system. Sean, this should be easy for you. They have a relatively modern setup but they are a non-profit, which means they can’t afford good full-time staff to maintain and secure everything they want to. I was able to find an online admin tool that we can hopefully still access. Check their IP range for anything that matches any of the default network settings across major video camera device IDs, or other markers.”

  > > > > >

  The Kitano Hotel - NYC

  March 10th, 8:55AM

  Haylie pushed forward into a rush of wind, her hair flying straight behind her, as she stepped into the Kitano Hotel’s back alley exit. She felt the steel fire door slam clumsily shut behind her, hearing the hearty scrape of metal on metal.

  Hitching her backpack up on her shoulders, she slid her hands into her pockets. As her right hand found her new fake ID, she thumbed and flipped it, holding it for safe keeping. Twisting her new tweed skirt to what she thought was the right position, she made her way towards the gate. Her shopping trip last night had awarded her with some items that would help her fit in with the Morgan’s academic crowd, even if it meant a bit of discomfort this morning.

  She wrapped her scarf around her head, protecting her hair from the breeze, and adjusted her glasses. Her heels clicked as she made her way down the alley’s bumpy trail of asphalt. The smells of steam and rotting garbage mixed and twisted all around as she made her way up a set of stairs. The gate squealed shut behind her and finished with a satisfying bang, signaling her arrival on the sidewalk of East 37th Street.

  Just stick to the plan. Piece of cake.

  > > > > >

  Behind a dumpster with ‘Kitano Hotel’ stenciled in white spray paint, a bellboy leaned in off the brick and wrapped his head around the side wall for a better view. He watched as Haylie made her way through the gate. A standstill line of cabs highlighted her silhouette as she turned right, whipping around the corner.

  He tossed his cigarette at the nearest puddle, missing by a mile, and plucked his phone from his pocket. He typed out a text to a new number in his phone—the number of a man that had pulled him aside just that very morning.

  “Easiest hundred bucks I ever made, man,” he whispered to himself, hitting send on the text and pulling out another cigarette.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Morgan Library - NYC

  March 10th, 9:05AM

  The border of grass and foliage circling the museum gave a refreshing few seconds of coolness to the city air, a welcome change to the hot steam pouring from manholes and the exhaust from the surrounding gridlock.

  A single steel bench rested in front of the library’s entrance, providing a full view of the Morgan complex: the old residence perched above the corner on the left; the office and old library on the right; and a new, modern museum that bridged the two. Haylie’s pulse began to pound as she thought through her plan.

  It’s a public place. If anything starts happening that seems off, you bail. You run. Keep your head low when possible and away from the cameras.

  Checking the time on her phone, Haylie stood and paced across the cobblestones towards the shining glass entryway. Walking into the front entrance of the Morgan Library felt like entering a day spa; the doors opened to reveal a modern, bright entrance filled with tanned wood and multi-colored glass paneling in the main atrium. She could smell the scents of brunch from the cafe just down the hall where well-dressed Manhattanites sat, drinking bubbly orange juice and sipping really, really good coffee.

  Based on the maps she had studied online, Haylie knew the Reading Room was to the right and up the stairs, nestled at the end of its own dedicated hallway. She passed by the reception desk without giving the clerk a second look. Act like you know where you’re going. Hooking a sharp right, she climbed up the small, deserted stairwell.

  As she reached the top landing, Haylie saw two surveillance cameras: one pointing at the door, the other angled for a view of the hallway. She got underneath the hall camera and stretched up on her tiptoes to read the manufacturer’s stamp; they were made by HexMark.

  Excellent.

  Any regular visitor on hacking message boards knew that the HexMark online administrator tool had a laundry list of open vulnerabilities, all of which would play in her favor today.

  Under the lone hallway window, Haylie walked by a power outlet with a network plug-in beside it. Stopping and taking a knee on the cold marble floor, she retrieved a small, off-white device out of her bag and quickly plugged the two cords from the box into the power outlet and network jack.

  The device, which looked remarkably like a typical power brick, was a refined
version of what hackers call a “drop box.” As soon as it was powered up, the box would run an array of scripts to gain network access using a predefined collection of network exploit tactics. Once the device succeeded in breaking the network’s security, it would then simply call its owner and provide them with connection credentials to the system.

  Haylie knew she still had a few minutes before the Reading Room opened. The first tour of the library started at nine o’clock each morning, so she might still be able to sneak into the tour group. Even with the extensive research as she had done online, she couldn’t rule out the inside knowledge a museum tour guide could spill that might help her find what she came for.

  She stole a glance at her phone, checking the note where she had copied the next Raven clue:

  our secrets are our power.

  don’t Panic.

  find Brother Libra’s last meal.

  we’ll see you there.

  Here I am. And I’m coming for you, Brother Libra.

  She headed back downstairs, curving into the main hall and finding a tour group clustered together, working their way towards Morgan’s private study. Haylie disappeared into the middle of the huddle, leaning in close to hear every last detail.

  > > > > >

  Morgan Library - NYC

  March 10th, 9:12AM

  William Morgan wore freshly ironed khakis paired with a blue blazer and waited in the cramped office space nestled into a corner of the third floor. William Morgan wasn’t really his name, but it was today.

  His real name was Jack Long, and inside The Project, he was known only as Agent Blue. The naming schemes had been confusing to him at first, but now after a few months of doing these types of ops, he could try on a new name and identity like a jacket in a dressing room; on and off with ease.

  A slight mist of sweat glistened off his forehead, remnants from this morning’s jog across Central Park. Checking his phone, he sat back and tried his best to relax.

  William Morgan. William Morgan. Hi, my name is William Morgan.

  He must have repeated today’s false name a hundred times in his head, forcing it into the important places where he might need it today. Rubbing his eyes, he clutched his coffee cup, tired from a full night of research.

  He had received the call detailing his assignment around ten o’clock last night, and spent the rest of the evening studying up on Raven 2309 and the details of this morning’s operation, all in addition to learning the entire Morgan family history. He was tired but, hey, it wasn’t everyday that he got the chance to act like American royalty, even if he was just pretending to be a distant, less-successful cousin of J.P. Morgan.

  The Director burst in, ending a call on his phone and grinning from ear to ear. “William? Or is is Will? Great to meet you.” The Director shook his hand vigorously, hovering over him with enthusiasm. “You know, we’ve had the occasion to meet so many different members of the family over the years, but this is the first time you’ve made it in.”

  “Yes, it’s been on my list without a doubt. But with school and all, you know how it is; the time just flies by,” William said.

  “Well, I’d love to give you a tour of the residence, show you some of the rooms that we’ve preserved from their original state. I’m sure you’ll find them fascinating,” the Director said, beaming.

  William smiled and checked his watch. “I’d love to do that at some point, but right now I’d really like to get started over in the Reading Room. I know it’s due to open at ten and I’d like to get situated before things get too busy.” He stood, buttoning his jacket. “The thing is—I’d love to start being useful, if that’s all right with you.”

  A slow, knowing grin grew across the Director’s face as he pointed towards William. “You! You’ve got your family’s blood all right. Right to business. Let me get you over to the Reading Room and I’ll introduce you to our Head Librarian.”

  The Director walked William out the door. “Right to business today, then.”

  > > > > >

  Brux Software HQ - NYC

  March 10th, 9:14AM

  Walter studied the crowd, taking in the faces of each board member around the table, all giving his brother their full attention. Behind him, Benjamin stood at the head of the table, presenting the projected earnings for the quarter.

  Folding his arms across his chest, Walter felt a buzz in his right breast jacket pocket. It was the phone he had purchased at one of those cheap, brightly-lit Times Square electronics vendors that preyed on tourists. Only one person had the number, and if they were texting, it meant Haylie was on the move.

  Walter snuck a quick check of the time.

  She just left the hotel. It’s too early for her to be on the move. Something’s going on.

  > > > > >

  Titanhurst - London

  March 10th, 2:15PM

  “Ok, let’s talk about the guest list,” Caesar said. “The Morgan only allows a few people each day into the private Reading Room where they are welcome to check out anything from the archives. All materials must be reviewed under strict supervision for security reasons; that means no laptops, phones, cameras … not even pens or pencils are allowed in.”

  Caesar paced in front of the whiteboard. “These appointments are like gold to local academics. If the museum even allows you on the list, it’s not uncommon to wait for more than a year for your scheduled appointment. And God help you if you forget to show up.”

  A woman sitting towards the front of the group spoke up. “When you were solving this step, did you try to break into the network and add your name to the list? That seems like the easiest way in.”

  “Sure, that’s the first thing I tried. But didn’t have any luck,” Caesar said. “While many of their systems are online, the appointment system is not. Appointments are written on a clipboard inside the Reading Room. It hangs on the wall next to the desk behind the security door. It can’t be changed over the network.”

  “So how did you end up getting in?” Sean asked. “How did you get an appointment?”

  “I didn’t,” Caesar replied. “I went up to the Reading Room, pretending to be in the wrong place. The clerk let me in, and I started asking a bunch of questions about the inspection certificate on the elevators. She ran off to find the Head Librarian, and I was able to take a picture of the list on the board.”

  “So you didn’t actually go into the Reading Room?” the woman in the front row asked.

  “No. I researched the names on the list and called two of them—students at Columbia. I asked them to add the Zodiac materials to their own research during their appointments, threw a little cash at them.” Caesar pulled over a desk chair and sat down. “One of them said ‘no thanks,’ but the other one agreed.”

  Sean laughed. “You got in without hacking a damn thing.”

  “Social engineering counts,” Caesar replied. “Whatever gets you in the door counts. But we’ll need to take that option away for our puzzle hunter. Agent Blue’s first objective is to get his hands on that list, call the appointments one by one, and ask if they’ve been contacted. Scare anyone from helping some random person that comes knocking.”

  Caesar walked over to the video screens, now displaying a live feed of the library’s interior. Tourists had begun to trickle in, roaming around inside the front entrance. “Whoever this guy is, we’ll need to think two steps ahead.”

  > > > > >

  Morgan Library - NYC

  March 10th, 9:20AM

  “In 1924, a great gift was given to the city and people of New York.” The tour guide recited her words with a familiar tone, as if she had said them a thousand times before. “The financier J.P. Morgan, Jr. opened his father’s entire home, library and study—as well as all items from the vast collections housed within them—to the public. Our journey today will take you into the history of iconic buildings, and J.P. Morgan’s important legacy.”

  Entering Morgan’s private study, the tour strolled into a strangely intim
ate setting. The room featured blood-red walls, a 16th-Century wooden ceiling, and a sitting area in front of an imposing fireplace. Across the room sat Morgan’s original desk and a sturdy walk-in safe tunneled into the corner wall. Haylie ran her fingers across the thick steel bars that crisscrossed the back of the safe’s door, peeking around the corner and into its belly. The safe no longer held secrets, just books and artifacts now on public display. Boring.

  The tour guide threw out well-rehearsed facts and figures as she paced a familiar path, strolling backwards with confidence. It was in this room that during the Panic of 1907, Morgan had invited top bankers from around the city into his home, she explained. He told the men that they must find a way to save the U.S. economy that very night, even taking the extra step of locking the exterior doors and hiding the key. The bankers worked into the depth of the night to iron out their differences, emerging the next morning with a plan to save the U.S. financial system.

  “Something fun to search for,” the tour guide said with a smile, “are the exquisite details of the building. Mr. Morgan was a bit of an astrology buff, and has incorporated many elements of the Zodiac into the architecture.” She paused, laughing mischievously. “He is, in fact, responsible for that famous quote: ‘Millionaires don’t use astrology, but billionaires do.’”