Armchair Safari (A Cybercrime Technothriller)

by Jonathan Paul Isaacs

  33

  Bangor’s apothecary was larger than Silverton’s, with a high ceiling and windows near the roofline that let in the rays of the strong coastal sun. The presence of windows at all was unusual given that light was bad for the longevity of certain potions and formularies. But the ground floor was still quite dim, crowded with the usual dusty potion bottles packed in straw-filled crates. She restocked her supply of Healing and Invisibility potions before exiting back onto Conch Street. The wind was blowing hard today and she thought of sailing on the open water with Boris and the others. She was really starting to miss them and couldn’t wait to meet them reborn back in Silverton.

  Haas was waiting at a café across the street and stood up as she approached. “We’ve got to leave right now.”

  Megan stiffened. “Why?”

  “We’re being followed again.”

  “By whom?” Megan asked absent-mindedly. “The harbor guards?”

  Haas looked at her like she had lost her mind. “No, our friends from the other place. The jungle.”

  “What? How?”

  “I don’t know how they got so close behind us so quickly. But they have.”

  “Are they here in the city? Where are they?” Megan started to panic. Her stomach started to knot as she backed against the wall.

  “Just come on.”

  Haas grabbed her by the elbow and led her down a number of alleys and side streets. Megan kept glancing fearfully over her shoulder, hoping that their pursuers were not close, feeling disoriented from the maze of whitewashed walls and fences. They walked in silence for several minutes before Haas spoke again.

  “The important thing,” the ranger whispered, “is to keep moving. Always stay a step ahead. Neither you nor I have any direct control over what our enemy does or how they do it. So, we focus on what we can control.”

  “Keep the initiative,” Megan repeated.

  “That’s right.” Haas regarded her strangely. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

  The pair hiked along the hilly streets until they reached the edge of the city. Once there, a quick duck through the gate in the city walls and the natural beauty of the countryside surrounded them. Soon a squat, wide stable came into view. Haas spoke with a young groom before the boy disappeared into the building. A minute later, he appeared with two very familiar-looking horses.

  “Wimberly!” Megan ran to her horse and threw her arms around her neck. It had been so long since she had seen her that she almost wanted to cry. How important the little things seemed now in making their journey almost complete. She couldn’t help but smile the entire time she was saddling up her horse as Haas paid the groom. Soon they were underway.

  And then they rode.

  Days went by. There was no sign of hot pursuit—at least, not yet. Megan was nervous just the same. Haas would occasionally backtrack to check what was behind them but each time came back without a sighting of the enemy. Eventually they emerged from a deep valley and Megan could see the Haagenan Mountains far in the distance—far in the distance. There was a long way to go yet. Megan was thoroughly exhausted by the time they made camp in a dense thicket off the path they were following. She practically collapsed on the ground as the sun set and plunged them into darkness.

  “Do you think we’ll make it?” Megan asked Haas after they had eaten.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Escape our pursuers. Or do you think we’ll be caught?”

  Haas’s eyes sparkled in the firelight. “We haven’t been caught yet, have we?”

  “No. But you’re so sure they’re tracking us. How are they doing it? Across the ocean, in the streets of Bangor, in the middle of nowhere like we are now. People can’t do that—it’s not normal. An enemy that can… well, it’s kind of terrifying.” Megan suddenly felt a dose of skepticism welling up inside her. “If they’re really there.”

  The ranger thought several moments before replying. “There are a lot of options to a determined enemy, Megan. Maybe they are using scrying magic. Then again, simple tracking can be effective as well, and there are adventurers who are very good at it. All I know is that someone is definitely behind us and they’re matching our pace.”

  “We just need to make it to the Haagenan, then,” Megan said. “Hard ground that doesn’t leave footprints. No trees or brush with branches to break. We both know how to evade in that landscape, don’t we?”

  “Right,” Haas replied, almost absently.

  Megan started reflecting on her adventuring home. “The Haagenan is all I’ve ever known. I’ve missed it. But you know, when all this is over, I think I might relocate back to Bangor—just for a change. That city seems like it needs some mischief.”

  “And you’re the one to cause it, eh?”

  “Yep. My specialty. I’m very good at liberating valuables from the tyranny of other adventurers.”

  Haas snorted.

  Megan smiled. It was rare that she got any sort of reaction out of the stoic ranger. “Yep. Bangor needs me. All we need to do is just get done with this little quest first. We’ll keep pushing hard, pop into Silverton, and be done with it all.”

  “Why would we go to Silverton?” Haas asked distantly.

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Because that’s our rendezvous. That’s where we’re supposed to meet up with Boris and everyone who had to respawn.”

  Haas stared at her silently, the shadows from the campfire dancing on his face.

  “Haas? You’re not saying anything.”

  The ranger didn’t seem to blink. The pale blue of his irises seemed to bore into her, making it awkward to keep eye contact.

  “Are you still there?” Megan asked finally. “You’re not on a bathroom break or anything, are you?”

  “We’re not going to Silverton.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think my statement was clear,” Haas replied.

  Megan shifted uncomfortably. Something was wrong here. The rules of their pact were very specific.

  “Then how do we rendezvous with the others? Kalam, Boris, everyone?”

  “We don’t.”

  “But what about their money?”

  Haas didn’t answer.

  The hair on the back of Megan’s neck bristled.

  “Haas, this isn’t funny at all,” she protested, still denying what her brain was now telling her.

  “There’s no joke being made, Megan.”

  Megan started fidgeting madly. This had to be some kind of misunderstanding. But when the awkward silence between kept extending, she forced herself to meet his eyes, that intense gaze that made everyone uncomfortable. She refused to look away so that she could be sure.

  And it was then, without a doubt, that she knew.

  “You’re a bastard,” she said accusatorially. “You’re going to betray our friends.”

  Haas shrugged. “They’re dead.”

  “That doesn’t matter, Haas,” Megan scolded. She had to correct this. “You remember the pact. Anyone who dies after the treasure was captured still gets their share, just a little less. That is your obligation to the other members of this expedition.”

  “As far as I am concerned, my obligation ended when they died.”

  “No. That’s wrong.”

  Haas shook his head as if to say, you don’t get it.

  Megan bristled as the anger welled up inside her. How dare he? He wouldn’t have gotten any money if they hadn’t worked together. But the ranger didn’t seem to care.

  “Boris and the others will hunt you down and kill you,” Megan threatened. “If these gangsters don’t get you first, that is.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s very arrogant of you.”

  “Is it?” Haas replied lazily. “What makes you think I’ll even come back to Safari once I’ve cashed out?”

  Megan understood. It was a simple and powerful way to avoid the consequences. Anyone who removed a million dollars from the game could surely move on
and not worry about adventuring ever again. How could there be repercussions if there was no target?

  This was wrong—so terribly, terribly wrong.

  That left Megan only one possible choice. She was the one carrying the treasure. She wasn’t going to allow this.

  She checked to make sure the magical cloth of the Portable Hole was secure inside her leather vest. The ranger was on the other side of the campfire. He was a skilled and dangerous tracker, but it was night, and Megan was a thief. All she needed was a head start. She would haul butt to Silverton first, find the others, and get them to help her.

  The sky was quite dark now. Megan the Student’s fingers closed around her mouse.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Haas said nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t advise it.”

  “Advise what?” Megan replied innocently.

  The ranger tilted his head in amusement. “Running.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but her stomach was in knots.

  “That’s a nice locket, isn’t it?” Haas continued. “The one I gave you from the brigands?”

  Megan ran her fingers along the fine chain around her neck, thinking back to when Haas had rescued her from Benz and his companions. He had pulled it from one of the dead bandits.

  Hadn’t he?

  “You’re probably starting to suspect that maybe that locket didn’t come from those fools, aren’t you? You’d be right. You’re wearing what’s called a Choker Chain. If you go more than five hundred yards away from me, it will constrict your neck down to one-tenth of its normal size. You will be very dead.”

  The degree of premeditation was shocking. If Haas had such a sinister insurance policy for Megan, what things had he planted on each of the others? Had he established something to kill all of them after they had recovered the money? Or perhaps his betrayal was even more pointed. Megan thought back to the fight in the jungle, with Haas fighting side-by-side against the Kenzen with Boris and Kalam, and a terrible, irrevocable question settled into her head.

  “Haas ...” Megan began, fighting to keep her voice from quivering. “I’ve seen you fight hand-to-hand. You’re very good, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you hold back when we were attacked on the lost continent? Did you throw the fight so that you could keep everything to yourself?”

  Haas did not answer. He just stared at her, like he did.

  “I asked you a question.” Bile was rising up into Megan’s mouth.

  Haas looked away into the darkness.

  Oh, God.

  The battle had been so desperate back in the jungle. She had watched while Haas had acted the hero, keeping a cool head and formulating their last-minute resistance amongst the piles of gold. But had that really been a sound defensive position? Or had it been meant for something else, something to channel the slaughter? Had the ranger taken advantage of the situation as a way to dispatch his allies and take possession of the treasure? Had he let them all die, let Boris die, on purpose when he could have stopped it all?

  “You let my friends die,” Megan accused in a low voice.

  No answer.

  “You let my friends die!” Megan shouted. God damn him!

  Still, no answer.

  “How could you do this, Haas?” Tears were welling up. “How could you?”

  The ranger finally looked back at her, still as nonchalant as ever.

  “Hutto,” he said.

  “What the—what?” Megan hissed. She didn’t understand.

  “My name... is Hutto.”

  Megan stared at the ranger. He wasn’t making sense. Why was he talking about...

  Oh... no...

  All at once, a flood of comprehension hit her.

  He had found her.

  Megan screamed.

  34

  Bucharest, Romania.

  “So that’s the idea,” Krystian said aloud as he typed into the chat window. “I’m going to need your help to do it all.”

  The private chat application he used between himself, DarkZeus, and Pr1mal was still. Krystian wasn’t sure if he had explained enough since he was trying to keep it at a high level, but he was too tired to care. Anton had been riding him for days now to put the pieces together. It was clear to Krystian that if there was to be any chance of actually making this insane attempt at bank robbery successful, he was going to need to pull out all the stops. That meant assistants.

  Sounds delicate, replied DarkZeus.

  No, said Pr1mal, it sounds major. I’m in!

  “I’m worried about it,” said Krystian. “This is big shit. We’ve got to be incredibly careful, and again, you can’t tell anybody outside of us three.”

  Pr1mal: Don’t worry about that. So... assuming we actually can hack into a bank, we need someplace to transfer the money to. How many receiving accounts do we need to set up?

  “What do you mean?” typed Krystian. “There will be just one receiving account. If we’re going to move millions of dollars, it will be best to get it out as fast the hell as possible. No need to complicate things by juggling different account numbers.”

  Wouldn’t it be harder to trace?

  “It’ll be real fucking easy to trace if we get caught because it’s too complicated, won’t it, now?”

  The chat room was silent.

  “Look... sorry.” Krystian didn’t type sorry, though he said it aloud. “Anton seems to know all about this stuff. About laundering and hiding money. He used to be with the KGB. He says he’s retired, that he just wants to run the local circuit here in town, but it’s kind of scary if you look at the crew that he still has with him. We just have to help him with the technology to do it.”

  Major, typed Pr1mal again.

  “He didn’t tell me a lot, but what he did share was this. Big wire transfers between banks aren’t like the little transactions like you or I might make. He said there was something called... shit, where did I write it? Real Time Gross Settlement, which means that transactions are settled as soon as they are processed. So, in other words, once the money’s gone from the bank, it’s gone. Anton said that banks do this with big transactions by themselves as they occur instead of netting out all the little transactions at the end of the day. He says it’s safer for them. I don’t understand that part, since it helps us, but that’s what he said.”

  Pr1mal: I’m just asking, but if we’re going to be moving money and it’s impossible to get back... would it be bad to set up a side account and move just a little extra into it? For us? For our trouble?

  Krystian sighed. “We won’t get the chance. Anton is going to handle that part.”

  Too bad.

  Well, what does he need us for, exactly, then? asked DarkZeus.

  “We need to help him get access to the bank’s systems.” Krystian explained how hacking via the Internet was likely to be too difficult, if the bank had any reasonable security countermeasures. That meant a plant, an insider, who would have to initiate the transfer.

  So, said DarkZeus, we’re talking about a little social hacking, overcoming physical security, stuff like that.

  “Yes.”

  What bank do they use?

  “I don’t know. That’s the first thing we probably need to find out.”

  So there are two layers of digging, then, said Pr1mal.

  More stillness in the chat room.

  Pr1mal: How about a spear-phish? Steal someone’s identity and use it to access the Netertainment network. Then look around for references to who their bank is.

  “You have an idea?” Krystian asked.

  What you have to do is impersonate something they’re expecting, said Pr1mal. Say you find a business analyst at the company. In their LinkedIn page they show where they went to business school. You can tailor an email to look like it came from that business school and embed a link for them to follow for a news update—or whatever. They click on the link, only it doesn’t take them directly to the school. You slip in so
me code along the way before you redirect them.

  “Oh, I get it,” said Krystian. “So you aren’t trying to trick them into going to a fake webpage where they give their login credentials. Rather, by clicking the link, they’re authorizing you to download content onto their machine...”

  ... which happens to include a little app that will install itself onto that person’s PC and let us into Netertainment. Even better, after we do that, they’re none the wiser, because we’ve actually passed the person on to a legitimate university website.

  DarkZeus interrupted. I don’t think that will work.

  Pr1mal: Why?

  DarkZeus: First of all, Netertainment has good security. Right? As much as we love Safari, we’ve all tried on occasion to sneak in that way before, for kicks, and I don’t think anything we send is even going to get through to the recipients. Second, what you just described can take time. Months. Most people delete that crap. It’s playing the odds that if you hit enough people, hit them frequently enough, over enough time, that you get lucky. And it doesn’t sound like this Anton guy says we have time.

  Pr1mal: I’m telling you, it will work!

  No, it won’t.

  Will!

  DarkZeus: Do you live in fucking Nigeria? Do you spend your day trying to convince someone their long-lost great uncle died?

  There was a long pause.

  Pr1mal: Fuck you.

  “Okay... stop,” typed Krystian. “That doesn’t help. DarkZeus... do you have any better ideas?”

  Yes. Just call someone who works there.

  Krystian was dumbfounded.

  “What? Call a person? As in, on the telephone?”

  Yes.

  “And say, what, exactly?”

  Something that gets them to spill what bank they use.

  Krystian stared at the computer screen.

  It was a ridiculously simple, potentially wonderful idea. No need to write code, circumventing tight network security at this company that he tremendously admired for creating the online game that he loved. No wasted days or weeks while they tried chasing down numerous leads and dead ends. Instead, they could just rely on some good old-fashioned trickery.