“Good game.” I rotated my neck and shoulders. “Now I’m tired.”
Anson and Truman both shook my hand. “You were good, Lexi. Better than good. I game for a living, so I am not overstating the fact that you have skills.”
“Some skill, but a lot of luck, too. If Barnaby hadn’t discovered the Humpbacked Hag in the Ghoulish Garden on Level Seven, she would have finished me off. Luck has to be considered a major factor here.”
“Okay, considered. But you’re still damn good. On that note, I’m going to bed. I should have stayed there when I took a quick nap between Levels Six and Seven.” He gave me a salute and disappeared up the marble staircase.
Truman rubbed his eyes. “We’re lucky we don’t have to film until noon. Six hours will help.”
I glanced at my watch. “Crap. I have to be at work at nine.”
“I feel your pain.”
I wasn’t sure he did, especially since jet lag had started to kick in, but I didn’t say anything. Truman and I got back into the car and headed back to the hotel.
We passed through the gatehouse and Truman asked, “So, how do you like Hollywood so far, Lexi?”
I shrugged. “It’s hard to have a good feeling after one day. But my initial impressions are that it’s a bit strange. I’m having a hard time getting past the fact that everyone here seems to have abnormally white teeth.”
He laughed. “Agreed.”
I blew out a breath. “Hey, Truman, can I ask you something? Why did you do this, really? Put yourself out there, I mean. You dared to come on this show, in front of millions of people, just to figure out how to have a relationship. Is having a relationship really worth all that?”
He stopped at a red light and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I guess I believe there are benefits to being loved by someone else no matter what. So, I put myself out there. No pain, no gain, right?”
I was still thinking about his words when he dropped me off.
I took the elevator to my room and swiped my key card in the door. I dropped my purse on the suitcase stand by the dresser and then stopped cold.
My laptop was open and on. A series of pictures of me walking about the studio, in the studio parking lot, and standing in the hotel lobby, were flashing across the monitor in a screen saver mode.
For a moment I couldn’t breathe. Someone had been in my room and messed with my computer.
Someone was stalking me.
Chapter Ten
I whirled around, pressing my back against the wall and scanning the room.
It was empty, but the bathroom door was slightly closed. I inched toward my purse, grabbed my stun gun, and pressed it on. Taking comfort in the quiet hum, I took a silent step toward the bathroom door.
I kicked the door open, but the room was empty. I stepped inside and, with images of Psycho playing in my head, ripped back the shower curtain. The tub was empty too. I let out a huge breath, turned off the stun gun and set it on the counter, then perched on the toilet lid trying to catch my breath.
After a moment, I stood and approached my laptop again. I watched as pictures of me entering the hotel, waiting at the elevator in the lobby, lying on my bed in the hotel room, and walking down the corridor at the studio all flashed across the screen.
Anger began to replace the fear.
I reached out to press a key on the keyboard when my phone chirped. I jumped a good half foot in the air and then yanked my phone from my purse.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lexi.”
“Elvis? Is that you?”
“Yeah. You sound funny. Are you okay?”
I pressed a hand to my chest. It was shaking. “I’m not sure.”
Silence. “Where are you?”
“Los Angeles. Hollywood to be exact. I’m working a case for X-Corp.”
“Hollywood? That’s a three-hour difference. I’m sorry I woke you. I assumed you were headed into work.”
“It’s okay and you didn’t wake me. I was already awake.”
He paused. “I see. So, what are you doing out there?”
Just hearing his voice had a calming effect on me. I thought about telling him about the photos, but I didn’t know what they meant just yet. I needed to check it out before I alarmed anyone.
“X-Corp caught a case. The suits asked for me specifically, I guess.”
“I’m not surprised. You working it alone?”
“So far. I just got in yesterday.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to shut down a cracker who is manipulating votes on a reality television show.”
“Sounds prime.”
“I don’t like Hollywood much.”
“Well, I’m not much for television myself. But it sounds like it should be a pretty quick turnaround.”
The pictures of me kept flashing across my monitor. I turned away. “I sincerely hope so.”
He cleared his voice. “Well, the reason I called is that I noticed some unusual activity on your account last night.”
Elvis and Xavier had lent me space on their secure server. It was better than any commercial server on the planet and tighter than Fort Knox, the NSA and the CIA put together. Not surprising, given the twins had created or worked on all of those networks at one time or the other.
I pulled out the desk chair and sat down. I had an upset stomach from all the late-night pizza. “What kind of activity?”
“Sniffing. Someone was probing, checking out the system. They set off the alarms immediately and didn’t get anywhere. More interesting, they came back with a different method and a different address, but it was them.”
“You trace them?”
“I did. It was a bogus account in Bogota, Colombia.”
I was silent.
“Lexi? Any reason someone would be checking you out like that?”
I closed my eyes. My head thumped as a headache roared to life. “I’m not sure. It might have to do with the case I just caught. I haven’t had a good look at the situation yet. I don’t know exactly what I’m up against.”
“Well, find out and call me back. I’ll keep an eye on things at this end.”
“Will do. Thanks for letting me know, Elvis.”
“Anytime. Lexi, are you sure you’re okay?”
I held out my hand. It no longer shook. “I’m okay.”
He hesitated for a moment and then he said, “Take care of yourself. Promise?”
“Promise.”
I hung up the phone. I turned the chair to face my laptop and pressed a key. The pictures of me disappeared.
It took me seven minutes to figure out what had happened. At some point during the day, someone had planted a password-sniffing program on my laptop called Wickercapp. They had used it to perform ARP-poisoning and swipe the security information, including the passwords, right off my laptop. Whoever did that would likely be able to breach the hotel network and steal the key code to my room.
My virtual and physical habitats had both been compromised. I was seriously pissed.
I thought back on my day. I’d left my laptop vulnerable in the IT room. It never occurred to me that it wouldn’t be safe there. Unfortunately, it had only routine security software on it since it was a company laptop and not my personal one. Still whoever had hacked it was both skilled and resourceful to get past the initial security level. I wouldn’t be so sloppy next time.
Who had done this? It had to be someone who had access to the IT room, which meant basically every studio employee and the contestants. But the fact that someone had dared to follow me to my hotel and take photos of me was truly disturbing.
Resolutely, I set aside the creepy stalker photos of myself for inspection at a later point. I then wiped Wickercapp c
lean, ran several diagnostic programs and installed more stringent security measures. After everything was installed, I initiated several more tests. Finally satisfied all was well and the laptop was virtually impenetrable, I took a breath and opened the folder with the pictures of me.
The first one was of me in the hotel lobby. I looked at it carefully, noticing the details and trying to determine when it might have been taken.
I assessed and then murmured, “Coming home from the studio tonight after the show.”
The next one was one of me sitting in the IT room before the voting started. Another one caught me walking down the studio corridor and could have been at any point during the day. There were two others of me coming out of the restroom and another one of me entering the hotel lobby.
I closed my eyes trying to think, to recall who at the studio might have had pointed a camera at me. It was freaking impossible. The studio was filled with cameras. Anyone could have taken these photos from any spot in the studio.
The studio photos were bad enough, but the ones in the hotel were worse. Someone had actually followed me to where I was temporarily living, stalked me, and taken pictures without my permission. I hadn’t paid attention to who was around me in the hotel, but I would now.
I’d been violated, but I wasn’t going to play the victim.
I wasn’t sleepy anymore. Using the hotel room coffee pot, I made myself some coffee while I took a shower and changed my clothes. Sipping the coffee, I sat at my laptop and got to work.
Someone didn’t like the fact that I’d come and had sent a clear message to let me know that. Was it the hacker who was disrupting the show by manipulating the votes? Or was it someone on the staff who was unhappy that an outsider had been brought in to solve a problem?
Either way, it didn’t matter. I had to approach this methodically.
The first order of business was to make a list of everyone I knew so far that was involved with the show. That meant all the contestants, IT staff, stage crew and administrators I’d met so far. I’d get a complete list from Kyle later, but it wouldn’t hurt to get a head start on the process. I’d have to ask Tony for a list of any recently fired employees or anyone that may have had a grudge against the studio.
As it stood, all I needed were names to get to work. I started with the IT staff, Kyle in particular. No better place than to start at the top. It took me under fifteen minutes to get a solid dossier of him and his life. One hour later, I had a clear picture of the entire IT staff. All of the tech staff—with the exception of Kyle—were California born and bred. All had gone to college at USC or UCLA. Kyle was an east coast kid, born in Virginia and studied at Virginia Tech. SWM was the first real job for the entire staff. No one had a record or any official blips for cracking or hacking. I didn’t see any red flags here.
I moved to the contestants next, reading their bios from the show website and using that as a springboard to search deeper on each of them. Here I found some blips on a few of the contestants’ records for hacking and mischief. Nothing too serious, but interesting all the same.
After that, I started going through the considerable studio roster of employees. I began to get into a rhythm with my brain processing and storing information as fast as my fingers could tap the keyboard.
Data in. Data out.
Data filed. Data organized.
A technical waltz I knew well and loved. I was in my element.
Chirp.
Chirp.
Distracted, I tried to bring my focus back to the hotel room. I blinked, glancing over at my phone. It was vibrating on the desk. I picked it up and saw the time. Nine o’clock. Really?
I punched the button. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me, Tony. I’m downstairs when you are ready.”
“Okay. I’m on my way.”
I wrapped up my search, shut down my laptop and grabbed my purse. Tony had brought coffee and bagels. I ate one bagel on the way into the studio as I requested the data on former employees.
“Tony, I’m going to need everything you’ve got, especially on former tech employees, especially if any of them were fired or faced disciplinary action.”
He nodded. “Sure. I’ll bring it over as soon as it is compiled.”
We parted ways at the IT room. Kyle and the rest of the staff were already hard at work.
Kyle came over to greet me as I set up my laptop. “Hey, Lexi. How’d you sleep?”
“Ah, not much. Any news from our cracker after last night’s show?”
Kyle shook his head. “He’s quiet, but I’m keeping an eye out for any appearance.”
He’d already made an appearance to me, but I didn’t say anything to Kyle about it yet. Until I felt confident in who I could trust, I would hold my cards close to my chest, which basically meant keeping quiet about the stalker for the time being.
I leaned back in my swivel chair and looked up at him. “Tell me something, Kyle. Why doesn’t Cartwright just manipulate the votes how he wants or, by extension, however Lucy wants? What’s the big deal? There is no oversight committee and no one has to vouch for the legitimacy of the process. The whole thing is a royal farce anyway.”
Kyle shrugged. “That might have worked before the cracker became emotionally involved. Now, if we don’t display the votes the way he manipulated them, he’s threatened to do something worse. Cartwright has no idea what that means in the scope of things, which is why he hired you.”
I blew out a breath. “Okay. Then we’re stuck. Now, another question. Who has access to the IT room?”
“Access? Why, any studio employee can come here. We don’t lock the door except at night.”
“Do the contestants ever come in here?”
“More often than you might think. Several of them are tech heads and just like to hang here and gab.”
“Well, until we catch this hacker, I recommend a coded door and no access to anyone who doesn’t have a strict reason for being here.”
He looked at me for a long moment and then nodded. “Okay, consider it done.”
“Good. Now give me some time to get familiar with the setup.”
He went back to his office while I surfed around, getting a better view of the system and the security and technical layout. After that, I waded through the mounds of data Kyle had captured from the previous vote manipulations. After the initial review, it confirmed my first conclusion that the hacker was smart and capable. It didn’t matter. I’d catch him. He’d slip up at some point and he’d be mine.
While I was attempting to trace the origin of the manifesto emails sent to Lucy and Kyle, Tony stopped by and dropped a file on my desk.
“Here’s the list of former employees and contact information.” He stared at me. “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. Did you sleep at all?”
“Not exactly.”
“Why? Isn’t the hotel comfortable?”
“It’s, ah, fine. Thanks, Tony. I’m good.”
“Well, I’ll bring you some lunch.”
I wasn’t really hungry, but I decided not to argue. I stretched and walked over to see what Melinda was up to. I looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been trying for several days to trace the origins of the manifesto email with no luck. It’s led me to a dead end in South Africa.”
“He’s good, so it’s likely to be a dummy account anyway. But shoot what you’ve found my way and I’ll see if I can turn up something.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I glanced across the room and saw Carlos and Noah arguing about something. I held up my hands in a time-out signal as I strolled over.
“What’s the problem, guys?”
Carlos exhaled. “I’ve spent all morning trying to figure out some pattern for the bad votes, but I’m gettin
g nowhere. The method was random, I’m telling you.”
“No way,” Noah said. “There has to be a method to the madness. Otherwise, he couldn’t be sure it would work.”
“Well, if he had a damn master plan, I can’t find it.”
“Because you’re not looking hard enough.”
“Don’t tell me how hard I’m looking.”
Time for me to step in. “Okay. Take it easy. I’ve only been working on the case a few hours, but I can already tell our cracker is skilled. With that in mind, I agree with Noah. There’s likely a method. But he’s good, so it’s not going to be easy to spot. You’re going to have to think outside the box, Carlos. I’ll help you out and see what I can find. Just keep at it, okay?”
“Like I have a choice.” He stomped back to his desk.
Noah rubbed his eyes. “We’re all tired.”
“I know. Look, I’m going to need your help with a file.”
“Sure, girl boss. What do you need?”
I retrieved the file Tony had given me from my desk and passed it off to him. “See if you can link any of these former employees’ emails to anything in our system. I’m not leaning toward a former disgruntled employee, but I’ve got to rule it out.”
Noah grimaced. “Oh, man. I get the shit work?”
“Sorry. Someone has to slog through it.”
“Well, I sure drew the short straw. And here I was pitying Carlos.”
“Suck it up.”
“Looks like I don’t have a choice either. Okay, I’m on it.”
Tony brought me a sandwich while I was doing a careful examination of the studio firewalls. I couldn’t find a single bleep, mark or thread where the cracker had left a signature.
“What’s happening?” Tony handed me the sandwich and looked over my shoulder.
“I don’t like where this is going.”
No Biz Like Showbiz Page 8
