Tracker Hacker

by Jeff Adams

  Tracker Hacker

  By Jeff Adams

  High school student. Hockey player. Computer whiz kid. Covert agent?

  At sixteen Theo Reese is the youngest agent for Tactical Operational Support. His way with computers makes him invaluable. He designs new gadgets, helps agents (including his parents) in the field, and works to keep the TOS network safe. But when a hacker breaches the system TOS uses to track agents, Theo is put to the test like never before.

  Thrust from behind the safety of his desk, Theo must go into the field to put a stop to the hack. He’s scared but resolved because one of the missing agents is his father. And just to make it more interesting, he has to keep everything a secret from his boyfriend and teammates.

  Can Theo get the job done, save his dad, and make things good with his boyfriend?

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  About the Author

  By Jeff Adams

  Visit Harmony Ink Press

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  CODENAME: WINGER was born at GayRomLit in Chicago. My husband, Will Knauss, and I were talking with fellow authors Z.A. Maxfield and Clare London about writing careers. As we talked, I started to hatch the idea for the character that would become Theo. Another element from Chicago—someone had a Kim Possible ringtone on their phone. I never found out who that was, but my love of that teenage heroine played a role in Theo’s creation. My thanks to Will, Zam, Clare, and the unknown ringtone owner for sparking my imagination.

  I had a lot of fun writing Theo, and there are some key people to thank for helping me get this book right. Chris Doran, Aaron Hubble, Elvis Murks, and Brian Walton, aka the members of my online writing group, saw early chapters and ultimately read the beta version. Michael Spires is also a trusted and valued reader. Each of them provided great feedback and helped make Theo’s first adventure better.

  You wouldn’t be holding this now if it wasn’t for the amazing team at Harmony Ink Press. Anne Regan and Poppy Dennison, thanks so much for believing in the pitch I made. Major thanks and hugs to the editors too. Dawn, it’s been a pleasure working with you. Laura and Vicky, your edits were educational and helped whip this book into shape. Aaron Anderson is responsible for the cool, mysterious cover design, so a huge thanks to him, along with Janet and Paul from the Harmony Ink art department, for that.

  And thank you for picking up this book. I hope you enjoy this first installment in the Codename: Winger series. There’s more to come—Theo has a lot to do! I’d love to hear what you think of this story, so feel free to drop me an email at jeff@jeffadamswrites.com to let me know.

  Prologue

  I GUESS most people probably think their life isn’t much different from their friends’, and it’s probably not. But mine very much is.

  My name’s Theo, and I’m a sixteen-year-old junior at McKinley High, where I’m a damn good, high-scoring winger for Tigers hockey.

  I suck at science and literature, but I can do anything with a computer. I’ve been taking afternoon classes at MIT since last year.

  Eddie’s my awesome boyfriend. He’s a science nerd who makes me swoon. All he has to do is look at me over the top of his geeky black glasses and I’ll pretty much do whatever he wants. It was murder having him as my chemistry tutor last year, because all I wanted to do was make out with his cuteness.

  Here’s where my life gets weird.

  Five years ago I used my mad computer skills to figure out why my parents often left for long periods of time.

  I wanted to know why they weren’t like other parents.

  Usually if one parent’s gone, the other is around. Not so for me. They traveled together a lot, leaving me at home with Uncle John.

  When I asked what they did for work, all they said was that they helped people for an international relief agency. I told them I was doing a report for school. They answered all my questions. But it’d seemed like I wasn’t getting the whole story.

  So I hacked their phones.

  I discovered they were agents for something called Tactical Operational Support. They traveled around the world solving problems, though I didn’t understand what kind.

  Oh, and Uncle John. He’s not related. He works for TOS with my parents. One of his jobs is watching out for me when Mom and Dad are away.

  Mom and Dad grounded me for the phone hack.

  I’d impressed TOS. They signed me on as a contractor to work with their tech teams on software and technology. Mom and Dad weren’t keen on that but decided since I already knew their secret, it was okay if I helped out.

  I make some serious bank on the job. It’s more than enough to keep me on the cutting edge of technology, have a sweet bike, and save for college and beyond.

  I work on missions sometimes, especially ones my parents handle.

  My first was when I was fourteen. Uncle John woke me up in the middle of the night to break my parents out of a confinement cell. The agency techs couldn’t do it, and John was certain I could. It was easy—I triangulated on the building TOS knew they were in, looked for the cell phones the bad guys were using, found the ones on the LAN, and….

  I suppose I shouldn’t talk about that. Ultimately I broke my parents out and disabled the baddies by locking the doors around them.

  These days I’m teaching the agency guys how to be more agile and more confident with on-the-fly coding to solve problems.

  As strange as this gig is, I love it. It’s a blast working through complex problems to get the job done, whether it’s an emergency like saving my parents, or helping keep the agency’s tech up-to-date.

  It sucks not being able to tell anyone, though, especially Eddie. Mom and Dad say telling anyone could be dangerous. That’s why they didn’t want me to know about them.

  My friends think I do consulting work through my MIT connections, which would also be awesome.

  Want to know what’s super cool about working for TOS?

  To them I’m not Theodore Reese, or even Theo.

  They call me by my codename—Winger.

  Chapter One

  “DEFENDER, WINGER here,” I said once the call connected.

  “Winger, thanks for getting back to me. Are you secure?”

  “I’m secure enough. What’s the situation?”

  I was in Coach’s office at the rink. Practice had ended a few minutes ago, and when I got to my locker, I found an urgent text from Dad. Officially it was from Defender, but I always translated that in my head to Dad. He was out on a mission, and he needed something, which was why I had to be somewhere private to talk.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d had to take a call here. Luckily the coaching staff let me use their offices when I needed to. They thought I sometimes took client calls and just wanted to be away from the noise of the rink. They didn’t know I
did secret agent stuff in here.

  “Intel I have on this mission says the door I need to go through has a keypad,” Dad said. “However, I found an upgraded biometric fingerprint screen. I was in touch with Doctor Possible to see if he had anything I could use to get past it, because I brought tech to deal with a keypad. Anyway he referred me to you. Seems you’ve got a prototype app you’ve been testing.”

  “That I do. Still working on it. It’s only about 70 percent accurate. You wanna give it a try?”

  “Might as well. Not much to lose and I’d rather get what I came for.”

  I was glad I’d grabbed my backpack when I decided to take the call, so I had my computer with me. I wished I had time to shower before calling. Sitting in a desk chair while still in my hockey gear wasn’t comfortable, and it was gross having the sweat drying on me.

  “Do you have a tablet with you?” I asked.

  “Yup. ID three-five-seven-one-two.”

  “Got it. Stand by.”

  I logged in to the rink’s Wi-Fi and scrambled my signal using TOS encryption. Then I quickly got onto the TOS network and into the program I’d been working on. Connecting to Dad’s tablet was easy, and I was able to see his face looking through its camera.

  “Perfect. I see you. Place the tablet against the interface. Make sure it covers all the touch points.”

  “Like this?” he asked.

  When the tablet’s camera focused, I saw blue circles where users put their fingers.

  “Exactly. Hold it steady.”

  I put the program to work separating out the fingerprints. The great thing about these panels, at least from a break-in point of view, was they weren’t often cleaned. It was easy to lift prints, and using the same forensics software police used, piece the prints together. Then, using a system of my own design, the program projected the prints back to the touch pad.

  “The prints are built.” The program had worked for less than a minute.

  Time for the real test. When the app failed, it was usually a problem with projecting the prints strong enough for the reader to capture. Time to see if I’d fixed that problem.

  The panel flashed green, and I heard the success tone through Dad’s phone.

  “Yes!” I was louder than I meant to be.

  “Well done, Winger. That did it. I gotta move. Thanks.”

  “Great. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  He cut the connection and that was that. There was no time for pleasantries when he was working.

  I hustled back to the locker room because I was late to meet Eddie. I got showered and stowed my gear in record time. As I headed for one of the rink’s exits, I looked around for Eddie but didn’t see him where he usually waited. I didn’t see his Jeep in the parking lot either, which was weird because I thought he was picking me up.

  I pulled out my phone and found nothing from him.

  Instead I discovered I had more than fifty unread emails from TOS. There’d been nothing when I’d gone into practice two hours earlier. It’d been quiet for weeks with just the usual chatter between me and Lorenzo Davenport, my main TOS contact. He was the Doctor Possible Dad had referenced. I tended to call him Doc P.

  Besides the fingerprint scanner, Lorenzo and I were working on a new authentication system for agents accessing the TOS network. I’d suggested the upgrade because I’d found some security holes one day while I was helping Dad.

  According to the emails, something was up with tracker chips. I didn’t even know what those were, and I thought I knew all the agency’s tech. It sounded serious. I picked the most recent message and scrolled through the long chain. Something about the system going off-line for a few minutes, followed by a handful of agents not showing up in the system anymore. TOS declared a Code 1-2B alert, which was one step down from the highest possible.

  I dialed Lorenzo to see what was up and if I could help. He picked up before it even rang on my end.

  “Doctor Possible, Winger here.”

  There was never a hello with these guys. Protocol was to give the name of who you were expecting to talk to, followed by your own codename. I’d found out the hard way how much they enforced that, when I called Lorenzo once and said something like “Hey, Doc P, what’s goin’ on?” He’d instantly fried my phone to make a point about following directions.

  “Winger. Were you able to help Defender?”

  “Yeah. We can mark down one field test. It worked like a charm.”

  “Awesome,” he said excitedly. Despite being a stickler for procedures, Lorenzo was always excited when new tech worked right. “So you saw the emails?”

  “Yeah. What are these tracker chips anyway?”

  “Really?” He sounded exasperated. “One second?”

  I heard him typing lightning fast. The clicking of his keys was one of my favorite things about talking to him. The clickity-clack was soothing to me for some weird reason.

  “Sorry, Winger. I gotta go. Red Hat’s calling an emergency meeting.”

  “Understood. Let me know if I can help out.”

  “Will do.”

  He hung up.

  Where are you?

  The screen lit up with a message from Eddie before I could pocket my phone.

  I typed and sent my reply: What do you mean where am I? Where are you? Thought we were meeting at the rink.

  Um. Yeah. I’m waiting at the pizza place.

  Oops. Totally forgot we were eating there.

  Be right there.

  I sprinted through the rink—the six-rink facility—so I had to dodge around people. I finally came up behind Eddie, kissed his fuzzy head, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I thought we were headed straight to your place.”

  He put his hands on mine and tilted his head back just enough so I could kiss his forehead.

  “Did you end up with a head injury? We decided to eat first since it’s Cheap Pizza Tuesday.”

  “Right.” Oops. Totally forgot the plan. “I ran suicides right at the end of practice and then talked to a client for a few minutes. I guess I got flustered because I knew I was late.”

  The suicides were true, but I hated lying about the rest.

  “Not a problem. When I saw Tommy and Mitch leave but I hadn’t seen you yet, I sent the text.” He craned his head back farther, and I leaned over so I could kiss his full lips. “You’re here now, so let’s eat and then we can go.”

  I put my backpack on the table next to his, and we got in the pizza line to fill up on two-for-one slices. We’d discovered this a couple of weeks ago and decided we’d milk it for all it was worth because the rink pizza was good.

  Eddie Cochrane had transferred to my school at the start of sophomore year. I’d seen him around before he became my tutor, but I was too intimidated to introduce myself. He was way too cute with his bushy afro and inquisitive brown eyes, which were always darting around behind his nerdy black-framed glasses. He swam and had the tall, lean physique you’d expect. He didn’t join the school team until this year, but last year he’d practiced every morning as if he had.

  It only took one tutoring session at his house for me to get up the courage to ask him out. I thought I was getting a vibe from him, and I didn’t have much to lose. Even if I misread his interest—at the time I didn’t know if he was gay or not—I didn’t expect him to go off on me or anything.

  Turned out he wanted to ask me but he’d been too shy, even though he knew I was out. We laughed later about how skittish we’d been about asking each other.

  He taught me chemistry. I helped him in courses where logic was key, because I used that kind of thinking with my computer work.

  We each learned about the other’s sport too. He ragged on me because I was so covered up when I played, whereas I got to drink in his sleek, sexy body anytime I watched him practice. Eddie in those tight swim shorts was a sight to behold. I was already looking forward to December when his season would start.

>   Honestly I loved how heads turned when we were together. He was a half foot taller than me and his dark skin was such a contrast to my very white, freckled complexion. Add my flaming-red hair and you couldn’t help but notice us. I once remarked when we were holding hands, walking side by side, that we were like a black-and-white cookie. I thought it was cute, still do, but he thought it was a little inappropriate to say.

  “Look at you,” Eddie said after I’d ordered six slices.

  “Long practice plus cheap food means I’m trying one of every pie they’ve got out.”

  “So you’ll have plenty of energy to, oh, I don’t know, make out for a while?”

  Yes!

  “There’s always energy for that.” I collected my food, and waited for him to get his paltry two slices.

  As soon as we sat down, I tore into a slice of hawaiian. As Eddie only got two slices, I needed to eat fast. I didn’t want to lose out on any more make-out time than I already had.

  “So I was wondering.” He sounded unsure and paused. That was odd, because he usually had no trouble saying what was on his mind. “Um. Do you think we could go to the fall dance in a couple weeks?”

  Interesting. Usually going out meant movies, food, maybe a party at someone’s house. We’d never gone to a school thing. Did he even know how to dance? I sure didn’t.

  “It’d be something different,” he continued. “See if we like it. Maybe it’s a dry run for prom in the spring? Something to think about since we’re juniors now.”

  School’d only been back for a few weeks, and he was already thinking about spring. That was cool.

  I nodded while I chewed. “Sure,” I said finally able to talk. “Why not? Do you know how to dance or are we going to look silly?”

  “I’ve got no idea. I tap my foot to music. I’ve never really tried to do more.”

  “Okay, so it’ll be a couple of firsts, I guess.”

  Eddie smiled big. I wondered if the dance was on our anniversary. It’d be right around then, so we should be doing something special for that anyway.

  My phone vibrated in my jacket pocket—four pulses, a pause, and four more. It was TOS, most likely Lorenzo. I had to answer, which sucked because I wanted to give Eddie my full attention.