by Jeff Adams
“Sorry.” I pulled the phone out and checked the screen. “It’s the client I was talking to earlier.”
Eddie gave me an annoyed look but kept eating. He hated it when I had to take work calls when we were together. Most of our friends, if they worked, had a job with very clear-cut hours. Mine could be all over the place, and sometimes involved emergencies.
I couldn’t ignore the call, so I said nothing and answered.
“Winger. Doctor Possible here.”
“Doctor. What’s up?”
“Can you talk?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, just listen. I’ve got to get you access to the actual system, but here’s the basic scoop.”
I listened closely. Because I was in public, I couldn’t take notes like I would in a secure location. At least I’d tricked out my phone with encryption and a special speaker to ensure the TOS-side of conversations couldn’t be overheard.
“Some background first. All TOS agents have an implant tucked just behind their left ear that allows us to track them.”
This was news to me. Did my parents have them? Did they know they had them? Did I have one? Technically I’m an agent, even though I’m not traveling around the world. I felt around my left ear, which made Eddie raise an eyebrow at me. I didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.
“The trackers work unless the agent is somewhere that the signal can’t penetrate,” Lorenzo continued. “With Wi-Fi and cell towers everywhere, that doesn’t happen very often. Anyway someone has hacked the system. A dozen or so agents are off the tracking grid, and we can’t get in touch with some of them. A couple of others have had their IDs switched inside our system.”
I had to choose my question carefully so I wouldn’t reveal sensitive information. “Why do you think it’s a hack and not a failure?”
“Logs show traffic that’s not ours making requests through what should’ve been secure nodes. It started a few days ago. We thought we had it plugged, but today things got worse.”
“What can I do?”
Lorenzo sighed, which was unusual for him. “Right now, nothing. I’m working to get the system available to you so you can have a look. Mission Ops denied the initial request, so I’ve escalated it to Raptor, because I think your skill can be very useful.”
Whoa. If he took it all the way to Raptor, this was serious. Raptor was the head guy and for him to be involved in a question of clearance was abnormal. Usually Joanna Bristow, aka Red Hat, aka Lorenzo’s boss, could take care of anything access related. I’d only talked to Raptor once, and that was when I first started working with TOS. He wanted to meet the kid who hacked their phone system.
The other question I had, that I couldn’t ask while I was in public: why was it such a problem to clear me? I thought I had access to everything.
“Okay. Let me know.”
“Will do. Thanks, Winger.”
I hung up and set my phone on the table. “Sorry about that.”
Eddie shrugged, but the roll of his eyes told me he was less than happy. He wouldn’t talk about it.
“Everything okay?” he finally asked.
“Yeah.” I took a bite of my pizza before I continued. “Client thinks someone’s hacked their system. I’ll probably have to do some work on it later.”
I talked as I ate. It was something we both did, even though our parents hated it.
Eddie took the veggie slice off my plate and chomped into it. “I’ll help you eat faster. That way we can get outta here.” He grinned before taking another bite.
“You’ve got a one-track mind today, and I like the track.”
At least Eddie’s mood cleared quickly. I leaned over and we kissed. Eddie and I hadn’t had much alone time lately, so part of me hoped Raptor wasn’t going to make a decision for a couple of hours.
Yes, I wanted to dig into the problem. But I hated the frustrated look Eddie had while I was on the phone. It was a difficult split. I loved Eddie, but I loved my job too. There were only so many hours in the day.
We scarfed the pizza and then headed to the parking lot. Once we got to the bike rack, I unlocked my bike, and rode to Eddie’s Jeep.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I said. “Maybe I’ll beat you this time.”
“That’s only happened once and only because of traffic.”
I scooted up to him as he unlocked the door and gave him a kiss. Then I sped away to race him to his house.
Chapter Two
I HATED leaving Eddie’s house. A couple of hours tangled around each other under the covers was difficult to walk away from. But we both had homework. Plus it would look really bad if his parents caught us undressed when they got home, which would be soon.
I’m pretty sure our parents knew we messed around, but they all made it clear they expected us to behave most of the time. When I was at Eddie’s house, there was a door-open policy—of course that only happened when his parents were actually there.
We never could’ve gotten away with what we’d just done at my house. When my parents were gone, Uncle John, aka Shotgun, was there. He’s Mom and Dad’s primary support for missions. For a while that included babysitting me. Now it’s more about appearances—making sure an adult is around when they’re gone for long stretches—because I’m old enough to take care of myself.
It still sucked never to have the house to myself. At least Eddie has that fairly often.
It was an exhilarating ride home. Eddie lived about five miles away, and on crisp fall evenings, I loved the trip. I zipped all over the place on my road bike. I was speedy. No one understood my obsession with the riding as I had a perfectly good driver’s license. But on the bike, I was never stuck in traffic, and I got to enjoy the outdoors.
Mom and John were both home. They must be strategizing something if John was here. Maybe they were working on the tracker issue too. I hadn’t heard back from Lorenzo yet, which was strange. If it’d become such a high-profile issue, I didn’t understand why my access was still an issue. The emails were still flying around. I hadn’t caught up on them, but several had come in while I was with Eddie.
I parked my bike in the garage, putting it up onto its rack to help remind myself to pump up the front tire in the morning. I could tell it was a bit flat because of how the bike handled on the way home. I had a corner of the garage for my bike work. I liked to try out new hardware from time to time, like swapping out the derailleur, to make sure it was lean and fast.
In the house the kitchen was empty, as was the living room. Mom and John were in the office she and Dad shared. You’d think a house where two operatives lived would have an office tricked out with gadgets, but it didn’t. Mom and Dad each had a laptop and a couple of monitors. It looked like a basic home-office setup with an antique oak partners desk, which allowed them to face each other. John had a separate desk along the wall with a similar setup. The office looked nothing like a high-tech base of operations. The three of them might as well have been accountants.
Mom and John huddled around her computer.
“Hey, Mom.” I went over and gave her a quick hug. “Hey, John.” He and I did our usual fist bump with an explosion.
I didn’t put myself in a position to look at the screens. I knew better. They respected my workspace upstairs and I respected theirs. We were each cleared for different things. Many of the projects I worked on in the tech world were things they weren’t allowed to see. Missions that Mom, Dad, and John worked on were often outside my clearance unless I was their assigned tech support.
“How was school?” Mom asked.
“S’okay. American Literature is going to make my head explode. It’s so boring.”
John clutched his chest like I’d just stabbed him. “Ouch.”
Mom and I both turned to him, surprised.
“What? I minored in American Lit. If I wasn’t doing this, I might’ve been a teacher.”
Mom raised an eyebrow and went back to her screen. I looked at John like he’d
just grown an extra head.
“Wait. You were a cop before you joined the agency.” I dropped my backpack and sat down in a nearby chair.
“I was. I graduated with a major in English and the lit minor, but after graduation I went on to the police academy. Who knows, I may still teach one day.”
“Maybe you can tell me why I should read about the early 1900s in some book called Ragtime. It seems irrelevant.”
“Oh, Theo, there’s so much in that book that’s important today,” he said with more enthusiasm than I thought possible. “I can help you. We’ll talk later.”
“I’m glad you like a challenge. So, I’ve got a question.” I changed the topic. “Do I have one of those tracker chips in me?”
Mom and John traded a glance that gave me the answer before they said a word. Did they really think I’d miss that? I rubbed behind my left ear again and didn’t feel anything unusual. Of course if it was always there, it wouldn’t feel unusual.
“You do,” Mom said.
The look of irritation I gave her probably would’ve gotten me in trouble with most parents, but things were different here. “How could you not tell me?” The irritation went right into my voice too.
“Everyone has them,” she said. She closed the laptop and focused on me. “Remember when you had your tonsils out right before your twelfth birthday?”
Of course. If I had thought about it long enough, I’d have figured that out. It was the only surgery I’d ever had. I’d had broken bones and sprains from hockey, but those hadn’t provided a moment where something could be implanted without my knowing about it—unless it was some groovy nanotech. As far as I knew, TOS didn’t have that kind of capability yet.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I returned to the issue. “That’s not exactly fair.”
John backed away from the desk and leaned on the credenza. He wasn’t going to get involved in this.
“You were twelve,” Mom said. “We thought it best we didn’t try to explain that there was something in you that would track your every move. Even now you don’t like the idea.”
She was right. I didn’t have anything to hide—well, okay, I did. It wasn’t like I wanted people to know I spent hours unsupervised in Eddie’s bedroom. And knowing how TOS designs tech, I was sure it could capture that specific detail.
“It’s standard issue,” she continued. “Anyone who works for TOS has one whether they’re in the field or not. The only reason you didn’t get one as soon as you started is because we were trying to keep you out of that until you were older. But when that surgery came up, they insisted.”
I shook my head. “I work on some of the most complex and sensitive aspects of TOS’s tech and I don’t get to find out I’ve got a chip that tracks my location?” My voice got louder.
Mom nodded, looking sympathetic. “We made a bad choice. Especially to keep it a secret so long. You’re right. You carry a significant responsibility, and you should’ve been aware. We made a mistake. TOS left it to us to tell you. You wouldn’t have been exempt from having the implant, but you should’ve been aware.”
As usual she knew how to defuse me with her apologetic tone. It was easy to see why she was so good at what she did. She could be so diplomatic it was impossible to stay mad and not see her point of view.
“So who’s watching me?”
“I would guess no one. Protocol is that we only actively track agents on missions. We don’t look at day-to-day behavior unless there are special circumstances. Unless Lorenzo or Joanna have motives that we wouldn’t know about, you wouldn’t be tracked.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a TOS call, most likely Lorenzo.
“Sorry,” I said to Mom as I answered.
Lorenzo gave the usual opening.
“Hey, Doc. What’s the latest?”
“Red Hat got in touch with Raptor, and you’re cleared for the tech. Are you home? Can I walk you through the basics?”
“Sure. Hold on.” I put him on mute. “I need to go. One last question. Do you and Dad track me?”
“No. Absolutely not,” she said, and her tone left no doubt it was the truth. “Understand that the only way we could access your info would be for a mission. We’ve never done that. Besides, I would hope you know that we trust you.”
I nodded and came around the desk to hug her again. “Thanks, Mom.”
I picked up my backpack and headed out.
“Don’t forget your homework,” Mom called as I headed up the stairs.
“I won’t.”
At my door I gripped the knob and waited for it to vibrate. It was a special bit of tech I’d worked on with Lorenzo to secure a door without something like a keypad or a visible fingerprint reader. In this case, the reader was in the doorknob. It only opened for me, my parents, or John. If anyone else tried it, it would simply stay locked. There was no audible alarm, although my phone got a message anytime someone other than me touched the knob, and I knew if the door opened or not. Plus TOS got a record of it since there were sensitive things in my room.
It was bonus security on top of the tech in the computers. I had a standard laptop I used for school and personal stuff. I’d added security measures to it so I could use it away from home, like helping Dad earlier. Three other computers on my desk connected to TOS and were used for the work I did for them. I could also do a lot on my phone because it was souped up and very secure. I also had a computer specifically for gaming.
Was it over the top? No.
I constantly worked with Lorenzo to increase the security of the network and the things we did on it. Not to mention trying to come up with new, useful features that could integrate with the agents’ phones. TOS probably had the smartest smartphones anywhere.
My room was unlike any of my friends’. Half of it was pretty unremarkable—dark-gray walls, a bed, dresser, closet, and bookshelf. The gray had been my choice, because it gave the room a sleek look. There were posters of my favorite hockey players—Crosby, Zetterberg, Crawford—and that was it.
The other side was tech heaven. The desk was U-shaped, and the computers and monitors arranged for optimal work, whether I was working for TOS, doing homework, or playing games. Steel rack shelves held spare computer parts as well as various routers and processors, which were a mix of functional and for show. I liked the flashing lights, so I have some equipment that’s decorative—if anyone paid attention when music was playing, they’d see some of the lights pulse to the rhythm. To finish it off, I had a couple of chairs I could pull closer to the monitors when it was time for hardcore game sessions.
Basically my room was perfect.
I tossed my pack on the bed and then took Lorenzo off mute as I closed the door.
“Okay, I’m secure. What’s the update?”
“It’s bad. We’ve been over the logs for the past several days, and we can’t find the breach. We’ve tested several different methods and haven’t been able to hack the system ourselves.”
I dropped into my very comfy, leather, high-backed chair, which I could sit in for hours. I fired up the screens and logged in to TOS with my password, retina scan, and fingerprint, and I saw what Lorenzo was sharing to my screen: Screenshots of logs, schematics on the chip, and details on the missing agents and the ones who had their IDs changed.
“Are you sure it’s a breach and not that the agents have been individually targeted somehow or, a less fatal option, that chips have failed?”
Lorenzo hesitated. I wished I had him on video so I could see why he paused.
“We’ve been in touch with some of the agents who have disappeared from tracking. Of the ones we can talk to, they say there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on. Six of seven aren’t even deployed. The others we can’t locate at all, deployed or not. Two have missed check-ins.”
This was bad. Even under the most difficult of circumstances, protocols and tech were in place to ensure a check-in could always take place.
“Okay. How do these things
work anyway?”
Lorenzo launched into a half hour of technical specs as different images flashed across my screens. The gist of it was, the chips used the existing network, much like a phone uses Wi-Fi, cell networks, and whatever else it can, for GPS location. It wasn’t just the civilian network TOS used—military and government networks also provided data. From what Lorenzo said, it seemed the chips could ping off practically anything. To mask the chip’s real function, it would mimic an array of phones, allowing it to ping the available networks as a different device every time. The list of possible phones was massive, so the odds of it showing up as the same phone in the same place was statistically unlikely. To top it off, layers of encryption and security were in place to prevent the chip’s ping from being identified and traced. There was even more security to keep the locator system itself from unauthorized access. Admin access needed one of the highest clearances possible, which is why Raptor approved my credentials.
“I don’t suppose you see anything obvious in all this information?”
“I’d love to say yes.”
“I was really hoping you’d give one of your snarky ‘why didn’t you look at that’ comments.”
“Sorry, Doc. Let me spend some time with this. Can you send me a chip? It’d help a lot if I had one here to work with.”
“I’ll messenger you one tonight.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep you posted. Even if it’s just a random idea.”
“We’ll do the same. Thanks, Winger.”
I disconnected the call and dropped the phone onto my desk.
The system seemed sound, both in terms of how it functioned but also the security. Of course anything on a network can be hacked. You just have to hope you design well enough—or change it so often—the flaws aren’t exploitable.
I reviewed everything Lorenzo had gone over to see if I’d missed anything. After that, I turned to my homework. I worked best on problems if I did something else while another part of my brain churned on it. So I decided to kill two birds with one stone and get ready for tomorrow’s classes.
