by T. K. Harris
<µβ> We are not playing.
Alex was about to type another question when he re-read, the same group that is now watching you.
The sense that something, beyond the conversation, was wrong came back. He took another look around his apartment, trying to figure out what had been bothering him since he first walked in.
Ok. You’re getting paranoid, he told himself. Turning back to his monitor he typed,
<µβ> Thomas Moore is alive. And he is definitely in FBI custody.
<µβ> We’re not sure yet.
<µβ> We are working on it.
<µβ> You don’t.
<µβ> For now.
<µβ> You can either trust us or not. We are only telling some of the answers to the questions you have been asking. And, we would like to help.
<µβ> We’re doing this because we want a favor in return. As to the rest, the answers will come in time.
<µβ> An open ended one. When we are ready to collect – sometime in the future – you agree to deliver. It won’t be anything you haven’t done before in your other line of work.
Other line work? How much did this person – or was it people – know about him?
And there were quite a few things he had done in his other line of work. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do some of them again. But this was for Tommy. If they really could help, he would do what it took. And, if they were screwing him over, he’d do everything in his power to take them down.
<µβ> We'll be in contact.
With the last comment, Alex found himself booted out of the private chat. Frantically he began searching for it or the handle - µβ - but found nothing.
What the hell is going on?
Belatedly, he realized he’d been too shocked to turn on any of his tracing routines. He’d have a hell of a time finding who contacted him now. Not that he thought it would be easy in the first place. The user didn't sound like an amateur.
Feeling like he was caught between a bad conspiracy movie and a remake of The Matrix, Alex turned to his work computer to look up the odd symbols in the stranger’s handle. At least that gave him something to do.
He had recognized that symbols resembled Greek characters and Googled for a list. The search pulled up a list of both Greek letters and numbers. He searched for both characters in the handle, putting them together first as a possible word. But, as a word, they made no sense. As numbers…
You've got to be kidding me.
He stared at the number, hoping he had it wrong. But, the more he looked at it, he began to think the number made more sense than a word or even an abbreviation.
This can't be real, he thought.
The number was 42. The answer to life, the universe and everything.
Well that explained the chatroom name #HGTTG. Alex wondered how many people would catch on to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy reference.
This had to be some sort of joke. And he didn’t think it was very funny. The next time they contacted him, if the contacted him, he would be ready and waiting.
Chapter Seventeen
Doctor Lyndsay glared at the agent in front of her. "I'm telling you, David. He's not lying to you. I don't think the others are either."
"Come on. You heard, Jane. Only someone trying to hack the site would ever be able to trigger that trap."
"Agreed. And he’s not denying that he did it. He even mentioned the email that he received again, which got him to look at it in the first place. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd?"
"Not really. The hacking community works together like any terrorist group."
"But it led him right into this trap, just days after it was launched."
"Of course it did. It was designed to be enticing to hackers in the first place. So how are the others still denying what we found on their computers?"
"They had no idea how this site got on their computers. That is until Tommy explained it to them."
"Right. It sounded like a pretty convenient explanation though, if you ask me."
"Maybe. But I’m telling you, something’s not right. The kid doesn’t deny going after the site. He doesn’t even deny some of the other activity we’ve found on his computer. You’ve seen what he is studying. It makes sense that he would try practicing. But he does deny doing anything malicious."
"Then he’s lying!"
Both Agent David Miller and Jane jumped at the sudden appearance of Agent Barrett.
"No hacker does anything without malicious intent."
Jane bit back on her anger and replied calmly, "Look. I may not be an expert on hackers, catching hackers, stopping hackers, whatever. But what I am an expert in is this type of interrogation. My track record speaks for itself. And that kid, if not completely innocent, is not who we’re after! You are holding a scared eighteen year old kid who has been deprived of communications with his family, interrogated and beaten like some terrorist." She said the last through clenched teeth. "And I've given him enough meds to make a politician tell the truth!
Now, when are you going to let him and the others go?"
Barrett stepped in front of her. "We're not. This is bigger than you understand. I don't know how he's doing it, but that kid in there is part of a collaborative effort and-"
"With all due respect, Agent Barrett. I have interrogated the rest of your collaborative effort and none of them have confessed to anything. They have no clue as to what is going on. Some are scared, others are furious, and the only problem child I've found is a conspiracy theorist who is stuck on the belief that the government is trying to take over the country by declaring Marshall Law. He thinks the fact we’re holding him without mirandizing him is the first sign. And, frankly, I'm not too sure I find fault with his conclusions at this moment."
"Have you considered the fact you may not be asking them the right questions," Agent Miller asked quietly.
Without looking at him she replied, "Of course I have, David. And that is what has me worried. I think we're missing something important here and, no," she continued - staring pointedly at Barrett, "I don't think it has anything to do with a hacker ring. You heard the recorded conversation between the four when we put them together. They were clueless."
"Of course they sounded clueless," Barrett snapped. "They knew they were being watched."
"Their reactions were genuine."
Jane tried to suppress a shudder at the cold look Barrett gave her as he said, "Regardless, you will continue your job and keep questioning them all, and say nothing of this to any one, Dr. Lyndsay. Is that clear?"
Jane looked at Barrett and then Miller. "This is a mistake."
"Regardless-"
"I know my job," she interrupted. Through clenched teeth she continued, "Now, if it's okay with the both of you, I'm heading out. I suddenly have the need to take a long, hot shower."
Maybe it will wash away the feeling that I've just participated in crossing the line, she thought as she headed out the door. She was barely able to refrain from slamming it in Barrett’s face.
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After the door closed, Barrett turned to Agent Miller. "Is she going to be a problem?"
David turned from the door shaking his head. "No. Dr. Lyndsay can be a bit hot tempered but she's a professional. She won't gi
ve us any problems. What she said though, it makes me wonder if we really are barking up the wrong tree."
Barrett wasn’t about to mention the doubts he had been having. So he replied, "We are not barking up the wrong tree. Just keep that in mind. This is the real deal."
"Now we just need to find the ring leader. That's my only doubt. I don't think the boy is the leader, nor any of the others we have now. But it’s only a matter of time before we do get him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do."
Despite the fact that Barrett hadn’t believed the doctor, he realized he could no longer hold off. It was time to contact his backers and, later, the Director and Gillespie, about the lack of evidence and the possibility of looking for another hacker or group of hackers that suited their initial agenda.
His thoughts were agitated as he headed to his office.
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Agent Miller’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he watched Barrett stride purposefully out of the office. There had been something in Barrett’s eyes that had bordered on the fanatical when he had said ‘this is the real deal’. Barrett’s eyes seemed to tell David that Barrett intended to find what he was looking for. No matter what the truth really was.
Miller could only hope that Doctor Lyndsay was wrong and that the people they held were actually guilty. Otherwise he’d have to admit that he had just contributed to capturing and interrogating innocent civilians and, that, he couldn’t live with.
Chapter Eighteen
Alex was still mulling over his strange encounter from the night before when Jason popped his head into Alex’s office.
"Dude you look like shit."
"Thanks, Jason. Just what I needed to pep me up."
"The gang is heading out for lunch. You should come."
Alex shook his head, "Not right now. But maybe later, when you have time, we can go for a walk."
Jason was well aware that Alex only walked when he needed to think, and he always did that alone, so Alex waited for him to react to see if he got the hint that Alex needed to talk away from prying ears. The reaction he got, however, wasn’t what he expected. Instead of saying anything, Jason glanced quickly over his shoulder before stepping into Alex's office. Moving closer to Alex’s desk he said, "You really should come. Mark is a great guy."
Alex opened his mouth to say it was Phil, not Mark, who was having a birthday when he noticed Jason's upheld hand. He then watched, perplexed, as Jason drew an imaginary zipper across his lips.
His forehead furrowed as he answered, "Uh. Okay. You're probably right."
"Good. I'll drive. I have the car."
Alex's eyebrows shot up. He glanced out the window, noting the bright and, most likely, warm day. Jason rode his motorcycle nearly every day of the year. Alex had even seen him ride on days it was snowing. If Jason wasn't riding on a day like this, something was up.
Following Jason outside, Alex started to ask a question when Jason held his hand up again. When they got in the car, he handed Alex a pad of paper with something scrawled on it. Ears are flapping. Talk about regular stuff till Hal's.
As directed, Alex started a monologue about next week's schedule. By the time they arrived at Hal's, the team’s favorite Tex-Mex restaurant, he had bored even himself to tears and was ready to rip off Jason's head if he didn't start explaining soon.
They met up with the rest of the group and a few other office people until they numbered twenty strong. Loud to the point of obnoxiousness, the group entered the restaurant and was immediately led to a back room by their waitress, Maria, who greeted almost everyone by name.
As they moved toward the back, Alex tried unsuccessfully to pull Jason aside. His frustration growing, he pulled on his meditation training and forced himself to take several deep, calming breaths as they all found tables and began ordering drinks. The noise level ratcheted up and Jason leaned over to Alex, placing a small black box between them before covering it with a napkin. Alex recognized the scrambler. It was designed to cause interference if anyone tried to listen in with a long range microphone.
Jason said quietly, "Let's pretend we're joking, smile while I talk. Laugh occasionally."
The table erupted in laughter and Alex laughed along, turning to hear just enough of the conversation to realize they were picking on Phil about something. He threw a few quips in and then turned back to Jason smiling.
"Dude. That's creepy. Can you knock the maniacal grin down a notch?"
Alex's smile compressed as he hissed through his teeth, "If you don't start talking I'm going to get a lot creepier!"
Eyes widening, Jason leaned a little closer. "I got a visit last night. From my old friends."
Alex knew Jason wasn't talking about college buddies. "Why," he asked, ignoring the vibrating of his phone as he received a text message.
"About the little item we found on your nephew's router logs."
Alex's heart sped up just a little. "And?"
"Dude. I got a cease and desist or else."
Alex’s phone vibrated again. "You have to be kidding me? What –"
"Dude. Laugh."
They both laughed, then Alex asked, "What did they say?"
"Special interest case. None of our business."
"What the hell do you think is going on?"
A loud voice interrupted, "What are you two love birds talking about down there?"
Jason turned to Phil. "Your wife!"
The group laughed, as Phil reddened slightly before saying, "And that's all you two ever do is talk. When was the last time you both had a date? Or are the rumors about you guys true?"
Alex cringed slightly. He and Jason really did spend a lot of time together. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had even been on a date. He had been too busy chasing security issues, among other things, for the last several years. He was spared Jason's response, however, when the table erupted into cheers at the sight of Maria bringing drinks.
Knowing it would be impossible to talk until all the drinks had been passed out and orders taken, Alex reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Plugging in his security code, he was surprised to see that he had two urgent messages from Bill asking him to call.
Marie came to their table last, setting an ice tea in front of Alex and a coke for Jason. When she left with their orders, Jason leaned forward, "They made me show them my security pass."
"Why? They have to know you work for us."
"I know that. And they knew about my past, ‘cause they brought it up. Said it was just a matter of time ‘cause my kind always go back to hacking."
The story Jason was painting was getting stranger and stranger. "What?"
"I know, right? And then they told me if I didn't stop asking around about that trap, they were going to make sure I remembered what it was like to piss off the FBI."
Alex opened his mouth to say something when he noted a flicker of fear in Jason's eyes.
"I think they would have taken me last night if they could have."
"Don't be ridiculous, Jason. Whatever this is-"
"If they have him, your nephew is in trouble. Count on it."
Alex suddenly remembered something about Jason's case. Unlike most Americans, Alex knew that it was not an uncommon practice for the FBI to take people, sometimes holding them for days and even months without officially charging them. Though it usually happened to people deemed traitors and lately, terrorists, it sometimes happened to just everyday citizens. And it had been happening for a very long time.
It had happened to the Japanese-Americans during WWII, it had happened to the Arab-Americans after 9/11 and it had happened to Jason and a few other hackers that the government had decided might be a threat. And it had only gotten worse since they passed the Patriot Act.
With its various and somewhat ambiguous title sections, the act had become a perfect catchall for legalizing the violation of a number of civilian rights. And these title sections had been
used in order to justify holding Jason for several weeks before he had finally been taken in front of a judge. He had been sixteen at the time.
Alex wanted to deny that this could have been what happened to Tommy. But, after last night and now Jason’s odd story, the idea begun to cling to a dark corner of his mind. After all, Tommy had actually been hacking, although, unlike Jason - who had hacked into a banking website and made himself a few generous deposits before getting caught- Tommy’s offenses were minor at best.
Jason interrupted Alex’s thoughts with, "I found an interesting email too."
He glanced at Jason. "What did it say?"
"It led Tommy right to the trap."
"Do you know where it came from?"
"No."
The look he gave Alex told him that Jason had tried everything he had in his considerable arsenal of skills to find the sender and the failure sat badly with him. He was about to say something reassuring when lunch arrived.
Alex stared at his food while the servers passed out everyone else’s plates. When they left, he pushed his plate aside, looking at Jason who was taking a bite out of his calzone. Leaning forward, he asked quietly, "Have you ever heard of a group with a handle that translates to 42?"
Jason nearly spit out his food. When he had quit coughing, he took a sip of his coke and then replied, "They don’t exist."
Alex quirked on eyebrow at Jason. For just a second, Jason had seemed to pause before appearing to choke on his food. When Jason continued to look at him guilelessly, however, Alex decided that he was still being paranoid and responded with, "Apparently not." He then launched into the entire nocturnal conversation while Jason stared, no longer eating.
When he finished, Alex asked, "So why do you say they don’t exist?"
