Despite what Zeke thinks, I have no illusions that I can get far enough on the bicycle. It feels wonderful to ride, but it’s not practical.
I pedal down Bird Road, finding my destination with little trouble. The windows are still covered. I hop off the bike and wheel it around to the side of the house, tucking it next to the palm trees that line up against the fence that separates the property from the neighboring one. It’s as hidden as it can be.
I rap on the door three times before I hear movement inside. The curtain over the door’s window moves slightly; I can see his eyes, then the knob turns. He opens the door only a sliver, searching behind me for the person who’s not here.
I don’t have time for this. Because he’s not expecting it, I easily shove the door open and push my way inside. ‘I need your help,’ I tell Spencer.
His hair is no longer pulled back into a ponytail and is longer than I thought, falling down just past his shoulders. He’s got a five o’clock shadow that is patchy. His green eyes are glassy and his mouth twitches as though he wants to smile. He’s stoned. His T-shirt wants me to stay calm and carry on. Maybe the carry on part, but the staying calm is a challenge.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he says, but indicates I should follow him into the other room.
‘I need your help,’ I try again.
‘You need more than my help, Tiny. What, you’ve got a bicycle? Seriously? How far do you think you’ll go on that?’
I roll my eyes. ‘That’s why I’m here.’ I don’t bother explaining further, just grab a chair and park myself in front of a keyboard. He hovers over me as I check out Craigslist for a used car. It’s probably the least hacker thing I could be doing right now, and it clearly disturbs him. He pulls the keyboard away from me.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I have to ditch the bike. I’m not going to get too far on it.’
‘What happened?’
‘Gig is up.’ I don’t have to explain further.
‘What about Tracker?’
I shrug. ‘He says he’s OK.’
‘For now, maybe. Maybe not.’ He hesitates. ‘You need wheels, you take mine.’ He digs keys out of his pocket and drops them in my lap.
‘What’ll you do?’
‘Bike. Fair trade.’
‘The bike is stolen property.’
He grins. ‘I wouldn’t expect otherwise. Where are you going?’
‘I don’t know.’ And I don’t. I considered Key West, but it’s isolated with little means of escape if I need to get away. A boat to Havana isn’t out of the question, especially now that we can go there legally, but it’s not an ideal solution. I’m going to get in the car and just drive.
I give Spencer a nod and start to go, but he says, ‘Don’t you want to know what I found?’
I don’t. I really don’t. Yet I turn back. It’s almost as though the source code on the screen has magical powers. Maybe it does. ‘What did you find?’ This is my downfall, my addiction at its worst. I have an out, a way to escape, and still I can’t leave.
‘I found the money.’
My heart skips a beat. ‘The money that disappeared?’
‘After it reappeared.’
‘I thought you said it went in circles.’ I’m closer now, peering at the screen in front of him.
‘Whatever.’ He waves his hand like a game show model. ‘It still went in circles. I mean, whoever it is has a VPN. I managed to trace it, though. The money went into a bitcoin wallet.’
It is all I can do not to shove him out of the way and take over the keyboard myself. He senses my impatience. He points to the code on the screen. I scan it, but I can’t make sense of it. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask.
‘This money went through a site on the deep web. A kiddie porn site. Doesn’t that sound familiar?’ He pauses, letting this sink in. ‘Whoever’s working on it is smart. But not smarter than me.’
He hits a few keys and it’s clear.
Spencer is a genius. He’s managed to track the bitcoins through a tumbler. Right back into a bank account owned by Roger Parker, aka Ian Cartwright.
FORTY-ONE
Daniel must have done this. And if he did, he is as much a genius as Spencer. Ian is taking a huge risk, though. If Tony finds out what he’s done, he’ll target Ian just as he’s targeting me. Perhaps because Daniel is his son, Ian feels safe, confident that no one will find out.
Zeke needs to know what’s going on. He needs to know what Spencer has found. I shift the backpack around and take the disposable phone out of the front pocket. Spencer gets up and goes into the kitchen. While the phone rings, I hear him opening and closing cabinets.
‘Staying for dinner?’ he calls out.
It’s getting dark outside, and my stomach growls, reminding me about the sour strawberry, the only thing I’ve had to eat for hours. I should be going, though, after I talk to Zeke. I don’t have time to answer Spencer, because Zeke finally picks up the phone.
‘We’ve got something,’ I say. ‘Well, Spencer does.’
‘You’re with Spencer? You need to get out of there.’
‘But we’ve found something. Daniel—’
‘Get out of town. Now.’ He hangs up as the fear rushes through me. I head to the kitchen. ‘Something’s wrong,’ I tell Spencer. ‘Something’s not right.’
‘He wants to keep you safe.’
‘Tony’s after him, too. He’s implicated in all this. What if—’
‘He can take care of himself. He’s been doing it for years.’
The way he says it makes me wonder. ‘How long have you known him? I mean, in person, not online?’
Spencer pulls a plate out of the microwave. Spaghetti and meatballs. He raises his eyebrows, and my stomach growls again. I can’t hide it. He puts half the portion on another plate and hands it to me, along with a fork, then leads me back into the room in front of the screens.
‘We met in juvie,’ he says when we’re settled.
‘Prison? What did you do?’
He laughs. ‘Not nearly what I’m doing these days, but I’m better at it now. Better at not getting caught.’ When he realizes I’m waiting for an answer, he says, ‘I took down a major website. Denial of service. Like this guy’ – he cocks his head toward the screen – ‘did with the bank.’ I want to ask which site, but he’s already moved on. ‘I did three years. Tracker did a year, but he had better connections than me.’
‘Did he take down a site, too?’ I’m curious about Spencer, but I’m more curious about Zeke.
Spencer nods. ‘Took down the feds. The FBI. Showed them where they had a hole in the system, how he could get around the firewall. Really showed them up.’
‘Wouldn’t they give him more time, then?’ I can’t see the FBI being magnanimous toward a kid who hacked their system.
‘Not if your father is a fed.’
Again I’m reminded about how little I know about Zeke’s background, about his life. I’ve always felt that the criminal in me was genetic. Zeke’s criminal past probably came more from rebellion. Either way, I’m lucky that I only got expelled from university after my hack into its system. And then I have another thought. They could have put me away, too, but my father pulled strings, just like Zeke’s.
‘Why does he still do it, then?’ I don’t realize I’ve asked it out loud until Spencer answers.
‘He can’t stay away. But he’s trying to do it for good instead of evil.’
‘He’s riding a fine line.’
‘That he is. He’s obsessed with taking down DeMarco.’
‘What happened when he was undercover? Do you know?’
Spencer’s expression goes still and he shakes his head. ‘No.’ He gives a short snort. ‘It’s your fault.’
‘What?’
‘He went after DeMarco because DeMarco was after you because of the bank job. You disappeared, but he was always afraid your body would show up somewhere. He wanted to make sure you were safe, wherev
er you were.’
I put my plate on the desk next to the keyboard and stand. ‘I don’t need a guilt trip.’
‘No guilt, Tina. Just fact. Guy’s had a hard-on for you ever since he was a kid.’
‘But he got married.’
‘And he left her after he found you. You think that was an accident? Him showing up at your house like that? You left a trail of bread crumbs. He followed you there.’
I always told myself I didn’t know how Zeke had found me, but maybe I’d done it subconsciously. I’d left that trail for Tracker, not Zeke, but I didn’t know they were one and the same. I can’t stay here any longer. I don’t want to hear any more. I can’t be held responsible for what’s happened to Zeke, and I can’t be responsible for what will happen when Tony DeMarco finds out who Zeke is.
‘I have to go back.’
He’s not as stoned as I thought he was, because he moves fast, jumping up and grabbing me around the waist. ‘No. You’re going to do like he said. Get in the car and leave Miami.’
He lets me go abruptly, and I stumble, struggling to balance myself.
‘I’ll tell him. Let him know what your ride is. He’ll find you.’
‘What do you know?’
‘No more than you, but if he’s telling you that you have to go, then listen to him. He’s got ears everywhere.’ Spencer’s eyes flicker toward the screens. I doubt I’ll get any more out of him. What I need is to get online.
I no longer have a laptop, since it’s been compromised.
‘Can I at least check out a few places to stay?’ I indicate the computers. ‘Just tonight.’
Spencer’s a little edgy right now; his eyes are darting all over the room. Maybe the paranoia that comes with being stoned has set in. I can only hope.
‘Why don’t you finish your dinner and I’ll just take a minute,’ I tell him.
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’
I’m already seated. Before he can stop me, I’m inside the code, checking out his history. Spencer’s been busy – not that I don’t already know that from what he’s told me, but busier than I thought.
He pulls the keyboard out from underneath my fingers and holds it in front of him.
‘Too late,’ I say. And it is. I’ve already seen enough, and I’m already plotting my escape. I should have left but I had to know. I hate it when I’m right.
He’s p4r4d0x.
FORTY-TWO
The good news is that I don’t think he has a weapon nearby. He could try to hit me with the keyboard, but that’s not going to do anything.
The bad news is, he’s been plotting my death.
I take a couple of steps backward, clutching the car keys. Zeke told me he was Angel, but so many of us have more than one screen name. ‘Does Zeke know?’ I ask.
‘Of course he does. It was his plan.’ His tone is so matter-of-fact that it takes me aback.
‘And what is that?’
‘I’ve been chatting with Tracker as p4r4d0x.’ He lets that hang between us a few seconds. ‘Not Zeke – the other guy,’ he feels compelled to explain when he sees my confusion. ‘Every time I get him online, I try to get his IP address. I’ve even gotten into his computer with a RAT, but it’s never him. He’s got some serious security. I also can’t find the real p4r4d0x.’
I don’t want to point out that there is no ‘real’ p4r4d0x.
He’s still talking. ‘p4r4d0x hasn’t been online, except for me, since the hit was ordered. Fortunately, Tracker doesn’t seem to realize this. I think I’ve been pretty convincing.’ He takes a moment to pat himself on the back. ‘Anyway, I think Tracker’s working alone now, even though he thinks he’s still working with p4r4d0x.’
‘So what happened to p4r4d0x?’ Against my better judgment, he’s got me intrigued.
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
We let that sit between us for a few seconds. I don’t like the implications. I remind him about my conversation with Betr@yD. ‘He knows Tracker is FBI.’
‘But does he know there are two of them?’
‘Does it really matter? Someone out there knows Zeke is Tracker.’
‘No, someone out there knows that Tracker is FBI, but we don’t know for sure that he knows he’s Zeke.’
I hadn’t thought about it like that. It’s an interesting premise and might explain why Ian hasn’t yet gone after Zeke. But it doesn’t make sense. Zeke’s been really careful as Tracker not to drop any clues about himself. No, if Betr@yD knows Tracker is FBI, he must also know Tracker is Zeke.
I turn my attention back to the computers. ‘Can you find Tracker? Right now?’
‘OK, but then you have to do what Zeke says and leave.’ Spencer swivels around in the chair. I feel a tickle at the base of my neck. I reach for the keyboard, then pull my hand back. Spencer hits a few keys and suddenly we’re in the chat room.
‘Go ahead,’ he says, ‘check it out.’ He nods, reaches over around the screen, and pulls out a joint. He holds it up, offering me some.
I shake my head. ‘I have to drive.’
He shrugs and lights up, one hand on the keyboard. I slide into the chair next to him. And suddenly there’s Tracker, joining the chat. I lean forward and glance over at Spencer, who raises one eyebrow as if to say, See, you can believe me.
‘So p4r4d0x is you?’
‘Right.’
‘And this Tracker, it’s not Zeke?’
‘No. Just watch.’ He asks Tracker to go into a private chat. He gives him a URL link, and I can see he embedded a remote access Trojan. If we’re lucky, we’ll get inside his computer. ‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ he warns. ‘This guy is slippery.’
Tracker shows up in the chat room, and says, I’ve got the money.
Spencer and I look at each other. ‘Shit,’ he says softly, then begins to type.
p4r4d0x: Where is it?
Tracker: In a safe place.
p4r4d0x: That network crash was pretty impressive.
Tracker: Some of my best work.
p4r4d0x: So what about her?
I assume that the ‘her’ he’s talking about is me, and I take a deep breath, not sure I want to see where this goes but unable to look away.
Tracker: I’ll take care of her.
p4r4d0x: Where is she?
Tracker: Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it taken care of. By morning, it will all be over. She’ll be gone, and we’ve got the cash.
p4r4d0x: What about him?
Tracker: I’ve got a plan for him, too, don’t worry. Later.
And then he’s gone. p4r4d0x lingers for a few seconds, then he disappears, too, when Spencer puts the keyboard back on the desk. He leans back, blowing smoke rings.
‘You didn’t exactly catch him at anything,’ I say.
‘But we know he’s got the money, and he definitely set off the botnet.’
‘Betr@yD is the one who dumped the kiddie porn in the laptop, so—’
‘He’s Tracker. This Tracker,’ Spencer finishes.
We also know Ian Cartwright has the money because of the deposit in the bitcoin wallet. But he couldn’t set off a botnet – that I’m sure of. He probably got Daniel to trigger the denial-of-service attack on the bank to try to circumvent the money when the network was down.
I still doubt Ian would put out a hit on Tony DeMarco, but I have no doubt that he would put one out on me – and Zeke.
As long as I’m in Miami, I’m vulnerable. Zeke is right. I have to leave the city as soon as possible. Still, I feel so helpless. There has to be something I can do. And then I know what it is. I reach for the keyboard. Spencer watches me, intently, but I don’t know if he’s truly curious or if he’s just really stoned. Probably a little bit of both.
‘So, did you get it?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’ Remote access Trojans are too easy, and although I’ve thought that ‘Tracker’ is so smart, he has just let us inside his computer. But Spencer is shaking his head.
‘What’s
wrong?’
‘It’s like it always is.’
But maybe it’s not, because I recognize the computer we’ve hacked into.
It’s Betr@yD’s.
FORTY-THREE
‘This is the computer we got into through the router.’ I tell Spencer about how I put the router near Tony DeMarco’s house.
‘That’s why you wanted it,’ he muses. ‘So this guy is remote accessing someone else? And using that computer to get into the chat room?’
He’s a little slow, and I attribute it to the fact that he’s stoned. Admittedly, it’s a little complicated and I’m about to add to the complication.
‘Yes, and also dumping kiddie porn into our laptop and the bank network.’
‘Our friend has been a busy bee,’ Spencer says, spinning in his chair and setting the keyboard on the table in front of the screen. He’s checking out Betr@yD’s computer.
‘Check the history,’ I tell him.
He scowls at me because that’s exactly what he’s doing and he doesn’t need me to micromanage. I lean over his shoulder and scan the websites in the history file. It’s been wiped clean except for the chat room, but Spencer knows what I do: deleting something on a computer doesn’t really get rid of it. Before he can do anything, though, we watch a browser pop up on the screen and a map appears. My heart beats a little faster when whoever is navigating the site types in an address.
It’s not until the location is pinned by a small icon that it registers. Spencer sees it at the same time I do.
It’s this address.
It feels as though a huge weight has landed on my chest, and I can’t breathe for a second, then I ask, ‘How did he trace us?’
‘No fucking clue,’ Spencer mutters. ‘There’s no way he could have gotten through my VPN, the firewalls.’
But somehow he did. He’s better than we thought. So much better. This can’t be Ian. Can it be Daniel? Is he that good?
We don’t have time to figure it out, though. ‘Whoever it is knows where we are,’ I say softly.
Spencer’s eyes grow wide, taking in all his equipment. It’s probably taken him years to build up this operation. He’s stunned that someone has managed to hack him – and seemingly so easily.
Betrayed Page 18
