That was probably why his apps he’d created to fund his ideas were so successful- they reached out for the emotional, in-depth need and created a drive for it. New parents needed to be told they were right, take photos of their child, and get advice along with tracking growth- things that hit them emotionally, made them feel good and got them involved. He built an app for that, and it was downloaded by parents across the globe in the millions.
Another app focused on social media- growing your internet family by leaps and bounds- connecting with people you had lost track of over the years. Nik found that people are inherently a social creature, needing to reach out and communicate with others. That app made him a billionaire within a month once it took off. It was crazy how much money was flowing in. One day he’d gone to get money out of the ATM and saw the balance was five hundred rubles, the next time was over six hundred thousand rubles…and then the bank called him to ask if he would like to split accounts or invest his money. That was when he knew he’d done it – and that was when it all started.
Nik had splurged and bought himself an Aston Martin, paying cash for it. He’d felt so good buying the luxurious car that screamed money. He’d paid off his mother’s home and all of her debts, making her fall into his arms with tears of relief. He’d hugged her and explained that if she ever needed anything to let him know. His work was not done yet; now he needed to build and focus on his newest project: Soyuz.
His program was a defense program, there was no denying it. It was strategically designed to eliminate any room for error in getting astronauts safely into space and keeping them there. No fear of decompression, no fear of suffocation or blowing up- just safety in knowing that ‘big brother’ was watching your back and would take care of you.
When he’d hacked into the CIA’s website, he had found all sorts of documents, files, and programs that could be utilized to help people. One of them, a program that would create a healthy mix of gasses that was breathable from water vapor, was incorrect -glaringly so. While you could live for a short term on the vapor it created, simply adjusting the percentages would make it to where you could exist indefinitely on the lifesaving air. Someone had made a stupid mathematical mistake and if he could find it, someone else should have been able to. He’d tweaked it, saved the program and realized hours later what he’d done: he’d left a trail that he’d been in the system.
Nik had moved out immediately of his mother’s home and got a place of his own with his money. He’d moved his mother into an apartment in town where she was closer to everything and not so isolated. That was one thing he feared, that she would be left alone and someone would harm her. He’d hacked back in and fumbled around in the CIA’s website, hoping that he would leave another trail to be followed. It had obviously worked because now he was being watched by his own government, and assumed by the US government as well.
Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed her number and breathed a sigh of relief when she answered in her precious sing-song voice.
“My little Nik, are you coming over tonight to have dinner with your old mama?”
“Not tonight, just wanted to check on you and say hello,” he said easily and winced as the split at the corner of his lip tore open again. “Are you getting settled in mama?”
“Oh yes, this is such a beautiful place,” she preened happily. “Nik, you spent too much money on this apartment but your father,” the phone got silent for a moment. “Your father, God rest his soul, would be so happy of what you’ve done for yourself. All those books and all that learning may not have made you an astronaut, but the computer stuff you do – that has made my boy a happy man.”
“That’s me, mama – a happy man,” he said with false bravado. He talked with his mother a few more minutes before ending the call. “Liar,” he whispered aloud to himself and stared at the ceiling. He’d never felt more lost or alone than he did right now.
Distancing himself was for his mother’s own safety as well as his own. He was having a tough enough time watching his own back, much less his mother’s. How did she ever get by after his father’s death? When he thought back on those days, it was gut-wrenching. He could still hear the painful whimpers and soft tears coming from her bedroom in the tiny house they once had. She’d been so strong, holding his hand at the funeral and staring straight ahead to keep from breaking down. Losing him had been so hard on them both, but with his death came another hardship they’d not experienced before: money.
That was what drove him so hard.
He wanted to provide and give his mother back her smile, her easy life that she’d had before, so maybe she could move on and find her own happiness. At this rate, he would never find his, or at least not before whoever was searching for him ended his worries or stole his ideas.
Early the next morning, Nik heard someone walking down the hallway of his apartment building. He lay there listening, his breath catching in tiny paranoid gasps as he heard someone try the doorknob. Slipping silently out of bed, he pulled a knife from the butcher block on the counter and waited. If they were bold enough to try his home, he would need a way to protect himself. He needed shelter from whoever was hunting him down.
As whoever it was moved on down the hallway, Nik let out his breath in a silent whoosh as his lungs burned for air. He stealthily got dressed in the darkness in case they returned. He sat there in a chair until the sun rose, waiting and watching. As people began to move around in the other apartments, he made his move. Donning his coat, he quickly moved into the hallway that carried him down to the elevator. He avoided it, not wanting to be stuck with whomever could have been following him, and instead moved to the stairwell. It didn’t feel any safer, but having an opening gave him the feeling of security at least. He left his ostentatious car in the garage, flagging down a taxi once he’d gotten to the street.
“Where to?” the driver asked as Nik took his seat and buckled up.
“Federal Security Bureau,” he said quickly, locking the car doors.
“Why there? You in some sort of trouble?”
“A lot, I think,” Nik admitted, looking around the car and sliding down in his seat as far as possible. “Can we please get going?”
“You might have to take another cab. I don’t want to be a dot on their radar.”
“How much?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much for you to just go now- no more questions.”
“Thousand rubles, buddy.” Nik reached out with a wad of cash, an irritated look on his face. He knew the man was swindling him but he didn’t have time to fool around. He’d seen the YouTube videos of people getting dragged out of vehicles and disappearing. He didn’t plan on being one of them.
“Go.”
“Are you serious?”
“Go now or I’m getting out and someone else will get the money,” Nik said irately as he saw someone coming through the crowd towards the car. The man was very stocky and looked like he could easily pick up not just one adult, but several. “Let’s go! Now!”
“I should have asked for more,” the taxi driver muttered under his breath. Nik watched as the man stared from the street watching the cab, before pulling out his phone. They would be followed and he was still in danger.
“Go faster and get me there in one piece, there is two thousand in it for you,” he said pulling out his wallet, flipping through the remainder of cash on him. “I’m pretty sure I am a dead man if they get me,” he admitted for the first time aloud, feeling strangely numb. This all seemed so surreal.
Pulling up in front of the large building, Nik was glad he was buckled in as the taxi came to an abrupt stop and he was greeted by several guards in an almost eerie and surreal manner. He wanted protection and here it was in spades. He put his hands up eagerly and nearly smiled. So long as they didn’t shoot me, he thought.
“I am Nik Petrov and I…”he began, and was quickly ushered inside before he could say another word. He glanced over his shoulder at the taxi driver wh
o had emerged, looking completely shocked as he was forcibly put back in his car at gunpoint.
Nick entered the building and almost smiled.
It looked like any other sterile building – but all of that hid a huge secret. There was cyber security here and intelligence. Nik was ‘wanded’ to make sure he wasn’t carrying any weapons, as well as fingerprinted to verify his identity. Standard protocol. He was honestly surprised they didn’t ask to swab his mouth for a sample of DNA but then again, that might take too long to process. Perhaps he’d work on that, he mused idly.
Once verified, he saw several men look at each other knowingly, and a brief nod from a man in a suit had Nik quickly escorted to an office. The door shut behind him, leaving him alone in complete silence.
The office was extremely contemporary with a lot of smoked-glass doors, as well as black granite touches everywhere. It looked expensive and made Nik realize that his place, while he thought it was nice, was nothing compared to this facility. Several curved computer monitors, as well as state of the art printers, were visible. He was certain that just about everything in the room was top of the line. He wondered if the people even realized how much money was spent in this single room alone.
“Mr. Petrov,” Nik heard from behind him, and he whirled around in surprise. The man that had been in the suit watching the whole process as he went through security was standing in the open doorway. “Nikodim Petrov, age thirty. Son of Elena and Yvan Petrov. Grew up in St. Petersburg, attended the best schools and independently wealthy. Mmm, very nice,” he said, clicking his tongue as he flipped the screen on the tablet he was holding.
“Mr. Petrov, you obviously don’t need us for a job; according to your bank account. You’ve got more money than several celebrities, yet you stand here in street clothing. Why?”
“I don’t need a job,” Nik agreed, putting all his cards out on the table. “But you do have something I want: security. Protection.”
“From what?”
“I’m not sure,” Nik said frankly. “All I know is that the last few weeks I have been beaten up, grabbed, robbed, had my house broken into, and I am in danger.”
“Then hire a bodyguard.”
“No, because I couldn’t trust them.”
“And you feel like you can trust us? Why is that?”
“Because I have something you want.”
“Yes, you do,” the man said suddenly with a cold, calculating smile that instantly made Nik regret coming. He listened for several minutes and knew immediately that he was stuck. Checkmate, if you will.
He’d been cornered and out-maneuvered to the point that he would now be working for the Russian government in the intelligence branch. Not only would he have the freedom to build and continue to work on his software, he would also be used as a tool to access sites around the world. He would also have a secured apartment and someone watching him at all times.
Nik was then introduced to Dmitri – his bodyguard and human leash. The man was massive. While Nik wasn’t a small man by any means, Dmitri was like having a giant yeti follow you- big and awfully hairy. He had long hair, a thick beard, and reminded Nik of a very tall, very fit, super-scary Santa Claus with brown hair. No bowl of Jell-O around his middle!
The Intelligence agency hadn’t learned of Nik’s program he was building yet to hack and control systems from the ground, or he would have been only assigned to that. No, they only thought he built apps and software bundles but had apparently made a name for himself online by hacking into the CIA. The dossier contained his hacker name that he used online: Nikodemus.
It was a play off of his own name and the biblical name. It was close enough to be real, yet no one would pick something like that. Everyone online wanted something cool or fashionable; toss in a few punctuation marks and you got names like ‘&am’ or ‘L@dybu&’.
Whatever, he thought.
His hacker name got him protection and access to other systems. He could do this for a while and develop a plan to lay low somewhere until things died down for him. Last thing he needed right now was anything drawing more attention to him.
3
The flight to St. Petersburg, Russia had been uneventful, thankfully. For Galina, flying was a first for her. Growing up, her family always travelled via car if they went out of town-regardless if it was an hour or an eight-hour road trip. She’d had her passport for years now, always intending to see the world at some point, yet never making that final step. Now, she was stepping, hopping, skipping and jumping headfirst into world traveler status.
Being in a plane for well over twelve hours was taking its toll, no matter how excited she was. Everything ached- her legs from staying seated so much, her tailbone, even her shoulders from trying to keep from flopping over when she slept. Rubbing her neck, she wished she would have brought that small donut shaped pillow for her neck… or her bum at this point. At least she wasn’t a basket-case on the flight.
One poor woman nearby asked for several servings of wine. Each was a tiny bottle that looked like it was directly out of a mini fridge. At one point, they told her no and Galina could have sworn the lady was fixing to cry. Thankfully, they were announcing that they would begin their descent in about an hour so the lady was able to keep herself under control.
Looking out of the airplane window, Galina was pleasantly surprised. She really hadn’t known what to expect from the city other than the stereotypical things you saw in books or on television. Pictures she’d seen showed open fields of farmland, picturesque cathedrals, snow covered landscapes – nothing like the bustling airport she saw in front of her.
Her heart pounded happily as she realized that she’d returned to her parents’ homeland. While America was where her heart lay, there was something incredibly overwhelming to know that your ancestors – your lineage- stemmed from this land, these people. This was her blood, her roots.
“Have you been here before?” the man next to her, George, asked kindly. He looked to be about fifty years old and his wife about the same. They’d told her on the flight over that they were celebrating their thirtieth anniversary together and decided to see the world. Russia this year, Japan next year, and then Australia. They’d picked out a location every year, every anniversary. Galina thought it was incredibly romantic and sweet.
“No, my family came from here long ago but I’ve never been,” she admitted, and then cursed herself. She really was failing at being a spy. Espionage 101: don’t tell people more than they need to know – and a simple ‘no’ would have answered his question.
“What do you plan on seeing while you are in town? Do you have any plans, dearie?” the wife, Sophie, inquired eagerly, pulling out a copy of her travel guide that had a variety of colored sticky notes protruding from it in several spots. Apparently, she believed in bookmarking everything with post-its.
“I’m just here to take it all in,” Galina said evasively and quickly masked her aloof answer with a smile. “Just plan on seeing the sights and basking in the culture.” She hoped to get in some time to see attractions, and while she resisted planning out a daily agenda, she did book a hotel close to the Church of the Resurrection – and close to where Nikodim Petrov was reportedly living.
Just then, the plane touched down onto the runway. A small bounce was felt, followed by a firmer landing onto the asphalt strip. Galina felt a momentary bout of fear as the brakes were applied heavily, pushing her forward against her seatbelt buckle. Glancing around, she saw that the others looked almost carefree at being tossed about. She’d been surprised at being sucked back into the seat on takeoff – it stood to reason that landing would be just as intense. Letting out her breath, she tried to calm her thumping heartbeat at the adrenaline rush.
Time flew by as they finally disembarked the plane and Galina emerged from the doorway leading from the plane to a small hallway. She couldn’t stop the smile that was suddenly plastered across her face as she saw the signs on the walls of the airport. Everything was in Russian, th
en English and it made her feel satisfied to know she could read it all. That’s why Adrian Dima had brought her onboard – she would fit in easily.
Conversations around her were full of welcoming cries, happy greetings, and rapid-fire business calls. As she followed the crowd, she felt the part of the tourist now- seeing everything for the very first time. Newspapers in Russian, decorative bottles of vodka, and fake fur hats all stood on display stands for the last-minute souvenirs for travelers. She stopped and picked up a map of the city, tucking it inside of her purse. Grabbing her suitcase, exiting through customs, she finally made her way down to the line of taxis circling the airport like vultures.
It took just over an hour to make it to her hotel room with traffic, and now that she was finally settled in, it was starting to hit her. She was in a foreign country as a spy for the United States. She was on her own and would be left up to her own devices, only to report via a secure network if she had hard evidence. She’d been given three weeks to discover something before they would require an update. Hoping that was plenty of time, she felt the pressure starting to hit her. She had to find Mr. Petrov and garner information somehow. She knew Dima’s unspoken suggestion to her, his words echoing in her mind:
Find him, flirt with him – do what your country needs you to do in order to discover if the information he stole will compromise our safety. You’ll do what is needed and anything at all is within reason. Don’t hold back, Galina – the Russians won’t when it comes to us.
His words made her feel dirty and she hadn’t even left the States yet. Galina knew what he expected, but she would just have to find a way around it. Her faith came first and she’d promised to save herself for marriage, not for the whim of some director at the CIA. She wasn’t worried; she was clever and could be engaging…even if Petrov was a quiet, solitary man.
Spying on the Billionaire Page 2
