War With Black Iris (Cyber Teen Project Book 2) Read online

  Gregor eliminated the remaining searches after verifying newer PLC unit firmware. The BAS was inaccessible from the internet. I need to gain physical access long enough to install the Remote Access Trojan (RAT). No need to be near the building when I exploit these systems.

  Gregor determined that the building’s camera system had some blind spots. He launched his Datasploit program, which he used to launch the exploit. Seconds later he was in. Easy money. To his surprise, he discovered the aperture of the camera could be modified remotely via software, since the cameras were Wi-Fi enabled. Gregor adjusted the camera aperture until he could see more of the Design Center. He checked all the entrances that the camera had a line of sight on. Then he pulled up the blueprints and saw what he was looking for; two emergency exits could be blocked, trapping any occupants who may attempt to escape.

  Gregor picked up the phone.

  “Operation Footprint complete. Ready for execution.”

  “Perfect,” Jeremiah said.

  “Christmas launch?”

  “Day after. I want you to certify everything. No mishaps.”

  “It will be ready,” Gregor said.

  O’Donnell’s Pub, December 26, 8:26 p.m.

  “How can I help you, madam?” Malcolm said on the other end of the line.

  “Please bring Jony to the phone,” Dahlia asked.

  “I’m afraid that isn’t possible until an outcome is reached or the allotted time has passed.”

  “How much of the allotted time is remaining?”

  “Forty-eight hours.”

  “I need Hunter and Jony now!”

  “It may take some time to bring them to a private location. Is there a number where you can be reached?”

  “Negative. I will call back.”

  Dahlia hung up, and she felt eyes on her. The pub was overflowing, so it could be anyone. It would take the Shadow Dealers a while to get in touch, and it was time to collect her crash kit and move on.

  Dahlia left the pub. She walked slowly down the street and attempted to rub some life into her cold limbs, but her light sweater provided little warmth. She traveled only a block or two before her arms felt as if she’d left them on a block of ice. When Dahlia came to the next intersection, she casually looked back to see if anyone was following. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement near an alleyway, but it was too subtle and too dark to be sure. She made an abrupt left turn then darted into a nearby parking garage.

  Dahlia looked behind her as she rounded a corner, and a man in a hoodie followed.

  She walked faster, but the figure in the hoodie matched her pace. She crouched down low between some parked cars. Can’t shoot him. I need this punk alive! She found a car with a loose tailpipe. With a quick jerk, the pipe was free. She grimaced as the noise reverberated in the garage; the hoodie guy didn’t seem to notice, however, because his stride didn’t deviate.

  A few minutes later, she crouched under a car, hoodie guy’s legs were visible. With all her might, she jammed the jagged end of the tailpipe into Mr. Hoodie’s left ankle.

  “Argh!” Mr. Hoodie screamed and immediately grabbed his left ankle, rubbing it. For a brief moment, their eyes met. She brained him with the tailpipe, and he was out cold. She grabbed his limp body and began dragging him.

  Need to be quick. No sense attracting any more attention than necessary, Dahlia thought. She had a look around. Despite being full, the garage was quiet. Not many people going out on this holiday evening. I need to find transportation! She spotted a truck, and started moving toward it. Argh, this guy is heavier than he looks! Dahlia got him to the truck. Then she heard something.

  Footsteps!

  She turned and found herself facing a middle-aged maintenance man.

  Dahlia reacted without thinking. She punched the man in the throat—hard. The man dropped to his knees, grasping his throat and making muted guttural noises. She searched him and found a large ring of keys in the man’s coat pocket. She liberated the keys and the coat from the maintenance worker. Dahlia put the coat on. Too big! She felt like a child putting on an adult’s coat. She rolled up the sleeves until her hands were visible. Then she found a keyless entry remote among the keys. This is useful! She walked around the garage and pressed the lock and unlock buttons repeatedly until she found the man’s truck. No sense breaking in or hot-wiring a truck when I have Mr. Handyman’s keys, Dahlia thought.

  She went back to hoodie guy’s body and started dragging him toward the maintenance worker’s truck. The passenger section was too small to fit her and the two men, so she decided to make use of the truck’s bed. She opened the tailgate. There was stuff everywhere: used oil cans, hoses, tools, and several other things scattered about. This will have to do!

  An hour later, she was driving the maintenance worker’s truck out of the garage. It had taken some effort, but she’d been able to get both men into the bed of the truck. She’d located plastic sheeting and twine in a maintenance closet in the garage; these materials would keep the bodies clean and contained. “Thanks for the keys, Mr. Handyman,” Dahlia said, chuckling.

  Using her cell phone, Dahlia called the Shadow Dealers and was connected to Malcolm.

  “What’s the news?” Dahlia asked.

  “Jony will be available momentarily.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  After a longer than reasonable amount of time, she was connected to Jony.

  “How goes it, D?”

  Dahlia described the events over the past few hours. Jony knew best not to interrupt her; he listened carefully.

  “Are you there, Jony?”

  “Yes, Mum, just takin’ it all in.”

  “I think I know who is behind it all.”

  Jony remained silent, so Dahlia continued. “The Collective. I saw one of their agents.”

  “Who?”

  “Gregor. He tailed me to a pub just after the incident.”

  “That can’t be good.”

  “How’s Hunter holding up?”

  “He’s inexperienced, which is not helping matters.”

  Dahlia’s head was throbbing; she was alone and fatigued. “I’m recalling you both immediately,” she said. “I need you to protect the home front.”

  “We will set out at first light.”

  “No—leave now!”

  The journey from the isle of the Shadow Dealers to London seemed longer than possible. Jony checked the time. Only nine hours since takeoff? It seemed like it had been twice as long. Hunter was not an ideal travel companion; his complaints and whining always became tiresome.

  When the plane landed at last, Jony stepped off and walked into Terminal 5 at Heathrow.

  He picked up his car and contemplated the events of the previous day as he drove the forty minutes to his flat in London’s West End. He was eager to check on the progress of one of his passion projects once he got home; Jony made it a habit to profile and monitor the activity of unsuspecting creeps, such as pedophiles. They paid well when they slipped into his traps. His latest project had the potential to take him to the western United States. He loved the weather there, especially in Southern California; Seattle reminded him too much of dreary London. But the United States was not the only country that his passion projects took him to; he often visited offenders in his backyard of London’s West End.

  His phone rang. After glancing at the caller ID, he answered. “D—”

  “Where are you?” she barked back.

  “Just arrived at my flat.”

  “I need you at the chateau.”

  “When?”

  “Now!”

  “On my way.”

  Jony didn’t want to disappoint Dahlia; she was both like a big sister and mother to him. Jony owed her everything. She saved me from myself, he thought. He remembered their first encounter. I needed a fix, and I found Dahlia, the Black Heart instead. She got me off the drugs before I ended up in a grave. She must have thought I was an excellent hacker, because she had a reputation for only hi
ring the best. Excellent enough to get me out of that assault charge. A pang of guilt overcame him. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of that girl. But then his mind flipped to anger. She was coming on to me—she deserved what she got! Jony slapped his head. Focus. D needs me.

  Two hours later

  Jony pulled up to the chateau, just south of Locksbottom. He glanced at his watch and noted that he was a lot later than he wanted to be. He’d taken a shower before leaving his flat. I need to be fresh for D, Jony thought. He steeled himself, and then entered.

  Dahlia was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of red wine.

  “Where have you been?” Dahlia said. She was not the type of woman to wait around for men.

  “I just got back from Phantom Island and wanted to be fresh. I—took a shower.”

  “You shouldn’t have; you won’t stay clean for long.”

  I never do.

  “Follow me,” Dahlia said.

  Jony followed her through the kitchen and into a large room. Based on the furnishings, Jony thought it was the living room. A fire had been started, and several pictures lined the mantle. Dahlia lifted one end of the rug and started to roll the carpet in the opposite direction of the fireplace. Jony could see some lines that looked unnatural. Dahlia smacked her fist down on the side closest to the fireplace, and a section of the floor raised. Jony helped her lift the section of the floor. It was heavy, and it stuck, but eventually, they got it open.

  Dahlia produced a flashlight.

  Where did she get that light? No pockets in that skintight outfit, Jony thought.

  Jony followed her descent into darkness, fumbled for a rope or something to pull the door shut.

  “Leave it open,” Dahlia commanded.

  After a moment, Jony followed. He hadn’t been to this safe house before, and he had no idea where they were going. He followed her through a series of narrow passages until they were met with a single wooden door, reinforced with iron. Dahlia handed Jony the flashlight. She was searching around the edge of the door and on the walls. She pressed something, and a small panel opened slightly. Dahlia used her fingers to force open the stuck panel, and after some effort, it moved. She felt around in the crevice with her thumb and index finger until she found what she was looking for; it was an old, iron key. It looked medieval. Dahlia used the key to unlock the door.

  “Help me. On my mark, just tug,” Dahlia said. “Now!” she yelled.

  Together they pulled in unison, and the door made a loud creaking sound, giving way to even a smaller passage. To Jony, the door looked way too big for the passage that was before him. Dahlia was able to contort her body in order to traverse the passage, narrowly avoiding the sharp rocks jutting out of the walls. Jony enjoyed watching her wiggle through. Boy, for someone pushing fifty, she is so nimble, Jony thought. His shoulders were too big for him to fit.

  “It’s pitch-black over here,” Dahlia called. “Throw me the flashlight.”

  Jony did what she asked. Seconds later, he saw the faint illumination that revealed a small room. Dahlia was using her free hand to find something from behind a large hewn surface. A few minutes later, she resurfaced from the narrow crack that was the passage.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Of course. Our guest is waiting, and time is of the essence.”

  Dahlia brushed past Jony, and he followed her into the living room. Following her lead, Jony put the room back in order then followed her into the cool evening. Nothing was said as they walked around the house and over to a barn that was far enough behind the house for Jony to not have noticed. Dahlia stopped short before the reaching the barn.

  She raised a small vial. “With this, we will be able to loosen his tongue.”

  Dahlia opened the barn door. There was a man at the far end. He was tied to a chair tilted at a forty-five degree angle. He had a noose around his neck, and he had to keep the chair positioned using his legs with just enough pressure to keep the noose from tightening.

  He looks exhausted. Good! Dahlia thought, satisfied. She removed the noose and moved the chair back into a normal position.

  “I brought a friend,” she told the man. “He is going to have a chat with you. If he doesn’t like what you have to say, or if you say nothing, then he will cause pain.” She paused. “Do you understand?”

  The man in the chair nodded.

  Dahlia approached a table that Jony hadn’t noticed when they’d entered the barn. She grabbed something then handed it to Jony. It was a pair of pliers.

  “Make him sing,” Dahlia said as she exited the barn, leaving them alone.

  Jony looked down at the pliers. He tried to move the handle, which stuck as he tried to get a feel for the tool. After a moment, he put the pliers behind his back and faced the man.

  “Let’s start with your name,” Jony said.

  The man said nothing.

  I’m not in the torturing mood, Jony thought.

  He smacked the man square in the face with the pliers; they struck the man’s forehead with enough force to make a big purple bruise. The man smiled and then spat on Jony. The beatings continued. When Jony tired of hitting him, he thought of more creative ways to use the pliers.

  He had removed three of his fingernails before the man howled. Jony felt numb and detached. This is not me. Why am I inflicting so much pain?

  After what seemed like an eternity, the man finally said, “Gerr—”

  “What was that?” Jony asked.

  “Gregor! My name is Gregor.”

  Jony froze. No way this is Gregor!

  The man started making moaning sounds.

  “Shut up. I need to think,” Jony said.

  He consulted his phone for a very long time. He didn’t have any recent photos of Gregor to make a comparison, but he did have some information.

  “Okay, what is your home address?”

  “Grozny.”

  “That is not an address, only part of one.”

  “Can’t think . . . the pain! Can I have water?”

  Jony turned away. He was met by Dahlia, who’d silently reentered. She was expressionless.

  How long has she been there?

  “This is not the time for a break,” Dahlia said.

  “Mum, I’m thirsty and need five minutes of fresh air.”

  “Very well, then, but our friend will continue to answer.” She snatched the pliers from Jony’s hands.

  Jony left the room, cringing as he heard more screams.

  Chapter 2

  John Appleton was enjoying himself for the first time in months, his involvement with Nigel’s unjustified incarceration made him uneasy. He had come to Ellen’s family to make amends, and she welcomed him. He’d never had a family of his own, and it was nice being a part of Ellen’s family, even if it was just for a short while. It was nice to enjoy a home-cooked meal for a change. He sat at the dinner table watching Nigel play with his little brother Ralphie.

  The doorbell rang. Ellen went to answer it.

  “Can I help you with something?” Ellen said, greeting the visitor.

  “I’m here to see Nigel.” It was a young woman in her late twenties.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Natasha, Nigel’s recruiter at Collective Systems.”

  “Right. Come in, it’s cold outside.”

  “Can my companions come in as well?”

  Ellen paused.

  Milo and Cassidy stepped up to the door.

  “Hello, Mrs. Watson,” Milo said.

  “Milo! Cassidy! You are both welcome. Please, come on in.”

  Nigel noticed his friends and tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound emitted. He ran over to give them both a hug.

  Nigel wrote on his notepad, The doctor said that my throat needs to rest for a few weeks, but I should be able to speak normally again.

  He noticed a worried look on Milo’s face.

  “We heard about the second attack and wanted to help in any
way possible,” Milo said.

  “Cassidy also works for Collective Systems,” Natasha said.

  “When I found out you were in the hospital again, I wanted to help,” Cassidy said.

  Nigel wrote in his notepad and then presented it to Milo. Help with what?

  Ellen gave Natasha a curious look. “How do you know Milo and Cassidy?” she asked.

  “Cassidy is a full member of Collective Systems. She has been with us for more than a year. She is an excellent organizer and has an aptitude for pattern recognition,” Natasha said.

  I’m responsible for Nigel’s condition, I should leave, John thought.

  “I think I’d better be going now,” John said.

  “Agent Appleton, you should stay. What I’m about to share involves you, too,” Natasha said.

  John gave Natasha a hard look but didn’t move.

  “I’m going to make coffee and tea,” Ellen said.

  “Are you coming back to our game, Nige?” Ralphie asked.

  “Nigel has to work, honey. Play a game on your phone or go to your room for a while,” Ellen said.

  Ralphie left the room without another word.

  “He looked bummed,” Cassidy said.

  “Ralphie took the attacks on Nigel hard. He hasn’t left Nigel alone since they released him from the hospital,” Ellen said.

  Ellen placed cookies, coffee, hot water, tea bags, and mugs on the table.

  “There have been more attacks,” Natasha said.

  John froze as he reached for a mug. Ellen reached for her phone.

  “It hasn’t made the mainstream press. You won’t find anything there.”

  “How do you know?” Ellen asked.

  “Collective Systems not only monitors critical infrastructure, but we also keep a watchful eye on organized hacker groups,” Natasha said.

  “We would have heard about any attacks on infrastructure such as power grids, so you must be referring to the hacker groups,” John said.

  “That is correct, Agent Appleton.”