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

Jet’s eyes became blurry, and tears started flowing down her cheeks. The man touched her cheeks and wiped them away. He was so close she could smell his aftershave. She looked at him again, and to her astonishment she recognized the man. It was the nice man from the coffee shop—the one with the daughter at university.

  Jet took a moment to compose herself. She concentrated, and after a few moments she controlled her breathing, trying not to panic. She turned her head slightly and surveyed her surroundings. She was drawn to a small clock near the entrance of the room. It reminded her of something—the therapy session with Dr. Munson, her psychiatrist. That had been over three years ago. She let her mind wander more, and drifted back off into unconsciousness.

  Jet opened her eyes again. She was no longer bound to the bed, and there was no strange man next to her, waiting for something. It was just her and Dr. Munson.

  “Jet, your parents are anxious about you. I feel that the incident you experienced at school triggered a memory of something traumatic.”

  Jet looked at the therapist, and in that moment he absorbed her memory. It was almost like he was experiencing what she had experienced. Then Jet spoke, confirming Dr. Munson’s suspicions about what had happened at the school.

  “I’m studying by the school gym, near that tree I like. It is between fourth and fifth periods. On Tuesdays, the jocks practice later in the day. The gym is deserted.”

  Jet paused, licking her lips.

  “Go on, Josephine.”

  “Jake shows up with another boy, Donnie I think. He is staring at me, so I pack up my things. He blocks the path. I cannot get away,” Jet said.

  Jet closed her eyes, and the tears coming.

  “He . . . Jake tries to remove my blouse. He threatens to hurt me, unless . . . Mr. Robinson scares him away . . .”

  Jet paused, stiffened, and then shivered as if she were cold. Then she awoke, covered with sweat. She gave Dr. Munson a scared look.

  “I’m done,” she said.

  Jet got up and left Dr. Munson’s office. She entered the hallway, and for a moment it looked like every hallway she had ever seen: normal. Then it began spinning. She closed her eyes, trying to shake the feeling of vertigo. When she opened her eyes once more, she expected to be in the hallway of Dr. Munson’s office, but instead she was back on the bed, with Seymour staring at her.

  I’m never getting out of here!

  Jet wept.

  Jet was long overdue for her check-in with Nigel—several hours overdue, by Nigel’s calculations. Nigel brought up his Find Friends app to try to find her last known location. There must be a good explanation for why Jet wasn’t responding; it wasn’t like her to go dark. The app showed her last known location—Newport Harbor—over two hours ago. Nigel picked up his phone and texted Cassidy.

  Have you heard from Jet?

  No response. After several minutes, Nigel was about to give up when he heard his phone chirp.

  I thought she was working with you, Cassidy texted.

  She was at a coffee shop, Nigel replied. Last I heard from her was over two hours ago.

  Hold on. Let me call her mother.

  Nigel resumed checking his packet trace, and network activity increased tenfold to EIA. This doesn’t make sense! Nigel thought. The border gateway protocol (BGP) routers were sending traffic away from the ISPs and toward EIA; this was highly suspect.

  Nigel checked his email: nothing! It was at least a half day since he’d reported the suspicious activity to the authorities.

  Nigel was about to give up on Cassidy and text Milo when he heard his phone chirp.

  Jet’s mother hasn’t heard from her in hours. She was missing when she returned to the coffee shop. She called the police!

  The police will most likely tell her to wait twenty-four hours before filing a missing person’s report, Nigel texted back.

  I think we need to find her. I have a bad feeling.

  My mother is also missing. She went to Better Buy Computers hours ago and hasn’t returned, Nigel texted.

  I’m with Natasha, John, and Milo. We just tried searching for your mom. It may be nothing, but there was a major accident on the interstate.

  My mother usually takes the side roads.

  Well, that’s it, Nigel. John was talking to her earlier. Her phone cut out, but she said she was taking the interstate home, Cassidy texted.

  Nigel didn’t respond.

  Several minutes later, Cassidy sent another text. We’re coming over with Milo.

  Okay, see you soon, Nigel wrote.

  Nigel looked out the window. The sky was darkening. Night was falling. Where is Mom? She should have been back by now! Where is Jet?

  And as if all of that wasn’t enough, his laptop’s battery finally died.

  Chapter 6

  Jeremiah entered a large circular room. The walls on the outermost perimeter were bare, featureless, and gunmetal gray. In the center of the room, another circle of white curtains concealed a hospital bed and various pieces of medical equipment. On the bed, a small, frail-looking female could be seen through a break in the curtain. Her deep blue eyes looked up at Jeremiah, the only parent she had ever known. The girl was almost eight, but she looked much younger. Doctors were examining equipment and writing on clipboards.

  “How is she?” Jeremiah asked one the doctors as he approached.

  “She is weak. The dialysis treatments are taking their toll on her.”

  “Has Mel been down to see her?” Jeremiah asked.

  “She hasn’t been down here in weeks—” The man paused, his brow furrowed in concentration, almost if his next words would be the most profound thing he would ever say. “I hope Melissa can make it . . . before she passes,” the man finally said.

  “Thank you, doctor,” Jeremiah said.

  The man nodded with a reverent look on his face.

  “Any idea what I can do to ease her pain?” Jeremiah asked.

  The doctor gave Jeremiah a thoughtful look and chose his next words carefully. “April has several diseases. The primary, beta thalassemia major, is treatable with regular blood transfusions. If that were all she had, I would say she could live a happy—albeit complicated—life with treatment. But . . .” The doctor trailed off.

  “I’m afraid the late diagnosis of the disease has caused significant bone marrow damage,” he continued. “If we’d caught it early enough, a bone marrow transplant might have been enough.”

  “You said ‘several diseases.’ What other ailments does she have?”

  The doctor looked nervous, and he didn’t look Jeremiah in the eye. He looked down as he chose his next words.

  “April has also developed aquagenic urticaria, a rare allergic reaction caused by exposure to water,” the doctor said.

  “She’s allergic to water?”

  “There is little in the scientific community about this disease, but there are some theories. The water itself may be a catalyst for other toxic allergens. April has developed the disease earlier than most reported cases. Typically, the disease manifests around puberty. She still some years from that,” the doctor said.

  Jeremiah looked down and was silent for a long time. The doctor fidgeted a little, uncomfortable with the silence.

  “Are there any experimental options?”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the damn doctor!” Jeremiah said in a hostile tone.

  “Sir, I understand this is difficult. She is ill. However, I have a colleague that might be able to help, although her treatments are controversial and very expensive.”

  “Whatever it takes. Set up a meeting with this colleague . . .” Jeremiah abruptly trailed off.

  The doctor nodded in agreement. Jeremiah couldn’t utter another word. It was like someone grabbed his throat and wouldn’t let go. He left the chamber. It surprised him to discover that he was weeping. What’s wrong with me?

  The girl he knew loved life and everything in it—especially animals. Seeing her like this was b
eyond troubling; it was downright heartbreaking. Lost in thought, Jeremiah barely noticed one of his men coming toward him.

  Two years earlier

  “April, are you there?” Jeremiah asked as he crept around the couch. He loved the hide-and-seek games that April made up. She was very creative and enjoyed making fun games she and her grandfather could play.

  “Play the monkey, Father,” April said. Sometimes April called Jeremiah “Father” instead of Grandfather, and he never corrected her. I wish I had this relationship with Mel, Jeremiah thought. Melissa was never interested in playing with her father; she was a little too preoccupied with her boyfriends. That would be her undoing later in life.

  “Oh-oh, ahh-ahh,” Jeremiah said as he pranced around, pretending to scratch himself under the arm. “I spot ya,” he would say, and then he’d try to chase April. She would always get away, laughing all the while.

  Later, when the beta thalassemia major took hold, the blood transfusion treatments took their toll on April. Her appetite was not as good as it once was. By her fifth birthday, he had seen his granddaughter turn from a ball of energy—full of life, and wanting to explore the world—to a bedridden, tired girl. She eventually stopped creating—or even playing—games, even ones on cell phones. She would stare out of the window, waiting for something interesting to happen. Jeremiah would always ask her if she wanted to go outside to see the animals she often saw from her window, even in winter. Her favorite was the deer.

  “Do you want to go for a stroll outside, April? It looks like a nice day,” Jeremiah said one day.

  “No, Grandfather, my tummy hurts too much,” April replied.

  “What about the telly? Want to watch something? I can put on those animal shows you like.”

  “I’ve watched everything. There is nothing on the telly I haven’t seen,” April said.

  A few months later, flowers were blooming and the spring weather patterns were taking hold.

  “I have a surprise for you, my dear,” Jeremiah said. April didn’t change her expression.

  Jeremiah took a pamphlet out and handed it to her. There was a picture of a furry monkey on the front cover.

  “I’m taking you here—this weekend, in fact!” Jeremiah said excitedly. He hoped this would cheer her up.

  She looked at him, wide-eyed. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you, Grandfather!” Jeremiah looked into his granddaughter’s eyes. They were moist.

  Jeremiah smiled.

  The following Saturday, Jeremiah took his daughter to London Zoo, the world’s oldest scientific zoo. He wanted his granddaughter to experience it firsthand. She’d slept during the short flight from Edinburgh. She was able to get the rest because Jeremiah owned a private jet. He only wanted the best for April. A few hours later, they were at the zoo.

  It was a fun afternoon. The two of them looked at countless animals—the monkeys twice, as she always wanted to revisit the monkeys. As they were preparing to leave, April insisted on going back to see the spider monkeys. She had given each of them names. The bigger, furrier one she’d named Bob. Frank was the stubborn old monkey, and Stephen was a crazy monkey that wouldn’t slow down.

  “I want to say goodbye to my friends,” April said.

  Jeremiah couldn’t refuse, knowing how much this day was going to take from her. About halfway through the day, he’d rented a wheelchair. April was exhausted, but she still wanted to see the animals. The monkeys were in cages. Jeremiah noticed that they didn’t climb very high.

  “Push me closer, Grandfather,” April said excitedly.

  The monkeys seemed to gravitate toward her, and she reached out to pet one of them. The monkey hissed, then batted a claw at her, a tiny scratch becoming visible on her right hand. A tiny drop of blood dropped from between her index and middle fingers. Jeremiah took her hand, and then used a tissue to dab it on the wound. The monkeys screamed and jumped around the cage. The monkey named Stephen jumped on the wire mesh of the cage, shaking it violently. Other zoo patrons stared at April.

  What’s the matter with these beasts? Jeremiah thought. He pulled the wheelchair back. The other two monkeys, Bob and Frank, pulled on the mesh, shrieking. The monkey known as Stephen gave Jeremiah a cold stare. It was almost as if the monkey were plotting, planning to do something terrible. Jeremiah began to move the wheelchair backwards. Stephen watched his every move as Jeremiah slowly backed away.

  I need to get her out of this place, Jeremiah thought.

  After they were a safe distance away, Jeremiah heard screams from behind them. Stephen had scaled the fence and was now on the pathway, mouth exposed—showing teeth! The crazed monkey ran to the nearest patrons, baring his teeth and hissing. Bob wasn’t far behind, making similar moves, looking around and pacing, as if searching for something. Frank was slower, but eventually he got loose as well. How did they get out? Jeremiah couldn’t believe his eyes. The monkeys were acting ruthlessly. Bob appeared to be directing the other monkeys. To Jeremiah, it looked like they were forming a search party. At that instant, Bob spotted Jeremiah, let out a screech, and then bolted directly toward him. Frank and Stephen were just behind. They surrounded the wheelchair, hissing and poking April gingerly. When Jeremiah attempted to protest or get in the way, all three monkeys showed their fangs and then tried to scratch or bite him. Bob tried to bite a finger off.

  April did something that Jeremiah wasn’t expecting: she reached out a bare hand.

  “No!” Jeremiah said, grabbing it away.

  Stephen nodded his head at the other monkeys, who leaped on Jeremiah, scratching and biting.

  “No, Stephen, make them stop!” April said, tears forming in her eyes.

  Stephen screeched loudly, and the other monkeys backed off. Stephen came closer to April, and she reached out. Stephen rested his small head on April’s hand. The other two monkeys lost interest in Jeremiah. They extended their small arms around April. People were slowly coming to get a better look of the surreal scene. April didn’t appear to be frightened, and the monkeys calmed down. Patrons and zookeepers stared in disbelief.

  “Mr. Mason! Are you okay?” one of the guards asked.

  Jeremiah snapped out of it.

  “Yes, I’m just tired. Been a long day.”

  Chapter 7

  “What do you need?” Jeremiah barked into the phone. “I have given your team enough time, money, and other resources. We need to move quickly. They cannot postpone the launch of Project.”

  “Network congestion has been a problem in the eastern United States, and—”

  Jeremiah cut the caller off. “I don’t care what you need to do; just make it happen. I have some of the best minds in the business, so leverage them and get it done. Leviathan must be online by the fourth.” Jeremiah hung up.

  Melissa walked in. “Dad, our guest needs to speak with you.”

  Before Jeremiah could respond, Gregor walked past Melissa.

  “What is it?” Jeremiah asked in a cold voice. He was not in the mood for this.

  “Do you have assets at EIA?”

  “Yes—one of my data warehouses is there,” Jeremiah said.

  “I was viewing your security operations center alerts and noticed this. Your staff is doing a subpar job, I might add, because they didn’t bring it to your attention.”

  Gregor handed Jeremiah a tablet.

  “What is thi—? If these readings are correct, then we are in trouble.”

  Gregor nodded. “Black Iris has launched a major DDOS attack, and they have taken down CloudShield.”

  “Impossible! CloudShield has several redundant systems that should route DOS and DDOS traffic to black hole sites,” Jeremiah said.

  “CloudShield works with the internet service providers (ISPs), and has access to the internet backbone, which uses border gateway protocol (BGP) routers. Think of BGPs like a traffic control system for part of a region connecting to the internet. ISPs have their own serialization, called autonomous system (AS) numbers. If an attacker can reroute
that traffic, then it can be attacked,” Gregor said. “EIA is large enough to have its own set of AS numbers. If those get hijacked, then it can be rerouted.”

  Jeremiah raised his eyebrows, and Gregor took this as a sign to continue.

  “We can use this to our advantage. If we gain control of the facility, even for a short time, we can infect the infrastructure, launch our own attacks, and better defend ourselves.”

  “Interesting. If I’m understanding correctly, we would need to break into the CloudShield facility to protect ourselves.”

  “Exactly, and while I’m there, I can implant our own backdoors,” Gregor said.

  “What are the risks?”

  “There is a small chance of detection, but with all the internet disruption on the Web this week, no one will likely notice. Most internet companies operate on a skeleton crew during the holidays. Many of them will probably be half drunk from all the eggnog. I know I would be,” Gregor said.

  “I accept the risk. Let’s do it, then.”

  Easy for you to say. I’m taking all the risk, Gregor thought.

  “Do you have everything you need to infiltrate the facility?” Jeremiah asked.

  “It’s risky bringing in the radio frequency scanners I need. I will need to source them on-site,” Gregor replied.

  “Anything else?”

  “I need a van, or some other inconspicuous vehicle,” Gregor said.

  “Okay, I will take care it.”

  “Better be going—it’s a long flight.”

  Eight hours later

  Gregor landed in Newport. The pilot directed the airplane to the private airport terminal. An agent directed him to the customs area.

  “What is your purpose for entering the United States?” the agent asked, taking Gregor’s passport.

  “Personal. I’m here to visit my uncle, James,” Gregor said, smiling.

  The agent held up the passport, and then looked at Gregor.

  This is taking too long! Gregor complained internally.