Helen Hanson - Dark Pool (10 page)

His posture relaxed as he leaned against his chair.

“Until then, your only job is to study and stay out of trouble.” She dangled the keys from her finger. “My job is to find a job.”

He started to say something, but she cut him off with chatter. “Hey, tell Javier’s mom ‘thanks’ for all her help.” She hurried toward the door. “See you later.”

Maggie closed the door behind her quickly. Sometimes too much talk interfered with decisive action. That’s all they needed right now. Decisive action. She had to find a damn job.

At the end of her driveway, the handsome, dark neighbor carried several envelopes her direction. She didn’t have anywhere to hide. This time she had to introduce herself or forever be known as the neighborhood bitch.

Her lips moved into fake-smile position. It worked for photos. Why not for the sculpted neighbor who might not even speak English?

When he saw her, his wide, full mouth eased into a genuine smile. “Miss Fender?” His stride elongated up her drive.

Baggy red sweats hung from his hips. With each step, his muscles flexed beneath the red, long sleeve t-shirt that clung to his chest. If he hadn’t been smiling, his lithesome, silent stride, the power in his swinging arms, or the intensity of his total focus on her might have been frightening.

Maggie caught herself looking for his wife. She half-stepped back, brushing off her cheek. “Hi, I’m Maggie Fender.”

“I am so very glad to meet you, Miss Fender.” His accent sounded Russian. “Your mail.”

“Please call me Maggie.” She took the mail then extended her hand.

“Maggie. What a lovely name. I am Fyodor Umanov.” He took her hand with a gentleness that surprised her.

Her stomach fluttered. She withdrew her hand as soon as it seemed polite. “Fyodor. Were you named after Dostoyevsky?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “You know Russian literature?”

“Some.
Crime and Punishment
is a particular favorite of mine.”

“I was named for him. I am glad she did not name me after Raskolnikov.” His soothing laugh coaxed Maggie to join him. “My mother is a chauvinist.” He shrugged, a what-can-you do-with-parents gesture that Maggie recognized in herself. “She thinks only the Russian masters are worth reading. She named my sister Anna. Maybe you met her?”

“I can’t imagine how.”

“I am sorry. She was here with me yesterday.”

The wife was merely a sister. Maggie curbed her hair behind an ear.

“I thought perhaps you met. Anna is not known for staying by the wall as you say.”

Maggie laughed and touched his arm. “You mean she’s not a wallflower.”

“Yes. That is what I meant.”

The sound waves from his baritone laugh sent a shiver to her spine. Maggie was glad she met him when she was cleaned-up, decked in something fine, and ready to dazzle. It happened so rarely these days.

Right across the street. And single.

But the gorgeous, Russian stranger would have to wait. “I’m sorry, Fyodor. I’m late for an appointment. But I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Maggie.” He hesitated. “Would you have dinner with me sometime?”

“Dinner?” Even tripping through her own fantasies hadn’t prepared her for that question. She just met the man, and he was already asking for a date. She couldn’t get involved now. But he seemed nice. And she knew. Nobody planned these meetings. They just came. Or they didn’t. And right now, she delighted in the handsome change to her luck. “Thanks, I’d love to.”

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

Travis left the house only after Maggie’s car had turned at the end of their street. He cut wide around the back of the Modesto’s apartment building. Most of the renters were still at work. He slipped into the empty apartment without stirring any witnesses.

 

The hacker forums allowed Travis entry with his new user name, but the identity meant nothing to the community. The elites in the community were his best hope of tracking Kingphisher. Travis had sent out messages, and hopefully, one of his friends would respond. They all knew he had good reason not to resurface under his original name. He dropped to the floor and fired up the laptop.

His chest pounded. A message waited for him from AreEff. Travis expected it to be cryptic.

 

imposter noob. real bird flew away. have details. double-click me somewhere else.

 

He sagged back against the wall. So the Kingphisher stalking these waters wasn’t the one who set Travis up for hard time. Just another newbie taking a name he’d seen on one of the boards.

The professional hackers didn’t bother with handles or the boards for that matter. For those who made their living via industrial espionage or from governments, anonymity paid too well. There was no incentive to leave a calling card.

Travis was a seasoned journeyman, but AreEff was a wizard. His contributions, while dubious, were legendary on the boards. Some speculated that he was a composite because no one person could be that proficient. Travis knew otherwise.

Travis considered himself a white-hat. He hacked for the sake of curiosity, looked for security breaches left by script kiddies, or found system vulnerabilities in dire need of a simple patch. He had even poked the defenses at the Silicon Valley Server Farm at the behest of his father and the owners. Many of their customers knew about it. They figured if a kid could compromise their security, they’d rather have him on their side.

Travis found several problems at the Server Farm. Routers with incorrect documentation that allowed access to restricted computer ports, a zero-day virus lying in wait on a critical application, and the hairy guy on the night shift with absolutely no discretion. Security threats also came in thirty-one flavors.

AreEff had white-hat tendencies, but to a select few, he offered up exploits that Travis knew were illegal. Travis kept to his moral boundaries, usually on the legal side of firewalls. Then Kingphisher offered him a thousand dollars to run a penetration test on The Rockstag Group.

AreEff gave him some advice before he took the job. AreEff said a pen test was like hiring someone to hit on your wife to see if she’d cheat. In this case, Travis wasn’t supposed to do any damage, just access the company financials, payroll, and copy all the customer project files to prove he’d made it in. Easy money when the family needed it most.

But in the excitement of contributing to his family’s dwindling reserves, he’d forgotten the one thing that AreEff told him mattered most, a get-out-of-jail-free card from The Rockstag Group executives—a document authorizing the penetration test and exonerating him of any wrongdoing. Sure would have been handy during his trial.

Kingphisher baited him with promises of quick cash and reeled him in bleeding. Whoever-he-was left Travis flopping on the dock in the sweltering heat. The few who really knew the truth wanted Kingphisher to fry. If AreEff said he knew something, then it was as certain as the morning fog.

AreEff told Travis to contact him elsewhere. Travis checked the list of on-line users anyway. No AreEff. He logged out and hopped on a different forum.

The message boards showed nothing waiting for him. He clicked the users-online link and pulled the computer closer. AreEff topped the list. Travis kissed the screen.

He double-clicked on AreEff’s name and a window popped up for him to enter his message. He typed.

 

glad u know me. ready for details.

 

He sent the message. The wait pressed heavily on his patience.

Words flashed on his screen.

 

real bird left soon after u. his ip mapped to trg. ur suit didn’t find it because he spoofed a yahoo account. sorry man. couldn’t get it to u without risk. you still breathing?

 

No. Travis wasn’t breathing.

Kingphisher’s IP address traced back to trg. The Rockstag Group. At the trial, the prosecutor said that Kingphisher came in on a Yahoo address, and it didn’t belong to anyone who could approve a pen test. It was an easy spoof to mask an IP address. Kingphisher’s real IP address traced back to a computer inside The Rockstag Group. Travis had told his lame attorney to check this, but the suit didn’t believe Travis either.

That meant one of the assholes who pressed charges against him for hacking had set him up for the fall. Was it that guy who attacked Dad? Brian Carter.

But why?

Travis tried to wrap his head around the facts. He typed a question for AreEff and their conversation volleyed.

 

how sure?

bear in the woods sure. curious. u no. did the research myself. totally bogus rap. watched it come down in news. sucked. glad to see u back tho

thx

sorry couldn’t do more. not safe u no

i no

gotta bounce. u need help to bag this one. hit me

will do. thx

 

Now what? As far as he was concerned, AreEff’s assurance was pure gold. But he had zero proof and without proof, no one would believe him. Not even Maggie.

The air in the room suddenly wouldn’t fill his lungs. Travis logged out of the forum and shut down the machine. Outside in the coastal breeze, he inhaled the sharp, briny mixture as if it were his last chance.

Travis leaned against a cypress until he felt ready to face Javier’s mom. She had long-range antenna that sensed trouble before it arrived. And he really did want to get the paperwork going on the home school. If only he could stop shaking.

He pulled himself together long enough to avoid the renters on the walk back to the main street. Hearing the rumble of Maggie’s car in their driveway, he ran back to their house. Jogging. Good cover for bone rattling news.

She flew out of the house as he arrived. “Hey. I forgot my résumés. Everything okay?” Her antenna wasn’t bad either.

“I was heading to Javie’s when I heard your car. Dad still sleeping?”

“Yeah. He’s—”

A small, red car raced down their street at full volume, forcing their attention. It tore down the road as if unaware the road ended on the beach. When the car came near, they saw the contorted face of a woman behind the wheel. She jammed on the brakes, smoking the tires to a stop in front of their house.

With the engine still running, a large woman spilled out and staggered toward them. Travis thought she might be hurt. He looked for signs of bleeding. “Are you all right?”

She leaped on him, clawing at his face and screaming, “You killed him! You killed my husband!”

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

 

 

Travis tried to defend himself from the crazy woman clawing at him by blocking the blows with his forearms. But Maggie saw that Dad and Trisha’s admonitions to “never hit a girl” were going to get his ass killed. Maggie lunged at the woman from the side, tackling her onto the sandy dirt. Maggie landed hard, zapping her shoulder with pain.

 

Both vying for a hold on the other, they thrashed on the ground. The big woman kicked out as Maggie rolled away. The woman hit air. Maggie dove on her and kneed her way up, straddling the woman’s waist. She snatched at the flailing arms, finally securing the woman by the wrists. Maggie’s knees pressed into the woman’s armpits until she gave up the struggle.

The woman’s auburn hair spilled over her face. She panted for breath and directed a burst of air with her lower lip to clear the hair from her view. A big woman, maybe five-ten, and about one-eighty. She was soft and weak.

Maggie’s muscles locked. Her fingernails dug into the woman’s flesh, but she wasn’t letting this maniac take another shot. She assessed her own damage. The back of her hand bled. Her interview outfit might survive with dry cleaning and mending. But the thrashing shredded her only good pair of pantyhose.

Maggie jerked the woman’s arms. “What the hell is your problem?”

The words seemed to break inside the woman as if she’d been receiving on a different channel. Despair etched her face in furrows. Snapping, brown eyes rumpled to an uneasy close. Her mouth gaped in lament. Beneath Maggie’s relentless grip, she withered like a slug in the sun.

“Tap out, Mag.” Travis’ voice was behind her. “Tap out. Let her up.”

Air shot from Maggie’s nostrils. Her diaphragm pulsed. “Are you freakin’ nuts?”

The woman on the ground no longer resisted. Her tears streamed now, but the sound muffled into the ground. Maggie dropped back to rest on her haunches and loosened her clamp on the woman’s wrists.

She looked around and noticed a small crowd had gathered. There was snotty Carl Pinkerton who showed up for all their family dramas. Ginger took her usual place by Travis’ side. Javier flanked him. When the crowd was pre-assembled, Javier’s parents always skipped the neighborhood shows. Just the loons at the Fender house again. Nothing new.

Damn, she was tired of making headlines. Could this get any worse?

Fyodor the Ripped climbed out of the woman’s car, her engine now quiet.

Dinner. Yeah. That was going to happen.

Maggie released the woman’s arms. They fell to the ground as if inanimate. She hovered above the wracking body and stretched to a stand, wiping her hands down the front of her skirt.

“Are you alright, Magpie?” Travis had her by the elbow.

“Do want me to call the police?” Ginger waggled her cell phone. The rest of the gawkers dispersed.

“No. I’m fine.” She looked at her brother. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Her name is Barbara Carter. I checked in her purse.” Fyodor spoke kindly. He helped Maggie to her feet. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Maybe he didn’t think she was a monster. She didn’t start the damn fight, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to walk away from it. “No.” She wiped at her face.

Travis paled. “Barbara Carter. She said something about me killing her husband. Brian Carter was the guy who attacked Dad.”

They stared at the woman on the ground. Travis squatted down and held out his hand to her. “Ma’am. I’m sorry about your husband. Can I help you get up?”

She stayed on the ground. The sobbing subsiding into deep breaths. Travis stayed with her while she readied herself. She wiped an arm across her eyes and turned to look at him.