Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I get out of the shower and check my phone. Still no reply from Hannah. Which means, yeah, she’s almost certainly fast asleep.
I get into a pair of pajama pants and flop into an armchair with a beer, my laptop, and a couple of phones. As I throw back the beer, I scroll through the messages and job requests I’ve missed throughout the day, but nothing appeals to me enough to reply. That is, until I come across a missive received through my dummy website—Your Nerd for Hire. A chain of department stores wants to hire me for a cybersecurity gig. Apparently, they got hacked earlier this year and had all their data stolen—a logistical and PR nightmare—so now they want to make sure their new system is as unhackable as it can possibly be. They write, “We hired the best cyber-security team money can buy to create our new system. And now, we’d like to hire you for a full week, during which you’ll attempt to hack our new system through any possible means.”
Ha. This is a gig I would have been thrilled to take right out of college. For quite some time now, though, a gig like this has been far beneath me. At least, that’s what I would have thought before today’s embarrassing failure. Frankly, the way I’m feeling right now, this kind of thing might be all I’m good for—trying to hack a department store’s new system. In fact, it’s the perfect gig to find out if I’m as mediocre a hacker as I now think I am. Hell, I’ll be quitting this project in DC tomorrow, anyway. Why not take this gig to distract me when I’m back in Seattle and hanging out in Hannah’s apartment while she’s at work?
I write back and tell the client I’ll do the gig with one caveat: I’ll only do it on a contingency-fee basis. If I can breach their system within one workday, then they’ll agree to pay me a lump sum equal to whatever they’ve paid their supposedly “expert” cybersecurity team. But if I can’t breach their system in one day, then I promise I’ll keep working on it for free until I’m successful or, in the alternative, willing to certify the system as unhackable.
After pressing send on my reply, I finish my beer and then click into my file on Hannah’s sweetheart swindler, Greg Smith aka Angus Wellborn. I haven’t had much time over the past several weeks to even think about the guy, let alone try to hunt him down. But now that I’m going to quit this project tomorrow, I might as well poke around and see if I can make some headway. There’s got to be some recent instances, somewhere, of the dude using his real name. Like, maybe his mother has used it on some paperwork that’s been filed in the public record? Or maybe someone has sued him for something? Demon Spawn gave up looking for him a while ago, so I guess that’s where I’ll jump into the hunt—by looking through every instance of “Greg Smith” in the public record, and then cross-checking the birthdate to see if it’s the right one.
As I’m scrolling through a large batch of Greg Smiths in King County, my phone buzzes with an incoming text from Josh.
Josh: Yo, Peter. Do you have a couple minutes to chat with our Ocean’s Eleven crew + Kat’s brother, Ryan, tonight? Ryan could use some Henny magic along the lines of what you did for Jonas, all in the name of potential true love. No worries if you’re too busy. I know you’re swamped these days.
Me: You know I’m a sucker for true love. I’m in the middle of something, but I can talk in about 30 min.
Josh: I’ll call you then. Thanks, brother.
Me: BTW, I’ll for sure make it to the C&C party now. Put me down as a yes.
Josh: Awesome! What about the gig in DC?
Me: It’s over. I’m leaving tomorrow.
Josh: Congrats!
I stare at the word on my screen, feeling sick to my stomach. What I wouldn’t give to deserve Josh’s congratulations right now. I’ve never quit a gig in my life, due to abject failure. It’s a horrible feeling.
Me: Thanks. Talk to you in 30.
Sighing deeply, I return to my laptop and resume scrolling through endless entries about “Greg Smith.” And with perfect timing, just as I’ve fruitlessly reached the last entry of the batch, my phone rings with an incoming call from Jonas. It’s not a surprise, really. Josh mentioned he’s with the whole crew.
“Hey, Jonas.”
“Hey, Henn. I’m at Josh’s house with Sarah and Kat’s brother, Ryan. Kat felt sick and Josh went to comfort her in their bedroom.”
“Aw, poor Kitty Kat. I thought her morning sickness had faded a bit.”
“If so, it’s not completely gone. She looked downright green when she bolted out of here. Hey, can I put you on speaker phone?”