Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Mr. Jones.” I pause, now questioning whether this is his real name. “I feel like you’ve left some information out.”
“And I feel like I might not be paying you enough from the sound of it.”
“You didn’t disclose who you work for when we set the parameters of the contract. Technically, you’re in breach.”
“I didn’t think it was pertinent information.”
“And yet you have me hacking the FBI database.” Silence fills the line between us. “Your own agency.”
I’ve worked some shady shit in the past. I’ve worked some government stuff before, mostly state and local entities, but I’ve never been so deep that I’ve been tasked with working for a federal agency.
“Doesn’t the FBI have their own tech people?”
“You haven’t been hired by the FBI. You’ve been hired by me, hence, the private contract agreement.”
He doesn’t sound bothered at all. If anything, it seems like he was already expecting this call from me. It means he’s a fast talker, someone who can lie his way out of nearly any situation, but computers don’t lie. At least not to the point I won’t be able to uncover the truth. I don’t trust him, and truthfully, I had a weird feeling about him from the beginning. But I listened to the dollar signs, the ones that have the ability to make my life very comfortable once the job is complete, rather than that feeling in my gut telling me to run away from this job.
“Yet, I’ve just hacked the FBI mainframe.”
“Very good job.”
“Are you trying to coerce me into a prison sentence?”
“Would you feel better if I gave you a legal login? I’ll email you one now.”
“That would be great. I’ll also need a work order to file with my taxes.”
He huffs.
“Just covering my bases. I wouldn’t do well in prison.”
“Federal prisons are very lush.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” I should hang up right now and send an immediate refund of the deposit he already made.
“Just a little gallows humor, Ms. Nelson. I apologize.” He shifts in his seat, the rasp of expensive leather filling the line. “Are you wanting to terminate our agreement?”
I don’t respond immediately because once again, everything is telling me to cut ties and run, but the job alone will clear my student loans with plenty left over.
“You’ve been tasked with researching William Theold.”
“The director of a very well-known branch of your agency,” I add.
“So, do you see now the reasoning for my needing to outsource? My superiors know what’s going on but we don’t know how deep this goes or who he has—” He clears his throat. “You’ve been given a task. Are you capable of completing it or do I need to move on?”
I love America, I do, despite the politics and bullshit we have to go through every four years with little to nothing being done to change our great country for the better, but I’m not sure if getting tangled up with a federal agency is smart considering most of my work could send me behind bars for the rest of my natural life. Hell, digging too much could be considered treason, and I could land in Terre Haute, Indiana with a needle in my arm.
“The potential for more jobs coming your way greatly increases with the care and detail you provide to this job,” Jones taunts, and I see those dollar signs once again.
“I need some time to decide.”
“You have until midnight. Email me with your decision.”
The line goes dead, and as much as it makes sense for the FBI to hire out for some things, this guy landing on my doorstep so to speak is unnerving. I’ve been hacking for years, but just graduated college two years ago. I haven’t done illegal hacking—that wasn’t for personal reasons—for a while. My run-in with the juvenile justice system in junior high put an end to that very quickly.
I’ve gone legit, mostly.
Since I have several hours before my decision has to be made, I log on to Orc’s Realm for some minor distractions. I’ve been on a hiatus for over a week following the Karen drama, and I refuse to let that single incident alter my life any more than it already has.
Our guild is already making runs, so I keep to myself, wandering around, still listening to the chatter about a billion topics at the same time, but keeping out of their way.
A couple shoot me hellos, some on mic and some through the chat box. They welcome me back and give me shit for ghosting them. I mean, I couldn’t stay gone for long. I am the guild leader after all.
“Seriously!” Daniel screams in his mic.
“For fuck’s sake, dude. I thought you said you could play?” another player hisses.
“We won’t get anywhere if he keeps this shit up,” Callie mutters.
It isn’t unusual for us to allow under-ranked players to join us. It’s always been one of our rules. We help out where we can because we were all new at first. I scroll through the online active members until I come across a name I recognize but has no place on Orc’s Realm. W45PN357 (Wasp Nest) is very well known in the hacker community, but much like Anonymous, he’s more myth than reality. Hell, many will argue that W45PN357 and Anonymous are the same guy.