Vyper interrupted him from the other end of the couch. “One of our trackers reported in. It looks like a Russian hacker violated security and logged into FANTAZIJA.COM, a gambling site for auto racing.”
“What did the tracker tell you?”
“The Russian computer remained on an isolated network for several hours. My tracker recorded information but could not call back until the Russian got the urge to gamble.”
Niko glanced at her laptop. “Can you trace him backward from the gambling site?”
“Better than that. My software was running on the Russian computer for hours before contact. This hacker used the Far Eastern University network to access FANTAZIJA.COM. Far Eastern is located near Vladivostok, Russia.”
Niko closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table. “That’s Siberia—near the North Korean border. I expected the hacker team to be in Moscow or St. Petersburg.” He leaned back to process the information. “How does this help us? The guy could have been an innocent student whose laptop was infected by a hacker.”
“For one thing, I collect unique information from each computer that responds—CPU ID, motherboard serial number… and a few other items. It is like a fingerprint. I will recognize it if I ever see it in the future. But you are right—we need evidence of more Russian hackers from the same region.”
Vyper logged into FANTAZIJA.COM. Athletic-looking men in colorful clothes stood next to race cars of all kinds. “If one of the Russians likes the site, I imagine some of his friends might visit it, too. When they come to gamble, I will infect their computer, and then trace them back through the network as far as possible. Often a pattern emerges. I expect to see visitors from Siberia.”
An instant message popped up on Vyper’s screen. She clicked on it, and the screen displayed more information. “It is about your friend Gato,” she said. “He went into cardiac arrest.”
“Impossible!” said Niko. “He’s not even thirty.”
Chapter 9
Trotsky
Niko stared at his laptop screen, willing a message to appear. The people in the Center had been his only family, and now they were dead… except for Gato… if he survived.
Finally, a news alert flashed on the screen—the victim was stable but comatose.
Gato’s still alive!
Niko knew something about comas. Years ago, his mother had gone into a coma after an overdose. Eventually, she woke up confused, and remained that way until her death. The same thing could happen to Gato.
Vyper sat at the other end of the couch. Niko had known her for less than twenty-four hours, but they’d been through a lot together. She was an amazing woman, cute but all business.
She reached out and touched Niko’s arm—something she hadn’t done before. “I am sorry about your friend.”
He gently touched her hand and gazed into her eyes.
She looked away but didn’t recoil from his touch.
Niko took this as a positive sign. “Gato’s the last friend I have… at least from my past life. I feel so alone.”
Vyper’s eyes connected briefly with his. “Marko was my only friend. You are my friend now.” She turned to her computer. “We must fight back. You should send out a message from Trotsky.”
All things considered, her warm response was a breakthrough. With any other woman, this occasion would merit a hug… or more. But she was different.
Niko searched online for press coverage of yesterday’s events. Most of the major news services carried the story distributed by National Press:
An explosion and fire destroyed the Kozel Group Action Center in Ashburn, Virginia, Monday evening. Authorities fear dozens of casualties. One survivor was taken to Sterling Hospital where he is reported to be in serious but stable condition. Recovery teams, including canine units, began searching for bodies Tuesday morning. The cause of the explosion is under investigation.
Niko checked the Loudon County Times website. Their coverage was more extensive. It mentioned that the CEO of Kozel Group suffered a heart attack and died the night of the explosion.
Damn right! Russians killed him.
The Times, in a separate story, reported that emergency responders were delayed because the county’s emergency phone system failed.
Failure? Russians rerouted the number.
Niko filled Vyper in on the limited news reports before updating his Trotsky message. If the reporters couldn’t connect the dots, he’d do it for them. He also included a short clip from the Alpha World security video, along with a description of the injury on Marko’s calf.
Vyper angled her screen toward Niko. “Those Russians chasing us on Ashburn Ridge Road died. Here’s the accident report.”
Dead? Niko had done many things in his life he wasn’t proud of, but he’d never killed anyone. This was self-defense, though. “If I hadn’t pointed that laser in the driver’s face, no telling what would have happened.”
Niko skimmed through the report. Both victims had Russian names, but he didn’t recognize either one. He considered including this in the Trotsky communication, but decided it would be an unnecessary distraction.
Niko started making a list of people to receive his anonymous messages—the Loudon County Times, the National Press, maybe someone in the government. If Marko were alive, he’d know.
“Vyper, do we have access to Marko’s archived email?”
She gave him the link. “You should add the Cybercade security manager to your Trotsky contact list. I sent you his address.”
Niko found several emails addressed to a DHS agent, and a few others to an FBI agent. He added them both. “My Trotsky message is ready. Will you send it anonymously? It should go to two reporters, two government agents Marko trusted, and Cybercade’s security manager.”
“Sure thing. But add a signature word on the DHS and FBI communications. Like a secret identity that only they know. Do not give it to the reporters or to Cybercade—they would not keep it secret.”
“Okay. I’ll add the name Mercader. He’s the man who assassinated Trotsky.”
“Appropriate name.” Vyper smiled. “I also have some good news. Marko’s killer is dead.”
“How do you know?”
“One of the victims who ran into the guard rail had a mug shot, so I ran facial recognition on it. The video image of the killer in the brewpub was a match.”
“At least we got justice for Marko.” The vision of the BMW swerving and crashing flashed through Niko’s mind. “You know, those two saw me, but now they’re dead. All the other Russians involved in the attack probably believe the reports of my death. I don’t have to hide anymore.”
“I agree, you do not have to hide your face—only your friend, Gato, will recognize you. But everyone believes you died in the fire, so you cannot use your real name and you cannot go home.”
Niko tried to make sense of everything that happened, and he decided that two heads were better than one. “Tell me, do you have any idea what the Russians are up to? Are they simply probing our systems for intelligence, or are they planning a serious attack?”
“I am good with computers, not with human motives. The Russians are gathering data from emergency services computers in Fairfax County.”