“You got video games? I’m pretty good. Know why I chose the name Niko?”
“Of course—Grand Theft Auto. You think you are good? You will learn why I am called Vyper.”
Chapter 13
Zatan
Niko sat next to Vyper, studying his computer screen. “Here’s a job I could do. They’re looking for a programmer. It’s contract work, all online. No need to go to an office. I don’t think they’ll report my income to the IRS, either.”
“Why are you looking for employment?” Vyper set her laptop down. “Taking down Sokolov is a full-time job.”
“I’ve been living in your home for nearly two months, eating your food, and spending money from Marko’s bank card. It’s not fair to you, and the bank card won’t supply cash forever.”
“I do not understand,” said Vyper. “I told you, money is not a problem. I manage the cash Marko kept off the books. Most of it came from Sokolov. The bank card will not run out.”
“You manage his money?” Niko walked to the kitchen. “That doesn’t matter, I still need a job. I can’t put a deposit down on an apartment using cash from a bank card.” He grabbed the bread, lunch meat, and a paper plate.
Vyper stood and turned to him. Her head moved slowly back and forth. “An apartment? Why leave?” She pressed her hand against her cheek. “We work well together.”
“I don’t want to impose any more than I already have. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
She came closer. “I want you to stay.” Her hazel eyes began to water. “Please don’t go.”
Sadness and desire gripped Niko. He set his plate down and gently rested his hand on her shoulder, resisting the urge to embrace her. “I won’t leave you. I—”
Vyper reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her head against his chest and squeezed him close. “I am glad.”
For a second, surprise froze him in place. Then his hands met at the small of her back and he pulled her close. Her hair had a faint scent of coconuts. Her soft breasts pressed against him.
Niko stroked her hair and tucked a strand over her ear. He pressed their hips together so she could feel his arousal.
Almost immediately, Vyper released her hold and stepped back, an awkward smile on her face. “I will have a sandwich, too.”
Damn. I spooked her.
Niko moved to the kitchen table, blocking her view of the bulge in his pants.
Her eyes never left the plate while she made a sandwich.
“Are you sure you want me to stay?” asked Niko.
She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed. Did you change your mind?”
“No. I just thought… uh… we held each other… I didn’t mean—”
“We are friends. I needed a hug.” She grabbed her plate and headed to the couch. “I want to see the news.”
Niko sat next to her as the news anchor teased about an upcoming official briefing on the recent attacks at two government facilities. Then the show broke for a commercial.
He pointed to the TV. “That briefing’s going to be about the action centers. I think the FBI ran out of leads after they found the dead Russians in the car crash. They can blame them for Marko’s murder, but not the Cybercade attack.”
Vyper flipped her laptop open. “Marko’s killer and the driver—they shared an apartment. The FBI searched it, but they never told the public what they discovered.”
“Look at the TV. They’re showing what they found in the apartment. A drone, exactly like the ones that attacked the Action Center.”
On the screen, an FBI agent stood behind a table used to display evidence from the search. Vyper stared at the dark coil next to the drone. “Is that an explosive?”
“That’s the shaped I told you about. It blew a hole in the roof.”
The television briefing continued. A government official requested northern Virginia residents to call if they saw a similar drone or explosive material. When a reporter asked for information on the poisoning of Marko and Gato, officials repeated the statement that toxicology results were not yet available.
Vyper tapped away at the keyboard. “An unnamed reliable source claims the police found digoxin in the apartment. It is made from digitalis.”
“That should make it clear, even to the FBI—they killed Marko. The media says nothing about Russian involvement despite my Trotsky messages. Are they blind or stupid? How much evidence do they need?”
Vyper turned her screen toward Niko. “I just received another tracker report from FANTAZIJA.COM. This is the third one—all from Vladivostok. Does the name look familiar?”
He nodded. It was one of the top Eastern European hackers Niko had identified. Each of them had disappeared from sight around five months ago and appeared online later with a new name. Vyper had used her magic to correlate the old names to the new ones.
But Zatan wasn’t on the list. He hadn’t visited FANTAZIJA.COM, or perhaps he avoided being infected by the tracker. Nevertheless, Vyper had discovered his former computer identity, one Niko remembered from his youth. Back then, the man who had become Zatan used his computer skills to manage the books for Falcon—aka Sokolov.
A smile appeared on Vyper’s face.
Niko knew why. “You cracked your way through more of the dark net, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “This guy connected to FANTAZIJA using two of the Onion routers I already control. He also accessed two routers I had not seen before, so I infected them.”
“Haven’t you spread your software across the entire dark net yet?”
Vyper giggled. “It is on twenty-five percent of the Onion Network. I only have a partial view of the network traffic.”
“You never cease to amaze me. No one else has penetrated it like you.”
“You are wrong. The NSA has been doing this for much longer than I have. They monitor most of the traffic on the dark net.”
“What?” Niko’s pulse raced. “The government knows what we’re doing? They know you’re breaking into financial records? They know where we are?”
She shook her head. “You realize everything about security is risky. Nothing is one hundred percent safe. But we take precautions—encryption, false identities, private networks. We make it hard for NSA to break through our defenses, but they can find us if they really want to.”
“I thought my secrets were safe behind the dark net, but now you tell me the NSA can see anything they like.” Niko shook his head and went to the kitchen. “You thirsty?”
Her only response was the sound of tapping on the keyboard.
He selected a pale ale from the refrigerator and grabbed a glass. “Have you found Sokolov’s money yet?” He set the glass next to the couch and took a seat.
“Making progress. I discovered a bank account tied to Sokolov’s nephew. He is the owner and the only employee of a business called Altai Associates. For some reason, Russia’s GRU pays Altai over two billion rubles each month.”
Niko did a mental calculation. “That’s thirty million dollars from Russian military intelligence. What does Altai do?”
“It is a service provider, but there is no mention of the type of service. Of course, it does not make sense for a one-man company to deliver any service worth that much money. It must be a shell company—used to launder or funnel funds secretly.”
“Where does the money go?”
“I am still trying to figure that out.”
“I hope NSA doesn’t realize what you’re doing.” Niko turned to his laptop when it beeped. “Zatan just appeared online at his favorite dark web site—Runion.”
“That is a dangerous site. Hackers and con artists lie in wait for newbies.”