bluffed his way into WT Gaming and Programming.
“First, I want to ask you something,” Jordan said.
“Do you now?”
“Did you find out who hacked into Cockenzie’s SetLink?”
“Sort of,” Ian answered warily.
“He came to us,” Neil explained.
Jordan nodded. “And you gave him a job?”
“We might’ve done.”
“What’s his name?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Jordan shifted his approach. “Is he here now?”
The twins hesitated.
“That means yes,” Jordan said. “I’d like to have a quick chat.”
Half-heartedly, Ian said, “All right. I’ll go and get him.”
Neil gave his brother a nod.
Jordan suspected that the gesture conveyed more than just agreement but, if he was right, the twins were using a sign language that he didn’t understand.
Neil sat down at his desk and gazed at Jordan, but didn’t say a word.
Jordan didn’t trust the brothers. In the quiet, he adjusted his hearing to maximum. He wanted to find out if Ian and the programmer were talking nearby. He didn’t pick up any voices,
though. He heard lorries and cars flying past on the A14, various unidentifiable industrial clunks, bangs and squeals coming from the bigger factories on the estate, the wind whooshing around the
buildings, a door slamming and footsteps. Someone was running away.
At once, Jordan realized what the twins’ look had meant. They’d agreed silently to tip off their employee.
Jordan jumped up. Sarcastically, he said, “Thanks for your help.” He crashed through the door and brushed past Ian, who was no doubt returning to tell Jordan that the man
wasn’t available after all. Jordan dashed to the exit just in time to see someone jump into an old Vauxhall and slam the door shut. The sound of the engine revving was like the roar of a jet
in Jordan’s ears. He turned down the volume as he sprinted towards the car.
Weaving its way out of the twisty car park, the Vauxhall could not get up any great speed.
Determined to cut off the worker’s retreat, Jordan made for the car park’s exit. The Vauxhall slowed to take the final bend and Jordan appeared at the driver’s window.
Knowing that the car was about to accelerate away from the estate, Jordan had to make a quick decision. He raised his right arm and punched through the glass.
9 DEEP WEB
Splinters of glass flew everywhere. The driver was so surprised that he yanked on the steering wheel in an attempt to get away from Jordan. The car veered left and crashed into
a bollard.
Jordan bent down towards the broken window, watched the airbag deflate like a burst balloon, and said, “In a hurry to get away? That means you’ve done something bad.”
The man at the wheel was about twenty-five. His seat belt and the airbag had pinned him down, so he wasn’t hurt in the low-speed collision. Even so, he seemed incapable of speech. His
mouth hung open, but he couldn’t form words. He’d been stunned by Jordan’s ferocity and the accident.
“What’s your name?”
Surrounded by shiny fragments of glass, he struggled to reply, “Dipak Hardikar.”
“I know you knocked out a power station in Edinburgh. I want to know what else you’ve done.” Jordan brushed away the remaining beads of glass from the lower edge of the window
and then leaned on it with his right forearm.
Dipak shifted his gaze to Jordan’s hand. Perhaps he was expecting blood and bruising, but he noticed for the first time that there was something different about Jordan’s whole arm.
“Nothing,” he stammered.
“Nothing? Perhaps you’re a bit hazy on the law about misusing computers. If the police take yours away, their specialists will have a field day, looking at what you’ve
done.”
He appeared to be recovering from the shock. “They won’t find anything.”
“I know some experts who will.”
“What do you want?”
Jordan looked closely into Hardikar’s face as he replied. “I want to know what you’ve got against Phil Lazenby.”
There
“First, I want to ask you something,” Jordan said.
“Do you now?”
“Did you find out who hacked into Cockenzie’s SetLink?”
“Sort of,” Ian answered warily.
“He came to us,” Neil explained.
Jordan nodded. “And you gave him a job?”
“We might’ve done.”
“What’s his name?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Jordan shifted his approach. “Is he here now?”
The twins hesitated.
“That means yes,” Jordan said. “I’d like to have a quick chat.”
Half-heartedly, Ian said, “All right. I’ll go and get him.”
Neil gave his brother a nod.
Jordan suspected that the gesture conveyed more than just agreement but, if he was right, the twins were using a sign language that he didn’t understand.
Neil sat down at his desk and gazed at Jordan, but didn’t say a word.
Jordan didn’t trust the brothers. In the quiet, he adjusted his hearing to maximum. He wanted to find out if Ian and the programmer were talking nearby. He didn’t pick up any voices,
though. He heard lorries and cars flying past on the A14, various unidentifiable industrial clunks, bangs and squeals coming from the bigger factories on the estate, the wind whooshing around the
buildings, a door slamming and footsteps. Someone was running away.
At once, Jordan realized what the twins’ look had meant. They’d agreed silently to tip off their employee.
Jordan jumped up. Sarcastically, he said, “Thanks for your help.” He crashed through the door and brushed past Ian, who was no doubt returning to tell Jordan that the man
wasn’t available after all. Jordan dashed to the exit just in time to see someone jump into an old Vauxhall and slam the door shut. The sound of the engine revving was like the roar of a jet
in Jordan’s ears. He turned down the volume as he sprinted towards the car.
Weaving its way out of the twisty car park, the Vauxhall could not get up any great speed.
Determined to cut off the worker’s retreat, Jordan made for the car park’s exit. The Vauxhall slowed to take the final bend and Jordan appeared at the driver’s window.
Knowing that the car was about to accelerate away from the estate, Jordan had to make a quick decision. He raised his right arm and punched through the glass.
9 DEEP WEB
Splinters of glass flew everywhere. The driver was so surprised that he yanked on the steering wheel in an attempt to get away from Jordan. The car veered left and crashed into
a bollard.
Jordan bent down towards the broken window, watched the airbag deflate like a burst balloon, and said, “In a hurry to get away? That means you’ve done something bad.”
The man at the wheel was about twenty-five. His seat belt and the airbag had pinned him down, so he wasn’t hurt in the low-speed collision. Even so, he seemed incapable of speech. His
mouth hung open, but he couldn’t form words. He’d been stunned by Jordan’s ferocity and the accident.
“What’s your name?”
Surrounded by shiny fragments of glass, he struggled to reply, “Dipak Hardikar.”
“I know you knocked out a power station in Edinburgh. I want to know what else you’ve done.” Jordan brushed away the remaining beads of glass from the lower edge of the window
and then leaned on it with his right forearm.
Dipak shifted his gaze to Jordan’s hand. Perhaps he was expecting blood and bruising, but he noticed for the first time that there was something different about Jordan’s whole arm.
“Nothing,” he stammered.
“Nothing? Perhaps you’re a bit hazy on the law about misusing computers. If the police take yours away, their specialists will have a field day, looking at what you’ve
done.”
He appeared to be recovering from the shock. “They won’t find anything.”
“I know some experts who will.”
“What do you want?”
Jordan looked closely into Hardikar’s face as he replied. “I want to know what you’ve got against Phil Lazenby.”
There