God knows what else.’
‘We’ll manage.’
Chris lowered the paper. ‘The Feds are interrogating the insurance guys. You think they did it?’
‘I’m not the one questioning them, Chris.’ Sebeck stood. ‘From here on out, I’ll be lucky to be in the loop at all.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I gotta go.’
Sebeck headed down the hall to the den. Once there, he dropped into the desk chair and hit the power switch on the computer. While the computer booted, he moved a gaming joystick off to the side and tossed two soda cans into the trash. He called to the kitchen, ‘Chris, I won’t keep asking you to clean up in here when you’re done!’ No answer.
The computer desktop came up. Sebeck launched his e-mail program, then clicked the get mail button. He waited as 132 messages downloaded.
Goddamned spam
. When it finished, the message subject lines ranged from ‘Barely Legal Teens’ to ‘Nigerian Exile Needs Help’ to ‘Lolitas Take Horse Cock.’
He searched his inbox for the FBI message. It was near thetop and had the subject line ‘Case #93233 – CyberStorm/Pavlos’ from
[email protected]
. Sebeck double-clicked on it.
Strangely, as the e-mail opened, the screen went black. Then the words ‘Testing Audio’ faded in. The hard drive strained. Sebeck stared in confusion. What did he do? In a moment, the words faded out and were replaced by a grainy video image of a man. It was hard to tell his age or precise appearance due to the poor video quality. It was amateurish – poorly lit and off-center.
The man looked thin and pale – a condition emphasized by his standing against a featureless white background. He was completely bald and wore what looked to be a medical gown.
What the hell was this, some sort of FBI lab report?
It took Sebeck a moment to realize that the video was already playing. The man swayed unsteadily – his pixels adjusting like colored tiles. Then he looked directly into the camera and nodded as if in greeting.
‘Detective Sebeck. I was Matthew Sobol. Chief technology officer of CyberStorm Entertainment. I am dead.’
Sebeck leaned forward – his eyes fixed on the monitor.
‘I see you’ve been assigned to the Josef Pavlos and Chopra Singh murder cases. Let me save you some time; I killed both men. Soon you’ll know why. But you have a problem: Because I’m dead, you can’t arrest me. More importantly: You can’t stop me.’
Sebeck stared in stunned silence.
Sobol continued. ‘Since you have no choice but to try and stop me, I want to take this moment to wish you luck, Sergeant – because you’re going to need it.’
The image disappeared, revealing the e-mail inbox again.
Sebeck didn’t move for several moments. When he finally did, it was to forward the message to his sheriff’s e-mail address.
Chapter 8:// Escalation
‘Mr Ross, help us understand this: You have no permanent address, and yet you’ve got nearly three hundred thousand dollars in liquid assets. Am I to believe you live with your parents?’
Jon Ross rubbed his tired eyes and tried to concentrate on the question – the same question they’d asked twenty different ways. The one they kept coming back to.
The taller FBI agent leaned in close. ‘Mr Ross?’
‘I’m a contract nomad. Ancient people followed caribou. I follow software contracts.’
The shorter agent stood next to a mirrored window and flipped through his notes. ‘You’ve been at Alcyone Insurance for what, two months now? Is that a long time for you?’
‘Not particularly. Three or four is typical.’
‘Your clients give us various physical addresses for your business. Kind of strange for a one-man corporation, isn’t it?’
Ross ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. ‘You contacted my
clients
? Are you trying to destroy my business?’
‘Why are you concealing information from your clients?’
‘I maintain contact addresses
legally
through resident agents in several states. This is legal commerce.
‘We’ll manage.’
Chris lowered the paper. ‘The Feds are interrogating the insurance guys. You think they did it?’
‘I’m not the one questioning them, Chris.’ Sebeck stood. ‘From here on out, I’ll be lucky to be in the loop at all.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I gotta go.’
Sebeck headed down the hall to the den. Once there, he dropped into the desk chair and hit the power switch on the computer. While the computer booted, he moved a gaming joystick off to the side and tossed two soda cans into the trash. He called to the kitchen, ‘Chris, I won’t keep asking you to clean up in here when you’re done!’ No answer.
The computer desktop came up. Sebeck launched his e-mail program, then clicked the get mail button. He waited as 132 messages downloaded.
Goddamned spam
. When it finished, the message subject lines ranged from ‘Barely Legal Teens’ to ‘Nigerian Exile Needs Help’ to ‘Lolitas Take Horse Cock.’
He searched his inbox for the FBI message. It was near thetop and had the subject line ‘Case #93233 – CyberStorm/Pavlos’ from
[email protected]
. Sebeck double-clicked on it.
Strangely, as the e-mail opened, the screen went black. Then the words ‘Testing Audio’ faded in. The hard drive strained. Sebeck stared in confusion. What did he do? In a moment, the words faded out and were replaced by a grainy video image of a man. It was hard to tell his age or precise appearance due to the poor video quality. It was amateurish – poorly lit and off-center.
The man looked thin and pale – a condition emphasized by his standing against a featureless white background. He was completely bald and wore what looked to be a medical gown.
What the hell was this, some sort of FBI lab report?
It took Sebeck a moment to realize that the video was already playing. The man swayed unsteadily – his pixels adjusting like colored tiles. Then he looked directly into the camera and nodded as if in greeting.
‘Detective Sebeck. I was Matthew Sobol. Chief technology officer of CyberStorm Entertainment. I am dead.’
Sebeck leaned forward – his eyes fixed on the monitor.
‘I see you’ve been assigned to the Josef Pavlos and Chopra Singh murder cases. Let me save you some time; I killed both men. Soon you’ll know why. But you have a problem: Because I’m dead, you can’t arrest me. More importantly: You can’t stop me.’
Sebeck stared in stunned silence.
Sobol continued. ‘Since you have no choice but to try and stop me, I want to take this moment to wish you luck, Sergeant – because you’re going to need it.’
The image disappeared, revealing the e-mail inbox again.
Sebeck didn’t move for several moments. When he finally did, it was to forward the message to his sheriff’s e-mail address.
Chapter 8:// Escalation
‘Mr Ross, help us understand this: You have no permanent address, and yet you’ve got nearly three hundred thousand dollars in liquid assets. Am I to believe you live with your parents?’
Jon Ross rubbed his tired eyes and tried to concentrate on the question – the same question they’d asked twenty different ways. The one they kept coming back to.
The taller FBI agent leaned in close. ‘Mr Ross?’
‘I’m a contract nomad. Ancient people followed caribou. I follow software contracts.’
The shorter agent stood next to a mirrored window and flipped through his notes. ‘You’ve been at Alcyone Insurance for what, two months now? Is that a long time for you?’
‘Not particularly. Three or four is typical.’
‘Your clients give us various physical addresses for your business. Kind of strange for a one-man corporation, isn’t it?’
Ross ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. ‘You contacted my
clients
? Are you trying to destroy my business?’
‘Why are you concealing information from your clients?’
‘I maintain contact addresses
legally
through resident agents in several states. This is legal commerce.
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