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Authors: Jerry Hatchett
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now.”
“I appreciate that, Agent Rowe.”
“You can assist.”
“Excuse me?”
I heard a commotion at the door. The second wave of the FBI invasion hit, four scraggly-looking cracker types—hackers are legitimate wizards despite the misuse of the word in the movies—loaded down with computer gear. One of the Bureau’s teams of criminal techs performing “rehab” work for the government as a way to avoid jail time. I had no doubt they recognized me.
“My people will be handling the computer problems now,” Rowe said. I looked at Stocky, who was staring at me as if I were public enemy number one. Skinny was setting up shop in a corner.
“There will be hell to pay for this stunt, Rowe. These guys know nothing about these systems.”
“You’re a greedy fascist, dude,” one of the hackers said to me. “Information should be free.”
“Whatever,” I said, then turned back to Rowe. “You can’t be serious about turning this bunch loose in here. You could have at least brought genuine Bureau pros.”
“They’ll learn quickly enough. They may be a bunch of mi sfits but they’re the best of the best, the real experts in this game.” The label didn’t seem to bother them. They were busy unpacking gear.
“You’re a real piece of work, Rowe.”
“People in glass houses shouldn’t throw rocks, Decker.”
“Meaning what?”
“The Bureau has a long memory. We don’t think you’re so much a technology wizard as a technicality wizard.”
“I see.”
“I thought you would.”
Abdul’s brow had scrunched up in a knot, his dark comple xion reddening as he rose from his chair. “You are fools. Matt Decker is the—”
“It’s okay, Abdul. Let’s help them out,” I said with a wink only he could see.
“Yes, Matt Decker,” he said as he eased back down.
11:51 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
After seeing the crew the FBI sent, I was double-glad I hadn’t mentioned the email to them. I shuddered at the thought of the Pierced Nose Gang running roughshod through my la ptop. No, keeping that message out of their hands and minds was working just fine, especially when there was nothing to gain from exposing it. For the moment, 69 was a dead end and there were more pressing issues at hand.
“Mr. Decker, Mr. Tarkleton on the blue line for you,” the secretary said over the intercom.
I took the call in the lounge, out of earshot of Rowe and his posse. “Decker here.”
“Matthew, any headway?”
“No. The FBI showed up with a bunch of cyber-thugs and put them to work. They’re giving me a pretty hard time about being here. Still haven’t heard from Fulton.”
“Are they crazy? Do they know who you are?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Why would they not want you on this case?”
“I’ve made a few enemies in the FBI over the years, Tark. Nothing worth talking about, but law enforcement grudges run long and deep.”
“I’m apt to make some enemies myself as soon as I can get back but in the meantime we have another problem. The admi nistrator of the hospital in Tupelo is a friend of mine and he just called me on my cell phone. Their generator is still down and the part to repair it is two days away. They have patients who are going to die soon without surgery. We have to get this grid back up, even if we have to do it manually.”
“Tell them to expect power in thirty to forty-five minutes.” I hung up the phone. Maybe other hospitals were faring better with their emergency power, but I had to deal with what was in my face.
Back in the control room, the crackers were finding out they weren’t quite so sharp when faced with state-of-the-art code instead of the shoddy corporate servers they were accustomed to plundering. I managed a few moments of pride until I remembered I was locked out too.
I leaned over and whispered to Abdul, “Every power plant in our district is still operational, right?”
“Yes. The power is still available but simply cannot pass through the grid
“I appreciate that, Agent Rowe.”
“You can assist.”
“Excuse me?”
I heard a commotion at the door. The second wave of the FBI invasion hit, four scraggly-looking cracker types—hackers are legitimate wizards despite the misuse of the word in the movies—loaded down with computer gear. One of the Bureau’s teams of criminal techs performing “rehab” work for the government as a way to avoid jail time. I had no doubt they recognized me.
“My people will be handling the computer problems now,” Rowe said. I looked at Stocky, who was staring at me as if I were public enemy number one. Skinny was setting up shop in a corner.
“There will be hell to pay for this stunt, Rowe. These guys know nothing about these systems.”
“You’re a greedy fascist, dude,” one of the hackers said to me. “Information should be free.”
“Whatever,” I said, then turned back to Rowe. “You can’t be serious about turning this bunch loose in here. You could have at least brought genuine Bureau pros.”
“They’ll learn quickly enough. They may be a bunch of mi sfits but they’re the best of the best, the real experts in this game.” The label didn’t seem to bother them. They were busy unpacking gear.
“You’re a real piece of work, Rowe.”
“People in glass houses shouldn’t throw rocks, Decker.”
“Meaning what?”
“The Bureau has a long memory. We don’t think you’re so much a technology wizard as a technicality wizard.”
“I see.”
“I thought you would.”
Abdul’s brow had scrunched up in a knot, his dark comple xion reddening as he rose from his chair. “You are fools. Matt Decker is the—”
“It’s okay, Abdul. Let’s help them out,” I said with a wink only he could see.
“Yes, Matt Decker,” he said as he eased back down.
11:51 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
After seeing the crew the FBI sent, I was double-glad I hadn’t mentioned the email to them. I shuddered at the thought of the Pierced Nose Gang running roughshod through my la ptop. No, keeping that message out of their hands and minds was working just fine, especially when there was nothing to gain from exposing it. For the moment, 69 was a dead end and there were more pressing issues at hand.
“Mr. Decker, Mr. Tarkleton on the blue line for you,” the secretary said over the intercom.
I took the call in the lounge, out of earshot of Rowe and his posse. “Decker here.”
“Matthew, any headway?”
“No. The FBI showed up with a bunch of cyber-thugs and put them to work. They’re giving me a pretty hard time about being here. Still haven’t heard from Fulton.”
“Are they crazy? Do they know who you are?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Why would they not want you on this case?”
“I’ve made a few enemies in the FBI over the years, Tark. Nothing worth talking about, but law enforcement grudges run long and deep.”
“I’m apt to make some enemies myself as soon as I can get back but in the meantime we have another problem. The admi nistrator of the hospital in Tupelo is a friend of mine and he just called me on my cell phone. Their generator is still down and the part to repair it is two days away. They have patients who are going to die soon without surgery. We have to get this grid back up, even if we have to do it manually.”
“Tell them to expect power in thirty to forty-five minutes.” I hung up the phone. Maybe other hospitals were faring better with their emergency power, but I had to deal with what was in my face.
Back in the control room, the crackers were finding out they weren’t quite so sharp when faced with state-of-the-art code instead of the shoddy corporate servers they were accustomed to plundering. I managed a few moments of pride until I remembered I was locked out too.
I leaned over and whispered to Abdul, “Every power plant in our district is still operational, right?”
“Yes. The power is still available but simply cannot pass through the grid
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