1
Caspian
“Hey, Batman. You said today was the day. How are we doing?”
Cas rolled his eyes at his captor but otherwise ignored the barrel-chested mouth-breather. It wasn’t like Cas was some rich superhero, skulking around, brooding in his lair of expensive high-tech toys. It wasn’t his choice to keep the lights off in the roach infested dump they temporarily called home. He let his gaze dart around the room. Though maybe it was better not to know what scurried around in the dark while he slept. Not that they allowed him much sleep.
The two had been squatting in the middle of goddamn Siberia for the last three weeks while Brutus huffed and puffed his way around the place like he was trekking Mt. Everest instead of crossing a postage stamp size apartment. Three weeks of Cas freezing his balls off waiting for some dumb-fuck white-collar admin to open the wrong email.
And now, they had. And now, their system belonged to Cas. A thrill shot through him. This was what he lived for. This was what made it all worth the threat of prison, of death. Knowing that there was really no barrier Cas couldn’t breach, no system he couldn’t hack. No matter how hard the world tried to keep Cas out, he always found a way in. A back door, an unlocked window. Nobody would ever lock Cas out again. Nobody.
He didn’t care about the information. That was his client’s problem. Cas wanted the puzzle, the unsolvable riddle, the dilemma. Once he cracked it and gave the client whatever they were looking for, it no longer held any interest for him. In twenty-four hours, he’d be on a plane somewhere warmer, finally, and Russia would be a not-so-fond memory.
A shadow fell over Cas’s keyboard as Brutus leaned into his space, scanning the three screens as if his pea-sized brain could process the beautifully precise and detailed lines of code scrolling past. Cas didn’t look away from his task but grimaced at the smell of cheap vodka on his babysitter’s breath.
“I asked you a question,” the man grunted in a thick Turkish accent.
Cas rolled his eyes. “I’d be a lot further if you people would stop asking questions. You hired me for a reason. Do I interrupt you when you’re scratching your ass and eating pork rinds? No. So, can you just back off and let me do my job?”
“I still don’t understand what you’re doing or why we even need you. You’ve been sitting around here for days doing nothing. I think you’re full of shit. You’re just…how you say? Yes, hustling us,” Brutus declared, sounding far more dramatic than necessary given the circumstances.
Cas blew out a breath through his nose. “Okay, fine. You want to know what I did? I injected a rootkit into an email I sent disguised as their regular Monday Margaritas invite and waited until somebody was stupid enough to open it and click on the actual picture. Now, I have unhindered access to their entire system, including all of their encrypted data, their employee files, list of their foreign operatives, their client list, social security numbers, private security data… Everything. It’s a shame you guys are just looking for a random list of names because I know for a fact you could sell all of this for a pretty penny.”
Which was exactly what Cas intended to do after he provided Brutus and his crew with the names they sought. Okay, so he sometimes cared about more than just solving the puzzle, but only because he was preparing for retirement. Just because he was only twenty-three didn’t mean he didn’t need to think ahead. He just had to buy himself some time while he mirrored the hard drive so he could sell it later.
Brutus ignored Cas’s question, which disappointed him. The lingering anomaly scratched at his brain insistently. Why wouldn’t the Turks care about a hard drive full of highly classified data worth millions to the right people? Nobody paid six figures for somebody’s corporate softball league roster. They were clearly high-level targets of some kind, but why? How could the list of names be worth more than the hard drive as a whole?
“How do you know you won’t get caught? What if their people find you snooping?” Brutus asked, as if he hadn’t even heard Cas’s question.
Cas counted to ten before answering but couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “They won’t. Rootkits are like the holy grail of hacks. They are almost impossible to detect because they function at such a low level they essentially erase their tracks as they go. There are federal cybercrime agents who wouldn’t be able to find this. Now, please, for the love of fuck, go find something to do so I can get you what you came for.”
Cas’s fingers flew as he worked, sweat breaking out on his forehead even in the chilly room. He’d had way too much caffeine, his heartbeat so scattered and jumpy it almost seemed to beat in time with the rapid-fire pounding of his typing. But that didn’t stop him from periodically stopping to take a swig of the energy drink at his side, shuddering at the taste. The Russian shit was terrible. He had no idea what was in it, but given the lax food restrictions, it could be anything from rat poison to paint thinner. Cas didn’t care as long as it kept him awake. He’d run out of his Adderall a week ago, and his new comrades didn’t seem to think his inability to focus was their problem.
“You’re pushing your luck, kid. Just because they said I can’t kill you doesn’t mean I can’t make you hurt.”
Cas gave a harsh laugh. “Do you know how many times a week I get threatened by people like you? I’ve lost count. Without me, you don’t get what you need.”
“And you get a bullet in the head and no money,” Brutus countered.
Cas felt a sharp stab of…something. Regret, some faint memory just out of reach. “Yeah, but the difference is I’m Gen Z, pal. We can’t wait to die. Can you say the same?”
Brutus grunted in confusion but didn’t comment further.
“Look, we both got people to answer to. So, why don’t you lumber back over to your side of the room and pretend I’m not here, and, in exchange, I’ll pretend you haven’t been jerking off to the same six-minute porno for the last three weeks.”
“You are lucky they need you,” Brutus growled, his fist smashing down beside Cas’s mouse, causing his energy drink to tip precariously.
Cas snatched it before it fell over onto his keyboard, giving the man a dirty look. “You know you can get porn for free now, right?”
The man gave one of his patented put upon sighs then stalked to the other side of the room, muttering something in Turkish. Cas considered it a win. It was hard enough to concentrate without his meds. The constant barrage of stupid questions only made it worse.
He rubbed his eyes, waiting for the bleariness to pass, before pushing headphones into his ears and cranking up the trance music he’d downloaded when he’d first arrived in the hellhole he now shared with Brutus.
Another grueling seven hours passed before he finally found it, tucked away in a hidden packet in the deepest, darkest part of their system. Cas grinned, swinging his ball cap around backward and cracking his knuckles. He stuck the thumb drive into the port to mirror the hard drive before alerting his roommate. “Got it.”
Brutus woke with a start, rocking himself twice to get enough momentum to push his large frame off the sagging sofa. “You have the list. All of it? All the names?”
“Yeah, they’re all here.” Cas left the thumb drive in place, refusing to hand it over until his bank confirmed the money transfer. “I still don’t understand why this list is so important.”
