Honeypot (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 8 - Bobo

Bobo sat in an old, frayed dressing gown staring at his computer screen. Pizza box on the floor, a half-eaten meat feast inside. Alongside, a selection of empty beer cans and mugs, the dregs of days' old coffee at the bottom. Alone. Divorced. Late forties. A small flat close to London. Nondescript. Like him. Maths teacher by day. Hacker by night and weekends.

An addict.

He hadn't seen his kids in years. His wife left him for someone less angry with life. Taking the first person who would have her and the kids. She hated his drug habit. Hated having to take money from his wallet to pay for the kids' school meals. Hated the arguments. His cynicism of the world and everyone in it.

Politically driven. Happy to stand for hours when he was younger with a banner protesting the latest thing to irk him. That's how he met his wife. Two protestors against the world. Strong believers in the power of little people if enough got together. Her interest in fighting the world faded when a family came along. His grew.

He became consumed by the Dark Web. It took whatever goodness was inside him and charred it beyond recognition. He stumbled across it when looking for new suppliers of his go to drug of choice. One deal turned into many. He began selling to feed his addiction. Using whatever money was left over to buy better, faster computers. He was selfish, self-centred. He earned the money. Why share it? His wife and kids had enough. This was for his enjoyment.

He fell in with those who thought nothing of others. He found himself moving in circles that might have turned his stomach in younger years. He began looking at images. Ones he knew he shouldn't. A morbid fascination drawing him back over and over again. He failed to see how far into the dark woods he had ventured. He had lost his way. On purpose. He didn't care. When you leave your moral compass at the entrance, you no longer care where you're going.

He was angry at the world. Angry he hadn't had the same breaks he saw others getting. Angry at his wife for leaving him. Angry at his kids for not writing. Angry at the school where he had worked for decades not promoting him.

Angry. Really fucking angry.

He was long past considering the consequences of his actions. If someone got hurt. Too bad. He had his life to consider. This was his amusement. His entertainment. Powerful. He was powerful in this virtual world. Getting others to do his bidding. Mostly unwittingly. A sick game. Some stupid kid, bent on doing good. Saving the world. Idiots. Where had it got him? Nowhere. Even naiveté has a price on the Dark Web. You enter at your peril.

Morality. What's morality?

What makes a person do evil things? It wasn't his idea to target hospitals. He was being paid handsomely in drugs. A cosy transaction. He had a brain, unless he was high. He knew this was an act of cyber terrorism. In a perverse way, it made him feel good. He wasn't a hero. His wife had made that perfectly clear. Nothing heroic in what he did. His wounds, self-inflicted admittedly, were too open, too raw to heal.

His wounds, his pain now inflicted on others.

Screaming I hate you at the world. Like a small child angry at its parents. The person he hated most was himself.

Deserving pity? Fuck, no. Don't give this guy an inch. Don't be that naïve. He would sell loyalty in a heartbeat. As he had done with Robin. Comfortable hurting a lot of people. Without a care in the world.

Waverly was right. He needed to be stopped.

The gang were having a night out. A rare event. Pete was keen to try a new club. Waverly knew this would be a good opportunity to talk to Robin. She and Champ were the last to arrive. Robin was at the bar.

"Hey, what do you guys want to drink?"

Champ slapped Robin on the back. "Good man. Pint of whatever. Waverly?"

"G and T."

They stood together watching people get into the music. Waverly spotted Chrissy dancing with another woman. Her hunch about her had been right. Champ needed to strut his stuff on the dancefloor. He tried to get Waverly to join him. She resisted.

"Robin. Can you introduce me to Bobo?"

Robin looked at her. He liked Waverly. Not his type. He liked clever without a skirt. He pondered her request.

"I guess. I'm not sure you need to. He's just another hacker."

"But, he's the one we're doing all this shit for. I want to know if he's legit. Do you know him?"

"He was my maths teacher at school. Got me into this. Sold me a few happy pills. He's an OK guy. He sees the bigger picture, that's all."

Champ joined them. "You guys need to get out there. It's mental."

Waverly smiled at Robin. She had her man.

She couldn't wait to tell Nicole. She sent a text when she got home.

Waverly: I know who Bobo is

Nicole: Can we meet

Waverly: 6.30pm. The Narrowboat

It was gone midnight when Waverly sent the text. Nicole had been in bed a few hours. She contemplated Waverly's text. She felt happier than she had in a long time. The job drained her. Her personal life sucked the life out of her. She operated on caffeine most days.

There was something fresh about Waverly. Something pure. That kid in school who wants to do good. Who befriends everyone. She was interested.

She was there before Waverly. She saw her enter. She felt that flutter again. Haught, keep this strictly business, she said to herself, as Waverly waved.

Waverly motioned to Nicole, asking if she wanted a drink. Nicole shook her head. Holding up the double whiskey already in her possession.

"Bobo is a maths teacher. He worked at a school where someone I know attended. I have an address. I'm guessing my friend would have gone to school near his home. So, he's got to be living in the area. Right."

Waverly giggled. The sound sent a tingle through Nicole's body.

"I don't want my friend to get into trouble. If I give you his name and address I'm exposing him. He's not the villain. Bobo is."

Waverly pushed a piece of paper towards Nicole. She stared at the information. The delicate handwriting. "Waverly, this is great. I'll do my best to protect your friend. I know all of this is risky. You don't know whether you can trust me. I need to know what you're telling me is trustworthy."

Waverly looked shocked. She was telling the truth. Why wouldn't she?

Nicole picked up on Waverly's expression. "Sorry. Look, you know as I do, people hide, pretend to be someone else. I need to check out what you're telling me. That's all. But, thank you."

They sat in silence. Both waiting for the other to make the next move. Any move. Their transaction was complete. Waverly had delivered. She went to speak, Nicole attempting to say something at the same time. They laughed.

Waverly got there first. "If there's nothing else you need to discuss, I'll go. It was nice meeting you. I hope you catch Bobo. I wish I did what you do."

"Waverly, wait. You don't have to go. Stay."

Waverly stood. "Nicole, I crossed the line. You shouldn't be mixing with me."

Nicole watched as she left the pub. The thought of mixing with Waverly coursing through her body.