The Revolution

Chapter 7

The system that encompassed the Fires of Heaven Grandville City security web was basic Metanet security. Sprinkled on various message boards and hidden under threads upon threads of other subjects sat hyperlinks to “join the Fires of Heaven.” The links always lead to a meta-mail address but also covertly placed a small Trojan backdoor onto the user's metapad.
The idea was if somebody clicked on the link, it was child's play to see if this was a threat or some normal web-surfer looking for a bit of a thrill—the real recruits came from other channels.
Kayla Meyers had taken it upon herself to keep one eye on this channel, even though there hadn't been a single hit on it in three weeks. She had been called paranoid a time or two, but she like to call it “prepared,” a value beat into her during her career building software for missiles for the Grandville Regulars.
She couldn't see it, but this paranoia was worse since Barbara's death. She saw shadows around every corner, worried that the men who penetrated her house were back. She had carried a slug thrower as a matter of everyday routine before, but she had begun sleeping with one under her pillow lately.
The specialized notification sound for what she had began to refer to as the “Fed Trap” shrilly rang through her metapad speakers. A banner dropped down from the top of the screen automatically pausing the Spinner news stream Kayla was watching.
The banner notification said, “New message from MP: 1.013.759.9.”
As loud as she could muster, Kayla screamed, “Becky!”
Rebecca James, as quickly as she could rushed into Kayla's office, “What've you got?”
“The Fed Trap got a hit.”
Rebecca smiled, finally some action, even if it turned out to be nothing. “Have you looked at it, yet?”
“Nuh uhh, not yet anyway.”
“Well, pull it up and tell me what you see.”
Kayla pressed a couple of buttons on her keyboard and the complete file system of the target appeared on her screen. A couple more keystrokes and her pad screen was mirrored on the big screen above her desk placed on the South wall of the apartment. It was the only wall where the morning sun didn't wash it out as it streamed through the window.
For a few moments, Kayla clicked on files at random, not really sure where to start. She looked at Rebecca, “Maybe we need some beanbrew.”
Rebecca nodded and turned on her heels and left to do just that. There were only five of them in the cell, and she was the only one who could make a halfway decent cup.
The apartment was a small two bedroom in a three tower complex on the city's north side. Somehow they packed five of them and a small operations center into the two bedrooms and the communal living area. It was a tight squeeze, but somehow manageable.
She took her time making the pot of beanbrew, methodically pulling down the supplies from the cabinet above the sink, filling the pot with warm water, and sitting and watching the dripping brown liquid fill up the glass pot. She was doing anything she could to allow Kayla time to work her magic.
Kayla may be the tech magic of the group, but Rebecca was the defacto leader. She was the one making the day to day decisions of the cell. If there were important jobs to be done, they came from Billy Walker, but the street level work fell on her shoulders to delegate.
One of the nice things about being an “outside the law 'terrorist' force,” like the Grandville media had called them once, was that she didn't have to worry about being accountable to bureaucrats who didn't have a clue about the situation on the ground. She was thankful that Billy seemingly had that part under control.
Rebecca walked back to the desk that Kayla called an Office with two mugs full of hot, black, bitter drink, one for herself, and one for Kayla. She sat Kayla's drink on her desk.
“What've you got?” Rebecca asked.
“So, this guy is Jackie Hodgeson. He's a financial analyst who works for Amnety. He looks like a normal if a bit antisocial person who does his job and goes home and smokes some leaf and drinks a bit too much.”
“So?”
“Well, this sounds normal, but the strange thing is that the work he does is very specialized. He watches the stock market for trends and makes recommendations to his bosses. Still on the level, huh?”
“Seems so, what're you getting at?”
“Amnety is owned by Financial Services Conglomerated, which is of itself a wholly owned subsidiary of DSI Shapsville.”
Rebecca thought about the corpse of Bob Maklin buried under the barn at The Farm. She cleared her throat before continuing, “So, you think he's dirty?”
“I didn't quite say that. The connection between the three companies is tenuous at best, and is not well known, but if this guy is any good at analyzing finances, then I'd be surprised if he didn't know.”
“So, he knows who signs his paycheck, so what?”
“Well, if he is ignorant, that's no big deal, right? Well, if he does know, then he's probably also aware that the data that he's collecting amounts to corporate espionage if not insider trading.”
“What is your recommendation?”
“He's either an idiot or a morally questionable person, either way I would like have a conversation with this,” she looked at her screen, “Jackie Hodgeson.”
“Let's bring him in for a chat,” Rebecca said, taking a sip of her beanbrew, “I'll let Billy know what we're doing.”