Troubleshooter

Chapter 31 - Cat and Mouse

THE HACKER got nervous. He was good at what he was doing—extremely good, to strip any false modesty. The heist that he had technically enabled and executed had been a total success. The money was waiting for them, including his very own thirty-three-and-a-third percent of the millions. The only thing to do was to wait.

All was going well, so why was he still nervous?

He had found that looking at the money soothed him. One hundred million dollars could look so tiny. The Hacker logged into the system and navigated to the directory in question. He had put up some detection traps, which he checked first. No signs of visitors, except for the daily transfer job that ran automatically every night at 2:00 a.m.

Satisfied, and a little less nervous, he navigated further toward "the file."

Amy was finalizing her electronic traps and made some notes to structure her thoughts. After all, maybe someone—anyone—on this team might like a report from her. A small bong sound from her computer alerted her. Someone had stepped into his own trap. She rolled over on her chair and looked at the log data streaming over the large display.

"Hello, Mr. Hacker. Tell me where you are!" She began typing commands.

The Hacker was looking at the file in satisfaction. It was hidden in plain view. For company security reasons, no one was supposed to be able to look at or alter the content. The Hacker had no need for that, as "the money" was already put in there before all the encryption had taken place. And that was what had made the transaction so safe against accidental discovery. No one but the bank system could decrypt the file and execute the money transactions that were included.

Amy's finger raced through imaginary virtual corridors, fire doors, and hallways. One thing she now knew: The Hacker was inside the building of Strom Industries, the same building where Tom was working. In a few seconds, she would have it down to the level of the building.

A small ping from his second computer made the Hacker jump literally away from his desk, no small feat considering his body size. He stared at the screen where a tiny window prompted: "Intrusion 192.168.23.2 Unverified."

Someone from within his building had accessed one of his tripwires. He took a deep breath. How likely was it that someone tripped the intrusion alert at the same moment he was looking at "his money"? Super unlikely.

He sat down again. No need to panic. The regular money transfer schedule had been planned for Friday evening. With one command, he could trigger the transfer job right away, leave the building, and start a new life. Like his co-conspirators, he already had a set of false identity papers prepared. His colleagues would discover the ahead-of-schedule transfer by the next morning, but that itself would not be a cause for alarm. Some interest money was lost, not optimal, but no one would smell that a large chunk of the money was gone forever. No one would notice for weeks.

The Hacker looked at the message again. 192.168.23.2 was the technical network address of someone on this floor, a coworker. A brief command gave him the name of the owner: router10.netb.sdi.si.local.

What was that all about? This was no person but a router, a piece of hardware locked behind a thick Plexiglas door that connected all the cables of the tenth floor to the rest of the world. It was impossible that the router had a life of its own, so someone had taken it over. He started typing like mad to see what the person hiding behind "Router Ten" was up to.

Amy's computer gave an insisting ping-ping noise. Shit, was the Hacker now hunting her? She quickly modified her own alarms to see what the Hacker was doing—and she didn't like what she saw. She stretched one arm and found her headset.