Mark Pryor - Cyberian Affair

“We’ve got to tell Cybercade. I’ll alert them, and I’ll include the video of the attack. They need to set up a jammer.”

Vyper gently grasped Niko’s arm. “I am sorry. A medical report arrived. Gato had another cardiac arrest. He is dead.”

The setting sun peeked through the trees, casting long shadows across the snow. Niko turned onto Vyper’s driveway and pulled into the garage. It had been good to get out, even if it was only for groceries, computers, and electronics. With all the holiday shoppers, Niko decided to get a card for Vyper. She never mentioned Christmas, but he wanted to be prepared in case she gave him a card.

Niko took the bags from the trunk and carried them into the dining room. “I got a battery pack for our jammer. It’ll last for an hour or more.”

Vyper began putting the groceries away. “I think we will need it. Cybercade has installed drone detection systems, but they have not decided how to defend against an attack. Fairfax County will not allow them to fire weapons or use omnidirectional jammers because it would affect neighboring businesses. Cybercade’s latest request is for permission to train their security team to use jammer guns.”

“So, they can detect drones, but they can’t stop them. For the last two weeks, every media outlet has been talking about the drone attack and the suspicious deaths of Marko and Gato.”

“Cybercade understands the urgency. They cancelled all holiday time off when the White House announced a heightened alert. It’s the county that is dragging its feet.”

Niko grabbed the battery pack and headed toward the front of the house. “I’m going to make sure the jammer works with this—unless you need your phone or the internet right now.”

“Go ahead. I will heat up the pizza.”

Niko stepped onto the raised floor of Vyper’s second spare bedroom—built out like a small datacenter. Racks of computers and networking equipment lined every wall. The room was cool because of powerful air conditioning that constantly forced air under the floor and up through the equipment cabinets, even during the winter.

In the middle of the room, sitting on a large table, was the jammer—a black box that looked like an expensive stereo receiver. A foot-long vertical antenna was attached. A much smaller box sat next to it.

Niko unplugged the jammer from an extension cord and plugged it into the battery pack instead. He turned it on and picked up the smaller box, watching the signal strength meter. Slowly, he walked around the table, watching the movement of the needle.

Satisfied, Niko turned off the jammer and returned to the dining room. “It works with the battery pack—same power as when it’s plugged into the wall.”

Vyper glanced at her watch. “Pizza will be ready in ten minutes.” She sat on the couch and opened her laptop. “I have been analyzing financial transactions, trying to follow Sokolov’s money. We are fortunate Marko copied data he acquired when we worked with Treasury and NSA. I can track money travelling through the US, but I am having problems accessing the SWIFT transactions monitored from Belgium.”

“Problems?” Niko sat on the couch and grinned. “I find it difficult to believe you can’t get into the European network.”

Vyper snapped her head up and glared at Niko. “I did not say that. I told you I was having problems getting in.”

He didn’t expect such a strong reaction. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood me. I tried to make a joke.”

She locked eyes with him, a quizzical look on her face. Then she looked away. “I am not good at reading other people. It is difficult for me to know when you are telling a joke and when you are not.”

“I care for you, Vyper… You’re my friend.” He took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “I would never say anything to hurt or make fun of you.”

She didn’t move her hand while they sat silently. When the buzzer went off in the kitchen, she got up. “Pizza’s ready.”

While they ate, Niko brought Vyper up to speed on his activities, searching the internet for the current whereabouts of known Eastern European hackers. “At least a dozen of them simply disappeared. Maybe they gave up hacking, or perhaps someone hired them for a project.”

“Like a cyber-attack team in Siberia?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.” Niko popped the last bite of his pizza into his mouth and carried his plate to the sink. “I chatted with some of the people who are still active. A couple of them remind me of hackers I used to know years ago, but they use different names now. One’s called Zatan. He seems to be the most respected within the group.”

“Does he know you are Niko?”

“I use another name. I keep bragging that I know Prixster. It seems to pique his interest.”

Vyper took the dishes to the sink. “I can build a program that Zatan might want. Perhaps something that discovers parts of the dark net. I will make sure it has the usual signs of my Prixster tools.”

“Perfect. If he eagerly installs your software, we won’t need to break into his computer. I presume you intend to add something he doesn’t expect—something he won’t notice.”

“I have many tricks no one has ever detected. Zatan will never spot anything wrong.”

Niko opened his laptop to catch up on the news. One headline grabbed his attention:

Quickly scanning the article, Niko spotted the detail he was looking for:

A reliable source inside the Loudoun County Medical Examiner’s office verified previous reports that Marko Kozel, CEO of Kozel Group, may have been intentionally poisoned. Toxicology results are not expected for several weeks, but a suspicious wound on Kozel’s leg seems to indicate poisoning.

Even two weeks after Marko’s death, these details brought back feelings of anger and sadness.

When he told Vyper, she closed her eyes and held her hand to her cheek. “Did you see a needle mark in Marko’s calf?”

“At Alpha World, I saw a sore spot, like a bee sting. I didn’t have a chance to study it up close.”

Vyper rocked her head back and forth, much as she had done when she first heard about Marko’s death.

Niko read through two more reports on the poisoning, then his thoughts drifted to another victim. “Gato suffered a heart attack—two heart attacks—in the hospital. Those bastards could have slipped him the same poison.”

He looked up from his computer and saw Vyper, curled up in a ball at the other end of the couch, holding her cheeks in her hands, her head rocking back and forth.

Niko couldn’t bear to see her in such pain. He wanted to help but wasn’t sure how. The last time she acted this way, she recoiled from his touch.

“Are you okay?” He set his laptop on the table. “Is there anything I can do?”

She didn’t respond. The rocking continued.

He reached for her left hand, still firmly pressed against her cheek. When he touched her, she pushed him away. “Leave me alone.”

Niko backed off but didn’t move from the couch. He sat silently, trying to think about something else—the Russians, Zatan, and Sokolov. But his eyes never left Vyper. He would wait and be ready for whatever she needed.

Ten minutes passed. The rocking stopped. She moved her hands from her face and looked at Niko. “I will be fine, now.”

He wanted to reach out—to hold her—but didn’t want to spook her. “I miss Marko, too.”

She sat upright. “It is Christmas Eve.”

What? Christmas is special to her . It wasn’t special to Niko. He spoke softly. “I wasn’t sure what you did for Christmas, but I got you a card.” He stood up.