Mark Pryor - Cyberian Affair

Three burly young men carrying red plastic cups approached, singing, “One bourbon, one scotch, and one beer.” They shoved demonstrators out of their way. Some tried to flee, others stood their ground, trying to fight back, but the drunken trio kept pushing closer.

Niko tried to avoid the drunks, but the crush of people blocked his escape. The crowd pulled Vyper away. Her hand slipped from his fingers. Niko pushed and reached, touching but not grasping her outstretched hand.

Someone shoved him from behind, and he turned to see the tallest drunk push a woman aside. When the man began to take another step, Niko kicked the raised leg aside. He pushed hard on the drunk’s chest, knocking him into his friends and spilling his drink.

The ebb and flow of the human wave pushed Niko away from the drunk. He searched for Vyper, spotting her a few yards ahead. A stroke of luck opened a small gap in the crowd, and Niko pressed through it.

Barely five feet away, Vyper appeared, panic in her eyes, reaching out. A surge of people pushed them together. Niko grabbed her arm and pulled her nearer. Another gap appeared, and he pulled her through.

They escaped the knot of people, held hands, and ran toward an open area in the grass. When it was safe, they stopped, and she hugged him tightly.

She didn’t move—just squeezed him tighter—shaking and rocking.

Niko had wanted to see the demonstration up close, but he got more than he bargained for. He stroked Vyper’s hair. “You’re safe now. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

She released him. Her eyes were wet with tears. “I love you.”

Niko kissed her. “I love you, too.” They headed toward the parking garage.

When they reached the car, Vyper sat silently in the passenger seat. Niko got behind the wheel and headed south to the interstate. He glanced at her. “Are you okay? Did the crowd—”

She shook her head. “It was the big man. One of my fathers looked like him.”

“Are you talking about one of the foster families you lived with?”

She nodded. “Each family had a father. Some were nice. This one was not.”

Niko gripped the wheel tighter and almost missed his exit north. “You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.”

“I was a virgin.” Her hands flapped. “He said no one would believe a retard… I never told anyone.”

The car drifted onto the shoulder, and Niko steered it back onto the road. His anger focused on the face of the tall drunk at the demonstration—same face as her rapist.

This was a fragile moment for the woman he loved. He fought to remain calm. “Couldn’t you tell his wife? Or someone from social services?”

“He was right. They would not believe me”

“Your foster father was a monster. Most men are kind. I wish I could hold you and make you feel better.” He took the exit north.

Her flapping started again but stopped when she placed her hands in her lap. “I used to wear baggy sweat suits, but it did not seem to help. He never gave up. Some of the other families had fathers like him… and brothers. I just let them. No one would believe the retard.”

Sonofabitch!

A horn blasted at him from the left. He jerked back into his lane. Niko squeezed her hand. “Those men were wrong ! They should pay for what they did. You can speak up now, people will believe you.”

“No!… I want to forget them.” She grabbed her laptop from the back seat and opened it. “I have more important things to think about—like Sokolov.”

Niko wanted revenge, but she wanted to forget the men, so he’d try to put them out of his mind. Now he understood her fear of sex. He’d have to suppress his anger. Be patient.

Vyper tapped on her keyboard, then abruptly stopped. “I broke through Cybercade’s firewall. They are not monitoring county services any more. Apparently, the Russians moved on to another target. They are going after oil pipelines and refineries in Texas and Louisiana. Nothing active yet, just probing.”

The sign for Route 7 was up ahead. Niko moved into the right lane. “That’s alarming, but it’s Cybercade’s problem. We’re after Sokolov.”

“The hackers accessing the oil systems are coming through the dark net, using the same routes as Zatan’s team in Vladivostok.”

Niko turned into Vyper’s driveway and raised the garage door. “Hmm… another connection between Zatan and Sokolov. No doubt in my mind, they work together.” He pulled in and closed the door.

Vyper went inside and headed directly for the kitchen. “You hungry? I’ll make sandwiches.”

“Starved. We should have stopped for lunch.” He walked to the sink. “Want some water?”

She nodded. “I have been studying Zatan’s spreadsheets. I think I figured out what is going on, but I need to look up some accounts. There might be more information on suspicious activity reports.”

“What did you find?”

Vyper handed him a sandwich and sat down. “You have to wait. I will check it out after I take a shower.”

“Would you like some company in the shower?” Niko grinned. “It saves water, you know.”

“You are naughty.” She smiled. “You can shower in the guest bathroom like you always do.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

A shy smile was her only response.

Vyper had loosened up over the past few weeks. They loved to “make out”, and she wasn’t shy with her body around him. But Niko’s naked body—a man’s body—was off limits. She certainly had reason to fear men, and she always demanded he keep his pants on. Even though they kidded each other about it, she was dead serious.

After lunch, Niko took a shower. Then he put on a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt before heading to the living room to join Vyper on the couch.

She adjusted the top of her bathrobe. “I do not want to distract you. I think we hit the jackpot with Sokolov.”

“I love being distracted by you.” Niko scooted closer and looked at the computer screen. “What did you learn about our favorite Russian?”

“According to Zatan’s financial spreadsheets, he receives 650 million rubles a month from Altai Associates—the one owned by Sokolov’s nephew.”

“That’s about ten million dollars a month. Sokolov receives thirty million from GRU.”

“Right.” Vyper pointed to a number on the screen. “This ten million comes out of the thirty that goes to Sokolov.”

“Okay. I must be missing something. Sokolov spends one third of his GRU money on Zatan’s team. That’s a lot, but it could be legitimate.”

“Look at this.” Vyper’s finger moved to another spot. “Zatan pays sixty-five million rubles each month to this account. The owner is Sokolov’s nephew—the same nephew who owns the Altai account.”

“Hmm… smells fishy. The mysterious nephew is a front man for the GRU. Then Zatan sends this same nephew a ten percent cut. He’s skimming money. Cheating his own government.”

Vyper nodded. “I told you I hit the jackpot. If we can prove this, the Russian government will be angry with him.”

Niko laughed. “This isn’t a court of law. We have sock puppets. If our puppets post it, many people will believe it. I’m going to post the story as a fact and send it to my pro-Russia and pro-Ukraine followers. If they buy it, Sokolov could be in trouble. If not, we lose nothing.”

After Niko drafted and refined the messages, Vyper configured her sock puppets, each one falsely identified as a real Russian or Ukrainian. After a thousand of them posted their messages, she directed a thousand more to post responses.

Before long, real Russian-speaking followers reacted, and arguments followed. The internet lit up, and the hashtag #SkimmingScandal topped the trending list.