Mark Pryor - Cyberian Affair

“We don’t have to get up immediately.” Niko wrapped his arms around her neck. “I’m not hungry yet… not for breakfast.”

When they arrived home in the evening, Niko followed Vyper into the bedroom they now shared. “You look amazing in that dress. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Everyone in the restaurant checked you out.”

“They were staring at my breasts.” Vyper walked to the dresser. She pulled out a halter top and shorts. “Fancy clothes are uncomfortable. And I do not like strange men staring at me.”

“All the women show a bit of cleavage.” Niko picked out a T-shirt and cargo pants. “Did you enjoy the restaurant? Would you like to go back sometime?”

“I prefer eating here. The chef does not cook meat the way I like it.” She removed her dress and held it in front of her. “It is pretty, but uncomfortable.”

“Okay, you win.” Niko changed his clothes. “I won’t drag you out to dinner again… at least not for a while.”

Vyper got dressed and went to the couch. “Come on. We have work to do.”

He joined her. “Sokolov’s going to have a hard time finding you. Ever since his nephew was killed, he’s been hiding. And I don’t blame him.”

“We cannot let up on Sokolov’s team until they arrest him and put him away.” Vyper tapped a few keys on her laptop. “It looks like Zatan’s team is stealing data from pipeline and refinery systems, so someone must be paying them. I want to find out who it is.”

Niko searched through news and online postings. He found a positive article about Sokolov, published by a Russian newspaper a few hours ago. The story made the billionaire sound like the savior of Chechnya. As the CEO of Rusmir, he had built a broadband internet service in Grozny, and extended it into the more rural areas of the country.

To counter this, Niko wrote an expose on Sokolov, starting with his time as a crime boss in Sevastopol. He added the story of the billionaire’s role in money laundering and skimming. Once he was satisfied, he pushed the story using Vyper’s sock puppets.

As people responded to his expose, Niko engaged more sock puppets to express outrage and to reinforce the negatives.

When he searched for more news, he discovered something that stopped him cold. He raised his voice. “Vyper! This is it! The news we’ve been waiting for!”

“What?”

“Sokolov and his wife were killed. Found a couple hours ago in a cheap hostel in Kiev.” Exposing this powerful man had been their only focus for four months. Putting him away was their goal. Now the Russians found him—murdered him—his wife, too. Niko wanted to celebrate, yet he felt bad about the wife’s death.

Vyper tapped away on her keyboard. “The official report says they were killed in their room by a team of violent criminals. Shot in the head. His hands were cut off—missing. The place was trashed. Nothing valuable was found in the room.”

They stared at each other in silence until Niko finally spoke. “We have no reason to feel guilty. We probably saved lives.”

She smiled. “I want to celebrate with video games. We can test your concentration.”

Whoop… Whoop… Whoop

Niko bolted upright in the bed at the sound of an alert.

Lying next to him, Vyper grabbed her cell phone and the whooping stopped. “Armed men. Three in my driveway. There could be more.”

Niko caught a glimpse of her phone—green video with dark trees, plus three light green figures moving slowly. Then the night light under the bathroom door went out.

“They killed power.” Vyper sat on the edge of the bed. “We are on batteries now. Maybe thirty minutes before the generator starts up.” She tapped on her phone. “This will encrypt all data, erase temp files, and shut down the computers. Whoever it is, they will get nothing.”

Niko took her by the arm. “We don’t have thirty minutes. They’ll be breaking down the door in a minute or two. We could hide, but they’re certain to find us.” He snatched his Glock from the dresser by the bed and checked the magazine.

“No!” Vyper grabbed his wrist. “You cannot fight them all. They will shoot us both.”

A loud bang came from the front of the house—then a second one.

Niko jumped out of bed, Glock aimed at the unlocked door, waiting for the inevitable. Armed men were inside the house. Heavy footsteps—lots of them. He jerked his head toward Vyper. “Move away from me!”

“No shooting! We will die!” She slipped out of her side of the bed and grabbed a bathrobe.

A commanding voice somewhere in the house shouted, “Bedroom. Two targets.” Bright lights moved back and forth under the door.

English ! Police ?

Niko set his gun on the dresser. He wasn’t going to shoot it out with Americans—especially if they might be cops.

The door swung inward, hitting the wall with a thud. Two strong lights, one above the other, blinded him.

“Hands up!” yelled a commanding voice, as the lights separated to opposite sides of the room.

Niko raised his arms as a third light appeared. At least three different voices yelled out—some demanding cooperation, others giving status. He couldn’t keep track 0f everything they said.

They weren’t Russian, and Niko was alive, but he was still in danger. He didn’t know who they were, or why they broke into the house.

His eyes adjusted to the light, and he spotted three armed men in dark, SWAT-style clothing, wearing helmets with the visors raised. One man aimed an assault rifle at him. Another held his aim on Vyper, who stood shaking in her robe at the opposite side of the bed, hands above her head.

The third man tossed the mattress up against the wall and lifted the box spring. Then he announced, “Clear.”

Unseen men throughout the house barked orders and responses to each other. Niko heard someone say, “Check in there. Some kind of equipment running.”

The nightlight came on.

Power’s back.

One gunman flipped on the overhead bedroom light, revealing a fourth man in SWAT gear entering the bathroom. His backpack displayed FBI in large letters.

Whoa !

Two men stood at the far corners of the room training their rifles on Niko and Vyper. The man who tossed the mattress seemed to be the team leader. He walked up to Niko. “What’s your name?”

A gust of air reminded Niko he was naked. Then he realized what would happen if he told the FBI his real name. Adam Zima “died” in the fire at Marko’s action center. There was also the electronic theft of Sokolov’s money. He decided to remain silent.

The man turned to Vyper. “What’s your name?”

She lowered her arms and flapped her hands.

The SWAT leader moved closer to Vyper, his face only inches away from hers. “Get those hands in the air, NOW!”

She flapped harder, and her head rocked back and forth.

“Stop!” yelled Niko. “She’s autistic. She’s having a meltdown.”

The man froze for a moment, then raised his voice loud enough to be heard outside the room. “Get Jackson in here.”

Several voices called out the name “Jackson” before a woman in SWAT gear entered.

The team leader hitched his thumb toward Vyper. “This one may be autistic. Process her in another room once it’s cleared.”

Vyper’s rhythmic movements continued as the woman led her away. An agent with a rifle followed closely behind.

Niko let out a breath. This could have ended badly, but Jackson seemed to know what she was doing. Then a glance at the man aiming a rifle in his direction brought Niko back to reality—he might never see Vyper again.