Mark Pryor - Cyberian Affair

To my family and friends for their encouragement and support.

To my fellow writers who reviewed my early drafts and supplied valuable criticism—especially:

David Bishop, Christie Seiler-Boeke, Judi Ciance, Chris Coward, Ray Flynt, Bev Johnson, John Mallon, Katherine Schumm, Phil Walker, the Wannabee Writers, and the Oxford Writers.

To Katherine Schumm, one of my fellow writers,

who helped me design the cover of this book.

To my wife, Diane, who has always been there for me.

And most of all to you, my readers.

Part I: Payback

1: Russian Money

2: Go Deep

3: The Pythia

4: Vyper

5: Critical Threat

6: Prixster

7: Falcon

8: Tracker

9: Trotsky

10: Christmas Eve

11: Cybercade

12: Profiling

13: Zatan

14: Weaponize

15: Sock Puppets

16: Sokolov

Part II: Game Changer

17: Mr. Bodnar

18: Evidence

19: Matter of Trust

20: Time Bombs

21: Cat and Mouse

22: Defense

23: Secrets

Part III: Offense

24: Making Plans

25: Mission

26: Nassau

27: Vanished

28: Nuclear Threat

29: Kilroy

30: Final Preparation

31: Blue Koala

32: Aftermath

Preview: Noble Phoenix

33: Viktor

34: Desperation

35: Madrid

About the Author

Kozel Action Center—Ashburn, Virginia

Beads of sweat formed on Niko’s forehead.

Sokolov’s gonna be pissed.

Niko copied the next account number on his list and pasted it into the welcome screen of the National Bank of Cyprus. Then he entered the stolen password and transferred five million rubles into a Cayman Island bank account. This amount, less than $90,000, wouldn’t trigger any reporting alerts within the government of Cyprus.

Nervously tapping his fingers on the table, Niko waited for the transaction to clear. He half expected someone to break the door down and arrest him.

It cleared.

He checked the remaining Cyprus balance—nearly one hundred million rubles. Niko ran a program to make twenty-two more transfers, each into a different Cayman Island account.

At the console next to him, Joey was removing money from Seychelles Islands Bank and Trust. Joey’s curly blond hair and boyish looks contrasted with Niko’s dark military haircut and rugged build. It made them an odd couple when they hit the bars together.

But tonight, the bars would have to wait. They had a special assignment. A Russian billionaire would pay dearly for meddling in the American mid-term elections.

Their boss, Marko Kozel, a tall, muscular man, graying at the temples, urged them on. “Keep it up, guys. Drain ’em dry.” He stood at the front of the Action Center, a room with seats for twenty operators—all but two of them empty.

He pointed to the large screen which displayed charts of the increasing amount of money transferring out of each bank. “Sixty million rubles—over a million dollars—but we’ve got a lot more to go. We need to wrap this up before ten o’clock. That’s five o’clock in Moscow. The early risers will start checking their investments by then. Our unlucky billionaire might notice his missing cash.”

Niko looked at his watch. Quarter after eight . He chose the next account number. The password started with the letter “A.” He had to use his ring finger to stretch across the keyboard because of the brutal lesson he received a few years ago. He should be happy the man only took his little finger.

Marko interrupted his thoughts. “Something wrong, Adam?”

Adam . That’s what Marko called him, but to everyone else he was Niko, like the guy in the video game, Grand Theft Auto . Adam felt a kindred spirit with the character in the game, so he chose the nickname as his online “handle.” Adam was a name from Niko’s Ukrainian past—a past he preferred to forget.

He looked at Marko, the only father he’d ever known—the man who’d turned his life around. “I volunteered for this assignment because we need to stop the Russians. But those assholes can be truly brutal. Hell, I’m not even sure what our own government would do if they caught us.”

Joey playfully punched Niko in the shoulder. “C’mon, man. We agreed to do this. It’s no big deal.” He turned back to his console and continued typing. “Now stop whining. Let’s move the money.”

It was a game to Joey, but he was right. They’d both agreed to do this, and it was too late to back down now.

Marko took a seat next to Niko. “You know I’ll take the blame if our government finds out.” A smile lit up his face. “We’re the best security experts in the world. That’s why Kozel Group won the contract to stop Russian meddling. No matter how much they object, the NSA knows we can’t just play defense—simply sticking our finger into the dike every time it springs a leak. Besides, when we stop the Russians, no one’ll complain about our methods.”

Niko nodded and turned back to his computer to select the next account. “Twelve state primaries next week. Time to defend the will of the American voters.” As corny as that must have sounded, he meant it. In the last two months, thousands of registered voters had been turned away from the polls in key precincts because the Russians deleted them from the voter rolls. No more of that shit.

He stopped briefly to stretch and looked up at the chart. They had stolen fifty million dollars so far. “We could use some help here. I thought Vyper would join us. I want to meet this super hacker.”

Marko shook his head. “As I’ve told you before, some people don’t work well with others. Vyper supplied the passwords and procedures for the banks. You guys handle it from here.”

“You said no one else can access the accounts tonight. Did Vyper take care of that, too?”

Joey spoke up. “Niko, you might be able to talk a nun out of her habit, but you’re not getting the boss to spill details about Vyper. He’s—”

A high-pitched warble drew Niko’s attention to the screen. A red stop sign shape flashed at the peak of the chart. Sweat dripped from his forehead. “No more Cyprus transfers. Everything’s on hold. They’re onto us.”

On the screen below the chart appeared a flashing message:

Marko placed a hand on Niko’s shoulder. “We’re cool. Stick to the plan. You’re just pulling off another con. Vyper told us to expect this. It’s normal.”

Another con . Niko shook his head. He grazed his finger on the stump where his pinky used to be “Russians don’t play games. They kill people. You don’t know what they’re like.”