Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2) (28 page)

Meryl didn’t like the looks of this thing one bit but couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t understand the words being traded between the two. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right. They were being way too open about their business. There was already a decent population of Korean patrons sitting inside of the restaurant. They all appeared to know what was going on but never once took their eyes off of their meal.

A woman walked out of the door which caused the shouting man to take a few steps back. She was short and a little pudgy. It reminded Meryl of her R.A.’s mother in a way. She wore a thick apron, stained with the memory of many delicious meals that have come and gone. The only distinct feature on her attire was a golden chain with the symbol of the cross hanging from her neck. They both continued to yell at each other and tensions escalated quickly. That’s when things took a turn for the worse.

The man swiped his hand down and snatched the chain from the defending woman’s neck and held it out in front of her face, almost taunting her.

              “Oh no,” Shelly started.

“Stop!” Meryl cried jumping from her seat.

She pushed her chair aside and ran straight for the man holding the stolen goods. His eyes grew large and on instinct, began to run out the front door with the plucky FBI agent following closely behind.

“Meryl wait!” Shouted Agent Yuan.

Her plea fell on deaf ears as both of them quickly ran out of sight.

The thief took a quick turn on the first street and headed east on South Street. Meryl was impressed at this guy’s speed. Unfortunately, he couldn’t outrun this fiery brunette. Years of chasing creeps down alleys had only made her better at it. They both raced furiously down the semi-crowded sidewalk, bobbing and weaving between pedestrians. The man stumbled and bumped into one every so often but Meryl glided through the path as if she could see seconds into the future.

Another cross street approached. The man would occasional turn his head and shout at Meryl, possibly taunting her. That only made her determination stronger.

The man ran across the angled street called New Hampshire Ave between two cars crossing from opposite ends. Both vehicles slammed their breaks and turned into one another right before Meryl’s eyes. The collision resonated with the sickening sound of metal crunching together. With no chance to slow down and the perpetrator getting away, she dove over the freshly pressed front ends of the vehicles and jumped on them gliding her hip across the hood, chasing the stumbling culprit into the upcoming dog park after landing ever so gracefully.

The man tried to hop a nearby iron gate but his pants were caught in the bars after an ill-measured jump. Meryl closed in. She reached on her hand and clasped it onto the perpetrator’s shirt and with one mighty tug, slammed him back onto the ground. Meryl flung him over on his stomach; keeping on hand locked on his wrist and pressed a knee into his back.

“You’re under arrest creep,” she boldly declared.

He continued to plea with her in Korean but she hadn’t had enough lessons to listen to his bullshit now. This guy had the gall to steal a necklace in front of a crowd of people. He’d have plenty of time to explain himself behind bars.

After a few moments, Agent Yuan arrived on the scene. Several onlookers had crowded around. A few had begun taking some lovely snapshots at the sight of justice at work. Meryl locked eyes with her new friend and saw something she could have never expected to see.

Shelly looked down on Meryl with sympathy and sadness filling her expression. That couldn’t be good. Meryl could feel her heart sinking deeper and deeper into a regret-filled abyss. This couldn’t be good at all.

March 25th, 2013 5:06PM

Los Angeles, CA

This was wrong. It had to be. Adrian did not want to believe it. The address that Mark printed was quickly found in the address book thanks to that added search feature. What the S.A.C. ended up finding was not something he expected.

What kind of name is D0c70R pHr34K?

The Special Agent in Charge shook his head, dumbfounded at the kind of people that would not only hid behind the anonymity of a net handle but choose one that sounded so ridiculous. How this guy, or girl, ever got into contact with a business mogul like Charles Logan was beyond Adrian’s comprehension. Nevertheless, this was their only lead and Adrian was determined to follow it all the way to the end. Even if it’s a dead one at that.

There was only one person that could make sense of all this. He quickly dialed Mark’s desk and prayed he answered quickly. The phone rang for a few painstaking seconds before being picked up the constantly chipper and portly analytics team leader.

“What’s up boss?”

“Mark, you’re still here?”

“Yes sir. Was going to take off but the data transfer is almost complete. I sent everyone else home already though if that’s okay.”

“Yea, that’s fine. Could you come into my office for a minute?”

“Sure thing. Need me to bring anything?”

“Some aspirin maybe.”

“What was that boss?”

Mark wasn’t exactly sure if he heard that right.

“Nothing, just come on in here.”

Joking around wasn’t on Adrian’s resume. He was only half serious. They may be diving into a world that the S.A.C. has little knowledge of and even less of an attention span for. The Internet has caused enough hell for the FBI since its inception and the list of things continue to evolve. For every one problem they solve, at least a thousand more come in to take its place. There was even a whole division created in Washington solely dedicated to handling these problems and it still seemed like it was only getting worse.

The door to Adrian’s office opened as Mark stepped through.

“What seems to be the problem? You lock yourself out of the system again?”

“Nothing like that Mark,” Adrian immediately shot his eyes up and gave the lead analyst a death stare for even suggesting such a thing. “Just come over here and look at this.”

The analyst obliged the request of his superior and walked around behind the S.A.C.

“What do you make of this?”

Mark started at it for a second. Then his gaze turned to Adrian who was still glaring at the screen. Finally, Mark returned his eyes back to the screen and said, “Is this a joke?”

“I wish,” Adrian sighed. “What could this possibly mean?”

“It’s a hacker handle for sure given its make up but that doesn’t match up with what I’ve found.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well given the nature of the situation in general, Logan would have to be crazy to hire a hacker manage his finances. Despite the media coverage on the subject, hackers are usually inquisitive by nature and take pride in finding a new challenge, whether it be cracking into a major bank’s website and changing the font, or hacking a celebrity’s Twitter account and calling everybody assholes. Having one shuffle around your finances just doesn’t make sense.”

“So why hire a hacker in the first place?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Isn’t that usually you’re department anyways?”

He was blunt but Mark did have a point. Adrian thought about it for a few brief moments. Trying to come up with a solid connection to link Charles Logan to a hacker would be tougher than a two dollar steak. Then it hit him.

“What if Logan didn’t hire this hacker to manage his finances? What if he just hired him to write that worm? And maybe, just maybe that guy snuck in a line a code that would ping back to him that would obviously fly under the radar. Would that be plausible?”

“Plausible? I think you just figured it out boss.”

For a guy with little to no computer savvy beyond the basics, Adrian was pleased with the new turn of events. Now all they had to do was tie everything together in a neat little package.

“See what you can find on this freak. If he’s even so much as downloaded a song without paying for it I want to know about it. All we have to do is show the judge a link between this hacker and any illegal activity and he’ll come down on Logan hard. With his kind of cash, he could pay off everyone’s bail in a five hundred mile radius. That’s why we need to establish a connection between this guy and Logan. Pinning him to cross state illegal activity will continue to mount the pressure on his defense team and hopefully keep him behind bars for as long as possible.”

“I’ll jump right on it. Anything else I can help with?”

“As of this moment, no,” Adrian replied. “Once I get confirmation from you, I’m going to call the Tampa field office and see if they can’t get a team to raid this guy’s house. If we catch him off guard we should be able to procure any evidence without giving him a chance to tamper with it. After that’s done I’m going to need you to take that worm apart and see what other nasty things it could do. If that hacker was the one who wrote it, I’m sure we can coerce him to help you if need be.”

“Screw that. I’d rather let that bastard rot in hell before he even thinks he can create a program that I can’t break.”

“That’s good to hear,” Adrian replied. “But first focus on getting the dirt on that freak. I’ll buy you dinner if you can get it done in the next hour.”

“Alright but you know I’m a picky eater. I’m allergic to anything other than steak and lobster after five.”

Adrian quickly regretted that offer but would see it through nonetheless. The more information they collected on this issue the worse it stank. At least they had found something promising within the deadline. Things could be worse. They could always be worse.

That’s when the phone rang. The caller ID didn’t need to show what Adrian already knew. Things were definitely about to get worse.

March 26th, 2013 8:41AM (local time)

Tokyo, Japan

Shinjuku was a horribly noisy part of town. As one of the key industrial wards in Tokyo, any time spent walking around here during business hours would wear on one’s sense of hearing to those unaccustomed to it. Michael stood watch with a newspaper in hand looking past the daily headlines with his eyes locked on Shin-Okubo. This was the considered the Korean district of Tokyo. It was a haven for crime and prostitution which many of the locals steer clear. This place catered to a specific crowd which is just what Michael was looking for.

The first day of stakeouts and interrogations bore no results. Michael was hoping for better luck in what was considered the heart of the Korean empire in Japan. At over six feet tall, he already had enough problems blending in but it was Davis that caused more of a disturbance. People would walk by gawking and taunting him for being some sort of crazed costumed loser but the young Paladin took it in stride. Throughout all of the hate a few people actually came by and asked for guidance, even blessings, all of which Davis happily obliged to.

Michael had to keep his distance. They already stuck out worse than a pair of sore thumbs. That could easily dissuade any shady characters from walking in their direction. Michael picked this spot specifically to tag any drunken fools stumbling out of a bar from a late night of drinking. If any of them lived further than a few blocks, they were going to have to take this station to get where they wanted to go.

The only issue with this entire plan was that Michael was unsure about exactly what he was looking for. Sure there were gang tattoos and markings he could go on but if he made a mistake and picked the wrong one, word would quickly spread and everyone would steer clear of the giant gaijin and his cosplaying companion.

Inside of the station was packed with traffic. People seemed to filter in and out it so much it was almost as if the entire structure was organic. Michael kept his focus on the streets outside, paying particular attention to a bar between two alleys. He’d seen odd characters go in and out since he started over an hour ago. Kicking down the door might scare of potential clientele. Patience would be the key to victory. It is unfortunate that out of all of the other factors bogging him down, time was the biggest and worst offender.

Michael’s eyes sharpened as he witnessed the bar door being violently flung open. A young individual that appeared to have seen better days stumbled and collapsed on the street just beyond the building entrance. He was a skinny little runt, probably no more than nineteen or twenty with only a ragged t-shirt and tattered jeans to call his own. Almost every inch of his visible skin was covered in tattoos, some distorted by a couple of fresh bruises on his face. Someone inside was continually yelling at him. Most people wouldn’t be able to make it out from this distance but Michael had his genetics to thank for that. He focused his senses and tried to decipher what was going on.

“Some big gangster, huh?” Yelled one from within.

Another walked outside and kicked the scrawny kid in the gut.

“Go peddle your drugs elsewhere bastard,” he said delivering his vicious boot across the side his adversary’s head.

It wasn’t enough to knock him out but the kid found some renewed energy in being attacked and sprinted away as best as he could. The opportunity to strike was now.

The FBI agent dumped the newspaper in the trash and proceeded to make his way towards the bar. The kid had stopped running after getting a noticeable distance apart and offered up a few casual curse words towards the business that didn’t appreciate his services. Michael picked up his pace a bit as soon as the crowd began to dwindle. A couple of uniformed police officers stood taking some statements nearby but they shouldn’t be any trouble. Michael was posed to make this quick. Only a dozen or so yards separated the two now. The kid spit in the bars direction one more time. His growing angry demanded to be heard even though no other passerby even gave him a single glance. This was almost too easy.