Hacker (7 page)

My second mum and dad told me that I was extra-special.

‘Not only have you had two sets of parents rather than one …’ Dad began.

‘But you were chosen by us rather than born to us the way your brother was,’ Mum finished.

That had made me feel good. I was chosen. With Gib they’d had to take what they got!

Thinking about Gib began to make me sad as well as double-worried. Even after what he’d said, I still thought of him as my brother. His real name is Richard but a couple of years ago, he got everyone to call him Gib. I once asked him what was wrong with Richard.

‘There’s no way I’m going to let people call us Ricky and Vicky. Yuk! Double and triple yuk!’ he told me.

Gib looks like Dad. They both have short black hair and the darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Mum’s hair is really peculiar. She calls it Titian red. Dad’s always teasing her that it looks more like milky-tea brown to him! She has dark green eyes, the exact same colour as oak-tree leaves.

As for me, well, I have black hair and dark brown eyes and good teeth with only one filling in my entire mouth. I’m proud of that. Gib’s got more metal in his mouth than in the whole of Dad’s car.

Please don’t let the police come for us
.

The thought sneaked into my head. Frowning, I turned over to lie on my side. Closing my eyes, I tried to think of only good things. I thought about my teeth. I thought about Mum and Dad and our trip to Scotland last year. I counted all the good things I could remember instead of counting sheep. And it worked. The panicky feeling began to fade. My eyelids felt heavy. I counted more good things: playing tennis for the school team; the way my friend Gayle made me laugh; Mr Jackson, my English teacher …

The next thing I knew, it was morning. And a horribly bright, sunny morning at that. The sort of morning when things should’ve been all right instead of all wrong.

After my shower, I went down for breakfast. Mum and Gib were already downstairs. Gib and I exchanged a look of relief before I turned to Mum. No police! We’d got away with it.

Mum had on her shoes instead of her slippers and already had one arm inside her jacket.

‘I’m off to the court now,’ she said to no one in particular. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ve left twenty pounds on the dinner table. Both of you can have a pizza for lunch if I’m not back in time.’

‘Can’t we come with you, Mum?’ I asked.

A part of me was curious. I’d never been in a courtroom before. But more than that I wanted to see Dad. I wanted to tell him how Gib and I were trying to help him. And seeing him would reassure me that he was all right. I was already missing him dreadfully.

‘No, dear,’ Mum replied. ‘Your dad doesn’t think a courtroom is the place for you and Gib, and I agree. Besides, he’ll probably be in and out of the court in ten minutes. You’ll see him this evening when he comes home.’

As I opened my mouth to argue, I felt a sharp pain in my shin. Gib had kicked me under the table. I gave him a filthy look, but I did get the message. I shut up.

‘Now where on earth is my taxi?’ Mum muttered. She sipped at her cup of decaffeinated coffee, then frowned at the kitchen clock.

The doorbell rang. Mum put her coffee cup down, then glanced down at her watch.

‘On time – for a change!’ she said, impressed.

We followed her out into the hall. Mum opened the door. Sunlight streamed into the hall, despite the two men standing at the door. My heart stopped beating as I recognized the man wearing black jeans and a blue shirt, open at the neck. It was Eric Jones, the Systems Manager in charge of all the computer operators at Dad’s bank. He’d sometimes come round our house for dinner, and Mum and Dad had been to his thirty-fifth birthday party. The other man I didn’t recognize. He wore heavy-rimmed glasses and blinked a lot. He had on jeans and a clean red T-shirt. Both of them looked serious, almost stern. I looked at Gib. He looked at me. I held my breath.

‘Hello, Laura,’ Eric said quietly. ‘This is Patrick, one of my operators.’

‘Hello, Eric, Patrick,’ Mum said, surprised. ‘What brings you here?’

Eric winced and looked totally uncomfortable.

‘I … I’m sorry, Laura, but … well, we’ve got orders to take back your PC.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ Mum said slowly.

I could see her lips thinning and her eyes getting hard.

‘We’ve … we’ve been told not to leave without it,’ Eric said apologetically.

‘And just why should you want the PC back? Isn’t my husband, David, innocent until proven guilty or have Universal Bank already made up their minds?’ Mum said angrily.

‘We’re just following orders,’ Eric began, but at the look on Mum’s face he shut up.

‘Why the intense hurry to get the PC back?’ Mum asked, still fuming.

Eric and Patrick looked at each other.

‘I think the bank felt it was … advisable, Mrs Gibson,’ Patrick said slowly.

Mistake!

‘Advisable! And just what does that mean? Advis …’ Mum had saddled her high horse and was off at a gallop now.

‘Laura, it’s for your own protection in a way,’ Eric interrupted. ‘You see, last night I was logged on to my
SYSTEM
account and someone with a remote PC dialled into the bank’s computer. They logged on to the
TEST
account which is used by a number of people and logged off before we could get the IP address, so we have no way of knowing who it was. Luckily for us, they logged on to the development machine rather than the live machine, so no harm was done, but—’

‘And you think it was me …’

I thought Mum was going to explode.

‘Mum, you’re not supposed to get upset – remember?’ Gib said, taking the words out of my mouth.

Mum took a deep breath, then another.

‘I’ll have you know, I barely know how to switch on the wretched thing, much less log on to Universal’s computer. And I resent the implication,’ Mum said. Her voice was now steadier but icy.

‘No one’s accusing you, Laura.’ Eric raised a placating hand.

‘You could’ve fooled me,’ Mum said. ‘Or maybe you’re blaming my children now? Go on – confess, Vicky! You got up at three o’clock in the morning to break into Universal’s computer, and Gib was there helping you!’

My face was burning. I looked at Gib and we both looked down at our feet.

‘We’re just doing our job, Mrs Gibson,’ Patrick said.

‘I’m sorry but we do have to take the PC back with us, Laura,’ Eric continued. ‘I tried to argue against it but the General Manager wasn’t having any. That’s why I came here personally, even though I shouldn’t have. I didn’t want operators you didn’t know knocking on your door. We’re friends and I didn’t want you to feel that I’d turned my back on you. I’m doing everything I can from my end to prove that David had nothing to do with that money appearing in his account.’

‘Take the PC then. And be quick about it,’ Mum ordered. ‘Vicky, show these
gentlemen
where your dad keeps it.’

‘But, Mum, they can’t take the PC,’ I protested. ‘I use it for my computing homework. What—?’

‘You’ll just have to do without,’ Mum interrupted. ‘I wouldn’t keep that thing in my house if Universal Bank begged me.’

Reluctantly, Gib and I led the way into the living room. I pointed to the PC, then turned away. I couldn’t bear to watch. It was like watching one of my arms or legs being taken away. Dad hadn’t bothered buying one of our own as the one the bank gave him was more than enough for all of us to use.

This was disastrous. How was I supposed to get back on to the bank’s computer when I didn’t even have a PC to use? And all those listings we’d printed out – they were absolutely useless. By mistake I’d logged on to the
development
system rather than the live system. Like a fool, I’d forgotten that the
TEST
account was on the development system where all the programs were written and tested.

Everyone at the bank – except the programmers – had an account on the live machine. The programmers’ finished programs were automatically copied across from the development system to the live one, but only when they’d been thoroughly tested by acceptance testers first. The thing was, for the money to be put into Dad’s account, it had to be done from the live system, so everything Gib and I had done during the night had been an utter waste of time. And, looking at Gib, I knew he realized it too.

Patrick carried the printer with the screen on top of it, while Eric put the keyboard on top of the PC processor. Then he saw the storage case that contained Dad’s memory sticks and the writeable CDs he’d burned.

‘You can’t take those. Dad bought them with his own money,’ I said vehemently. ‘They don’t belong to your rotten bank. And they’ve got my homework on. Take your eyes off them.’

‘Vicky, I am sorry.’ Eric tried to smile at me but it didn’t come off. He looked only slightly less unhappy than I felt. ‘Believe me, I know your dad is innocent of this. I’m doing everything I can. I promise.’

‘Yeah, of course you are,’ Gib scorned. ‘We can see that.’

Eric’s face flushed a slow red.

‘Just don’t touch our private stuff,’ I said through gritted teeth.

Both men looked doubtfully from the disks to me, but it worked. They didn’t take them. It was stupid, I knew. CDs and memory keys wouldn’t be much good without a PC, but all I could think about was that the bank shouldn’t take everything back. Gib and I followed the men into the hall and watched as they left the house.

‘You go on ahead, Patrick. I’ll catch you up,’ Eric said.

We all watched as Patrick walked out to their car, parked in front of our house.

‘I’m sorry, Laura. I really am,’ Eric said softly. ‘But I want you to know I’m doing all I can to clear David. I’m almost sure he had nothing to do with this business.’

‘Well, we
know
he’s innocent for a fact,’ Gib interjected.

‘Gib …’ Mum warned. ‘Thanks, Eric.’

She was still furious. Eric walked out of the house and Mum … well, she didn’t exactly slam the door shut but she did close it really hard. The doorbell rang again almost immediately.

‘If they’ve forgotten anything, then tough,’ Mum mumbled.

She opened the door. A tall woman with short hair stood halfway down our garden path.

‘Did someone here order a taxi?’ the woman asked. Behind her I could see Eric and Patrick getting into their car.

‘Yes, I did,’ Mum replied. ‘I’ll be right with you.’

She turned to us. It took her a few seconds to remember how to smile.

‘You two be good. I’ll see you later.’

‘Be careful, Mum,’ I said, ‘and send Dad our love.’

Mum nodded, then left the house. I turned to Gib.

‘I logged on to the wrong system and wasted all that time and now we don’t even have a PC to do it again,’ I sighed.

‘Then we’ll just have to find another PC to use.’

‘And where do we find one? They don’t grow on trees, you know,’ I snapped. But I was more annoyed with myself than with Gib. I felt like a complete twerp. ‘Well? Where do …?’

‘Internet Café!’ he said smugly. ‘They’ve got loads of PCs – and it just costs a quid or something.’

‘Oh great!’ I retorted. ‘You want us to hack into a bank’s computer using a public PC in a café, whilst the police and MI5 and God knows who else monitors what we do?’

‘Oh,’ said Gib, deflated.

I left him chewing his lip and went to get my breakfast. But once I’d put the Weetabix in my bowl, I wasn’t hungry any more.

‘Vicky! VICKY! I’ve got it!’ Gib came running into the kitchen.

‘Don’t give it to me then,’ I replied.

Puzzled, Gib looked at me. He smiled, then he frowned.

‘This is serious, Vicky,’ he said. ‘I know where there’s a PC we can use.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘Chaucy’s got one.’

I groaned inwardly. ‘Don’t you know anyone else who owns a PC?’ I asked.

‘Chaucy’s is state of the art,’ Gib answered.

‘I don’t want to use Chaucy’s PC,’ I admitted.

‘Why not?’ Gib asked, surprised.

‘’Cause I don’t like him,’ I said honestly.

Gib looked at me. ‘It’s Chaucy’s machine or nothing. Unless you know someone else who’s got a proper PC that can go on the Internet. And someone we trust … I trust, who’ll let us do what we want for as long as we want – no questions asked.’

I sighed. ‘No, I don’t,’ I replied.

‘Then I don’t see that we’ve got much choice,’ Gib said.

I couldn’t argue with him. ‘Will he let us use his PC?’ I asked.

‘I don’t see why not. Hang on. I’ll phone him and ask.’

Before I could say another word, Gib was at the phone. I went back into the living room. The table where the PC had been now looked incredibly bare. Although Dad dusted the table regularly, a fine film of dust formed the outline of where the PC and the modem had sat.

‘Vicky, where are you?’ Gib bellowed.

I went out into the hall. Gib was no longer on the phone.

‘That was fast,’ I said. ‘And there’s no need to shout. I’m not deaf.’

‘Never mind that,’ Gib dismissed. ‘Chaucy’s at home and he says we can use his PC any time we want to.’

‘Are you sure he said “we” and not “you”?’ I asked with suspicion.

‘He definitely said “we”,’ Gib said impatiently, adding, ‘Mind you, we’re probably being a bit previous, asking to use his PC. I bet we don’t need to use it. I bet the magistrate throws Dad’s case out. Anyone with half an eye could see Dad wouldn’t do such a thing.’

‘So what do we do?’ I asked.

‘We wait for Dad to come home first,’ Gib said slowly. ‘There’s no point in doing anything else until he gets back. We have to find out what’s going on.’

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. Neither of us wanted to discuss what would happen if Dad
didn’t
come home …

Waiting for Mum and Dad to come home was the hardest waiting I’d ever had to do in my life. Gib and I couldn’t find anything much to say to each other. It was as if a high wall had sprung up between us. A wall we couldn’t get over or under or around. For the first time, I felt uncomfortable just being with Gib. And I didn’t need my glasses to see that he felt the same way.