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Now, when you think of a hacker, you might think of a stick-thin, pale-skinned guy wearing a black hoodie, skinny jeans, and a pair of Vans skate shoes. Not a burly construction worker. With an unkempt beard and bulky body.
I have a long day ahead at one of my commercial work sites. I am a little sluggish since I was up until the early hours of the morning buying and selling odd things on the dark web, just moving money around. Investing in Bitcoin and searching for the perfect fake passports and stolen credit cards. I always want to have options for my clients who still wish to remain anonymous.
This morning I walked to my favorite coffee shop early enough to beat the rush of commuters. Today, the clouds are a bit heavy, and when I look up the street, there are an extensive amount of cop cars parked and idling. Plainclothes officers carry evidence bags from around the side alley to a waiting van. Curiosity always gets the best of me, but today I don't have time to be nosy.
My steel-toed boots kick the door to the café open, and I squeeze my broad shoulders through the frame. A few cops stand at the counter, waiting for their coffees. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a chill covers my skin. I’ve never seen so many officers in this place.
I am so focused on the activity inside that a small tap on my shoulder causes me to jump. The tiny barista laughs, pointing to my ear. My large, calloused hand sneaks up to take one of my earphones out.
My lips curve at the image of this cute woman, Lizzie. Her wavy dark hair falls just shy of her shoulders, and her dark eyes shine, looking up at me. She makes it hard to keep her eye when all I want to do is appreciate the curves of her body. The blue apron is tied neatly at her cinched waist, creating the perfect hourglass figure. She’s a co-owner of this coffee shop, so my lucky ass gets to see her every single visit. Lizzie is the reason that I continue to order there. It’s my way of flirting, I guess you could say.
“You’ve finally arrived, our prime suspect!” She meets me with a broad smile. Teasing me.
I tilt my head to look down and pin her gaze with narrowed eyes. She giggles again and points to the back of the coffee shop, where the back door is open to the alley. Yellow caution tape adorns the doorframe leading out to the alley. The police outside are looking around and I notice a couple of plainclothes officers talking to the other owner of the café. I hear the word “search warrant” through the arguing of words exchanged. One set of officers are pointing toward a closed door that displays “Employees only” while one set of men are on their phones. Clearly wanting to get to the back room where the video is.
The text message last night from my client, Adam, is starting to make a little more sense now.
Who had a pig? 110 West Rensselaer Parkway. A notification displayed from an unknown number.
Coded words, specifically for a man who hired my services—Adam. His coded words mean that he’s got into something and I need to fix whatever it is. Turns out one of the people he was looking for frequents this coffee shop. Texted him the name Reese Graftonand her picture. That was over a week ago.
I’m a general contractor along with being a general hacker. I look for people, create and alter IDs, just kind of whatever they pay me for. Coded messages are necessary so that if anyone were to get hold of our texts, they won’t make any sense. Paid for my privacy and accuracy, going to great lengths to keep my clients’ secrets.
“What happened?” I inquire to Lizzie as I point to the back.
“Looks like someone had too much of the booze! I swear that bar always has something going on.” She wipes her hands on her apron and I watch her walk around the counter. “Your usual black coffee?”
I look up at the menu listed above the counter. Taking in the different options of baked goods.
“Sounds good, beautiful. And a blueberry muffin.” I turn and point at the front window where the clouds are rolling in. “I am hoping for the rain. I could use a day off.”
She nods, looking over my shoulder toward the front window. “I do love a good rain. However, I forgot my umbrella.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Do you want the muffin warmed up while I grind the beans?”
“Sounds perfect!” I smirk, satisfied with my decision.
Dropping a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, I indicate the table near the back wall. “I’m in no rush. Take your time.”
She rings up the order and starts to grab my change from the drawer.
“Keep the change.” I tap the counter and step away.
Her mouth gapes open, and my mind takes a left turn. Over time, Lizzie has become a crush that manifests each time I see her. Rather than say something embarrassing, I turn to saunter over to the table that faces the back entrance, making myself more comfortable while I wait.
Pulling my tablet out of my bag, I tap away. Between the location, the dead body, and his text—I’ve found the tip of the iceberg. Now I need to handle business.
I turn on my personal Wi-Fi from my phone to use as a secure source for my internet. Never, I mean never, use public Wi-Fi; too easy to infiltrate and steal your personal information.
As soon as I’m connected, I search the coffee shop’s IP address and work my magic to hack in. I go through the coded “back door” of their internet server to gain access to their cameras. Small businesses like this one do not make enough money to invest in better security. Most times, the cameras are there just for show and if they do work, the quality is subpar.
The grinding and fresh smell of the cracked coffee beans distract me for a moment. I smile at the barista, who blushes, and I refocus my attention to access their cameras. The officers that are on their phones pace back and forth. “Yeah, just let us know when the judge signs the search warrant.” The owner of the coffee shop is acting like a douche, wanting to have all the paperwork in place so there is no blowback on the business. I shake my head at his nervousness.
The cameras spring to life in front of me on my tablet and I see myself on the live feed. The owners have a couple set up inside and one placed outside in the alley. From one of the camera feeds outside, I see a body on the ground covered up and officers walking around marking evidence. My rough hands tap against the smooth screen of the tablet to rewind all the cameras until I see the time of the fight. A soft chuckle watching the men fight in reverse is amusing but still frightfully ironic as there is a dead man left in the wake. Stopping the video when Adam exits the bar, I look up to make sure I am still alone when I press play and watch the fight in real time. Another man follows Adam out to the alley. The two men face off, fighting in the alley. My fist clenches with excitement as Adam is destroying this man! I am impressed with his fighting techniques. The other guy, though…he’s a frumpy fighter. I don’t think the man that followed Adam would realize that it would be his last moments. I am transfixed by their encounter until the man’s last breath. Taking a deep breath, stop the video when Adam stands away from the dead body and looks at the camera. This is where my expertise comes into play. Pressing rewind and stopping the video just before Adam walks into the alley again, I switch the settings to test mode, setting the camera timer for five minutes, which lets the camera film for five minutes after the time the camera was set before it switches back to the first minute. The camera rolls on repeat, over and over. To the untrained eye, this just looks like a continuous film. To the trained eye, they will find a small glitch in the feed. Severely jacking up the investigation, or at least delaying it, so when someone finally notices, it will be too late, and Adam will be long gone.
The barista hits the bell, pulling me from my work. “Order is up, handsome!”
I give her a wink and hold up my hand, asking for a minute. She giggles and goes back to the counter to take another order. I close out my feeds, delete my history, and disconnect from my Wi-Fi, shutting down my phone and tablet. I put everything away and swing my bag over my back. Pushing myself away from the table to stand, I’m getting myself together when I hear the owner of the coffee shop cursing.
“Judge came through, we got the search warrant,” one of the officers states and points between another officer and the owner. The owner nods and opens the door.
