Page 18 of Booked for Murder

I checked my apartment for any signs of hell freezing over.

Walking so much yesterday had done me zero favors, and pretending I lacked a limp put the final nail in my foot’s coffin. Not even my medical boot could save me from my stupidity. The simple task of limping around my kitchen to make coffee proved to be too much to handle, and after giving Ajani fresh water and feeding her, I retreated to my couch to sulk. My phone would become my salvation, and I dialed Beatrice’s number once certain she’d be in her office.

A morning without coffee sucked, but at least I’d taken care of my furry goddess before running out of steam

“Beatrice speaking,” she answered, and her tone implied she was ready to kill somebody.

How nice. I’d gotten a hold of her before coffee, as she otherwise would have asked how she could have helped or otherwise inquired who was on the line. Oh, well. We’d have a fun conversation, one punctuated with hissing, snarls, and yawns. “It’s Janette. I just had a cop, some adept, and Mr. Tawnlen over. My morning has sucked. How about yours?”

“My morning has also sucked. Want coffee? I’m about to take half a day because my morning has sucked that badly. I will bring you coffee.”

Beatrice wanted to bring me coffee? I checked my apartment for any signs of hell freezing over, suspicious over the general normality of my home. “Didn’t you just get to work? I won’t say no to coffee. I tried to make some, but it seems I have angered my foot. Just get me whatever you’re having and make it the largest size they’ll sell you. Tell me how much I owe you when you get here.”

“It’s on me, and yeah. It’s going that well. I’m packing my things, but I’ll give you the brief version. There’s a cop infestation here. Apparently, they want to do an investigation of the computer systems. So, I was called in at three this morning to babysit the cops. Do you know what they found? Absolutely nothing. They wanted to review the video of the computer rooms, but they saw nothing beyond normal behavior. So, it turns out we were hacked. Whoever did the hacking pissed off the cops, too.”

Just like that, my morning got even worse. “The library was hacked?”

“Apparently. I was told someone hacked into one of the computers from the outside, and then they hacked other computers once on our network, and then they hacked somewhere else. But the buck ended at our computers, because they can’t figure out where they hacked in or how.”

Well, that made me happy I’d adjusted the computer’s logs. It also helped the library used antiquated software full of holes I’d been able to use. It also helped I’d spent years learning the ins and outs of the network, how to manipulate the logs, and otherwise cover my tracks should it be needed.

Of course, I’d done it out of boredom and curiosity, maintaining old skills on the off-chance I’d need them. That I had needed them bothered me—as did how the police had isolated the main branch as the source of their data breach in the span of several hours.

I suspected they’d identified the login I’d used as compromised, triggering an alert. It’d taken me a few minutes to get what I’d needed from their databases, thus dodging an active counter-hack.

It took time for someone to be notified of an alert and to retaliate unless they anticipated someone hacking into their systems.

When I got some time, I would have to evaluate the situation with a little more care.

“Someone hacked into our computers from the outside?” I asked, careful to keep my tone incredulous. “But what can our hunk of junk computers do?”

“Yeah. That’s what we asked. The computers we let the patrons use were outdated five years ago, and we have them because they’re cheap and will run basic programs. Our patrons don’t need anything fancy, and the techs the police brought in said about the only thing they’re useful for is a dumpster.”

Oh, ouch. “Did the techs say that where your boss could hear them?”

“They did.”

No wonder Beatrice’s morning was going poorly. By the time her boss had finished with her, she might have some skin left from his verbal flaying. “Do you want my help with him?”

While Beatrice usually caved when I came to her about something, I usually emerged from arguments with her boss with a stung pride and limited success. However, if a luddite like me could present a few arguments on why the library system could use better computers with enhanced security, I might get through to him without being flayed alive.

Then again, dealing with my ex-boss might be safer.

“It’s all right, but I appreciate it. The techs got the point across. I just got screamed at because I let the situation get that severe. And then I got screamed at some more when I pointed out the budget he had given me didn’t account for nicer computers. We’re going to change how we operate the systems. It’ll work out. Something funny came out of that mess, though.”

“Oh?” As I couldn’t imagine anything humorous about the situation, I asked, “What could possibly be funny about this situation?”

“The techs have a crush on the hacker.”

A laugh burst out before I could stop it. “What?”

“Apparently, it takes real skill for a hacker to navigate our antiquated system, access the system they’re investigating, and be done within five or ten minutes without leaving anything more than a single trace of their activities—and the only reason they left a trace, according to the tech who was ranting and raving about this hacker, is because the log file in question is locked down tighter than Fort Knox.”

I raised a brow at that. I could buy into the idea that it would take someone with specific knowledge to navigate through the library’s ancient operating system, but the police’s system hadn’t been difficult to navigate. Much like the reference section, everything went into a set place, which made grabbing what was needed a simple enough task.

Then again, if the cops wanted to act like my hacking job was special, I’d appreciate the stroking of my ego at the same time I made certain to do a better job should I need to infiltrate their system again—and make certain to acquire a new login.

That would be the real challenge.