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“This is bigger than me, ye twonumptyarsenuggets,” I bark. “Yates has infiltrated Infinity Corp.”
Brody asks, “That a bank?”
“Nae.”
Camdyn asks, “Safe or lockbox?”
“Nae. It’s the company I work for.”
Our bigbrathairhisses, “Shite, next timeye say infiltrated, let it matter, such as putting money in my pockets.”
“Listen,eejit. I think he’s created some sort of system to filch customers' identities in a multimillion-dollar program. A program that has my name on it!”
“Witcan this system do?” Brody waves a hand, interested in more.
“If I’m right, identity theft, for starters. Gather SSNs. It can, eh,” I think of a simple term for him, “act like an eagle eye on a guy’s computer. Access the camera without proper requests. Thatfeckercan do anything!”
Running a finger along his eyebrow, he asks, “Och, I like the sound of that. Are we gonna dump him? Take over the scheme? Why’re ya looking at me like that. Keep yer eyes on the road, Leith. The American’s the shitty driver.”
“Fuck you,” Camdyn says from the back.
“Aye,feckyerself,” Brody taunts. “Now, Leith, dinna tell meye want to lock ‘em up, throw away the key.”
“Something like that,” I respond, distracted by the thought of finding Yates.
“Alright, the chit chat’s been lovely, boys,” Camdyn interjects. “We know who he is. Let’s kill him.”
Without a word, I zip into the fast-food line at In-n-Out. A few moments later, I fess up. “We’ve got to find him first.”
Brody clucks. “Ye haven’t . . .”
“Nae,” I grumble, edging forward behind a utility truck.
“Why not?”
“He’s a hacker. Ye think thenugget’ssitting ’round somewhere waiting for—”
Camdyn bellows from behind me, “Hack his ass back!”
“Aye,” Brody agrees.
Removing my hands from the steering wheel, I gesture. “I’m nae hacker. I’m a programmer.”
“Wit’sthat mean?” Brody asks.
“He lacks creativity and speed,” Camdyn says.
“Sookmybaws,brathair.”
“Woah,” he adds. “That wasn’t a dig, Leith. That’s just what they do. I know. Some people have lawyers on their team. I have a hacker on speed dial.”
“Why?” I ask.
Ignoring me, Camdyn retorts, “The two of you are so sensitive, reading between the lines like a pack of women, which leads to the fighting. Programming is contemplative. That’s a positive trait. Does this bode well for your feelings?”
I narrow my eyes and silently edge forward again. Brody blinks still perplexed over our conversation. Our olderbrathairtakes the defensive now, beginning another dispute. I explain that a programmer isn’t meant to be a hacker, but a hacker can program and code. “However, a programmer has the most expertise—”
“Doesn’t sound like it to me,” Brody sniffs.
