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I reach his bedside table and grab his phone, holding it against his sleeping face to unlock it. I risk waking him up — but he stays still, and with a sigh of relief, I start scanning the apps.
My fingertips fly across the keys as random letters light up the screen.
I’m looking through Felix’s phone for hidden cameras or other surveillance systems he might have set up around the house.
I have to shut them down so I can’t be identified once I get what I need and run the fuck away from here.
After a few minutes of deep rummaging — thankfully without incident — I turn off all the cameras and let myself relax a little without its watchful glare.
I decide to search deeper, so I tiptoe out of his room and walk down the hallway.
I open door after door. Finally, I found the study. This has to be where Felix stores all his secrets.
The walls are covered with documents, with shelf after shelf full of books in various languages. My stomach turns as I take it all in — this is too much for me.
Where should I even begin?
There’s very little time and so much to do. I take a deep breath and force myself to focus.
I know I need to hack into Felix’s computer. Sitting in front of the desk, I open up the laptop and begin what I must do.
But, to do this, I need to call them.
I grab my phone and use an encrypted number to call Incognito.
“Long time,” she says as she picks up.
I don’t know who she is, and the truth is, I never will.
That’s how this anonymous hacking group works - a group of women, or perhaps a sole vigilante, teaching and guiding other women in need.
No one knows about them, and you don’t choose them. They choose you.
They chose me.
Rule number one - they call you.
I never asked how they knew to call me when I ran for my life from New York, for rule number two was simpler - you never ask or speak of the what, when, where, how, or why.
It was a code of silence so intact that after all the help I got from them, I’d never want to dishonor it.
“Hi,” I whisper. “I need your help hacking into a very secure system. Operations.”
“Why?”
“It’s for my safety. I wouldn’t ask the Illuminati if I didn’t believe it to be life.
“Safety comes first,” she says. “Describe the computer.”
I whisper all the details I can find. Where the master server is located, the model and make of the computer, the port placements, and the IP address.
“Good,” she says in her monotone. “Run the port scan till you identify which services are running. Check if they are open to attack.”
“I found one,” I gasp.
“Which one?” she asks.
“The SSH server.”
