Page 12 of Hot Intent

“Will do, sir.”

He grabbed a jacket and headed out before he got locked in. Time to get the hell away from his home and his family to continue this search.

He headed for an Internet café, but not just any café. The Flaming Frog catered to hackers, specifically. Firewalls and other protections in the café made its systems nearly impossible to trace. And even if a hack was traced, the café kept no records of who’d sat at which terminal or for how long.

The FBI and NSA hated the place, but so far had failed to shut it down despite repeated visits to local courts on various trumped-up charges.

“Hey, dude. Haven’t seen you in a while.” The night manager waved cheerfully at him. Store policy: no names got used. Ever. He waved back at the girl, who looked about twelve but was probably closer to thirty. She was also a top-notch hacker.

“Hey, Blondie,” he murmured across the counter. “Feel like taking on one of the big boys?”

“Sure. Which alphabet agency we goin’ after?”

“I’ve got a name. I need more on it.”

Her face fell. “Just a vanilla research job, huh?”

“An aggressively defended name,” he corrected. “Nearly killed my home system earlier.”

She perked up. “That’s better. Let’s have this name.”

“Cold Intent.”

“What the hell is that?” Blondie demanded.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he retorted.

“Race ya,” she challenged.

“The bet?”

“Loser buys me a tattoo.”

He grinned. “What if I win?”

“You ain’t gonna win, old man.”

“If I do, I want a copy of the algorithm you used to hack the IRS last year.”

She sucked in a sharp breath but then shrugged. “You’re gonna lose, so what the hell. Deal.”

He threaded past a half-dozen people staring at computer screens and sat down at a terminal in the back where no one could look over his shoulder. He started to type.Come to papa, Cold Intent.

3

Katie woke up slowly. The sun was shining in around the edges of the heavy curtains too brightly. She lurched up out of bed and raced down the hall to Dawn’s bedroom. The baby was still asleep. Wow. Nearly seven a.m.

She tiptoed down the hall to Alex’s office. What on earth had he been working on so hard yesterday? She poked her head in the door to ask?—

—Huh. He wasn’t there. She backed out and headed for the kitchen. His car keys were gone from the hook on the wall. That was weird. Where would he go this early? Particularly without telling her?

Alarmed, she headed back to his office. His computer was running some sort of diagnostic she probably couldn’t interrupt. She spied a legal pad on his desk. What looked like rows of random numbers covered it. Although knowing Alex and his huge background in math, the numbers weren’t random at all. The rows of digits were interrupted by a single pair of words tucked off to one side of the pad.Cold Intent. What was that?

She heard the front door unlocking and moved out of his office quickly before he could catch her snooping.

She greeted Alex, “You look exhausted. Have you been working all night?”

He made an affirmative sound.

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