Page 22 of Coming In Hot
Joey:
Of course you do.
Leaning back in the chair, eyes still locked on the screen in front of me, I hit the vape hard.
I need access to a server.
Joey:
So, access it. That’s what you do.
No shit, smartass.
Not that kind of server.
Joey:
You owe me.
Add it to my tab.
I feel the force of what I’m about to do sink in. Greystone’s not just a high-end security company. It’s something much darker and intricate, and if I’m not careful, digging too deep could put a target on my back. But I’m already too far in. The screen in front of me flickers as it loads, and my fingers hover over the keyboard, my mind racing with anticipation. Then, the pointer on my screen moves of its own accord, as if guided by an invisible hand. I don’t need to look to know it’s Joey. He’s the only one I’d ever allow access to my systems—trusted beyond reason, even when it comes to these kinds of dirty, high-risk jobs.
I lean back in my chair and wait for him to do his thing.
A chat box pops up on the screen, blinking with Joey’s username.
Joey:
Got you covered. You’re searching for the Greystone Project files, right?
Yeah. I need everything. The real stuff. Not the PR bullshit.
The cursor pauses for a moment before his reply comes through.
Joey:
Give me a second. They’ve got a decent firewall. I’ll need to crack it open.
I watch the screen closely as his work starts. Lines of code flash across the screen, each one another step closer to what I need. It’s like watching a master at work, precise, methodical, no wasted movement.
Joey:
Alright, I’m in. Looks like there’s a whole network of files, hidden in plain sight. Someone went to great lengths to bury these.
The tension in my chest tightens as I lean in, staring at the glowing screen. I don’t know who Greystone is working for, but I’m getting closer. I can feel it in my gut, the familiar buzz of danger.
What else?
There’s another pause, longer this time. I can almost hear Joey’s fingers tapping on the keys, the silence stretching between us.
Joey:
Shit… I’ve got something. Classified op details. This isn’t just about security. They’ve got contracts tied to military-grade operations. It’s black ops. Private military contractors. Some of this is… off the grid. But it goes deeper than that.
I feel my pulse spike. This is the kind of information that’s dangerous to know. The kind that could get a person killed. But I’ve come too far now to back off.
Keep going.
