Page 40 of Mile High With the Bikers
I adjust my backpack, nervous but reassured by the heft of the laptop against my back. It feels secure. I climb on behind him, settling into the saddle as the growl of the engine tingles beneath me. I put my arms around his waist. “I'm good.”
The novelty of sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a sexy biker between my legs still hasn't worn off. It makes me feel like the heroine in an action movie, especially when Diesel and Shrapnel fire up their bikes and the gates open to let us out of the compound.
“Hang on.” Bull calls as he turns the throttle, and the bike lurches forward, leading us over the river and to the highway.
My fine hair flutters in the wind. I have it in a clip, but it’s still going to be a mess later. I’m not as scared this time, but my fingers are still digging into his leather vest—no, cut, that’s what they call them. It’s a smooth ride though, and it doesn't take long before I relax against him.
I should be more nervous than I am, but there’s no reason this shouldn’t work, and for the first time, I’m not alone.
It doesn’t take long before we pull off at a rest stop. It’s not big, but it has a gas station and a Burger Shack attached to it. We went back and forth on where to set up, and with short notice this felt like the best choice. Nearby, owned by a big corporation so we don't mess with any local businesses, and hopefully there won’t be any terrible revelations this time. Not that I care much if a massive fast food chain gets hacked, but I don't want another jumping CEO on my conscience.
I slide into a booth and pull out the laptop while they order. There’s free, open Wi-Fi, but that's not the one I'm after. It's the locked down company one that I'm looking for. BS-Internal has to be it. I pull the dongle out of my bag and plug it in, but I don't do anything more. Not until we get a signal.
Diesel slides a tray full of food onto our table. I grab the strawberry shake I ordered and take a long sip. Bull grabs some fries, and somehow the other two manage burgers even though it feels like we just had breakfast.
“Guess we wait?” Bull looks at me for confirmation and I nod.
“What does your mother think about all this?” Bull asks. “Is she fine with him treating you like his personal cyber servant?”
“She thinks I should be grateful for the opportunities.” I shrug. “But we mostly just don’t talk. I get a card on my birthday and at Christmas. Every spring I fly out to see her in Austria and we go shopping. Like I told Shrapnel yesterday, they were never together, so as far as she’s concerned, she won the child support lottery.”
“The fuck?” Diesel makes a disgusted face. “She's your fucking mother.”
“But she’s not amom. She never was. She’s a painter and she runs a gallery. Her whole life revolves around art. I had nannies when I was little, and I started living away at boarding school when I was seven.”
I can tell by the looks on their faces, ranging from disbelief to downright anger that they want this to be part of my tragic backstory, but it’s just my mother. From what I can tell, she didn’t even baby trap my father on purpose. She was just a rich exchange student who ended up with an unexpected graduation present and then did her best to get on with her life.
Ready in ten minutes?
Saved by the text. Swallowing nervously, I fire back,Everything is set here.
“Go time?” Bull watches as I start opening windows and a command prompt on my computer. Hermes is effective, but it’s an in-house project. There are a lot of wonky things you have to do to make it perform. I nod while typing in initialization commands. Even if someone managed to steal this, it would be a lot of work for them to figure out what to do.
Once it's done, I open a stream for Dad to connect to on the big screen at the demonstration. Technology is wild. Neither of us know exactly where the other is, and I'm about to use a highway fast food restaurant to break my way into the central systems of a massive corporation. Exciting and terrifying, all at once.
“This is like one of those hacker shows,” Shrapnel notes, peering at my screen.
When the connection is made, I'm ready. I click the button to start the attack. My command window starts scrolling updates so quickly that I only catch the occasional line. It's not important. If something goes wrong, I'll get a warning, but it's nice to see that the program is doing its thing.
I hate that this is actually fun. After what happened last time, I shouldn't be pleased about anything working, but Hermes was my baby for a long time, and my baby is learning to run. At least I'm keeping Dad out of trouble, and running it here is keeping his nose out of the Screaming Eagles' network. I have no idea how advanced or not it is—maybe I should check the security on it, just in case—but there is one, and I think they have a lot more than Dad is giving them credit for.
The early systems go down immediately. The security for the local Wi-Fi is totally generic. It takes a little longer to chew through the defenses of the next layer up, getting access to the regional systems, but that's still small fry stuff. The little progress bar advances as processes complete and systems are bypassed, one by one, and then we're in. All the way up. That easy. Even knowing the possible horrible consequences, a flash of pride goes through me. Dad's smart, but I'm the one who nailed down the bypass algorithm.
Even if that only makes this even more my fault.
Hermes starts processing everything it finds. I point it first at folders that look valuable, avoiding email and user profiles for now and trying to focus on things like logistics and finances that are hopefully more general and not as likely to hit any particular person.
Good work. They're convinced. Why have you changed locations?
I glance at my guys. Bull and Shrapnel are watching my screen in fascination, while Diesel's finishing up his burger and keeping a lookout. I type quickly.They’re watching me closely. We're not far from the club.
I'm sure Dad's dying to chew me out for leaving the premises, but he got his demo, and it’s more interesting than an MC. At least for his guests.
We'll talk later.
I exit the program processes and shut my laptop. Everything worked, and I didn't betray the people watching me or expose anything that is likely to get anyone dead. I let out a long sigh before I look up. “All good.”
My milkshake's all but melted now, but it still tastes good. Bull watches as I reach the bottom and the straw makes a slurping sound.
