Page 6 of Hacked For Love
“Hi there, Lois.” I smile at the screen, feeling a little sense of connection that eases a deep hollowness inside me. “This is the wealth-redistribution fairy coming at you with a big dose of hope andhelp.”
She uses the same password for everything. That makes it easy for me to get into places that a black-hat hacker would maliciously take advantage of. Bank accounts, mortgage account, medical accounts. I wish I could drop her a note somewhere telling her not to do that, but I have to move as invisibly aspossible.
She owes the bank for her little, ramshackle house, which is also in need of repairs. She’s deep in the red on credit cards, and by the looks of her purchases, she’s just trying to get by while she can’t work. Her son’s medical debt doesn’t help; he needs physical therapy and prosthetic lower legs that she can’t payfor.
Total need: $128,000.
Paying off those debt records and arranging for the prosthetics, fittings, and physical therapy all do my heart good. I even manage to get my mind off of Steele for awhile.
In the past I’ve tried just going into the hospital and bank systems of people in trouble and changing the numbers, but the discrepancy is always caught and corrected. Now, though, someone is actually paying off those bills with real money. It’s just not a someone anyone wouldexpect.
Fifteen minutes from when I first entered her accounts, I print out one double-sided page on Lois and what was done for her and her family before purging her information from my system. Then I move onto the next randomperson.
Michael LaFloret, a medical cannabis user picked up just over state lines with a legally bought ounce. Released upon full legalization, but his record stands. Can’t get a job now that he’sfree.
Michael wants to start his own business, but first he has to get out of the red with his landlord who is about to throw him into the streets in the middle of winter. I pay off his debts and pad his account by $10k, which is the maximum gift amount he can get in a year without being taxed onit.
Total need: $14,000.
Godspeed, Michael, and I hope you get your bike shop up andrunning.
It goes on like that. It doesn’t take me long to fix someone’s financial problems, print their file, clear them from my system and move on—as long as I keep focused. Fortunately, that’s not difficult; if anything, I’mtoofocused.
Some take under five minutes. Others: half an hour. Many of the individuals on the list are parts of a larger family, which means I can clear up to ten at one go. Others are alone, which is the source of some of theirproblems.
I cansympathize.
It’s going to take months to go through all this even if I devote twelve to fifteen hours a day to it.I may get caught before it’s done or even killed. But I won’t give up until I’m done—they’ll have to drag me away from my list and what I’m trying todo.
This is giving me life even as it gives them life. For once, I matter. I’m not just my uncle’s throwaway girl. I’m important to these people, and what I do matters—even if nobody ever knows myname.
I save a hundred people in a few hours, and then I start sending out e-mails about the fire fund’s success to my former neighbors. They need to start getting their money and supplies,too.
It’s getting light outside, and my head is throbbing before I finally sit back and stretch, yawning hard. I think I might actually be able to get some sleep now. But as I look up at the folder in the corner of my screen, I know I have something to check onfirst.
When I do, I swear under mybreath.
The crawler search on Drake Steele has dug up scores of entries. He’s been making private donations to people—well away from venture support—to the tune of millions per fiscal quarter for at least half adecade.
Guilt money? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s already doing the right thing, at least more than I’ve ever seen his kind do, and I just punished him anyway. And now, he coulddie.
I let out a little sob of dismay, covering my mouth with my hand as the screen blurs in front of me.Oh god, I fuckedup.
How did this happen? I was so careful. Was I biased in choosing him because of his past? Or is it because he’s just so annoyingly...perfect, as well as beingrich?
I squeeze my eyes shut, horrified with myself but determined to fix this.Focus.
One last thing to do before my exhausted body forces me to bed, so I can rest without nightmares. I create an untraceable e-mail account; I put Drake Steele’s private e-mail address in the recipient field; and I send him the damnwarning.
I’d rather die myself than risk getting a decent mankilled.
Chapter4
Drake
The exercise yard is a blank gray box without a roof. We can just barely see the tops of the tallest Siberian pines on the outside if we look, but no one ever does. We’re too busy watching eachother.
If you put too many of even the gentlest animals together in too small of a cage, they will start fighting. Convicts are not gentle animals. And there are a hundred men stuffed into this yard, which was built for aboutfifty.
