Page 67 of Hacking the Holidays
Ethical? Absolutely not.
Necessary? My future depended on it.
Rose walked in carrying her laptop bag, looking bright-eyed and ready to volunteer. She wore stretchy black pants, a blue oversized cardigan that made her eyes even more striking than usual, and those navy Hokas she had on before. I looked at my feet. Yep, the same.
She made “practical and comfortable” look sexy.
For a moment—just a moment—I felt a pang of guilt about what I was about to do. Then I remembered her interactions with Beverly, her lying about not knowing her, the contact form stuffed in her bra, and the way she’d looked at me when she said, “Everyone has secrets, Sam.”
Just like that, the guilt evaporated.
“Good morning,” I said, forcing a smile, then gesturing to the chair across the table from me. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” She set her bag down, then noticed the coffee cup on the table in front of her chair. “Is that for me?”
I nodded. “Cafe latte, right?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “How did you know?”
“It was written on the side of your cup yesterday at the Bavarian Bagel Company.”
“Of course, you noticed.” A smile played on her lips. “And thank you.”
Rose settled into her chair and pulled out her laptop.
“So,” she said, opening it up. “What’s this exciting project you mentioned? I can’t wait to get started.” She took a sip of her cafe latte and waited on the edge of her seat.
“An eager beaver—I like it.” I slid a slip of paper across the table. “First, here’s the Wi-Fi login and password. The network is back up, but it’s still unstable. We just need to be patient while I work on the infrastructure. If all goes well, we’ll be able to use the library computers again tomorrow. And thanks again for bringing in your laptop.”
“Of course.” She glanced at the credentials, then entered them.
“As for your task,” I continued, “I’d like you to go through a database called Library Archive 217 and flag any missing dates on the uploaded files or dates that are not formatted correctly.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Rose said, her fingers already moving across the keyboard.
I took a sip of my coffee, then settled back behind my laptop, pulling up my network monitoring program disguised within what looked like a routine systems diagnostic screen. If Rose saw my screen, it would appear as if I were checking server logs and router configurations. Boring IT maintenance, nothing else.
The alert popped up in my hidden terminal window:
NEW DEVICE CONNECTED
It was her computer.
I felt a surge of adrenaline.
Who are you really, Rose Thompson?
It wouldn’t be long before I found out.
My fingers moved quickly, executing the script I’d prepared. Within seconds, I had access to the file directory on her laptop. My pulse quickened as I started navigating through her folders.
Documents. Applications. Photos. Downloads?—
A notification popped up on my screen.
CONNECTION TERMINATED.
I stared at the two words in disbelief.
