Profit, p.4
Profit, page 4
“I think none of us need to worry about the new CAO, Toni, what’s-her-name, unless she gives us some cause for concern. Unless...” Andrew looked at Marseilles. “You haven’t had any cause for concern about hackers, or anything else since she came on board, have you?”
“I’d never heard of her before tonight. As for a hacker, I’m not a geek, I wouldn’t know if I’d been hacked if someone was using my computer and doing it in front of me. So, no.” She looked around. “Any of you?”
Colin laughed, it wasn’t an amusing one. “I wouldn’t be any more hacker savvy than you. I’m with Andrew, unless we find a concern, let Ms. Bruno do what she does, which is crunching numbers. We have other concerns.”
Andrew drew in a breath and decided the time was now. “Colin’s right, we have other concerns. I know all of you are on the inside, the FBI has concerns about our organization, but they aren’t certain who, if anyone, is actually on the inside of the WBA. They know I’m the head, which is why I’ve been lost for the last eighteen months and will continue on this way. You know how to reach me if needed. We need to know who, if anyone, is with the Feds on the inside, and I’ve found a way.”
A round of groans filled the room, as he’d figured, they weren’t going to be easy to convince.
“I told you I’ve been using my time wisely. Have any of you heard of the Dark web?”
“You mean the place you found that lunatic, the Headman?” Samuel asked.
“Yes, but this time I am not hiring an assassin, I hired a fixer.” Andrew continued before anyone could interrupt. “Someone to come in and fix what we’ve lost by my blunder; yes, I admit I hadn’t thought things through with hiring someone to kill off the heads of the WBA entities.”
“So, you’ve hired another assassin? Nice,” Colin said. The word nice was anything but.
“No, The Dissolvor...”
Gavin sat forward in his seat, sloshing whiskey down the front of him in the process. “Whoa there Andrew, I’ve heard about this Dissolvor. I don’t know that we need that kind of help. Look what happened before. Why do we need to bring in an outsider? And someone so dangerous.”
“Hear me out, and then we’ll go over concerns. First, I was not given any details of identity. For all I know, one of you could be The Dissolvor.” A short nervous laugh went around as the others came to attention, realizing what Andrew said was true. “This person has total anonymity, he handles things discretely and usually without blood on his hands. He does what needs to be done. The Dissolvor’s bio said...” Andrew ruffled through his notes until he found the passage he wanted to repeat. “It says that he specializes in hostile takeovers, cleans up data security breaches. The only clients he takes on are high level international groups. He has several degrees, including doctorates in business, accounting, and several others, which also includes a degree in Information Technology from none other than MIT. The Dissolvor has a very high IQ and uses it for International Intrigue, the information I found before contacting this person was that he’s bored and will do anything for excitement.”
“You mean like the Headman would do anything. He cut off heads with some kind of samurai sword, and he practiced it before he went into business. What kind of sicko does that? And now you’re going to hire another thrill seeker?” Marseilles shook her head, stood and walked to the window and gazed out, though Andrew knew there was nothing she could see in the darkness. “I’m not sure I want to go through another fiasco. How do you know he isn’t another fanatic that will dig us deeper than we were eighteen months ago?”
“I agree with Mar, Andrew, we can’t risk it,” Gavin said.
Colin stared at Andrew until he wanted to squirm like a school boy called on the carpet. “Somehow, I think the ball has been set in motion and it’s too late to pull it back. Am I right, Andrew?”
He’d handpicked these people because of their brains, why had he thought he could pull anything over on them. “Yes, I’ve already paid the deposit, been approved, and set the ball in motion.”
“Been approved?” Gavin asked.
“Apparently, this person will not work with any private individual. The only contact is through a special port in the Dark web, it has coding that tracks. The IP address I used went through a sweep traced to me, to my business, and organization. I was a known entity in the International underground, and the job was accepted. The Dissolvor knows our goals and will go in and fix things.”
Andrew shrugged, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten them into, truth be told. He’d researched and determined they needed someone to check into the financials to see where they stood in the WBA for their long-term goals, and The Dissolvor had listened to the ultimate goal of HEAD and agreed to make it happen, there would be no questions about the how’s and the wherefore’s.
“God, Andrew what have you done?”
Chapter Five
The room echoed with the clickity clack of keys as the typist’s fingers raced across the keyboard. A thrill raced over, as it always did at the beginning of the chase. Now came the hunt.
Being known only as The Dissolvor was an advantage. Androgynous. Female or male? Drove people crazy, and because it was androgynous, most people assumed The Dissolvor was a female. Otherwise, why all the secrecy?
A chuckle slipped out, who cared one way or another. It was all about the brains, how to outsmart, capture your goal, conquer, and move on. All without anyone the wiser. Another chuckle slid out, almost an afterthought, being androgynous also meant The Dissolvor could mingle among the masses as either a female or male, whatever the heart desired or whatever mood struck.
People on the Dark web knew how to contact The Dissolvor. However, before the message was dumped in the pool of daily messages, it had gone through literally thousands of codes and loops, pinging from one place to another, changing IP addresses until only a hacker with a higher IQ and talent, along with more training and experience than The Dissolvor, could follow the trail.
There was a reason for that.
As much of a thrill seeker as The Dissolvor was, The Dissolvor had self-preservation; being caught and going to prison were two things to avoid.
Andrew Phillips and his HEAD organization were the current entertainment. Utopia, what a laugh, as if anyone could pull the concept off. But if he wanted to throw his money away on an impossible dream, that was okay with The Dissolvor.
The Dissolvor would take it all, Phillips would get what he wanted. Or not. He was a fanatic, as were those who’d thrown their lot in with him. There would be no Utopia on earth during a thousand lifetimes.
But it certainly wasn’t The Dissolvor’s place to enlighten the group.
Ready or not, here I come.
* * * *
The Glock G43 felt heavy and foreign, Bryn looked from the gun to the target. She was with Matt, his brother Tyler, and Reagan, his sister, at a gun range to learn, Tyler had put it not too nicely, how to play with guns properly. She had no desire to learn how to shoot a gun. But Matt had convinced her they had to be prepared in case the HEAD group surfaced again.
Tyler had just returned with their protective equipment. Protective eye gear and ear muffs, well not the kind for winter, big ones that looked more like a headset but filtered out sound. Almost all sound. It made it hard for her to hear what the others were saying. She’d rather wear them than hurt her ears though.
“Are we ready, students?” Tyler raised an eyebrow at her, then turned to his brother and grinned. “We have an hour at the range, then another hour at the simulation course.”
“What’s a simulation course?” Bryn asked.
“You need to know a little more than how to fire a gun, Bryn. We’ve decided to give you a crash course on CYA.” Tyler smirked at his only little joke. “In other words, we don’t want you walking completely blind into a situation.”
“No time to waste. Matt, do you know how to handle that thing at all?” Reagan asked.
“Ha, ha.” Matt stepped into the enclosure.
Bryn looked around, she’d never been around guns, or ranges, or simulators, and she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be. The range was set up like the ones she’d seen on the cop shows, mostly commercials because she didn’t actually watch any of the series. It looked like a row of booths for lack of a better term. An open front with a counter to lay your ammunition and any other items you had. She noticed some people had more than one gun and had them laid out on the counter. One man would shoot one with barely a pause, put the used one on the counter, and pick up another. He even had some kind of rifle waiting. She shuddered to even contemplate why he needed to know how to shoot them all. She prayed to God he was one of the good guys. She focused again on Matt, he’d raised the gun in what Bryn thought looked like a good stance.
“Whoa there brother.” Reagan took a step to Matt’s side, placed her hands on his shoulders and adjusted a bit. Then guided her hand along his arm and adjusted a little higher. Helped him aim his Glock 41 Gen 4, a slightly bigger gun than the one she would be using. “Now, feet about shoulder width apart and brace, for a little thing the gun has a big kick. Aim for the body of the target.”
Bryn looked across the range at the row of targets, they were all outlines of a human. She wasn’t sure what the correct term was. Black silhouettes with a target on the trunk, rings fanning out, an X in the center, and then the next ring over the number nine, then eight, with seven being the outer ring. It wasn’t hard to assume that X was the place to aim.
She was standing close enough to Matt that when he fired his gun the vibration raced from her feet up through her body. She tried to see where he’d hit, but from the way Tyler and Reagan were laughing, she concluded he’d completely missed.
“I’m not sure an hour is enough time.” Reagan seemed to be holding back more laughter, but she finally continued in a more serious vein. “Matt, you need to focus. You can’t use the gun if you can’t at least wound your nemesis. Shooting bystanders is frowned upon by every law enforcement agency. And it’s worse for civilians. This time, focus first on the sight on the gun, then follow it with your eyes and make sure it’s over the X. Ready?”
Matt’s chest heaved as he stepped forward again, lifted his arms the way Reagan had instructed, and stood. Bryn wasn’t sure if he was aiming, praying, or stalling, but when he finally shot the damn gun, she jumped. And lo and behold, he’d hit the target. Not the X, but at least the outer ring, he’d blasted the seven away so all that could be seen was a hole where it had been.
“Now we’re talking. Go a few more rounds and then we’ll have the lovely Bryn take her turn.”
She would really like to know why Reagan always referred to her as such. Even when she’d first met the woman. It was always the lovely Bryn this or the lovely Bryn that. Drove her nuts, and if she didn’t find her so intimidating she’d ask her. Currently, she was in super hero mode, fists on hips, concentration written over her face as she watched her brother aim and fire. Matt had progressively improved with each shot. She just hoped she could follow his example.
“Next, come on Bryn. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Tyler helped her, the way Reagan had helped Matt. “There you go, come on loosen your shoulders a bit. Believe me, you don’t want to have the jolt if your arms and shoulders are locked.”
He wiggled her shoulders and arms, and once he felt she was sufficiently relaxed, NOT, he aligned her arms. He stepped away. She could almost physically feel them behind her. She swallowed down her panic. The Glock fit perfectly in her hands as she wrapped a hand over the other hand holding the gun. She looked down the barrel to the small sight and lined it up with the X, inhaled and held the air in her lungs as she squeezed the trigger.
The jolt ran up her arms and knocked the air she’d been holding out of her lungs. Her hands, still holding the gun, dropped to the counter. After a moment she realized she’d closed her eyes at some point. She opened them and looked to see where or if she’d hit the target. She was vaguely aware of the others clapping, and then she saw the perfect hole over where the X had been.
She let go of the gun, left it lying on the counter and turned to the others. One of them must have shot over her shoulder because there was no way she’d hit the target.
They were all grinning at her. She looked over her shoulder, and sure enough she hadn’t imagined it, there was a hole in the center of the silhouette.
“Beginner’s luck,” Bryn said, and tried not to grin. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy the practice, she hated guns.
The rest of the hour flew by. Bryn continued to do well, much to the surprise of Matt, or maybe that was disgruntlement, as he was better than when they started, but in a contest Bryn would win hands down. A little burst of gloating couldn’t be suppressed on her part.
“The simulation center is about an hour away,” Tyler said as they settled into his SUV. “The Elders’ house is on the way, Rea call Ma and ask if she has fixings for hoagies and we’ll stop by for lunch.”
“Let’s just stop at the store and pick up the stuff. I’ll let her know we’re coming,” Reagan said.
They stopped at Greene Grape Provisions on Fulton in Brooklyn where they selected an amazing assortment of meats, cheeses, breads, and other good stuff. Bryn had never thought of some of the things they picked up. What were they, gourmet sandwich aficionados?
Throughout the store, the three kept up a banter that could only come from siblings. From sarcastic to affectionate, and Bryn couldn’t help but compare her childhood. She’d been an only child and dreamt of siblings, but alas, her parents had never been able to have more. She’d been showered with love, had a warm relationship with her parents, but there’d always been something missing. And now she understood what it was.
She wondered for a brief moment if they’d adopt her.
Lunch at Matt’s parents’ home was another adventure. The siblings called them the Elders. She wasn’t sure why, no one explained.
Martha shooed them out of the kitchen. “Go talk shop in the other room. Your father can put in his two cents. But my kitchen is for food.”
Bryn expected a little grumbling, but the three obediently followed their father to the living area where they all sprawled in various chairs. Bryn picked the piano bench to perch on, she’d never been entirely comfortable in new places.
“Unless you’re going to play us a serenade, come make yourself comfortable on the couch.” Matt patted the cushion next to him.
She shook her head, no. He frowned, stood, took her hand and led her to the couch. These Becketts wanted their way. Well, she could be stubborn also, but she found she didn’t really want to move. She was too comfortable seated next to Matt.
Since he’d stayed and helped her with her cabinets, they’d formed an easy friendship. Matt hadn’t pushed for more. He came back every evening and helped until her project was complete. Telling her stories of his childhood, she felt she knew the family. And to meet his parents proved he hadn’t exaggerated his storytelling. He hadn’t pressed for more, and she was thankful. She wasn’t sure she could handle anything more, with everything else going on, with the unknown threat lurking on the horizon, or was it already upon them and they didn’t know?
“Bryn?” Matt’s voice finally penetrated.
“I’m sorry, I was thinking about all the stories you’ve told me about growing up in this house.”
Reagan elbowed Tyler and winked at her dad. “And since when have you been seeing each other enough to tell family stories?”
Bryn knew she was in for it now, dammit. “Matt has been nice enough to help me with a home project.”
“I can only imagine,” Tyler smirked.
“Tyler,” his father gave him a look, and Bryn imagined he could rule the roost with that look.
“Sorry. What project is that?” Tyler revised.
“I decided to take on the task of refinishing my cabinets over the holidays. I do not know what I was thinking.” Bryn gave a short depreciative laugh.
“And Matt helped?” This time Tyler didn’t hold back, he let out a burst of laughter, as if he couldn’t imagine his brother doing anything even close to helping. Or maybe it was the cabinets?
Matt grinned. “Unbelievable isn’t it?” He threw an arm around the back of the couch, barely grazing her shoulders and yet the electricity hit to her toes. He gave a small jolt and gazed at her a moment, he’d felt it too.
Reagan broke the spell with a question. “And you didn’t have to call in a team of experts to fix the mess?”
Bryn had to focus on Reagan’s question. Her body still tingled. Dangerous. “No, surprisingly my cabinets look great. He actually handled the sander like a pro. I was impressed.”
She grinned in Matt’s direction. Big mistake. He was staring down at her, and the look in his eye was definitely not appropriate for the family living room.
“Sandwiches are done,” Martha called from the kitchen.
Thank goodness, the spell or whatever it was, was broken. Matt leaped to his feet and pulled her along with him. The others followed a little more slowly.
Talk at the kitchen table centered on the apparent astonishment of Matt handling any kind of carpentry tool. His dad even told Matt he needed help with the family room remodel. Much to Bryn’s surprise, Matt sounded enthusiastic and agreed to help on the weekends. Since he’d moved to D.C., the weekend was the only time he could agree to help. A sadness swept over her at not seeing him. What was wrong with her? They were only friends. And that was the way it needed to stay.
Matt’s mother, Martha, reminded her so much of her own mother it made her homesick. She almost made her cry when they left.
“You kids be careful,” Martha said, then held up a hand. “I don’t want to know where you’re off to. Matt I expect you to bring this lovely Bryn back for a visit soon.”
