PROLOGUE

Right now, as you read this prologue, I am sifting through the contents of your computer. Yes, your computer. You. The one holding the book.

I am reading your emails, looking at your digital photos and images you have downloaded off the Net, opening your most private documents and having a good read, or a good laugh, depending on the content.

To be honest, most of it is utterly boring. Except for a few files. You know the ones I mean.

I know you don’t believe me, and I prefer it that way, but think about this.

When you bought this book, you (or the person who bought it for you) used a credit card or a debit card. That created a record in the massive computer systems that the banks use. The systems they claim are impregnable.

But they are on the Net. And nothing is impregnable on the Net.

So I monitor those systems for transactions with the ISBN of this book. That’s the International Standard Book Number. You’ll find it on the publisher’s imprint page. Have a look now.

When your transaction went through I got an alert from one of my monitoring programs and, as I had nothing better to do, I dug a little deeper.

I got the credit card number from the transaction log and that, with just a quick poke around in the (highly secure) databases of the bank, gave me your home address and telephone number.

I crossmatched that with the internet service providers in your area to find your broadband connection. Then I checked to see if you have a static IP (that’s the electronic address of your home computer). You don’t, so I raided your ISP’s DHCP server to get your current IP. It didn’t take me long to find out where your computer lives on the internet.

Your router’s firewall was a joke, and not even a very funny one. The built-in firewall on your PC was another story though. That held me up for a couple of heartbeats. I had to use your peer-to-peer file-sharing client to slip a trojan past your security and gain remote administrator access, shape-shifting a little as I did it so as not to attract attention from your antivirus software. No matter. It took me less than ten minutes from seeing the transaction to obtaining complete access to your hard drive.

So now, while you’re reading this, I’m looking through your computer and having a great old time. You could race over and turn your computer off, but you’d already be too late.

I could delete a few files, but I probably won’t. I could change your passwords, and lock you out of your own system, but I can’t be bothered.

And I won’t crash your system, or delete the contents of your hard drive, or anything like that. I am not malicious or evil, or even particularly bad.

I’ll just quietly leave, and erase all trace that I was ever there.

But I know you now. I know who you are. I know where you live. I know what you’ve got. And if the time comes that I need something from you, something that you might or might not want to give up, I’ll be back.

That time is coming. Sooner than you think.

But in the meantime, don’t worry about me.

I’m not worrying about you.

Right now, I’ve got much bigger problems to think about.