Chapter 6

<<Which hat goes with this outfit? I look great in white, but my black beret, well, it just says, voilà!>> Tule tweets.

Christmas? I shake my head again at Peter’s response. Well, I suppose I should start thinking about presents. Making something out of nothing takes time.

I pay for parking with my mom’s credit card, dismayed that the van’s fuel tank is reading only a quarter full. This thing isn’t exactly easy on gas.

On the way home I spot an old mattress poking out of a dumpster and back the van near the bin. A couple mildew spots and a rather large rusty stain deter me a little, but it’s a mattress and it’s free. Nothing some Febreze can’t handle, and Trin can help me haul it upstairs.

Twenty minutes later, I’m in Assured Destruction’s retail store, tallying what Trin processed today: three hard drives for destruction and about half a tonne of e-waste for pickup. It all amounts to about a hundred bucks. The same as the cost of Trin for the day at minimum wage. Hopefully I can put us in the black this evening. I’m free. Sort of. I do cost pizza. The real treasure in Trin’s daily haul is a battered Dell Inspiron—with a little extra RAM and a plug from the bin, I have a decent replacement for the last laptop I employed as a Frisbee in the name of justice. I even wipe the hard drive.

A customer with a broken monitor and another with a stack of laptops later, I’m ready to sign into Darkslinger, not only a forum for hackers and wannabes but also a marketplace for hacker services: software, penetration testing, spam, viruses, anything a hacker or a cracker could want. But before I log in, I need my armor.

Peter gifted me a memory stick that he says hides my identity and protects me online. But now I’m not sure I trust him; what if it’s really a keylogger that tracks all my keystrokes, logins, passwords, search history, everything? He’d know or have access to everything about me. But then, I also know it works. Sw1ftM3rcy, an elite hacker, couldn’t trace me. So, even if it’s a virus, it does have advantages. I decide it’s more important to remain anonymous on Darkslinger than twig Peter to my passwords. Passwords can be changed. I plug the memory stick into the USB port.

On Darkslinger I have a whole series of replies to threads I’m following. Last night, I posted the encrypted code from Peter’s hard drive and challenged anyone on Darkslinger to decrypt it. So far, the only notes I’ve received are:

I give up!

My best guess is you have a monkey at a keyboard and you just posted his literary masterpiece.

I smirk.

@Heckleena, they’re talking about you on Darkslinger, JanusFlyTrap Tweets.

You don’t wanna know what this monkey slings, Heckleena replies.

I laugh and add a new thread, asking for ideas on why my server has suddenly ground to a halt. I’ve learned that it’s best not to mention school in the forums, not if I want to be taken seriously. And on other threads they do; members ask me questions about code for the apps I make. Well … used to make—I miss coding. Coding’s an act of creation I can’t afford to spend time on right now. I’m on track with my plan, though. With one mattress stuffed in the elevator, I only have nine more to fetch. And who cares about plates and cutlery? It’s why pizza was invented.

I open a new browser window and place an ad on a couple of local used sites saying I’m willing to take mattresses off of people’s hands for free—can’t be worse than dumpster diving—and then a customer drops off a box of peripherals—keyboards, mice, speakers.

After he’s gone I pause, staring at a keyboard. Some of the keys are missing and I wonder if someone popped them off for a reason. Like maybe to spell out someone’s name … a ransom note? LOL. Maybe not, but would I wear Escape Key earrings? What about Delete? Page Up and Down? My mind starts to run and I pry off the < and then the 3 and grin. The two keys in emoticon-speak form <3, a heart. Would the identical twins at school buy a necklace with Control C–Control V keys? Copy and Paste!

“Hilarious,” I say and look about for some old earbud wire to use as string. Emoticon necklaces. That will cover presents for the women in my life! I’m excited. With customers, hackers working for me on Darkslinger, and my mom safe, I am rocking. I will beat-Pete.

Another private message notification pops up on my screen. It’s from Sw1ftM3rcy and I click through.

Saw you online. You want to make some $$$?

I swallow, my brief elation overrun by a prickle of fear. He knows I’m online. And I have to respond. What do I say? This guy is a cracker—a criminal hacker—I’m almost sure of it. What am I willing to do in order to save Assured Destruction? I can’t say yes, but I also don’t want to scare him away. Sw1ftM3rcy has helped me.

Maybe, I reply.

LOL Decide, dude, then we talk. This is going to be huge.

I log out. I have no idea what was so funny or what he’s talking about. But I do know there’s no way whatever he’s selling is white hat, or even gray. This will be black.