72 hours earlier: Haven, Northeastern United States

How could he do that to me? Alexei sold me out! For a damn kid! He was good at hacking. I'll give him that!

The discharge clerk stared at Gregor for a long moment.

Can’t read this guy. Must be part of his FBI conditioning, Gregor thought.

The clerk began identifying the items taken from Gregor at the time of arrest:

* • One pair of sunglasses

* • One money clip with 938 US dollars and 300 British pounds

* • One USB flash drive

* • One smartphone, unknown manufacturer

* • One black T-shirt

* • One pair of blue jeans

* • One pair of unidentifiable loafers

“Sign here,” the clerk said.

Gregor signed for his belongings. He wasn’t eager to linger in Haven. Fortunately, the city had many egress points available. He needed to leave the United States as soon as possible.

He exited the old brown building that served as the regional headquarters for the FBI. A chilly winter wind was blowing.

Damn—Natasha should have packed me a jacket, Gregor thought.

He decided to take an inconspicuous form of transportation; it was too risky walking around in broad daylight. According to the Maps app on his phone, there was a bus station a few blocks away.

Gregor crossed the street. Just then, a black sedan ran the red light and stopped short of hitting Gregor, who slapped the front of the car. “Watch where you’re going, jackass!” he roared.

A large, bald man stepped out of the driver’s side. “I’m sorry, my boy. Please accept my apologies.” Gregor turned and continued walking.

“You might want to get inside the vehicle. There is someone you may want to meet,” the bald driver said. Gregor turned and cautiously walked toward the passenger side of the vehicle, hearing an audible click as the doors unlocked. The windows were tinted, and Gregor couldn't see any of the occupants. The window rolled down.

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“Hello, Gregor. I’m Jeremiah Mason. Why don’t you come inside—it must be cold out there.”

“From where I’m standing, it looks like you just tried to kill me!”

“I assure you, that is not the case. I think you will like what I have to say,” Jeremiah said.

Gregor turned to see a man in his late forties dressed in a white suit with a black scarf; he looked like he was going to a dinner party. Annoyed drivers behind the sedan started honking. Gregor noticed they had room to pass, but didn’t for some reason. Jeremiah opened the door and slid back to allow Gregor to enter.

“I have a business proposal for you. I know that you have been burned by your old employer, the Collective,” Jeremiah said.

Gregor froze, turned, and looked at Jeremiah, who made a motion for him to enter. Gregor got inside the car, and the bald man started driving.

“This better be worth my time,” Gregor snapped.

“Indeed, my boy!” Jeremiah replied.

“You have two minutes to convince me that I should stay in this car. Otherwise, drop me off at the bus station.”

“How would you like to strike back at the Collective—for not only burning you, but also turning you over to the FBI like some common criminal?”

“You have ninety seconds left, so talk fast!”

“How familiar are you with disrupting internet communications for an entire city?”

Gregor just stared at Jeremiah. “US or European?”

“City of London,” Jeremiah said.

“That isn’t an easy task, as one would need to prepare multiple attack vectors using both US and European providers. It requires extensive planning, since a botnet is needed. Even if I wanted to do this, I would need help. How long would I have?” Gregor said.

“A month.”

“Too short. I would need at least three months to write malware to distribute, write the bots, build the network, and create a plan to execute. Also, the Computer Security Incident Response Team (CSIRT) in the United Kingdom already has contingencies for such attacks.”

“All excellent points. Let’s plan for every contingency, but I need you to work within a much shorter time span,” Jeremiah said.

Gregor didn’t respond.

“We need to disrupt the control systems for an entire building—no communications or fire alarms can work. I’ll need at least fifteen minutes of delay,” Jeremiah continued.

“Why?” Gregor asked.

“Let’s just say that your attack is not the primary objective here. Is this something that interests you?”

“It depends. How much will I be able to hurt the Collective, and how much will I be paid?” Gregor said.

“Plenty, on both counts. We are planning a high-profile attack that will pit the Collective and Black Iris against each other. And you will be well compensated.”

“Your time is up, old man. But I’m intrigued, so tell me more,” Gregor said.

“I suggest we talk more when we are high above the Atlantic.”