Newport was like any other tourist town; it enjoyed tourism in the summer, and during the winter the 1 percent kept the city coffers stuffed. Jet’s father, Mitch, had abruptly moved the family to Newport less than a month ago. To Jet, the town was unremarkable; there was no cool computer shop like Better Buy Computers. Newport featured a large retailer with yellow price tags offering bargain basement prices on everything—except the cool hacking gadgets she needed.

Never thought I would get out of the house, Jet thought. Dad is becoming an overprotective pain in the ass. She was in the car with her mother, who had agreed to drop her off for a few hours at Newport Coast Roasters, a local café. Jet wanted to work without her father looking over her shoulder.

Jet tried to open the door to Newport Coast Roasters, but it was heavy and awkward to move. A man noticed her struggling and held the door open for her. She looked up at him and mouthed, Thank you. He responded by tipping the brim of his hat and nodding. She stood in line to order. The man who’d previously helped her was now behind her. Jet thought this might be a good opportunity to book a decent table. She turned to face him. “Mister, would you mind holding my place in line?”

The man tipped his hat again and said, “Certainly, miss.”

Jet put her backpack on the chair of her favorite spot in the café near the back and then hurried back over and thanked the man for holding her place. She ordered her favorite drink—a flat white with skim milk—then returned to her table, where she opened her laptop.

She logged in and noticed a message from Nigel.

Jet,

I have traced the command and control packets back to a server in Eastern Europe. Check it out!

Nige

The email contained an attachment that appeared to be a packet trace file. She downloaded the file, and then ran one of her analysis tools on it.

“Are you a hacker?” a voice asked.

Jet froze, surprised. “How d—?”

“Your stickers on the back of your laptop give you away, my dear!”

Jet tensed and looked up. It was the man who’d helped her earlier; he was standing near her table, looking at her. He appeared to be a little older than her parents.

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“My daughter goes to a university upstate, and her major is cybersecurity. She has many of the same stickers. I like the skull and crossbones with the smiley face, it’s my favorite.”

Jet smiled. “That is cool, mister.”

“You can call me Seymour.”

Jet nodded.

She resumed her examination of the packet capture file when she heard her name: “Jet, coffee’s ready!”

Jet strode over to the barista to claim her drink; it took longer than normal to grab her drink, since the place was packed.

About a minute later, Jet returned to her table. She looked at her unlocked computer screen. Didn’t I lock this? Jet thought. Why is the file organizer open?

She looked over at Seymour. He was seated at a nearby table, reading the newspaper. He looked up at her.

“I noticed the ‘Jet’ sticker on your laptop,” the man said. “Is that your online persona?”

“It’s only a nickname.”

“Do you have a Prog-hub page called ‘Spiderjet?’”

Jet looked incredulous. How did he know?

“Of course, you do, a lot of hackers have code in ProgHub, how else are you going to showcase your skills?” Seymour said.

Jet said nothing.

“My employer will pay you for your time and skills? You could use the money to help your friends. After all, Nigel’s mother has lost her job, and it’s only a matter of time before they are evicted from their house.”

How does he know about Nigel?

“You seem to know a lot about me and my friends,” Jet said in a low voice. “Who are you?”

Seymour laid down the newspaper and held his hands up. “I’m a friend.”

Jet closed her laptop.

Seymour stood up, walked over, and placed his card on Jet’s table next to her laptop. “If you change your mind, it was great speaking with you, but I’m late for a meeting.”

Seymour got up and left the coffee shop.

What the fuck just happened? I told no one about my project, Jet thought. She felt uneasy. She looked around the coffee shop. Nothing else looked amiss, so she resumed her research into the packet capture file.

About thirty minutes later, she sent Nigel a message.

Nige, thank you for providing the packet capture file. I’ve identified MORP activity with a signature consistent with Gregor’s previous hacks. The same MORP relay nodes were used by the hacker. Attached to this email is my full analysis.

Jet

Then Jet received a text from her mother: Jet, I’m outside, we need to get home . . . your father wants to see you.

Jet frowned and put her laptop away, careful not to bump her bad arm, then left the coffee shop. Her mother’s car wasn’t in sight, and she fumbled for her phone. Another text message appeared on top of the first. “Jet, I’m ten minutes out—be ready.” That was strange. She’d just received a message from her mother saying she was outside. She examined her text history and the previous message was from an unknown number. She hadn’t noticed until now. Just as she finished the thought, a woman not paying attention to where she was going jostled her.

“Oh, sorry, dear!” the woman said.

“Watch it—” Jet said. At that moment, distracted by the woman, Jet heard a door open and felt someone push her. She tumbled into an empty panel van with no windows. The driver’s compartment was separated from the back by a wire mesh. The van’s doors closed. Jet’s screams were silenced as a man grabbed her from behind; a gloved hand covered her mouth. She noticed the glove smelled funny before she passed out.