Newport, Northeastern United States

October 15th

Nigel Watson pushed down the dread that overcame him as his first customer opened the door to his new business. He knew it was common courtesy to greet people, but he loathed the feeling of helplessness and paranoia that washed over him. It started with nausea, then the familiar pressure in his chest, followed by a sudden paralysis. For a long moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The attacks that Hunter subjected Nigel to had a long-lasting effect.

Am I being watched? he wondered.

Nigel focused on his breathing and pushed away all negative thought. He hated battling the demons of his past.

“Are you okay, buddy?” the teenage boy standing in his doorway asked. He was holding a laptop.

“Yeah—it’s just indigestion. How can I help you today?”

“My computer is acting up. I think I have a virus.”

“Eradicating viruses is my specialty. I’ll need time to diagnose it.”

“Well . . . I can’t leave it with you for long,” the teen said.

“I’ll do what I can,” Nigel said. “So, you go to high school in Newport?”

“No, I go to school in Milford. I’m visiting my dad.”

“Milford? I graduated from there last summer, and now I run this place.”

“Really? You own this business?”

“Me and my girlfriend do, but yeah.” Nigel took the laptop from the boy’s hands. “So, can you describe your computer problem in a little more detail?”

I was just like him a couple of years ago.

“I was editing a video, and then the computer froze up. I turned it off for a while. When it came back up, it had a warning message from the FBI. I shut it off again. I have all my homework on here. You think you can fix it?” the boy asked.

“Probably, but I need more information,” Nigel replied. “Can you tell me more about the message that appeared, and what you were doing when the computer froze? Just before you received the message? What kind of video were you editing, if I may ask?”

The boy shifted nervously.

“What is your name again?” Nigel pressed.

“Uhhh . . . Peter.”

Probably not his actual name, but I’ll play along.

“Well, Peter, let me ask you a question. Am I going to find anything illegal on the computer?”

“Like what?”

“Well, if I find any underaged porn on the computer, I’m obligated to report it to the police.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. He licked his lips.

“No, nothing like that,” Peter said finally. “It’s just some personal videos of me and my girl.”

“I see,” Nigel said.

“You’re not going to look at any of them? Are you?”

“Not unless there is a malware infection or something nasty in the file. I’m not in the business of violating my client’s privacy.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Peter looked relieved. He surveyed the shop. When he was convinced that they were alone, he spoke to Nigel in a hushed tone.

“I was looking for some stock photos and music to add to the video I was making. I was adding the video to the video-maker program when everything froze. Do you think I have a virus or something?”

Nigel found the switch that turned off the Wi-Fi and booted up the computer. When he got to the login screen, he instructed Peter to enter his password. The desktop image had been replaced with a link and a text message that read:

Your computer is infected with a virus. We have locked your files. Pay up, or we expose your pretties to the world.

The link appeared to be a random alphanumeric string. Nigel went to a web link scanner called Malicious-Total. He was careful to enter the alphanumeric string exactly like it appeared on Peter’s computer. After about a minute of processing, he received the following message.

URL scan complete. The link contains strings from the P.ORION.0-Z malware. Would you like to analyze?

Nigel refused the analysis portion. A deep analysis of the file could provide personally identifiable information (PII) about Peter. He didn’t want to take the chance of exposing his first client to thousands of security researchers; besides, external analysis was pointless when Nigel owned the same tools himself.

“It’s possible that you have a virus, but I won’t know until I dig around a bit. You can wait here, but it may be a while,” Nigel said.

Peter seemed to consider for a long moment.

“How long? I have to be at the football field soon.”

“At least a couple of hours.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a few hours, but please don’t look at my private folders,” Peter said as he left.

He knows our privacy policy. Why does he keep asking me that?

It took some doing, but Nigel connected his forensic imaging equipment to Peter’s computer and started the process. He approached it like a professional would in an actual investigation.

Peter just wants me to fix his laptop. Why am I taking a full disk image that could take hours?

As Nigel’s eyes settled on the progress bar, a familiar feeling of déjà vu overcame him.

His phone chirped; it was a call from an anonymous number, so he let it go to voicemail. Several moments later he received a flood of texts. He started filing through them. Many were duplicates of the same message, which read:

Need to talk immediately, Nige.

M.

Who in the hell is M? Melissa?

Moments later, Nigel’s phone rang from the unknown number again. He picked up this time.

“Hello?” Nigel said hesitantly.

“Hold for Ms. Mason,” a man’s voice said.

Nigel could hear a few clicking sounds, and then a ringing sound.

“Hello, Nigel. I left a message on your other line as well,” a female voice said.

“Melissa?”

“It’s been a long time since we last spoke. Have you given any thought about my offer?” Melissa asked.

Nigel was silent for a long moment.

“Nigel, you there?”

“Yeah—things have been happening so fast. I meant to call you about it before now.”

“The offer still stands. You and Jet can come to work for my foundation. We are helping people, and I would love for you to be a part of it.”

Nigel flushed, the sudden rush of blood put him off-balance.

“Well . . . I’ve . . . started a new investigative business with Jet. We—just moved in together this week. It’s been a while—too long. We should get together sometime,” Nigel said.

“I’m coming back to the States, and I would like to see you.”

“We should have lunch or something. When will you be here?”

“My plane lands in New York tomorrow. Can you meet in two days?”

“What? That’s too soon, Jet and I need—”

“No pressure, Nigel, but I have an idea. Why don’t you come to New York this weekend? Think of it as an all-expenses-paid trip. You should bring Jet. Speaking of which, April has been asking for permission to play that online game again. Can you remind Jet about it?”

“Sure, let me discuss things with Jet, and I’ll get back to you.”

“I await your call, Nigel.” Melissa disconnected the line.

Jet doesn’t know Melissa very well, but it would be fun to have an all-expenses-paid trip to New York, Nigel figured. I hope Jet will come.

Nigel jumped in his seat when his cell phone rang. It was Jet.

“Hey,” he answered, “that was good timing—”

“Hey, Nige, I just got off the phone with my dad. He’s sending over an important client,” Jet said.

“Is it Peter?”

“Not sure, but we need the business.”

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out. So far I just have this kid named Peter. Come to think of it, he’s from Milford. I’m surprised he didn’t go to Better Buy Computers instead.”

“Well, I’m grateful for the business. I hope we can get more paying customers soon. I don’t want to disappoint my father. After all he did take care of the first six months’ rent for the new office and loft.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Nigel said.

“I don’t think I’ll be back from Milford until later tonight. We can celebrate our first night in our new place. Perhaps break in that new bed,” Jet said, chuckling.

Nigel flushed again, his heart racing at the thought of being with her.

“I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” Jet said.

As the line disconnected, he remembered Melissa’s call.

Damn—it’s probably best that I speak with her about the New York trip tonight. But I don’t want to spoil the mood.