Chapter Two

For the first time in a week, it was not raining. Streaks of cloud scudded across the London sky and the mid-morning sun gave warmth. At first glance, the old red brick structure appeared derelict. Since Jacobs, first viewing a rainbow of graffiti now enveloped the whole facade. The new sign bolted on the wall read, 'Under Renovation'.

Jacob Spink clambered out of the taxi, turned and paid the driver. Dressed in faded blue denim outfit covered by a well-worn, fur-lined, black parka he searched for a set of keys

Visions of a prosperous future filled his mind as the padlock on the main door sprung open. On entering, he turned, closed and slammed the bottom and top bolts home. Stray shafts of light exploded through slits in the steel security shutters.

He flicked the light switch, but nothing happened. In the gloom, he coughed as his feet disturbed thick layers of dust. Advertising pamphlets littered the floor. On the worn wooden counter, three mugs encrusted with green mould rested. After months of searching, he had found the owner living in a retirement home. The old man may have been ancient, but he was no fool. He bargained long and hard, adamant a developer wanted to build a block of flats on the site. In the end, he agreed Jacob could rent for one year.

This grim building was to be his new home. Developed as an underground station entrance, and located next to a lorry-park. The old man had made a living.

Jacob lifted the trap door behind the counter. With the light from his torch, he descended the staircase. A musty, sweet smell filled the still air. One broken lamp hung from the ceiling. In the dim light, he saw a room trapped in time. Broken furniture littered the floor. The works of spiders hung as filthy rags from the ceiling. To his left, a larger room with one narrow shuttered window contained piles of rubbish. To his right and along the passage was a kitchen. An electric hob and refrigerator nestled against one wall. Next to this, a bathroom, containing a rusty cast-iron bath with lion's feet. A cracked wash-hand basin and a dirty toilet completed the installation. The beam of his torch shone on a rust-caked steel door. From his jacket, he removed a copy of the original plans. As far as he could determine a section of tunnel and platform still existed behind the door.

On returning to the central room, he plonked his frame into a sagging armchair and lit a cigarette. "With a few alterations, this will be perfect."

He had two sets of keys but needed two more for his team. Tomorrow, his builder would start to refurbish the basement.

***

Six weeks later, the whiff of fresh paint still lingered. Seated in an expensive black leather chair, Jacob turned the VDU (Visual Display Unit). "They can wait until I'm ready." On the screen, he studied the faces of Abbey Lane, Tyler Pettit, and Michael Sinclair.

Abbey was the eye-catching and clever one, a classic spoilt brat who aroused his desires. He knew she would question everything.

Tyler was a mummy's boy, she still chose his clothes, and it showed. But computers were his passion. Well into his second year, he could repair a mainframe blindfolded. The good news was his family had limited funds, and he needed money to complete his degree.

Michael was a handsome boy with the body of an athlete. There were solid muscles under his shirt and not from working out. Women loved the mischievous way his sandy hair flopped over his eyes. His ability to test algorithms faster than most could understand them gave him an edge.

Jacob turned up the volume and listened to their chatter. After five minutes, he made an effort to climb the stairs and unlocked the door. When inside, Jacob bolted the door top and bottom. "Follow me."

Soft white lighting lit the basement room. Four forty-inch flat-screen monitors hung from its walls. Back up equipment, electronic meters, and UPS machines blinked and flickered.

"What do you think?" Asked Jacob.

Abbey's eyes twinkled as she toyed with her keyboard. Although the youngest of the four there, she maintained a degree of common sense. In a clear voice, she asked, "Not exactly the Ritz but you get full marks for the equipment. Out of interest, what are you going to do with the shop?"

Jacob frowned. "Leave it. It's of no immediate use. The local yobs have fun painting graffiti on the exterior walls.

Abbey flicked back her blonde hair from her face. With an expressionless stare, she asked, "Before we start playing, how secure is the network?" She waved her right hand. "And who paid for this?"

Jacob's face glowed with self-confidence. "Ours is a pact of convenience. Between us, we have written and developed a programme that will skim bank accounts. I trialled it and paid my builder."

"It's polite to ask, "said Tyler

"Why?"

Michael jumped in. "Who gives a shit? When do we start?" said Michael.

"I needed the money," said Jacob. "If I say I'm sorry it doesn't change anything? Anyway, there's no defence to our electronic worm. Two types of bank exist, those we have yet to hack and those who don't know we've stolen their money."

Michael spun in his chair. "One thing we can guarantee is you'll create a reason even if there isn't one."

Abbey changed the subject. "What about system security?"

"I am the best there is in computer program technology and superior to you. Don't glare at me like a demented moron. You know you can't do better. It's not possible to track us as the internet protocol sees our location as one of many countries. Today it could be Afghanistan and tomorrow Israel. This system is idiot-proof, and tomorrow we make money."

"Are you going to live here?" asked Michael.

"Where else, this is my kingdom, and my power is here."

Abbey wrinkled her brow as she glanced at her watch. "Time I was gone. Have a hot date tonight."

"Anyone we know?" asked Tyler.

"I doubt it, he's an investment banker. Not your type and he's going to divorce his wife and marry me."

"A married man with money," said Tyler.

"What I've got, he can't get enough of. I've one life, and I mean to make the most of it. I don't come cheap." She stood, made her way to the shop and waited. "Jacob, are you going to lock the door?"

An abrupt, "Of course," vibrated up the stair.

The three men climbed the stairs. Abbey, followed by Tyler and Michael, strolled out. They smiled as Jacob slammed the bolts home.

"You would think its Fort Knox," said Tyler.

"I must admit, he's as mad as the proverbial hatter, but I need the money," said Michael. "See you tomorrow. Have a good night, and be careful."

She grinned. "I promise I'll be terrific."

The two men laughed.

***

The following afternoon, Abbey, Tyler and Michael joined Jacob.

Jacob cracked his knuckles. "Are you ready?"

"Get on with it," said Tyler.

"On my command, five, four, three, two, one. Let's make money."

At once, fingers rattled keyboards.

Abbey watched many algorithms stream across the screen. She held her breath until access granted flashed. With her right-hand middle finger, she jabbed a key. Her eyes glowed, and a broad smile blossomed on her face.

"Five thousand, two hundred, and three," she shouted.

"One thousand," said Tyler.

"Five hundred," said Michael.

"I won," said Jacob. "Ten thousand."

"We agreed on equal shares," said Abbey. "That's four thousand apiece; Jacob can keep the odd change as operational costs."

They nodded in agreement.

"Pity we can't hit them harder for longer," muttered Tyler.

Jacob leaned back in his chair and churched his fingers. "Do that, and we go to jail. We are time-limited. Our worm enters their system and exits without a trace. I don't know about you three, but I can live on four thousand a day."

Abbey swivelled her chair. "At four grand a day I won't need to look for a job."

"We must find a way to increase our take," said Tyler.

"I've been working on something, but you must understand, small risk, small profit. Big risk, big profit, but with a calculated risk, you can hit the jackpot," said Jacob.

The three of them turned and faced Jacob. When he opened his mouth, there was no mistaking his South African accent. Whatever game he played, he was not accustomed to losing. He had the outer shell of two races; light-skinned but with African features. His clothes were casual but so perfect they could have been new.

There was a moment of unusual silence.

"Are you going to tell us, or do we have to guess?" asked Abbey with a faint smile. "Or are you going to pull a rabbit from the screen?"

His eyes narrowed, which made her uneasy. "All it takes is conviction, courage and confidence." He held up his notebook. "While you lot act as students I've been digging and snooping."

Tyler started coughing.

"Spit it out," said Michael.

"As you know, I often trade information on the dark-net where my talents are appreciated. I can find, track and alter most computer programmes. Digital portals are my speciality.

The UK and other countries use ICBMs as a deterrent. My idea is we hack into the launch programme and fire one. I've even chosen a target." He picked up and opened his notebook. "There's Palmyra Atoll, it's uninhabited and a thousand miles from anywhere. The US built an airstrip during the war, but it's abandoned."

Abbey's eyes flashed with anger, much like lightning on a pitch-black night. "You have a talent, but you're a fucking lunatic. Skimming from the banks is fun, and it serves them right for being so defenceless. This is plain fucking stupid. I'm out of here before you fuck up and armed police kick in the doors."

"What are you proposing?" asked Michael

"The world belongs to the strong," said Jacob. "Every missile control centre has a dozen basic computers attached to their network. I found one for checking vehicles connected to a missile launch facility in Siberia. I exploited their weakness and discovered a way to bypass the launch codes. The missile programmes are old technology. My problem is combining my programme into the fire and control systems. Once inside, I have remote access. The good news is when you are into one system, the rest are similar. Name me a country with missiles, and I'll fire one."

"How about India?" said Michael.

"Okay. The show begins at ten tomorrow morning." His lips moved, but his eyes never left the screen as his fingers worked his keyboard. "Abbey, you can hack into a weather satellite for the east coast of northern India."

Anger flickered in her eyes. Clenching her fists, she said nothing. Her face filled with suppressed rage until the flood gates opened. She snapped. "I want nothing to do with this. If you want a weather forecast. Do it yourself."

Agitated, Tyler ran his fingers through his hair. He opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. With a shrug, he glanced at Jacob. "I'm leaving."

Jacob tossed his head back and laughed. "I'm a genius, but then you know that. Never forget there's my subconscious mind with its high ideals. I want to guarantee the survival of you and me. So yes, I want to fight the system. I guess my idea makes me the chosen one. Am I ashamed? Not at all. Life's cruel. Get over it. As I said, the show starts at ten, with or without you."

"There's an unpleasant smell in here, and I want to throw up," said Abbey. "Are you two coming?"

"Sometimes we make bad choices for the best of reasons," said Michael. "This isn't one of them. I'm on my way."

As the three left, the rattle of tapping of keys filled the room.

"Do you think he can break into their defence systems?" asked Michael.

Abbey shrugged. "Anything is possible. Last year a fourteen-year-old hacked into the Pentagon. One thing is certain if anyone can, he can and will."