The Hack, page 5
“No, Ari, they didn’t. I never knew my father and my mother died when I was twelve, so no one taught me to drive,” she said. Driving had been the least of her problems.
His face fell. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t . . . I’m a real jackass sometimes.” He shook his head.
She waved a hand. “Forget it and please do us both the favor of driving. I mean, I’m sure I can figure it out, but I have a feeling your cars are expensive and probably not suited for learners. Not to mention, if we need to get away quickly I’ll probably accidentally drive us into the building.”
He grinned. “It’s best I drive. But, I will teach you how to drive. We’ll start tomorrow . . . early, when there are no other cars on the street.”
She smiled. “Let’s see how tonight goes first.”
He nodded, grabbing a set of car keys before opening the door to the garage.
It was exactly as she expected from Aureliano Rossi—a garage that looked like a showroom of cars. It wasn’t overly big, but there were three sports cars and an SUV parked inside.
When she’d learned of his identity, Raya had become obsessed with finding out every detail about him. Some people collected antiques for a hobby; Raya collected information about people. She was well aware this was considered stalking, but as far as she was concerned, she’d never had any intention of using the information in a way that could harm him or anyone else, so she was at ease with her hobby. People fascinated her, especially someone like Ari—someone who had been given every opportunity in life and had chosen to follow the path that was least expected. She suspected no one knew of Ari’s hobby, of his incredible skillset, and she loved having information others didn’t. Information was her drug of choice, and every minute of every day she was collecting more of it.
Ari strode toward the Range Rover and unlocked it. Good choice, she thought silently. It was matte black and hardly discreet, but it was a lot more discreet than the black Ferrari parked next to it. She’d noted it in the photos she’d seen online, but seeing his garage confirmed it now: all of Ari’s cars were black. Of course, it was possible he had others he stored somewhere else, perhaps he had a secret rainbow of cars, but black seemed to be his favorite color.
He unlocked the car and she climbed into the passenger seat.
She pulled out her laptop and set it on her knees, but her eyes were on him—watching his eyes bounce between the road and the rearview mirror. It was getting darker by the minute and the trees were bending furiously, whipped by the wind. Raya hoped the stormy weather wasn’t an omen for the evening.
She looked over her shoulder.
“It’s okay, I’m just watching for a tail,” he said, then added, “I can’t see one.”
She looked to him, her eyes softening. She was putting him at risk by being at his house, she’d known that, but Aureliano Rossi’s house was almost certainly the last place anyone would think to look for a girl like her.
She chewed on her cheek. What if she was wrong? What if they managed to track her and came for her here?
“Hey,” Ari said gently yet commanding, causing her eyes to lift to his. “It’s fine, no one is following us.”
She nodded, taking one last look over her shoulder, then returned her attention to the packet of cigarettes in the cup holder.
“Do you smoke?” she asked. He didn’t smell like cigarettes—a smell Raya despised because it reminded her of living on the streets.
“No,” he answered, his eyes dropping to the packet briefly. “Occasionally, when I’m stressed,” he admitted.
Ari’s visible anxiety was making her even more anxious, and howling wind wasn’t calming her nerves. Ari seemed more on edge the longer he drove and she wasn’t sure if it was because he was expecting a tail, or he was thinking about what they were about to face. She too had to push down the rising nausea when she thought about it too long.
Anyway, she decided it was better to be overcautious because until she could get the information she needed, she would need to live a life of constantly looking over her shoulder.
Raya had lived like this on the streets, because no one survived without looking over their shoulder every second of every day, but she’d vowed she would never live like this again—and she had every intention of keeping that promise.
Raya thought of Chris and Justin and tried to convince herself going quiet didn’t mean they were dead—they could’ve found information they thought was too risky to share and so they’d disappeared for a while, keeping low profiles. They could be alive and well, watching everything unfolding. Raya hoped that was true.
Ari checked the mirrors as they drove, tilting his head side-to-side as if he was in pain and trying to loosen it. Raya put it down to nerves.
They turned onto Justin’s street and Ari drove past the house first to see if any lights were on or if it looked like anyone was home. The house was a Tudor home with a pitched roof and one window at the top—the only window indicating someone was home.
He continued past the house before he pulled the car to a stop a few doors down and looked to Raya. She scoped the street but it was quiet. No one seemed to be watching the house, but she couldn’t confirm that just by sitting in the car. She looked at the cars parked in the driveways on the street, but she couldn’t see any figures inside.
“What do you think?” Raya asked, leaning forward, squinting through the windshield.
Ari sighed. “It doesn’t look like anyone is watching the street . . . but we don’t know who is inside the other homes on the street, watching through a slit in the curtains.”
“Well, there’s one way to find out. I’ll go in first,” she said.
CHAPTER 8
Ari was going to argue that it might be best for them to go together, but at least if one held back to watch the other, they might see if someone followed them in. “I’ll go first, you wait back,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. “Look, correct me if I’m wrong, but I suspect I’m much better at breaking into homes than you are . . . based purely on our different upbringings.”
Ari grinned, despite the fact it was no laughing matter.
“So, I’ll go first,” Raya continued. “I’ll wait for you inside the back door and then we’ll go upstairs.” She nodded toward the top window.
Ari’s leg bounced. The plan made him nervous, but she was correct. If he went first, he’d have to break a window to enter if the door was locked because he had no idea how to pick a lock. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “Message me when you’re inside.”
She reached for the door handle and he almost reached for her to tell her to be careful, but Raya was right . . . she was much better at this than he was.
He drew a calming breath as he watched her walk across the street and into the shadows of the neighbor’s gardens. His eyes searched for any other movement on the street, but as far as he could see, no one followed her.
The wind was howling and the trees were flapping and flailing violently. It made it hard to see any movement, but he assumed that worked to their advantage as well.
He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves, but his chest was tight and his lungs felt smaller than they had an hour ago—like he couldn’t get enough air. He shook the nervous energy from his hands. When his phone lit up, vibrating, he quickly opened the message app.
Raya: Inside.
His eyebrows lifted. That was fast.
Ari grabbed the car keys, his gun, and got out of the car, following the path Raya had taken. He felt exposed—vulnerable—and wondered if Raya had felt the same way when she’d walked this path minutes ago.
He crept forward, using the shadows of the trees for cover, ducking below the flailing branches. He paused at the fence that ran parallel with a long driveway. He saw no movement in the driveway nor on the street, so he quickly darted across to the side of the house, keeping his shoulder against the bricks while he moved as quickly, and quietly, as he could.
Ari was almost at the back of the house when he heard something bang behind him. He swiveled on his heels, raising his weapon. His heart was in his throat but his body sagged with relief when he saw the neighbor’s gate swinging in the wind, banging into the metal fence, making the same noise again.
He exhaled a long breath as he watched a little black kitten dart across the driveway into the front yard.
The streetlights were dim and he quickly lost sight of the kitten, but he moved forward into the darkness hoping the black cat wasn’t an omen. Ari could barely see his feet now so he kept his shoulder against the wall and carefully moved forward. As he turned the corner, he saw light filtering through the window and quickly realized it was the kitchen. In another instant he realized why Raya had been so quick to enter: the door jamb was broken. Raya could be responsible for that, but his instincts told him someone had been here before them.
He stepped up onto the back porch. “Raya,” he whispered as he approached the door.
She came into view, opening it for him.
He rushed toward her. “Are you okay?” he asked under his breath.
“Yeah,” she said. “It was like that already,” she said, her eyes on the door jamb.
“I assumed so. What do you want to do? We can leave now if you want,” he said, not liking the fear in her eyes—eyes that mirrored his, he was sure.
“No, the house is quiet and we’re here now, so let’s see what we can find,” she whispered.
“Okay, let’s go upstairs,” he said hesitantly. His mind reeled with images of what they might see, but he pushed them aside. He looked over the kitchen, which was messy but didn’t look like it had been searched. “This way,” he said, moving toward the living room, which gave the same vibes as the kitchen. His gut instinct told him that whoever had broken the door jamb wasn’t searching for something, but instead came here for someone.
The staircase was barely visible in the dark house except for the top five or so stairs. Light shone through an open door on the second floor, illuminating the stairs. The hairs on the base of his spine stood up but they’d come too far now and risked too much to not find out what was upstairs.
Ari stepped onto the first stair and grimaced as it creaked. His eyes snapped up, waiting for a figure to walk out of the room upstairs but no one came, nor did he hear a sound. He waited another breath, then took another step. It groaned beneath his weight and once again Ari paused, holding his breath.
It was entirely possible someone knew they were in the house and was waiting for them to reach the top of the stairs. It was also entirely possible no one was in the house.
He lifted his foot but it hung midair as he froze in place when a door on the ground floor slammed shut. He strained to hear footsteps, unsure whether they were real or he was imagining them.
“Keep going,” Raya urged beside him in a hushed whisper.
Ari hesitated and then continued up the stairs, moving quickly. He was certain that if someone was in the house they knew they had company. And if so, Ari figured the less time they had to prepare the better.
They reached the top of the stairs and no one was waiting to greet them. Ari still hadn’t heard a sound that wasn’t one they’d made. The door was wide open, revealing an unmade bed. The tartan duvet cover was flung back on one side, like only one person slept in the bed.
Raya’s arm brushed against his as she joined him at the top of the stairs. Her touch comforted him and warmed his soul, especially considering how cold and unwelcoming this house felt.
Ari’s finger was on the trigger of his gun as he took one step forward, then another, feeling more uneasy with every second that passed.
He paused at the doorframe and leaned in. His throat went dry the second he saw why the light was still on but they hadn’t heard a noise the entire time they’d been in the house.
Raya gasped beside him. “Oh God,” she said, looking away, squeezing her eyes shut.
Ari reached for her hand, taking it in his. He returned his attention to the man slumped in the office chair with a gunshot wound to his forehead and a trail of blood down his nose and chin. Ari had the eerie feeling that the killer had been standing exactly where they stood now. They’d broken into the house, snuck upstairs, and as the hacker had turned in his chair they’d fired a bullet straight at his head—execution style.
Ari looked to the computer but the screensaver had activated.
“We need to get into that computer,” Raya said, mirroring his thoughts.
Ari swallowed, unable to fully concentrate with a dead body in front of them.
“Hold this,” Ari said as he passed Raya his weapon. He pulled his sweater over his hands and walked toward the dead man, his spine tingling with every step. He walked to the back of the chair and pushed it from behind. “Move out of the way,” he said as Raya’s jaw fell open.
“What are you doing?!” she asked with wide eyes.
“Moving him so I can think straight,” he said but she didn’t move.
“Where are you putting him?” she asked, blinking like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“In the hallway. I can leave him here if you’d like?” Ari asked, raising an eyebrow.
She shook her head quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She stepped aside as Ari wheeled the dead man toward her. He pushed the chair into the dark hallway, his skin crawling with unease. He looked over the second floor . . . there were three other closed doors on this floor but his instincts told him everything they needed to know was in the room with Raya.
He rushed back into the room, looking over his shoulder as if the corpse might somehow follow them in. He resisted the urge to shut the door behind them because it was better if it was open so they could hear if anyone else moved in this house.
Raya was at the desk, searching through notes plastered all over the desk. “None of this makes any sense to me,” she said, picking up a sticky note with an equation on it.
Ari looked at it, then at the papers on the desk. It didn’t make sense to him either. “Keep looking and photograph anything of interest. I’ll see if I can get us into this computer,” he said, looking over his shoulder once more, still expecting to see the corpse behind them.
Ari inserted a drive into the computer and waited for the malware to work its magic. A window popped up and Ari typed the code sequence.
When the desktop revealed itself, Ari stepped back and Raya took control.
“It’s been wiped,” he said, not entirely surprised. He’d initially thought the killer would’ve taken the computer, but he supposed that would only cause the police to eventually ask more questions. It was better to wipe it clean and leave it in place.
However, the person they’d sent to kill Justin hadn’t been a hacker, because he hadn’t wiped the drives correctly. Ari leaned forward, watching Raya work as she reloaded files onto the computer then ran sequences of code to reveal what had been recently opened.
She loaded a photograph, one that Ari recognised immediately. His father stared back at him.
Why was his father’s photograph on this hacker’s computer?
“Ari?” Raya sounded unsure.
“I have no idea, I swear,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper, like his throat was stuffed with cotton balls. “Click though the rest,” he said and Raya opened the remaining files on the computer but the only person Ari recognised was his father. “This makes no sense,” he said.
Raya didn’t answer but continued searching on the computer. Ari read her lines of code, trying to memorize them, but Raya had a brilliant mind. He was amazed that she’d been able to write this code, and even more amazed that she had memorized it so well. No notes, no pauses. Ari watched in awe, even while his mind reeled. Of all the things he’d expected to see, a photograph of his father wasn’t one.
“Search for Rossi Enterprises,” he said and Raya typed another code sequence. She straightened and folded her arms across her chest, her fingers tapping on her upper arms as she waited impatiently. “Nothing,” she said, leaning forward again. She typed his name and Ari was surprised to see a file with his name on it. Raya clicked on it and loaded various images and articles—all of which had been posted online.
Raya made a clicking noise with her tongue, pausing, then typing her own name.
Ari’s eyebrows lifted in surprise when she opened a file with her photograph. It was the only file in the folder.
She then typed another name, Chris Brockhardt. She nodded when a file appeared. She opened the single file to reveal a red-haired man staring back at them.
“He knew who we were, all of us,” she said, tapping on the screen. “Maybe the photo of your father was for research on you.”
Ari nodded slowly. Possibly, though his gut instinct suggested there was more to that photo and he didn’t think he was going to like it.
“Search for my uncle,” Ari said, not sure whether to rejoice or feel frustrated when the search didn’t produce any results.
Raya searched through the other recently opened files but most were mundane items like household bills and copies of receipts. The hacker was studious about accounting, it seemed.
“I don’t know . . . other than our names, there’s not much here,” she said. “Maybe I couldn’t retrieve all of the deleted files?”
Ari wasn’t sure if the question was aimed at him or if she was asking herself, but either way they didn’t have the answers they needed.
“How far back does the search go?” he asked.
“The past month,” Raya responded, rubbing her jaw.
That should be sufficient enough of a window, but it didn’t seem like enough data for a month.
“I think he uses another computer,” Raya said, straightening, suddenly alert. Her eyes swept over the bedroom. Ari was about to move toward the closet when he noticed Raya’s gaze was glued to the ceiling.
“The attic hatch is out of place,” she said.
Ari’s eyes lifted to see the board was slightly out of line, creating a gap in the ceiling. What were the chances that he knew they were coming for him but he stayed to hide a computer, protecting whatever data was on it?
