Hacker in Love, page 44
“Are you still awake down there, Milly Vanilli?” Henn asks softly.
“Wide awake.”
“You’re so quiet.”
“I’m riveted. What was the terrorist threat you eventually thwarted?”
“A cyberattack on power grids. On a whole bunch of ’em, all at once. Experts have long postulated that’s going to be our country’s next Pearl Harbor—a cataclysmic attack on power grids. When they recruited me and the others, they had reliable intel that a foreign power—one that would be happy to blow the US and all its allies right off the map—was in the final stages of developing a new technology that, if successful, would allow them to hack into numerous power grids, all at once—as many as a hundred at a time—”
“Jesus.”
“—and destroy their internal technology.”
I gasp. “You mean, shut them all down, all at once?”
“Exactly. There’d be no power for millions and millions of people—and none in sight. Not just in the US, but in other countries, too. We all use the same power grid technology, as well as the same smart encryption technology to protect them from hacking. This technology that was reportedly in the final stages of development—it was an encryption buster, basically—was unlike anything seen before. Nobody on their staff was having any luck breaking into it and dismantling it, so they brought in people like me from around the hacking world to try our luck.”
“What’s an encryption buster? Is that like cracking a code?”
“Yeah, in one fell swoop. You know how hotels have a universal key that unlocks every room? That’s what this program was designed to be—a universal key to unlock the encryptions protecting every power grid using the same kind of technology. When I got to DC to start my work, every day felt like a race against time to hack into their ‘key’ and dismantle it before they could perfect it and use it to pull off the biggest and most calamitous cyberattack the world has ever seen.”
“Oh my god, Henn,” I whisper. “You’re a genius. A hero. You literally saved the world.”
“By the skin of my teeth and a whole lot of luck.”
“No. When I get lucky, my phone screen doesn’t crack when it hits the ground. Luck doesn’t cause you to crack a code to keep the world safe from a hundred power grids being destroyed, all at once.”
“Well, however we got here, we’re safe now. For the time being, anyway. Who knows what will happen when they come up with their next thing.”
“I have a stupid question. Even if you destroyed their key for now, wouldn’t the bad guys have made a copy of it?”
“That’s not a stupid question. But that’s now how it works. Their key wasn’t a physical thing. It was a program—a bunch of code that was designed to not only hack into power grids, but also to be inherently unhackable, in and of itself. Once I cracked into the program, the second part of its function was rendered obsolete. Which means, no matter how many times they might try to use that same key, we’ll be able to get in and disable it again and again in record speed. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“When something that’s inherently designed to be unhackable gets hacked, then it’s back to the drawing board on the whole technology, because you’re now vulnerable to getting stymied at every future turn. There’s no point in heading down that same path, ever again. The bad news is we only won the battle, not the war. I’m sure they’re already hard at work on an entirely new version of it, in a new language that’s never been seen before. Hopefully, it’ll take ’em a while to come up with something, though. And in the meantime, maybe their staff hackers can learn from what I came up with and use that as a launching point for future work.”
“If they don’t, I’m sure they’ll be calling you again, like Deputy Director Leach said.”
“If that happens, I can only hope and pray I’ll get lucky again, before it’s too late. Or that one of the other gunslingers will. I’m telling you, Hannah, it was only by the grace of God or Steve Jobs’ Ghost I figured the thing out. I don’t have confidence I could do it, again and again, like clockwork.”
“Well, I do. I have complete faith in you.” I lift my head and kiss him. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for telling me about all that. I promise I’ll never tell a soul.”
“I know you won’t. I trust you completely.”
“And I trust you. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. Now, get some sleep, my brave and beautiful Banana. We’ll talk some more tomorrow. I promise, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“I’ve got some things to tell you, too.”
“I’ll be all ears. But now, it’s time to sleep, my love.”
“Goodnight.” I close my eyes and relish Henn’s body warmth. His gentle strokes across my back. And I’ll be damned, in no time at all, I feel myself drifting. When sleep finally envelops me, I have one of the deepest and most refreshing slumbers of my life, thanks to the strong and loving arms holding me all night long.
47
HENN
There’s a loud knock at Hannah’s door that prompts Hannah to shriek, stop transferring cookies onto a cooling rack, and bound enthusiastically across her living room.
Laughing at Hannah’s excited reaction, I amble behind her, figuring I’ll hang back and give Hannah a private moment to welcome her new roomie to her new digs.
For the past few days, as Maddy’s traversed the thousand-mile distance between Seattle and LA in her little hatchback, Hannah’s been eagerly preparing for her sister’s much-anticipated arrival. Hannah cleaned the apartment, top to bottom. Cooked several of Maddy’s favorite meals and stored and labeled them neatly in the fridge. She went to Trader Joe’s and stocked the pantry with all Maddy’s favorite snacks and goodies. And if all that wasn’t enough to welcome her little sister to LA in style, about an hour ago, right after Hannah received Maddy’s most recent text with her ETA, Hannah started baking a batch of Maddy’s all-time favorite cookies. “I want the apartment to smell like freshly baked cookies when Maddy first walks in,” Hannah explained. “Maddy loves that.”
When Hannah reaches her front door, she gleefully flings it open and hurls herself outside with a loud shriek. I can’t see what’s going on out there from my vantage point, but I can certainly hear Hannah screaming, “Welcome to your new home!” Also, a male voice chuckling.
Surely, the owner of that male voice is Keane Morgan. When Hannah expressed concern about her little sister making the multi-day drive from Seattle all by herself, Dax—who now lives across the hallway with his two bandmates, Fish and Colin—kindly enlisted his older brother to accompany Maddy. According to Dax, his big brother has been wanting to visit him in LA since his move a couple months ago, anyway. Plus, Dax said, Keane has some kind of “stripper showcase” in LA he’s been invited to perform in—an audition to be represented by a big talent agency in Hollywood—so Dax said the ride-sharing arrangement would be a win-win-win: Maddy wouldn’t have to make the drive alone; Hannah wouldn’t have to worry quite as much about her little sister; and Keane would be killing two birds with one stone: visiting his rockstar little brother and performing in the showcase.
I lean against the doorjamb and smile when I see the joyful scene unfolding before me. As expected, the Milliken sisters are embracing and shrieking like it’s been years, not months, since they last saw each other. The only surprise is that Keane Morgan has dyed his blonde hair an eye-popping shade of electric blue since I last saw him in Maui.
My heart skips a beat to see Hannah looking so happy. When she and I said goodbye to Maddy in Seattle, I wasn’t sure if my beautiful girlfriend would fully bounce back from the nightmare she’d endured at the hands of Greg Smith. To my massive relief, though, she’s not only accomplished that feat; she’s better than ever. I’ve heard stories of people coming off near-death experiences with renewed purpose and a greater appreciation of life and love. But observing the phenomenon firsthand with Hannah has been inspiring. Electrifying. And a huge relief. As it’s turned out, therapy, unwavering support from Hannah’s loved ones, and an exciting new job she absolutely loves, have all laid the groundwork for her to not only heal, but to thrive.
When we found out Greg Smith had three more confirmed victims—two women he’d raped and another he’d raped and murdered—I worried the horrifying news would create a set-back for Hannah’s mental health. But that wasn’t the case. On the contrary, finding out about those additional atrocities only helped Hannah heal that much faster. According to Hannah, knowing her trauma had helped even more women rest in peace and/or get some measure of justice or closure made her feel even more so like it had a higher purpose.
Keane’s chuckle draws my attention to him, as the sisters continue hugging and talking excitedly. What’s that I’m seeing on Keane’s face? Is this notorious fuckboy stripper gazing at our sweet Madelyn with . . . adoration? Nah. I must be projecting because I adore the kid so damned much.
I still don’t know Keane, personally, despite our time together in Maui. We mostly traveled in different sub-groups that week, and before that, he wasn’t my contact on the hack I did for him. It was Josh. In fact, I don’t think Keane knows to this day that Josh’s nerdy groomsman at the wedding was the same guy who’d hacked that cougar and saved his horny, stupid ass.
I do know Keane’s fuckboy reputation, however, from all the crazy stories I’ve heard about him, as well as from observing him hitting on cocktail waitresses and Kat’s single friends at the wedding. And that’s why, despite my lack of personal interactions with Keane, I’m nonetheless highly confident our sweet, shy, intelligent, sensitive, goofy, deep-thinking, tap-dancing, filmmaking feminist, Maddy, isn’t his type. Not to mention, Keane’s not Maddy’s type, either. At all.
And yet . . .
There it is again. An expression of unmistakable affection on Keane’s face, as he gazes at Maddy. Could it be this fuckboy stripper genuinely enjoyed his lengthy road trip with little Miss Maddy Milliken, against all odds?
“You’re Keane, right?” Hannah says. “We met at the wedding.”
Keane jerks his gaze from Maddy to Hannah and flashes a mega-watt smile. “Oh, yeah.” He steps forward and extends his hand to Hannah. “Great to see you again.”
Hannah disregards Keane’s hand and pulls him into a warm embrace. “Thank you for taking such good care of my little sister.”
“Oh, believe me, Hannah, it’s been my . . .” Keane pulls out of their hug and looks at Maddy, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve loved every minute of hanging out with Mad Dog here.”
Maddy bats her eyelashes at the compliment while flashing Keane a big, toothy smile, which he returns in kind—only bigger. Well, I’ll be damned.
His cheeks flushed, Keane points at various nearby doors in the hallway. “Which one is my brother’s apartment?”
Hannah indicates the apartment directly across from us, prompting Keane to chuckle and say, “Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said Dax lives right across the hall.” He leaps to his little brother’s front door like his body is a motorized pogo stick and pounds away like he’s administering a search warrant on a drug lord. “Hey, Rockstar! Open up! It’s your favorite brother!”
In short order, the door swings open and Dax Morgan appears in all his handsome, charismatic glory, his long-ish, blonde hair hanging close to his shoulders and his blue eyes looking stoned as fuck. As the two brothers embrace and exchange a rapid-fire flurry of greetings, I hug Maddy and welcome her to LA. I’m thrilled she’s here for Hannah’s sake, of course—I know how much Hannah loves her little sister—but in this moment, I’m even more thrilled Maddy is here, safe and sound, for my own reasons.
First off, I love the kid and I like having her around. It’s as simple as that. But second off, I know Maddy’s arrival is setting off a countdown of sorts. From this day forward, it’s only a matter of time until Maddy makes some friends in the film school and decides she’d rather live with one of them in the fall, rather than with her big sister. Or maybe, worst case, that fine day will come after Maddy’s graduation in a couple years. But either way, Maddy’s arrival today marks the beginning of a new era—the beginning of the unknown countdown until the day Hannah finally moves into the new house I recently bought in the Hollywood Hills.
I mustered the nerve to ask Hannah the timeline she’s envisioning for her move-in date the other day, and she said exactly what I’ve been thinking—that she’s expecting Maddy to want to move out at some point in the summer and room with fellow film students in the fall. But she also said, “We’re in no rush, though, right? We both know we want to get married and be together forever, no matter what. Nothing is ever going to change that. So, if you think about it, it doesn’t really matter when we start our forever, within reason—if it’s in three months or six or a year or two.”
That was the moment where my thinking about the situation parted ways from my girlfriend’s. While Hannah was certainly right that nothing will ever change our love or the lifetime commitment we’ve both already made, I’m not nearly as patient about taking our relationship to the next level. In fact, knowing for certain I want to be with Hannah forever only makes me that much more excited—and impatient—to start our forever, as soon as possible, especially when the ring I bought for Hannah in Maui has been burning a hole in my pocket ever since.
The good news is that Hannah has recovered enough from the kidnapping for me to start thinking seriously about proposing again. Also, we’ve both agreed we don’t need to live together at my new place to be engaged. The bad news, however, is that, for the past month or so, it’s taken all my willpower not to spontaneously kneel and pop the question to Hannah every time I have so much as a couple beers. The only thing holding me back, each and every time, has been the voice memo left deep inside my brain by my sober self—the one that says, “When you finally pop the question, you have to do it right, Peter. You promised her that in Maui.”
Hopefully, I’ll be able to put together the perfect plan soon. Because now that Maddy is finally here, and Hannah is doing so great, and our relationship is going so fantastically well, and I’ve finally moved into our dream house, I’ve never felt more excited and impatient to turn my beloved girlfriend into my beloved fiancée and future wife.
48
HENN
I look around my crowded living room in drunken awe at the raucous party in front of me. Leaning into Hannah to be heard above the music, I say, “Thanks for ordering all that food. That was a stroke of brilliance.”
“Door Dash, dude.” She snaps her fingers. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”
My heart skips a beat. To my knowledge, that’s the first time Hannah’s said lemon squeezy, instead of pumpkin. It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t help feeling like her conversion to lemon is a love letter to me.
Returning my huge smile, Hannah says, “The thing that should impress you far more than my uncanny ability to order from Door Dash is Reed’s jaw-dropping ability to get a DJ here at the drop of a hat, plus all these fancy party people. How did he do this?”
“He’s Reed Rivers, babe. Throwing the best parties in town, even at a moment’s notice and at someone else’s house, is one of his many superpowers. Thanks for saying lemon squeezy, by the way. Be still, my heart.”
Hannah bats her eyelashes. “What can I say? You’ve rubbed off on me, kid.”
We’re at my new house in the Hollywood Hills in the midst of my ad hoc housewarming party—and it’s quite the spontaneous shindig, thanks to the magical powers of one Reed fucking Rivers. When I texted Reed with the idea for a party mere hours ago from the club where Keane Morgan had performed in that stripper showcase tonight—Keane was surprisingly entertaining, by the way—Reed somehow managed to quickly wrangle not only a DJ, but also a bunch of artists from his label and some of their friends and entourages, too. And now, here we are, having a blast, other than the fact that I keep looking at the front door, hoping Maddy will get here soon. I want her to meet Reed and his artists for the sheer fun of it, but also in furtherance of her stated professional aspirations.
After Maddy and Keane’s arrival last night, Hannah and I had a pizza-poker night with them and the three Goats across the hall, and that’s when Maddy said she’s hoping to break into directing music videos as a side gig to her documentaries. Well, if becoming a music video director is one of Maddy’s career goals, then coming to this party and chatting up Reed and some of his artists would be a huge boon for her. So, why the fuck isn’t she here yet?
When Hannah and I left the club after Keane’s performance, Maddy said she, Keane, and Keane’s buddy, Zander, who’d flown down to cheer on Keane’s performance tonight, were all heading backstage to chat with some strippers from the show and they’d come to my house after that. But that was over two hours ago. How long does it take to chat up a few strippers about a possible documentary movie idea?
I lean into Hannah again. “Reed is playing Patron pong over there. Not beer pong. If Maddy wants to have a conversation with him that he actually remembers tomorrow, she’d better get here soon.”
Hannah snickers. “Maddy will have to meet Reed another time, babe. She’s not coming to the party.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fan-fucking-tastic. Emphasis on the fucking.”
My jaw drops. “Maddy’s fooling around with Keane?”
Hannah smiles and puts her finger to her lips, letting me know a) yes, and b) it’s a secret. She winks and says, “After the club, they went back to the apartment.”
