WRAITH CASE STUDY AUGUSTA PINE #2
“What was his name?” I asked Tweedledum.
He swallowed audibly. “Manny,” he said.
Warden crossed her arms. “Unfortunate, but we still have assets. We’ll try again.”
Humanity has spent thousands of years perfecting security systems.
Moats, guards, laser trip wires—they’re all for the same purpose. To keep oneself safe and to protect one’s wealth.
But even the best security system has one flaw.
People.
Warden said that Tweedledum would make his attempt that night. He asked if he could leave a letter for his family—and that request was denied.
Which only solidified my own plans.
At noon, I made my move.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said. We had been going to a gas station two blocks away.
“Go ahead,” said Prefect, sliding the van door open.
I emerged from the van, wearing my plumber’s jumpsuit and carrying a toolbox.
The toolboxes came with the van, just in case we needed to actually look like plumbers.
I strolled down the sidewalk, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.
I did not head toward the gas station; rather, I veered across the street.
I darted into the alleyway beside Stenc’s building.
Here, I was out of view of the security cameras.
I held a vape pen between my fingers. To any casual observer, I was just a teenage plumber taking my break. I certainly appeared that way to the janitor who kicked the basement door open from the inside, pushing a cart brimming with trash bags.
“Here,” I said, putting my vape away and holding the door open for him.
“Thank you,” said the janitor gratefully. He was an older man with grizzled gray hair and a kind face. I hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble for this.
As I held the door, I smoothed a bit of duct tape across the latch bolt. When it closed, the lock couldn’t activate.
There would be an alarm if it remained unlocked for too long. But I didn’t need more than two minutes.
The janitor vanished back inside.
I counted to thirty, and then I tugged on the small piece of tape. The door opened soundlessly.
I was in.
Within was a basement corridor brimming with cleaning equipment, boxes, and an elaborate system of pneumatic tubes.
That had been in the mole’s report: the old tubes had been left over from the building’s stint as a bank.
Stenc had decided to repurpose them for communication within his office. He thought they couldn’t be hacked.
I twisted my vape pen. Instead of smoke, a slender blade emerged.
Turns out, you can hack pneumatic tubes. You just need a sharp enough knife.
I grabbed a spare canister, yanked it open, and jammed a preprinted work order inside. I’d stolen the office header from Stenc’s website and created a passable forgery last night. Now, I stuck the canister into the hole I’d sliced. It vanished with a whoosh.
I turned and hurried toward the door, yanked the tape free, and stepped outside. The door locked behind me.
Picking up my toolbox, I walked around to the front of the building. By now, the ISD surveillance team would be panicking. Their cameras had a perfect view of the building’s entrance … and I was officially off mission.
Let them panic. I was finally having fun.
I walked through the front doors.
“Hi,” I said, stepping up to the security checkpoint. “I’m Augusta Pine. With—”
The guard sounded bored. Day security must not have been told of the recent break-in. “Step through the scanner.”
Light danced across my hand and I saw the words “Augusta Pine” appear on the holographic screen.
The guard retrieved a canister and glanced down at the forged work order that said an outside plumbing company had an appointment.
He didn’t even give the paper a second glance, and why would he?
It had come up through official channels.
“Did Anderson finally call you about the second-story bathroom?”
I nodded.
He typed something into the computer. “I’m giving you access to the building for a two-hour period,” he said. “Go on in.”
I gave him a polite, disinterested smile and went on in.
It was rather anticlimactic, if I was being honest.
I hurried into an elevator. There were two young employees chatting to each other. They didn’t even look at me.
I stepped out onto Stenc’s floor. From days of surveillance, I knew Stenc left his office to get lunch at noon.
And I highly doubted he left his rail gun not-dog active during office hours.
He couldn’t risk stray assistants and interns being accidentally murdered. If only to protect his insurance rates.
I pushed open the office door and stepped inside. Empty, just as I predicted.
I squatted beside the not-dog. Quickly, I pulled the ringware from my finger, then pressed it into a slot along the robot’s back.
I’d written a program last night with Edgar’s help.
This particular brand of robot dog didn’t have Bluetooth or Wi-Fi capabilities.
Technically anything with wireless connections could be hacked.
So all new commands and programming had to be entered manually.
“Run program ‘It Follows,’” I whispered. My older sister had adored old horror films; we spent countless nights watching them after I cracked the parental code on our family TV.
This hack was formatted to look like a firmware update. The dog’s anti-virus software wouldn’t flag it. The update took about thirty seconds to install. Once it was finished, I picked my ring up and rose to my feet. Then I pulled a note from my pocket and laid it on Stenc’s desk.
Deliver the rail gun schematics to the plumber’s van outside.
I got back into the elevator, trying to keep my face impassive as it descended toward the lobby. All I had to do was get out. The difficult part was done.
The doors slid open and two middle-aged employees got on. I nodded politely and shifted on my feet, tightening my hold on the toolbox. Sweat trickled beneath my jumpsuit and I wished I’d worn a lighter disguise.
The elevator paused at nearly every floor and I told myself it was lunchtime. Of course people were leaving the building for food. It only made sense. But it didn’t stop my treacherous heart from thudding. As the elevator filled, I pressed myself into a corner.
Finally, the doors gave a polite little ding and opened. The employees spilled out, chatting among themselves.
I breathed a little easier when I stepped into the lobby. I slipped through the bustle, angling myself through the front doors, and then I was outside.
Shoulders straight, I walked across the street toward the plumber’s van. The door slid open and I was all but dragged inside.
The shouting lasted for the better part of ten minutes.
I stood there while Warden uttered phrases like “out of bounds” and “stupid teenage girl” and “blew the whole operation.”
I looked at Prefect. He remained quiet the whole time, but his eyes spoke volumes. “Well?” he finally said, once Warden was out of breath. “What did you do?”
I smiled. And then I pointed at the screens. “That.”
Keith Stenc was walking back into the building.
He strolled through security, got onto the elevator, and went up to his office. He pulled out his expensive chair, sat down, and prepared to boot up his computer.
That was when he saw the note. He picked it up, frowned, and then put it down. He stood and went to the window, peering outside as though to find the plumber’s van in question.