Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Password?” The muscular guy standing at the door sounded bored and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but there.
Natasha offered him the code, and he stepped aside with a nod, allowing her entry.
The two-story, red brick building was one of the original firehouses in Montreal and, in its glory days, had used horse-drawn fire wagons.
Today the place was rented out for parties, like tonight’s event for a group of world-famous hackers.
The party was in Griffintown, a district of Montreal which had been revitalized over the course of the last decade.
From the looks of it, the firehouse had maintained its original charm with the red-trimmed windows and a brass fire pole at the center of the room, with the addition of a fully stocked bar stretching the length of one exposed brick wall.
Several black leather couches were strategically positioned around the room, along with high-top tables and stools.
The DJ spinning from the second floor, which overlooked the main level, made the place feel more like a nightclub than a haven for hackers to do shady shit.
No one was dancing. Most people were listening to jams through their own headphones, if that’s what all the head bobbing was about, with computers on their laps as they sat working—coding.
There was a diverse mix of people in attendance.
Men and women had flown in from Russia, Romania, China, and two guys she’d noted on her list were from North Korea.
They’d come for the conference and the competition, all itching to be declared the MEH, the Most Elite Hacker.
They had no idea The Knight already held that title, at least in his opinion.
Of course, these hackers were competing in a legal setting.
The five hundred K bounty had probably turned a few hackers who normally hung out on the Dark Net into so-called white-hat hackers.
And if they were lucky, or wanted a legit future, they might land one of the high-paying jobs with the sponsors of the competition doing what they loved without the risk of handcuffs.
Natasha did another survey of the room, identifying all the men who appeared to be in their thirties or forties.
Half the people there wore hoodies with the hood pulled up, a classic hacker look. The guy on the couch off to her left was no different. She dropped her backpack to the floor and sat next to him.
He was in his mid-twenties and most likely not her target. The hacker looked up from his screen. His oversized burgundy hood surrounded his face, serving as a kind of mask and cape to protect his identity. Lowering the headphones to hang around his neck, he gave her the once-over.
Natasha reciprocated and conducted a casual perusal of his neck, face, and hands—the only areas not covered by clothing—and wondered if The Knight had any burn scars.
“Hi,” she said with an easy smile, falling into her role as a young hacker, hoping it was believable.
Black brows, artfully plucked, darted together as he gave her another quick glance.
She had on a short, pink and black plaid skirt, a pink tank top beneath a black hoodie, and black 8-eye Dr. Martens to complete the outfit.
It wasn’t exactly her typical go-to, especially all the dark eyeliner and eyeshadow, but it worked.
Usually, someone at the Agency helped pick out her cover, but thankfully, she’d gone under plenty of times at hacker events in the last several years, so she was familiar with the scene.
She popped a piece of gum into her mouth and began snapping it to shave a few years off her age. “I’m Heather.” She tightened her ponytail, which she’d added some pink highlights to at her hotel before heading there.
“What’s your handle?” he asked skeptically.
“Crash Override,” she deadpanned. He didn’t get it, but a woman at a table off to her right chuckled.
“You’re for real?”
“You’ve never seen the movie Hackers? It was . . .” She let go of her words at the sight of her source walking through the main entrance.
The saying Don’t judge a book by its cover couldn’t be truer in regard to Jasper Kenyon.
Appearing as if he’d stepped off the pages of an Abercrombie catalog, Jasper looked more like a model than one of the best hackers on the planet.
When Jasper’s eyes connected with hers, a look she couldn’t immediately identify flashed across his face, and he took a quick step back, bumping into the woman who’d come in behind him.
He shouldn’t have been surprised to see her. He’d chosen to come out of hiding by entering the competition. But the alarm crossing his face . . . did he think she’d announce to the room he used to make bank selling intel to the CIA?
She tipped her chin, motioning for him to follow her upstairs so they could talk. He held her eyes, then finally nodded before unbuttoning his black wool coat.
Without a further word to Hacker Guy, she grabbed her bag and went for the spiral staircase.
Upstairs, she hurried past the DJ and made her way to what had once been the kitchen where the firefighters must’ve gathered for meals back in the day.
She’d studied the layout of the building upon learning about the party, assuming, and rightly so, that Jasper would show since he had entered the Bug Bounty Competition.
She discreetly removed a device from her backpack to check for any bugs or listening devices. When the small light turned green, signaling the place was clear, she stowed it away in her backpack, swung the bag in place over one shoulder, then waited expectantly.
Jasper rounded the corner a moment later, making a slow, hesitant approach. “Since you’re here, I’m guessing you remember how to solve a cipher.” He cocked his head and observed her, his gaze cataloging every detail as if triple-checking she was indeed Natasha.
“I still remember how to solve a basic substitution cipher.” To find the location of the party and receive the password to get inside, she had to decrypt a code.
And, thanks to a class on ciphers used by Russian spies during the Cold War, she was fairly familiar with it—a straddle checkerboard cipher.
“I have to say, I was surprised to see your name on the list of competitors. Where have you been? Why’d you ghost me?
” A hundred more questions buzzed to mind, but she didn’t want to overwhelm him.
Recruiting new assets to work this case after the tragic loss of her sources in 2018 had been next to impossible, especially since The Knight claimed credit on the Dark Net.
So, when she’d learned MI6 had a valuable asset, she’d called in a favor to a friend and requested MI6 time-share him.
Jasper was one of the best programmers she’d ever met in person and his willingness to help her had been one hell of a break.
“Are you Heather tonight?” he asked, ignoring her comment, his British accent a reminder of another Englishman from her past—Wyatt.
He crossed his arms, distrust in his eyes when it should have been her distrusting him. He was the one who got rid of his CIA burner and vanished.
“Yeah, I am.” Heather had been the alias she’d used when they worked together in the past. Pink hair and all.
His fingers moved through his long blond hair, the color like the sand from the Sahara. He’d let it grow since she’d last seen him in 2019. It brushed against the collar of his black, button-down shirt.
“I can’t help you. Whatever you’re going to ask, I’m done. I should never have helped you all in the first place.”
“You tell MI6 the same thing? Do they know you’re here?
If I was able to find you, it won’t be long before they show up.
” Last time she’d checked, Jasper had a life-long commitment to England in exchange for a “get out of jail free” card.
And because of that, MI6 didn’t have to pay him, so the CIA footed the bill when it came to tapping his cyber genius to go after The Knight.
“MI6 knows I’m here.”
“You spoke to your handler?”
“Yeah, an hour before I came here. I have a week, then I have to report back to London.”
And what, work with MI6 again as if he’d never left? Seven days of free rein? She didn’t buy it. She’d call her contacts there to verify his story, but what would she say? She wasn’t supposed to even be working the case.
“Well, we need to talk. I don’t know where you’ve been or what’s going on, but you made the decision to show your face, so deal with the consequences.”
“I had to go into hiding because I helped you.” He stabbed at the air, a scowl on his lips. “I ran out of money, hence the reason I’m here.” He let out an exasperated breath.
She took a step closer. “I can’t imagine money motivating you enough to enter a competition sponsored by Cyber X Security. You detest Felix Ward.”
“Well, it’s true. And after I win the competition, which I will, because I can out hack everyone here with my bloody eyes closed, I’ll go back to London.” His jaw tightened beneath his blond stubble, and his blue eyes became cold and vicious.
“Bullshit,” she hissed, not buying this for one second. “What the hell is really going on?” Her fingertips curled into her palms at her sides. “Why are you in Canada?”
No way was this a coincidence. No. Damn. Way. When it came to The Knight, everyone was a pawn in his game, and each move had been carefully mapped out in advance, making him her most challenging adversary ever.
“How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Keep working at it until you get to the truth,” she snapped.
He huffed out a breath.
“If you were hiding because you’re worried someone will find out you were working with—”
“He’s not dead!” Jasper yelled, then quickly lowered his voice upon realizing how loud he’d been. “He’s alive, and yes, I’m worried. How could I not be?”
Her eyes stretched at his admission. This wasn’t just some hunch. He had proof, didn’t he? “And how do you know he’s alive?”
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, but he remained quiet.