Page 31 of Scammed

“I like this very much,” said Marcel. “I had one brother, much younger. I suppose he would be your six- or seven-times grandfather.”

“I suppose he would,” nodded Gaspar. “We’ve always been lucky to have a lot of family around. Remy and Robbie, all of my siblings, distant cousins. One thing the Robicheauxs knew how to do was reproduce.”

“It’s such fun,” smirked Marcel. “I still cannot believe that I will be a father soon. To twins!”

“Hey, we’re coming up to the subdivision where the home is. Pigsty? Are you guys still getting readings from the house?” asked Code.

“We are. Spencer said it’s generating unusual activity.”

“What does that mean, Spencer?” asked Nine.

“Well, sir, I think they’re trying to hack into everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, sir. I think they targeted like a bunch of companies and are just going after them all to see which doors might open. Metaphorically speaking, sir.”

“Kid knows what metaphorically means,” smirked Tailor. “I was twenty-seven when I figured that out.” He heard the giggles of the little boys and shook his head.

“Can we assume that these are not the only systems running?” asked Angel.

“That’s right, sir. We think there are at least a dozen more somewhere, but we don’t need those to find them.”

“Good to know. Thanks, kids. You did good. You too, Pigsty.”

“Thanks, Dad,” came the echo of laughter.

“Little shits.”

After driving by the house, they noticed the garage was open but with no car inside. There was an older model Toyota in front of the house. It had California license plates that were expired.

Parking around the corner, Angel, Tailor, and Whiskey walked behind the unfenced yards, coming in from the rear. Gaspar, Marcel, and Nine approached from the front. Grabbing a stack of pizza flyers that were left on the porch next door, Nine knocked several times.

“Pizza delivery!” he called out.

That’s when he heard someone running toward the door. When it opened, he was somewhat shocked to see a woman. She was easily in her mid-to-late-fifties, brownish-gray hair in a messy ponytail and food stains on the front of her shirt.

“I thought you said you had pizza?” she frowned. She tried to close the front door, but Nine stuck his foot in the door, pushing it open as the other two men followed. “Hey! Get out before I call the cops.”

“Good news. We are the cops,” growled Gaspar. “Where are the servers?”

“Wh-what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.

“I have no patience for lying women. Tell me where there is service, or I will shoot you here,” growled Marcel. Nine and Gaspar raised their brows at his brazenness, then let him take over.

“They’re in the bedroom. What’s the big deal? I’m just running a program for a friend,” she said, taking her seat in front of her computer screens. Nine watched as the screens scrolled lines of data, numbers, and letters.

“You getting this?” he whispered to his comms.

“We’re getting it all.”

“She’s lying, Mr. Nine,” said Spencer. “She’s programmed that to hit on any non-profits who have collected more than a million dollars in donations in the last six months. I can see the coding from here. It’s not very complicated, but it’s effective.”

“How can he know that?” asked Marcel. The woman stared at the men, wondering who they were speaking to.

“Because I’m in her system now,” said Monroe. “I could get much better speed if you would move just about four inches closer.” The men took a half step closer, then watched as things began to light up.

The woman stared at her screens, trying to ignore the men. Then saw the erratic lines of data.

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