Page 1 of Shattered Veil

PROLOGUE

January Broadcast Message

on all Dark Web Channels:

Iceman claims responsibility for the large-scale ransomware attack last week that brought financial markets to a halt, grounded airplanes, and darkened social media during the holiday season, igniting global outrage and panic not seen since the recent pandemic.

This stunt netted Iceman millions in ransom money.

Before any copycats sharpen their claws with opportunistic bad ideas, take note: the UN has created a new task force and will hold a symposium next week in Sydney, Australia.

It’s Invite Only to top global firms and a few renowned, heavily vetted technical experts.

The goal? Not to find Iceman. He’s a ghost and possibly a consortium of Iron Curtain hackers banding together to wreak havoc across the globe. They’re probably pissed off from the incessant Artic weather, lack of female company, and raw fish.

It’s rumored that the notorious and elite cyber sage known globally as Maverick—yes, the irony—will be walking among us next week under his alter-ego, whoever he may be.

Watch your backs, hackers.

Together, this global elite power unit will work to reverse-engineer the ransomware code and destroy Iceman’s life’s work, so citizens of the world can get one good night’s sleep.

Until the next tragedy strikes.

See you Down Under...

CHAPTER ONE

Ella

“Excuse me.”Jerk, I add on the inside to the entitled prick who set his duffle bag on my seat.

Myfirst-class airline seat from Sydney to New York.

True,Ididn’t exactly pay for it. My father did.

Dad got delayed, so he sent me ahead. Alone. Tonight. Without notice. I came back to our apartment after a date and he had my suitcase packed and a car service waiting to whisk me to the airport.

My father has always been secretive. After years of circular answers, I stopped asking questions.

My original seat was a few rows back, where I had both seats to myself until the flight attendant asked me to move so the airline could upgrade a couple on their honeymoon. They’ll probably get naughty for the thirteen-hour flight from Sydney to Los Angeles.

And I haven’t had good sex in nearly two years.

My reassigned seat is currently occupied by Jerk’s bag. Rude. Is the overhead compartment not good enough for him? So what if it’s a quality leather duffel with a rich, earthy scent I can smell from the aisle?

That seat he’s hogging probably costs seven grand.

After I clear my throat, the jerk looks up at me and pulls something out of one ear.

“What?” he snaps.

He’s wearing dark horn-rimmed glasses that would make an ordinary man look like a geek. But this guy has sculpted cheekbones and the square jaw of a Hollywood heartthrob. Good Lord, did I score a seat next to Liam Hemsworth’s body double?

Makes sense. We’re about to depart Australia for Los Angeles. Following this long flight, I have a five-hour layover in L.A. before the final leg toNew York. I’ll be in the air for the better part of the next two days and I’m not in the mood.

“Your bag,” I say, folding my arms.

“Yeah, it’smybag,” he drawls in a sexy Irish accent that tingles my nether regions and erases Liam Hemsworth from my mind. “Can I get a glass of McCallan?”