Page 66 of Kept in the Dark
“Definitely. My hunch is they’re looking for that,” James jerks his chin at the bowl of rice on the far end of Wesley’s desk.
“Well then, let’s have a look, shall we?” Wesley nods, reaching for it. He digs in the grains for a few seconds, then produces the small device.
“The first rule of flash drives is never to plug one in if you’re uncertain you can trust it. People find them on the street all the time and let their curiosity get the better of them, not realizing how easy it is to program any number of nasty surprises onto one. A clever hacker can steal your personal information and passwords, give your computer a virus, or even,” Wesley says, his voice straining as he bends at the waist to fit the device into the USB port of his computer, “send your location to whoever created the program.”
“Wes, what the hell!” James shouts, pointing down. “Youjustsaid—”
“You think a computerIbuilt can’t overwrite whatever command this was set up with? I thought you thought more of me than that,” he says, scoffing indignantly.
James rolls his eyes, sits back in his chair, and kicks his legs out straight while he crosses his arms. “My apologies, genius. Think it’ll even work after its impromptu bath?”
“We’re about to find out.”
I grip the edge of the desk I am leaning against and watch the screen closely. There is nothing except the soft, constant noise of a computer fan for several long seconds, then two windows pop up at once, and James’s hoot of triumph matches the tone of my sigh of relief. It is not ruined from being in my pocket when I jumped in after Nicole.
In one of the windows, Wesley types a few things—likely doing exactly what he promised and overwriting the flash drive’s protocol—and I focus on the other one as words appear.
“Looks like…” Wesley squints as we all move closer to the screen to see the tiny writing.
“Russian,” I finish.
“Shall I run it through a translator, or do you want to do the honors?” Wesley asks, turning his head just far enough to see me in his peripheral vision. “My vocabulary is conversational at best, or things I’ve picked up from you. I think I know three different ways to call someone a testicle.”
“We’ll have to compare notes; I’ve only got two,” James pretends to pout.
I scan the text, ignoring their quips. “It is warning against unauthorized use, and it wants a password.”
“Of course it does.Koz'ye yaichko,” James sighs, calling whoever created the flash drive a goat’s testicle with a sly grin directed at me. His accent is terrible.
I huff, and Wesley presses his lips together against a laugh.
“Whatever it is, it must be important,” Wesley observes.
“That is putting it mildly. Kyle Volkevich tried to smuggle this out of the wedding inside another person. I agree with James—they are searching for this drive.” I gesture to the computer, where Wesley is making selections in windows that look completely foreign to me. He types fluently in a language I will never know, and do not particularly care to. Four is plenty.
Wesley nods, pulling up more screens and typing in more indecipherable text. “I’ll give the password cracker a crack at it and all the CPU I can spare. Might take a little while, depending on how strong they made it. We’re fairly fucked if it’s a multi-factor authentication. Meanwhile… looks like I can at least confirm it’s Volkevich’s. The signal it just tried to cast was to an IP address at one of their office buildings.”
“Called it,” James all but physically congratulates himself. “I vote we hold off finishing the job until we know what’s on it. Might need Double-V for something. Bet he knows the password.”
I wish this were wholly good or bad news. It is always useful to have something someone else wants very badly, but the fact that it belongs to Volkevich means Nicole is in serious trouble.
Does Volkevich know about Nicole’s involvement? Was Kyle carrying out an order, or was he acting alone?
“We should try to break it on our own first. We need to know if Kyle told Nicole anything that might help narrow down what it is, why he had it, or how to get in,” I think aloud. “I will speak with her after she has rested. Wesley, will you set up an alert at her home so we will know if anyone comes looking for it?”
“Can do.”
“And hey, speaking of the big ol’ elephant in the room, it’s time to come clean, big guy,” James says, slapping the table lightly with his palm.
“I am clean enough. I changed after my shower,” I protest, glancing down and running a hand down my stomach.
“No, like, it’s time for you to explain. What the hell was all that, earlier?”
“What do you mean?”
“I believe he’s referring to the time when you chased a terrified woman around the garden,” Wesley points out, his voice flat. “What do you think this is, the Hitman’s Halfway House for Kidnapped Girls?”
James eyes him. “How long have you been working on that one?”
