Page 6 of The Deals We Make
Because this client is getting on my last nerve. They called me in because they keep having breaches and then danced around implementing the solutions and paying my fees. And security is my middle name.
Actually, it’s Valentine. Calista Valentine Moray.
But in the world of high-tech fraud, I’m one of the very best there is. And I’m about to show these elite snobby bank men why there isn’t just a problem with their digital security, but one with their physical security too.
I’ve already done my research. The building plans were easy to acquire. A reconnaissance trip to a coffee shop next door to the building two weeks ago revealed an HR manager with alove of fly fishing. He wore his badge on his shirt pocket. Fred Huntley.
Everyone in this building has the same email structure. First name. Last Name. At company name. So, Fred received an invitation to enter a fly-fishing competition. Took me all of five minutes to use a graphic design app to pull together the log cabin, in the lush mountains, with lake and river views.
A fisherman’s delight.
And Fred fell for it.
Once he opened this email and clicked on the attachment, the virus code I wrote activated on his machine. When he logged in, it connected me through him to the bank network. It was the easiest of pickings. Seating plans. Calendars.
I’ve planned my route up to the CEO’s office with utmost precision, and I know he’ll be here until eleven, when he’ll take a town car to the newly opened private-members club with a quarter-of-a-million-dollar initiation fee and twenty thousand in annual dues. Once there, he’ll meet with a political action committee lobbyist regarding how to minimize government oversight and banking regulation enforcement.
I have a security badge with an intern’s name on it. You have to be careful to not put someone well-known by the organization on it. Nobody remembers the names of the interns who turn over so quickly, but it needs to be a real person, because there’s every chance someone will type it into an employee list if security asks to see it.
I pull out my phone and call my own voicemail so my screen actually shows a real call, then step into the lobby with it pressed to my ear.
“Trevor,” I say, loudly enough to be heard, not loudly enough to be memorable or annoying. “No, I just got to the office. I know I’m late. Sorry, I’m running. Be there in two minutes. I made a stupid shoe choice.”
Dramatically, I check my watch and reach for my pass.
“No. I’m in the building. I—” I pull the phone away from my ear and pretend to wince at the imaginary yelling at I’m getting.
I present my badge to the scanner, and it beeps red. I know damn well it won’t open the gate. It’s a piece of laminated plastic made to look like everyone else’s badge.
Attempting to look flustered, I try it again, then glance at the queue forming behind me.
I look to the security guard, trying to look as desolate as I can. “I’m sorry. Could you?” I gesture to the gate.
He holds his own card to the gate to let me in. “Come and get that card looked at later,” he says.
I nod, mouth the wordsthank you, and hurry through.
“No, I’m at the elevators. Might lose you, but I’ll see you in another two minutes if we don’t stop at every floor on the way up.”
I hang up the phone, move the badge to my pants pocket so it’s covered by the hem of the jacket, and step into the crowded elevator. Slinking into the back corner, I keep my head down. Not so down that I look suspicious, but down enough to avoid eye contact.
People mindlessly chatter.
Boring shit.
How was your evening?
An update on Josh’s little indoor league game.
Someone is feeling better after a cold.
Someone telling another banker that they’ve had a positive update on theAllastrom thing, and it should be a go. I enterAllastrominto my phone to check whether what I just heard was a security breach.
The elevator empties as it gets higher.
Finally, there’s only me and an older lady in the elevator. “You’re brave wearing those shoes in the snow,” she says.
I chuckle. “I thought the snow would have been cleared by now.” I don’t need to tell her that I have a town car circling the block until it’s time for me to leave. I don’t drive in Manhattan unless I absolutely have to.
