Page 171 of The Texas Sterling Collection
After completing the shopping and stocking the kitchen, they settled in for the evening. After a martini and a light meal, exhaustion dragged them to a stopping point. Bed beckoned, and after a shower, they snuggled together in their new bed. An uncertain period lay ahead, but both were too tired to focus on the Emerald Mission.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“The plan is almost finished.” Ailbe sipped his morning coffee. “The course project I assigned to my best students was pure genius on my part. They are doing most of the coding without realizing it.”
Ailbe MacGowan was a gifted technologist. He discovered a security coding weakness and caused chaos by stealing account information from the Irish banking system. His goal was to prove to himself that he could do it undetectably. The experiment proved he could reap millions before anyone knew what happened, and he gloated over the power.
“Your cyber-invasion of the banks impressed me,” Declan said. “Breaking in but taking nothing was sheer genius. Officials must be scrambling to find something they missed. Something that isn’t there. I’m surprised nothing appeared in the news.”
Ailbe chuckled. “Would you want to admit your system had a hole in it? That kind of news would cause havoc with account holders. And the government is reluctant to acknowledge vulnerabilities in the financial system. I hold frustrated government and financial officials by the balls as they try to keep me from squeezing. Not only that, but my students did the background coding. I'm glad I have a willing group of brilliant young minds at my disposal.”
“Isn’t involving the students dangerous? What if they discover what the code does?” Declan said. “In my world, we hold things close to the vest. Outside participation could jeopardize everything. How long before those same students poke holes in your plan?”
“Cracking one banking system took a lot of effort.” Ailbe nibbled a piece of toast. “Cracking banking systems all over the globe would take a lot of time. Why not have the students do the work for me?”
Declan raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is it that complicated?”
“I gave them the most common security protocols used by most financial institutions and told them it was practice. They didn’t realize the coding was real and won’t. They think the project is merely an assignment.” Ailbe smugly snubbed Declan’s fears.
“Did any of them raise suspicions at all?” Declan shoved beans onto his fork with his knife. “You said yourself they were a smart bunch of lads.”
“No, I gave each student a separate assignment. It would take an unusually sharp student to connect even if they compared notes.” Ailbe was a 21st-century rebel, reminiscent of the anti-establishment protesters of the 1960s, only with the power of computers and the Internet behind his evil scheme.
“Remember, I can handle anyone who gets in the way.” Declan’s piercing eyes bore into Ailbe’s before he looked at his plate, stuffed a grilled tomato slice in his mouth, and chewed. Declan’s relationship with Ailbe allowed him to exercise the darker side of his personality. The world had too many people anyway, so it was merely a matter of population control.
“Nobody will discover what’s happening until it’s too late,” Ailbe said. “When I access the worldwide financial communication link, I can see all accounts in all the banks on the network. I’ll take a single Euro, or equivalent, out of every account, netting you and me millions, if not billions.”
Declan shivered, closed his eyes, and imagined all that money.
Ailbe had met Declan Knowlan six years earlier at a party. They were instantly attracted to one another. They now shared a home in an upscale neighborhood of Salthill, a suburb of Galway, where they enjoyed a beautiful view of Galway Bay. Having earned his doctorate a decade ago, Ailbe quickly became a full professor at the Galway-Mayo Institute of Technology. Declan had earned his Master of Fine Arts, the terminal degree in his field. He specialized in graphic design and held an assistant professorship at Galway University.
Declan had maintained a handful of underworld contacts he forged during his late teens, when he was heavily involved in gangs. He was careful to avoid direct connections with any specific group, instead maintaining a low profile and reaching out when necessary. He provided the muscle and, if needed, eliminated anyone who stood in the way of Ailbe’s plans.
Ailbe and Declan finished their breakfast and rose to clear the table.
“Is your target date still the end of November?” Declan rinsed the dishes to load the dishwasher.
“No. I moved it to October 29th, the Friday of Samhain weekend.” Ailbe placed coffee mugs and silverware on the counter next to the sink. “My little trick and our big treat.” He chuckled, his sly scheme rolling around in his mind. Finally, he’d make his mark on the world. “The withdrawals will occur that weekend, so most won’t realize there is a problem until sometime that following Monday. And it will take a while for them to put the pieces together, as most account holders won’t notice or complain.” A huge smile crept across Ailbe’s face as he pondered the enormous impact of his scheme.
“I heard through the computer science instructor at the university that Garda has been snooping around,” Declan said. “He didn’t say what they were snooping for, though. I’m hoping it’s not related to your plan.”
“I doubt it, Dec. I heard the same thing at GMIT,” Ailbe said. “No crime was committed, just a minor breach. If I had taken money, they’d have something to go on. I’ll do nothing else until our target date. Everything is almost ready. It will be a Samhain surprise.”
“Don’t make a fekkin mess of this, Ailbe.”
“Trust me. This scheme is foolproof.”
CHAPTER NINE
Ailbe sat in his campus office on Tuesday morning after class, reviewing lesson plans for the month. He wanted to be sure his lessons coincided with the Samhain weekend surprise. Today was October 4th. A third of the semester was already gone. A soft knock caught his attention.
“Dr. MacGowan, may I speak with you for a moment?” One of Ailbe’s best students, Keenan Moynihan, stood in the doorway.
“But, of course, Mr. Moynihan. Come in and have a seat.”
Keenan approached cautiously and sat in one of the chairs before Ailbe’s desk, not relaxing fully into the chair.
“What can I do for you?” Ailbe asked.
