Shit! I got too greedy. It was that last 2 million that must have done it. Should have just let that one go. I knew there was something wrong with that account. FUCK! Now they were getting close. It looked like they thought that I didn’t know it yet, though. That would help. I still had time to get away and make sure that they couldn’t track me down any further. Thankfully, I had a plan for this.
So, who am I, and who is trying to track me down? Who I am right now isn’t important, as this identity is about to completely disappear. In two hours, I will be someone completely different. The trail that the hunters are following will dead end before they can get enough information to figure out who I am. What I am, or soon to be was, is a hacker. I am a very good hacker. I’m also a very pissed off hacker with a very select list of targets. I go after drug cartels. I go after their bank accounts, and (anonymously – of course) supply incriminating evidence to the proper authorities. I am personally responsible for the convictions of four politicians, at least fifty cops, a dozen soldiers in different countries, and so many small-time dealers that I can’t even count. I’ve also drained well over $100 million from their coffers. Of course, I take a percentage of that, but about 80 percent ends up with different charities. Most dealing with drug abuse and rehab programs.
Why, you ask? Simple. My younger sister got involved with the wrong guy. I really didn’t like him, but she didn’t listen to me. I did what I could, but she made her choice. I had tried my best to take care of her after our parents died. I was always really good with computers, but the two dark years I spent in a depressed isolation after identifying what was left of her body turned me from really good to almost magical. Those two years were spent alone in the basement of my parent’s old house learning the dark secrets and how to manipulate them. I learned code. I discovered how to navigate the dark web. I discovered back doors into most security software. Sometime in that two years, some very damaging information on the drug gang that tortured and murdered my sister ended up in the hands of the DEA. Unfortunately, rival gangs somehow got the information that the gang in question was turning state’s evidence on others to try and make a deal. Gangs move faster than cops, so the State saved a bunch of money on trials.
Now, as for who I am running from? My best guess right now is either Russian or North Korean hackers. Even though I’m not sure which it is, I am sure that they were hired by the cartel that I had just relieved of about $30 million. I really should have stopped at $28 million, but then I discovered that other small account. I knew there was something wrong with it, but I was young, dumb, and still pissed off. As soon as that money was on its way through forty different accounts in six countries, my counter-hacking programs started alarming. Someone had put a back-tracking program in the account. They were looking for where the attack was initiated. That was going to take a while. I was using a bot-net attack. They were going to have to cycle through about a hundred IP addresses before they could even start the roundabout server chain track. I put in a flash drive and gave a few keystrokes and mouse clicks.
Four servers in Europe fried. Two servers in China reformatted themselves six times. One server in Iran, and another in America rewrote their entire memory with a random series of ones and zeros. The trail back to me was effectively severed with no way to retrieve the data. Three more mouse clicks, and my carefully crafted machines were reduced to useless scraps of wires, plastic and fried silicon. The ‘abandoned’ building I was using burned down from ‘homeless campfire’ that got out of control. Most of my wrecked computer system had been divided up and thrown in random dumpsters around the city. The hard drives and memory sticks were burned in a bonfire out in the desert along with all my personal identification. After making sure that there would be no way to get any information from the burning pile of rubble, I got in the van and started driving West. I arrived in Las Vegas four days later.
“Honey? Can you give me a hand here? The computer is acting up again.” I called out to my beautiful wife Linda.
“Seriously, Mark? How is it possible that a twenty-five-year-old man is so clueless about computers? What would you do without me?” She said as she gave me a quick kiss on the top of my head. A couple of quick clicks and keystrokes, and I was back to checking my e-mail. “Dinner will be ready in about half an hour.”
“Thanks, Honey.” I replied as I watched her walk back into the kitchen. It had been two years since Linda and I had gotten married. I still couldn’t believe how lucky I was.
After leaving my previous life, I had recreated myself. I was working as a truck driver for a local lumber yard. We were a union yard, so the pay was decent. I had very carefully retrieved a couple hundred thousand dollars from one of my off-shore accounts and bought a nice, modest three-bedroom house on about an acre of property. I put up a steel building next to the house to use as a shop and storage. I also added a hidden room to rebuild and upgrade my computer system. It was a small walk in storage room, but it had a false floor that would raise up to access a set of stairs leading underground, if you didn’t know how to open it up, it looked just like a regular concrete floor. I had decided that I would back off from going after dealers and cartels for a while. I had enough money tucked away if I needed it, and it was prudent to disappear and let things cool off. Still I didn’t want to lose my skills and I needed to keep up on the newer technology. The shop was for my hobby of building up older muscle cars. The wife was completely not interested in that, so she never came into my shop. This also gave me the time and privacy to get online and play a bit without her suspecting anything.
You may be wondering why I am hiding that from her. The truth is that she knows me as a simple truck driver and shade tree mechanic that is almost clueless about computers. Obviously, when I met her and we began dating, I couldn’t just come out and introduce myself as a hacker called Ghost in the computer underground. First off, the feds were looking for me. I had committed a few cybercrimes, and they also wanted to lock me in a room and use my skills for their own purposes. Second, there were several very bad criminal organizations that had me on their target list If they caught me, my end would be very ugly and extremely painful. How long would our relationship have lasted after that? Do you even need to ask? There were a couple more matters after we were married. First, it was for her own protection. If she didn’t know, they couldn’t use her for any information. Second, this ensured that she didn’t accidently let any information slip on accident. Nope. Better that she only knows the man she married.
OK. A bit about my wife. First, she is the most beautiful woman on the planet – to me. I always read in these stories how every woman is always the most beautiful woman on the planet, and I wonder how there can be more than one of them. I’m not gonna lie to you. She may be only above average in looks to you, but she is a Goddess to me. Different viewpoints and different strokes. She is 5-feet, 6-inches tall, wavy copper/bronze hair to the middle of her back, emerald green eyes, 34D breasts, slim waist with a flat tummy, slightly wide 40-inch hips with an ass to die for. Her legs are long, lean, toned, and tan. Her face has a slim nose, high cheekbones, dimples when she smiles, full bowtie kissable lips, and a proud chin that isn’t too prominent.