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directly into the New South Wales Police Departmentā€™s network. Well thatā€™s stupid of them. Cookie couldnā€™t understand why a network administrator would authorise something like that. No protection at allā€¦ He wasted no time burrowing from the Departmentā€™s uninteresting network and gaining access to the mainstream nano-net. From there he linked up with his pipeline and entered the heart of UniForceā€™s network, feeling torn between his hammer-type attack on Echelon and digging for information that might help Dan recover Jen. In the end, he settled for both.

He had to be careful not to trigger electronic traps. Now they were everywhere, not just near Echelon, and they slowed his progress. His adversaries had planted them like mines around every major system. Like bear-traps, they would clamp around his paws the instant he came within range and alert UniForce personnel of his whereabouts. It understandably made Cookie nervous.

Echelon, he determined, was impenetrable. Somebody had run an impassable ring around it during the interlude. Damn. Cookie swore luridly in his mind. Still, he had to admire the beautiful simplicity of the solution. They knew he was on their network and that repairing the UG7 barriers would take time, so theyā€™d erected a rigid blockade around Echelon, their most prized possession. He couldnā€™t reach it, not anymore. A heavy feeling settled in his chest. All that work for nothing.

Samantha felt his sorrowful vibrations from the kitchen and took a break from her frustrating culinary exercise to see what was wrong. ā€œWhat is it?ā€

ā€œWe were away too long,ā€ Cookie explained. ā€œTheyā€™ve tucked Echelon into a steel box and buried it in their backyard.ā€

ā€œSo? You can cut through steel, canā€™t you?ā€

He slowly shook his head, feeling defeated. ā€œNot this time. Whoever did this is good enough to know what heā€™s doing.ā€ He grudgingly admired it. Cookie would complement even a hated enemy if he or she did something particularly clever. ā€œThereā€™s no way through this. Theyā€™ve restricted network traffic to the bare minimum Echelon needs to do its job. And I canā€™t slip in pretending to be genuine data because it scans those streams for executables. Fuck me, but theyā€™ve even locked themselves out, so I donā€™t know how they intend to do maintenance.ā€ He mused over that for a moment. ā€œThey must have a key, but theyā€™ve buried the lock. So only they know where to find the door.ā€

ā€œOh,ā€ Samantha said, mirroring his sorrow for deeper reasons than mourning over Echelon. ā€œWell donā€™t worry about it. Whatā€™s the point now Jenā€™s gone anyway?ā€

Cookie pulled her to sit on his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and drew her close for the hug he knew she needed. ā€œHey, itā€™s going to be okay.ā€

ā€œOh yeah?ā€ She snorted indelicately. ā€œHowā€™s that? Jenā€™s probably dead already.ā€

ā€œDonā€™t say that.ā€ Cookie was desperately clutching to hope and was finding the straws harder to hold onto than heā€™d imagined. ā€œThereā€™s a chance sheā€™s still alive and Iā€™m sure she wouldnā€™t want you talking about her like sheā€™s already dead. Sheā€™d want you to keep hoping for her, wouldnā€™t she?ā€

Samantha smeared silent tears across her cheeks. ā€œI guess.ā€

ā€œWhat do you think of Dan?ā€

She shrugged. ā€œHeā€™s already saved Jen once, so I guess heā€™s all right.ā€

ā€œā€˜All rightā€™ enough to save her again?ā€ Cookie asked, wondering whether it was smart to pin all their hopes on one man. And a bounty hunter at thatā€¦ not the most dependable profession.

ā€œI hope so.ā€ The fragile quiver in Samanthaā€™s voice spoke volumes about how little hope she actually had, she was just trying to project the appearance of hope for Cookieā€™s sake. Bubbly and cheerful much of the time, she was also a realist. She knew Jenā€™s chances were slim.

ā€œWell, Echelonā€™s out of the question, so I can dedicate my time to digging up helpful information.ā€ Cookie squeezed Samantha tight, trying to impart some of his feigned strength.

ā€œAnd I have some more sacrificing to do in the kitchen.ā€ Samantha kissed him on the forehead before scooting away and Cookie felt her lips on his skin long after sheā€™d removed them, leaving him warm and fuzzy to offset the desolation within.

A datamining program returned some interesting results and enveloped his train of thought. Heā€™d set the application to work mining for information about Estebanā€™s history, cross-referenced with Dan. There were five records and he examined each in chronological order.

The first was a memorandum from the previous assassination co-ordinator. Interestingā€¦ Cookie wondered how damaging that single record could be; UniForce spent much time and advertising money denying the existence of their assassination branch while simultaneously promoting it in the corporate underworld. He suspected he had access to enough information to indict the entire management team and sink the company for good, so he began caching all the records he inspected, just in case. It was tempting to replicate the whole database but he knew that would create enough network traffic to alert even the sleepiest system administrator. He or she would simply have to follow the torrent of data back to the Departmentā€™s network and from there it would only take minutes to pinpoint his location. Tempting, but too dangerous.

Irritation oozed through the memorandum in which the co-ordinator outlined the problem: a lowly Australian detective based in Parramatta wasnā€™t dropping the UniForce-tagged case. It finished by recommending UniForce apply pressure on the Australian Government to control the rogue officer.

The second record detailed how political pressure had been unsuccessful in dissuading the determined detective, Dan Sutherland. Furthermore, the situation was becoming dire: Sutherland was sniffing at the assassinā€™s heels. The co-ordinator said he had reprimanded the operative, Esteban Garcia Valdez, for his slovenly procedures, which had enabled Sutherland to track him. Heā€™d used the record to reinforce UniForceā€™s work ethos and warn active assassins to act professionally at all times - UniForce would not tolerate sloppy killings.

Cookie, totally hooked, devoured the third record. It depicted the horrors UniForce had inflicted upon Dan to persuade him to drop the case. Theyā€™d slaughtered his cat and scattered its entrails across his property, phoned him every night to deliver death threats, and offered staggering sums of money as a bribe. Jesus H Christ, Cookie thought. Who the hell is this guy? He couldnā€™t think of anyone stubborn enough to withstand the brunt of UniForceā€™s shit. The list of atrocities scrolled for three pages, a catalogue of horror that chilled Cookieā€™s blood. But the record made it clear that UniForce had been meticulously careful to veil their hand in the matter. As far as Dan was concerned, Esteban had orchestrated everything alone.

He was almost afraid to open the fourth record. When he did, the words assaulted him with a dark portrayal of Estebanā€™s arrest. Whoever had updated the database had been furious that someone had poached one of UniForceā€™s top assassins. It listed serious justifications for declaring company emergency. Esteban had been one of the few assassins with detailed knowledge about UniForceā€™s assassination branch. The co-ordinator was worried he might use the information as currency to buy himself a lenient sentence. UniForce therefore applied the full weight of their political muscle and the fifth record was a glowing report of their success; Esteban was off the hook. Yeah, but only thanks to a dubious judicial decision. Cookie wasnā€™t impressed. So much for judges being impervious to bribes. But UniForce had stripped Esteban of his field status, planting him in management instead.

How could he start working for such an evil company? It didnā€™t make sense. Even if he didnā€™t know they were the ones who killed his cat, he knew they were behind the assassination. Didnā€™t he put two and two together? Cookie was puzzling over it when the datamining application dredged up two more records.

He read them hungrily, his appetite whetted by the developing mystery. ā€œOh my God.ā€

Samantha had just walked in, balancing two plates of slop and two sets of cutlery. She put one on the bench Cookie was using as a desk. ā€œHereā€™s your soup.ā€

ā€œTa,ā€ he replied absently, reading the final records a second and third time.

ā€œWhatā€™s ā€˜oh my godā€™?ā€ Samantha asked, tasting her concoction and wishing sheā€™d found some salt in the cupboard.

ā€œI know why Danā€™s wife was murderedā€¦ and I know why Esteban was the one who did it.ā€

ā€œWhat?ā€ She abandoned the soup and leant over his shoulder to read the words herself.

ā€œWeā€™ve gotta buzz Simon.ā€ Cookie was trying hard to regulate his breathing. ā€œDan would wanna know about this.ā€

ā€œAlready? The poor guy probably just got home.ā€

ā€œHe said to call him if we needed anything, and this is important,ā€ Cookie rationalised.

A few seconds more and she capitulated. ā€œOkay, whatā€™s the number?ā€

He gave her Simonā€™s card. ā€œJust one ring.ā€

ā€œI remember.ā€ She dialled his number, let it ring once, then terminated the call and replaced the receiver. ā€œOkay, now what?ā€

Cookie resumed datamining. ā€œNow we wait.ā€

Chapter 8

The earth is not dying, it is being killed. And those that are killing it have names and addresses.

Utah Phillips

Saturday, September 18, 2066

UniForce Headquarters

01:29 San Francisco, USA

To say James was in a foul mood would be a grievous understatement. Dark bags had settled under his eyes, the product of ten hours sleep in three days. Sweat soaked his clothes and a repugnant odour, a thousand times worse than deodorant alone could mask, leaked from his armpits. He was treating a throbbing headache with unwise doses of Hexadril, a new Xantex painkiller. And he was beating back fatigue with stimulant after stimulant, which were rapidly losing their effect. His mind would race for half an hour after popping a pill before nestling back to a numbing daze. Yet heā€™d surprised himself with his gutsy determination and endurance. He hadnā€™t pulled an all-nighter since he was a student and heā€™d never attempted a foolhardy four-day marathon. The ten hours rest didnā€™t count because heā€™d hardly slept - the dangerous quantities of stimulant heā€™d ingested had ensured that.

His efficiency was suffering too. Itā€™d taken him twice as long as usual to erect a barrier around Echelon. He checked the systemā€™s pulse. James was proud of the defence heā€™d designed. It should go in the next issue of Computing Genius! He had the only key, a memorised sequence of alphanumeric characters that he needed to apply in sequence in order to pass through the digital fortress. Stupid UG7ā€¦ this wouldnā€™t be necessary if that bloody network had kept them out in the first place. Indeed, overconfidence in the UG7-rating was why there was no security on internal systems. Everybody had believed UG7 protection was more than adequate.

Other members of his team had done a superb job securing the mail system. One less thing I have to worry about, he thought while chewing a fingernail. Nowā€¦ letā€™s kick this hackerā€™s butt back to his terminal. James surveyed the sorry state of the network. His team had made spaghetti of it. Oh Christ. It was tempting to shut everything down and repair the damage at his leisure. But Ice Bitch would kill me. He snorted. Disconnecting the network would necessitate shutting Echelon down and he had no idea how long it would take to repair. We could be offline for a week. Hell, it might be faster to rebuild the fucking thing from scratchā€¦ Interrupting Echelon was not an option, not even for a second. Besides, heā€™d just spent two days protecting it from internal attack, which had purchased him time to isolate and eradicate hostiles behind the firewall.

Echelon was the lifeblood of UniForce. Without it, UniForce couldnā€™t generate income. And if the shareholders thought Echelon were vulnerable, theyā€™d abandon UniForce stock in droves and the company might go under. That reminds me, James thought with a satisfied smile. I should dump my UniForce stock before tendering my resignation. He still planned

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