Читать книгу Friction - Samantha Hunter - Страница 9

LOGAN DIDN’T so much as move to rub his eyes, even though they stung from the bright blue light of the laptop screen that held his attention. The satellite Internet service that the inn used had been difficult to tap into. It was slow, and if it happened to be rainy or cloudy, he could forget it, but he’d lucked out tonight. The weather was clear, and every star in the southeastern sky was out—not that he was stargazing.

In fact, what he was looking at was far less pleasant. He’d discovered where Mel’s pictures had been posted from and after doing more investigating he’d found two other women from the same porn site who’d been reported as missing. They were from different cities, but they’d all vacationed in the same place, Virginia Beach.

It was the link he had been looking for. If his somewhat lacking computer skills and the computer connection he’d wired up would hold, maybe he could find those final pieces of the puzzle even sooner than he’d hoped.

He’d wanted to go to the same hotel Mel had stayed at, but that would have looked too suspicious. So he’d made some phone calls and had asked her family and friends to see if they knew more about her vacation plans, had received postcards, or anything of the sort.

He’d finally hit pay dirt—Mel’s best friend, a chatty woman named Terri, had told him that Mel had met some guy and had been excited about going on an offshore gambling boat. Apparently, the man she’d hooked up with was a high roller looking for eye candy, and Mel had been vulnerable after her breakup. Maybe the man was the one who could explain what had happened to Mel. Logan had tried to get a description, but Terri hadn’t had too many details.

Logan had an itch that this was the lead he needed. He’d heard of offshore gaming, operations where tourists were taken far enough out to sea that federal and state laws about gambling—and God knows what else—didn’t apply.

It was a popular business, and lots of tourists took advantage, not always aware of what they were getting into. Unregulated, many of the boats that promoted offshore gaming were suspected of being involved in the drug trade, as well as money laundering. So it was more than possible that one of them could be running a pornography operation on the side. And the Internet was the perfect vehicle to distribute their product, since the boats frequently offered online gambling.

Logan needed passenger lists and schedules, and he had to find out which boat Mel had been on. Clenching his jaw over the slow response of his connection, he waited, determined to be patient as he downloaded everything he could find about local tours available, their routes and schedules.

He didn’t have any proof yet, but his gut told him that he was on the right track.

SARAH FOUND herself wandering around aimlessly later that evening. She’d fallen asleep after Ivy had left, and though she’d had only a restless nap, she’d gotten up past dinnertime and was now completely awake with nothing to do. It was nearing nine o’clock and almost dark. She was hungry, and thought she would go and find some food. After a brief venture outside, she’d quickly slipped back in the door after being swarmed by mosquitoes.

Great. Just wonderful.

She poked around the downstairs of the inn, chatting with some of the guests, but most of them were couples who retired to their rooms shortly after she appeared.

Plopping down into a deep leather sofa in the main room, her spirits really plummeted when she realized that the TV offered only local channels, and local channels had next to nothing on. She really was in hell. If she hadn’t been stressed out before her vacation started, she would be by the time she got home.

She disliked being at loose ends, at night most of all. The daylight drove away most of her demons, but in the lonely hours of the evening, she usually had to work to keep her thoughts from eating her alive. Her mother used to caution that idle hands did the devil’s work. For the most part she’d left her devils firmly in the past; but at night, if it was too quiet, when the loneliness took over they still haunted her.

Crossing the room to the registration desk, she heard some murmuring coming from a small room to the back. Curious and looking for anything to do, anyone to talk to, she went in the direction of the voice.

An older man sat at a computer, swearing profusely under his breath. She recognized him; he was Harold Sanders, Karen’s husband. Harold was a polite and polished guy, and here he was swearing like a sailor. Computers brought out that familiar stream of colorful language in the best of people. He appeared to be at the end of his rope.

Sarah knocked softly, and he managed a small, polite smile when he saw her in the doorway.

“Yes, um, Ms. Jessup. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you—is there something you need?”

Sarah wasn’t sure what to say. Directing her eyes to the computer he sat in front of, hoping she didn’t look like an addict in desperate need of a fix, she tried to sound casual.

“Having computer problems?”

Harold emitted a gusty sigh. “I’m sorry. I must have been turning the air blue, eh?” He settled back in his seat, gesturing in disgust toward the desktop computer.

“This satellite connection we have usually works pretty well. Sometimes it’s slow, but no worse than your average modem, and it’s usually enough for our needs. Tonight something is bogging it down, and I don’t understand it—I’m not handling any huge files, and the weather is clear.”

Sarah nodded. “Want me to take a look?”

Harold looked at her doubtfully. “You know anything about these things?”

“A bit. It’s my work. I don’t know what I can do, but I could probably tell you if it’s a problem with your machine or your network—you might have a virus.”

He looked hesitant. “Oh, I hope not. I keep the virus detection software updated. But I don’t think I should have you working on your vacation—Karen would have a fit.”

Sarah smiled sweetly, trying not to appear too eager. Maybe if she could look at his machine, she might be able to sneak in a look at her e-mail, her discussion groups…just one little peek.

“No problem at all. Truth is, I was kind of restless and at loose ends, wandering around when I found you. You’d be doing me a favor if you let me have a look at it.”

His brow creased in concern. “You’re not enjoying your stay?”

She hedged, realizing she was on delicate ground. “It’s my first day—you know how it takes some time to adjust to a new place, a new schedule. It’s beautiful here, but I’m just not in vacation mode yet.”

“I understand. It can be hard to wind down if you’re used to a busy schedule.”

She looked expectantly at the computer, then stepped forward when he was still hesitant. “It should only take me a few minutes. Why don’t you get something to drink? I…I could use something as well. It’s so hot tonight.”

Harold, looking relieved that he had a way to both escape his problem and serve his guest, stood up quickly, surrendering his chair.

Sarah sat down, running her fingers over the keyboard like a caress, a calm focus overcoming her as she tapped keys and studied the lines of text flying over the black background of the DOS box she’d called up.

Harold set an icy glass of tea by the side of the monitor, and she addressed him without looking up.

“Do you share this connection with any other computer in the inn or another business?”

“No, this is the only machine, and we just have one account on the connection. As you know, laptops and other such things are discouraged here. They interrupt the vacation environment.”

Sarah choked down a scoff. “Yes, well, as far as I can tell, you have someone sucking bandwidth off your connection.”

“I’m sorry…?”

“Someone is tapping into your connection. It seems like it would have to be someone physically here, in the building, but it could be a neighbor or someone nearby. Wireless and satellite connections are easy for others to tap into, much like splicing a television cable connection, if you know how to do it.”

Harold seemed at a loss. “But who would do such a thing? We know all of our neighbors. They wouldn’t—are you sure that’s what it is?”

His tone turned skeptical, perhaps unconvinced that a woman could make this technical assessment, she thought sourly. She’d run into that problem before, when she’d tried white collar work, where it was more important to her IT colleagues that she was datable than if she was competent. At least her little hacker circles had been a level playing field.

“I’m sure. It would be hard for me to explain to you why, but it’s there, believe me. I do this kind of thing every day. With some more work, I can probably trace the machine, maybe get the user’s name, but probably not the location.”

“And you know how to do this?”

“Like I said, it’s part of my job.”

“Yes, well, this is all very disturbing. You can’t find who it is? Have they, uh, hacked into our machine?”

Sarah shook her head. “They’re using your connection, but your machine seems fine. The only way I could find out who they are—maybe—is if I got into their machine and could track down some identifying information.”

She caught Harold’s startled glance and sat back, grabbing her tea. “But that wouldn’t really be legal, or necessary. However, I can cause them a little inconvenience.” Sarah smiled slyly, catching Harold’s eye. “I can shut them out. They may find a way back in, but for now they’d be locked out, and you would have your connection back and running faster. You can report the breach to your satellite provider tomorrow, and see what they can do to prevent it from happening again.”

Relief brightened her host’s features. “That sounds wonderful. Would you like a snack with your tea? Karen made pie earlier.”

“Harold, you are a man after my own heart.”

She smiled with sheer joy. Hacking and snacking—exactly what she’d needed to feel like herself again, and to have some fun.

Shutting off the interloper wasn’t exactly easy, but she knew she could get in there and do it, given a few minutes. Grinning, she imagined the hacker’s frustration when his or her connection was cut. Probably a neighborhood teen who’d figured out how to jump on the wireless connection for a free ride. No doubt as bored and restless as she was.

When she was done, she’d also warn Harold about handing over his computer to a strange user so easily, and run him through the basics of security, both human and technical. If she were a corrupt person, she could get control of their network, or get enough informationto do the small resort some serious damage. Hackers took exactly these kinds of opportunities to do their thing, sometimes right underneath people’s noses.

Forgetting that, she became so caught up in her work, she barely noticed anything, mumbling to herself and lost in the world of codes and programs, completely forgetting about Harold until she heard him snoring lightly, and looked over to see the older man had fallen asleep in a chair. His thin, gold, wire-frame glasses slid down his nose a little bit, and she felt affection for him, even though she didn’t know him very well.

Sleeping like that, he reminded her of her grandfather, and the memory brought both a smile and an ache. Pops was gone now, and she missed him horribly. He’d been the only one in her family who hadn’t judged her harshly for her mistakes.

Sighing, she decided against checking her e-mail or lists—for all she knew, Ian or E.J. had put a sniffer out there to tag her if she showed up, and Ian would dock her vacation pay if he caught her, as he’d threatened before she left. She finished off the fantastic banana cream pie Harold had brought her and shut the screen down.

Closing up shop, she reassured herself that the problem was solved for the moment. Pulling his jacket from the back of his chair, she covered Harold up and left him a quick note, whispering the words out loud as she wrote them. Harry, Connection fixed. Thanks for the snack. S.J.

Wandering back up the stairs, she grabbed a bunch of magazines from a stack on a table and grimaced as she glanced at the titles: Country Living, Martha Stewart Living and Sport Fisherman.

No Cosmo, People or, better yet, techie mags like 2600 or Secure Enterprise. Even Wired would do in a pinch. Ah, well, beggars couldn’t be choosers and it was going to be a long night. She could have gone several more hours online before winding down, and now she had a buzz from her light hacking episode. She grinned, the familiar happiness gripping her whenever she thought about the fact that she was paid to do this kind of work now.

As she reached the top landing, another door softly shut. Not really paying attention, she kept walking and nearly collided head-on with Logan—a noticeably more tense Logan than she had met that afternoon. He looked like something had really pissed him off.

She felt another, stronger tug. She liked him looking this way, and she could feel the energy that practically arced through the air like an electrical current. She took in the tight black T-shirt that hugged his firm upper body, and the worn jeans, feeling that surge of interest again.

“You okay?”

His eyes snapped toward her and he stepped back, running a hand through already disheveled ebony hair, getting control of himself.

“Yeah, just restless, and hot—did the AC break? I’m heading out for a beer.”

She stared at him—the inn was kept at a comfortable seventy degrees, but he did look overly warm.

“Want company?”

They were both surprised at her question, but she didn’t take it back—she didn’t have anything better to do.

“Sure.”

Shrugging, she did an about-face and headed back down the stairs in front of him. At the bottom, she put the magazines back.

“You know anywhere to go?”

“I spotted a small place in town this morning, on my way in. I hope it’s still open. It’s within walking distance.”

“Everything is,” she replied with light sarcasm. “The mosquitoes will carry us back and forth. It’s bad out there, take it from me. I can drive.” She hesitated at the door, wanting to get out, but not relishing all the itchy bites that awaited her. Logan pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Hold on.”

As she watched him disappear past the kitchen, she wondered what he was up to. He returned a few minutes later holding a small, green aerosol can.

“Heavy-duty stuff. It smells, and you should shower it off so it’s not on your skin all night, but it’ll do the job for now.”

Sarah grinned and held out her arms. “Do me.”

No sooner were the words spoken than she felt the clog in her throat, and he slanted her a roguish smile, the tension in his face easing as he pointed the can at her.

“Your wish is my pleasure.”

Sarah closed her eyes as he covered her lightly with spray and wrinkled her nose as the strong scent surrounded them and she felt the cool aerosol on her skin. He did both legs and then moved up her torso and by the time he got to her arms, she was tingling all over. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but…

“Hold out your hands.”

She opened her eyes. “Why?”

“You can rub it on your neck and over your hair without getting it on your face.”

She frowned, placing her hands palms up. “This is ridiculous. I feel like I’m going on safari, not for a beer.”

“Small price to pay. You should wash your hands before we go, too.”

She put her hand out for the can. “Your turn.”

“I can get myself.”

She shrugged. “It’s your skin, slick.”

She walked back and washed her hands quickly before rejoining him. The entire lobby smelled like bug spray, but they were done and out the door, walking into the heavy, humid night air. Mosquitoes buzzed around them, disappointed and not biting. Sarah smiled.

“I’m glad you found that spray. I was going nuts in there.”

“Having a hard time settling into vacation?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Me, too. It’s been a while.”

“I guess you have to ease into it. Vacation can be hard work.”

They continued the pleasant small talk as they walked the narrow town streets toward the main strip, where they found the bar was still open. There were a few people around, touring the street that looked out over the marinas and the harbor, and the Coast Guard station buzzed with activity just across the way.

The bar was small, quiet and bathed in golden light. Sarah was surprised to see a small band setting up in the corner. Live music—who would’ve thought? Small wooden tables were scattered everywhere, and Logan led her to one near a dusky corner, away from the band.

They gave the waitress their orders and faced each other quietly in the dim light. Strangers sitting together like old friends, waiting for a beer. It was intimate, uncomfortably so. Sarah shifted in her chair, looking at the handsome man who sat so close to her that their knees almost touched under the small table. She moved hers to the left, trying to discreetly avoid the contact, and smiled at the young waitress when she delivered two frosty beers to the table.

“So…”

“So…”

They spoke simultaneously, laughed together, and broke the strain somewhat. Logan lifted his beer to her, and she did the same before drinking.

“It’s a shame.”

“What’s that?” Tilting her beer back, she took a sip, letting the amber liquid slide down her throat. It was perfect.

“The two of us, apparently such workaholics that we can’t get into the vacation groove.” He smiled across the table, tipping his bottle toward her. “But I have to admit, things are looking up.”

Sarah smiled and took another swig, trying to decide how to respond. She didn’t want to invite anything inadvertently—or did she? No. She didn’t know him, didn’t know what kind of man he was. You could never trust the impressions people offered you.

Swallowing slowly, she met his gaze, and found nothing more than friendly interest there. She loosened up.

“I’ve never had an actual vacation, not since I was a kid. I guess I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Who do you work for? They don’t offer any vacation time?”

“Oh, no. They offer it, but I don’t take it.” She began to explain further and then changed her mind. For some reason, she didn’t want to talk with him about her job. “Let’s not talk about work. Maybe we can help each other get into this vacation groove.”

His eyes warmed and she watched as the rim of the bottle was held poised before his straight, firm and slightly wet lips. Uh-oh.

“Fair enough. Let’s start over. No work, just play. Sound good?”

She nodded, oddly relieved.

“I wonder what kind of music they’re going to have.” He glanced toward the band, and then looked back to her.

“I just hope it’s not country. That really would be the last straw.”

As if by magic, two more beers appeared on the table, and Sarah realized she was feeling a little woozy. She had missed dinner, and the beer, which normally didn’t have more effect on her than a carbonated drink, was fuzzing her brain.

“I could use something to eat. Do they have a menu?”

A short time later, more beers were delivered, along with a stack of wings and loaded potato skins. Sarah gazed at the food adoringly and loaded up her plate.

“Ah, heaven.”

Logan watched her eat with a combination of admiration and humor, helping himself as well. Sarah seemed to have forgotten him altogether as she concentrated on the food, a slight flush coloring the fine skin of her cheekbones, a little bit of sauce from a wing clinging to her jaw. He reached over, swiping it away with his finger.

“I like a woman with healthy appetites.”

Heat sparked between them, and Logan didn’t know if it was the lateness of the hour, or the beer, or both. He didn’t care. Sarah was gorgeous, even stuffing her face with wings. He smiled when she sat back, sated.

“So, we can’t talk about work, but we can talk about other stuff. Get to know each other a little better.”

“Like what?” She frowned, wondering what he wanted to know, though in all honesty she was curious about him, too.

“Well…” He grinned in the direction of the band, definitely of the country-rock variety. “You apparently don’t like country music. What kind do you like?”

This was a safe enough topic. “I visit a lot of jazz clubs and alternative music spots in the city. Some punk, techno—that kind of thing. It’s where a lot of my friends hang out.” She decided to keep things in the present tense—she’d told him before she was from Brooklyn, and there wasn’t any reason to complicate things now. And she couldn’t explain her move without explaining her job. Depending on what was happening here, maybe it was best he believed she lived back up north.

“They’re musicians?”

“Some.”

“Techno, huh? Do you ever rave?” he asked with a smile and she smiled back.

“I’ve been once or twice. It’s a little too crazy for me, and I prefer to keep my mind and body clean. Drugs aren’t a requirement, of course, but they’re pretty prevalent in the clubs. Not my scene, really.”

“Me, either. But it sounds like an exciting life.”

“Not especially.” She smiled, thinking of the movie portrayals of hackers, all dressed in black with slick haircuts and shiny earrings, attending raves every night and talking the talk.

Some of that was true—there was a distinct “look” among her old set of friends—but the lifestyle wasn’t really all that glamorous or exciting. Sitting in front of a computer for hours—or days—on end wasn’t the stuff excitement was made of. Not unless you were into it.

“It’s just a life.” She took a swig of beer, looking at him over the top of the bottle. “So what about you?”

He shrugged. “I like most music, nothing in particular though. I go to outdoor concerts back home, but I have never really been to clubs or anything like that.” Except on raids, he thought quietly with a smile.

“Do you dance?”

“Sure, is that a hint?” His eyes sparkled and she almost retracted her question, but decided to let it stand. Why not?

“Well, this music is better than I thought—not the old ‘my-truck-broke-down-and-my-girlfriend-left-me-for-my-best-friend’ kind of thing. It has a beat.”