The Cryptos Case Files: ICE

Break-In

Stephanie Sarco had been watching Ian for six months. She knew his digital footprint better than she knew his face. That wasn’t hard. His face kept changing. He had been all over the world without leaving his apartment. She watched with interest as he raided the Tokyo Stock Market causing a severe decline of a tech company’s stock; stole the secrets of a new plastic polymer from the University of Adelaide in Australia; destroyed a small startup information company in New Delhi; and caused a rush on the largest bank in Cyprus with a cyber-rumor creating an opportunity for the third largest bank to significantly increase its share of the market. Not bad for a Tuesday night between 9:00pm and 12:00am. He was the one. Ian was ICE.

The apartment directly below Ian’s was purchased through an unknown discretionary account. It is amazing how the money of those $350 hammers can get lost in the bureaucracy. Steph had been monitoring Ian from his own cameras in the hall, watching his every move. During a “power outage” while Ian had been working late, she had gained access to his apartment and added a hardware code bypass to his security system. When the power came back on, his system was still intact. Now, she could enter as well. Trying her new toy, she entered to hear the beep warning of a security system break. Entering her backdoor code – 1 2 3 4 5, she took the time to look around.

Sarco knew the ICEman had a lair hidden somewhere at home. It was too dangerous to be a cyber-spy from the office. It took two hours of searching to find the hidden door in the closet of the home office. The lair was impressive. A circular setup of six screens with a command chair that would look normal for any megalomaniac. He could spin around, looking at his projects, as each screen showed a different caper. Steph knew better than to try and hack his system. He was too smart, too dangerous, too ICE to let anyone access this setup. She just placed a micro-camera in the arm of the chair and left everything the way she found it.

 
It was time to make contact with her newest asset. What do you wear to meet the most dangerous corporate cyber-spy in the world?

Abby Chilton Novels: Reunion - Prologue

      Alan could not believe his luck. He had been at the bar when she walked in. Blonde. Perfect figure. A red dress that may as well have been painted on. The slit up the side showed perfect legs as she sauntered up to the bar and sat down four seats away. The bartender was falling all over himself to make sure she got her rum and cola. Even he knew this one was hotter than most who walked into the St. Louis Hilton.

      She turned and looked at Alan, raised her glass and said, “Cheers!” She downed half her drink. “Will you celebrate with me? I just closed a deal and need to savor the moment.” Alan almost fell as he moved to sit beside her.

      “Congratulations. What kind of deal?” He really didn’t give a damn about the deal. He just wanted her to keep drinking. The look in her eyes was one he knew well. She had just closed some business deal that would make her obscene amounts of money. The rush was more potent than any narcotic. The deal made you feel invincible.

      She leaned in and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” She laughed. He laughed. Neither one thought it was funny. Both understood the rules of the game. You don’t tell someone in a bar about the deal you closed. Well, not on the first drink anyway.

      The woman in red ordered another rum and cola for her and another Southern Comfort on the rocks for him. They toasted her success, again. Alan had seen this type of thing before. If he played his cards right, he could help her celebrate well into the wee hours. By the third round, she was leaning into him, laughing at anything that came out of his mouth.

      “Oh, baby. I’m such a light weight,” she slurred, finishing her drink. “I know I shouldn’t drink so fast, but I am still on the closer high.” She took a sip from his glass and then looked him in the eyes. “You look sad, Alan. What’s wrong? Did you have a bad day?” She handed his glass back to him.

      “It was just the opposite of yours, sugar,” Alan replied honestly, downing the rest of his drink. He knew how to play the sad card for the sympathy, adding a sad smile to seal the deal.

      Getting up, she tossed three twenties on the bar and grabbed his hand, dragging him out the bar. Alan looked back at the bartender who could not disguise the envy in his eyes. Alan winked at the man and kept pace with this alluring woman.

      Before leaving his room, he had placed his wedding ring in the room safe. It pays to be prepared when you’re out of town on business. There’s no harm in a little a pleasure especially when the pain of losing a deal was so fresh. Once they were in the elevator, he hit the button for his floor. Before the doors were closed, she was all over him. The sweet taste of rum invaded his mouth along with her tongue. Hands were roaming all over their bodies. He wasn’t sure they would make it to his room.

      He struggled with the key card, trying three times before the light turned green on the lock. They burst into his room, slamming the door behind them. She threw him on the bed and climbed on top of him. She looked amazing straddling him. If she would just stay in focus it’d be even better.

      He knew what to say to make this moment perfect. “Glob nwable jrount.” That didn’t sound right. “Glob nwable jrount,” he repeated. His right hand had fallen off her breast. Then the headache hit him.

      “Baby, are you all right?” asked the woman. He couldn’t see her very well but he could swear she was smiling. “Is something wrong?” Now he knew he heard her giggling.

      “Romsal flagret dim!” he screamed. His entire right side was numb, his head felt like it was about to explode and the gibberish that came out of his mouth was meaningless. Help me! The woman got off and sat down on the bed beside him.

      “Alan, I think you’re having a stroke. You have all the signs. Numbness and paralysis on your right side, your words are garbage, and you can’t seem to look at me. Blurred vision and headache?” He nodded as best he could. “I thought so.” He noticed she didn’t do anything. She just sat and smiled at him. “You know, I may have slipped something in your drink. It was careless of me, I know. Don’t worry. They will never notice it during the autopsy.”

      Alan was having a hard time focusing on her words. Something about his drink. Autopsy? “Lasmer pladle frangel?”

      “Okay, Alan. There’s no call for that kind of language,” laughed the woman. “If you’re asking why I’m just sitting here instead of calling 911,” she held up her phone with the number ready to call, “there is a very good reason.” She canceled the call and tossed her phone on the bed. “You hurt my feelings.”

      Alan stared at her, waving good-bye to him. It was the last thing he ever saw.

 Coming soon: Reunoin - An Abby Chilton Novel

Spiritscape Chronicles: New Fallen Prologue

A green glow began to fill the space around Kafplee causing a rare wave of panic on the face of the demon. The demon was accustomed to causing panic in those encountered making this an unwelcome role reversal. There had been stories circulating about something new going after demons, but no one who had seen anything was around to tell. All that had gotten back was word of a green haze that was left, like an afterglow where many devils had disappeared.

Kafplee was not going out without a fight no matter what this was. The angels claimed to have taken out the beast who had consumed so many, but could they be trusted? What if they were now using the annihilator as an agent to destroy their enemies? What the hell was happening?

“I know you are here. Show yourself, coward!” screeched the twin mouths of the hellion.

A subtle chuckle filled the ether around the demon. “And why would I do that?” came the soft voice that seemed to be everywhere. “I am your judge, jury and will carry out your sentencing. You are guilty.” More soft laughter seem to come from everywhere and nowhere as the Spiritscape became greener than its usual amber.

The demon found new fear as the soft sounds created a sense of foreboding that had not been sensed since the defeat of the Demonslayer. What was this thing that could play hide and seek and still cause fear? Kafplee did what all but the most powerful demons did when faced with an unknown enemy. Run! No matter where the incubus moved there was a green fog blocking the way. It was like the voice knew where the demon was going. With desperation grasping Kafplee, a mad dash through the mist seemed to be the only option.

Knowing the demon’s strategy, the mist enveloped Kafplee before the plan could be implemented creating yet another new sensation: immobilization. The soft, terrifying laughter seemed to be coming from within as pain permeated the core of the demon causing an anguished cry and a flood of curses. The blue essence of the demon was bleeding through the many gashes appearing on the Hadian.

“Now, now,” came the voice. “Watch your language, Kafplee. You never know who may be listening.”

A screech came from the mouths of the demon. “Just do your worst and send me to Hell. I will be back and find your ass no matter how long it takes!”

The silence was deafening. For a moment the devil thought that all sound had been stolen and that was his torment as blue oozing wounds appeared from nowhere but were everywhere on the surface of the devil. Then a sound filled the green haze that stopped Kafplee from even feeling fear. There was nothing to describe the dread of the demon when the voice spoke again.

 
“What makes you think I will send you to Hell? You are now part of my collection,” laughed the voice. The green glow encompassed and filled the demon. Kafplee screamed silently.