Calculated Extortion Read online

  CALCULATED EXTORTION

  A Calculated Series Prequel Novella

  K.T. Lee

  Vertical Line Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 by Vertical Line Publishing, LLC ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, sold or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission, except for statuary uses, the use of brief quotations in a book review, and other quotations with appropriate reference.

  K.T. Lee

  www.ktleeauthor.com

  Publisher’s Note: This work of fiction is a product of the writer’s overactive imagination. It is not intended to be a factual representation of events, people, locales, businesses, government agencies, or cybersecurity. Names are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Calculated Extortion/ K.T. Lee. -- 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-947870-04-8

  Book cover design by The Book Design House

  www.thebookdesignhouse.com

  The Calculated Series

  Calculated Extortion (Prequel Novella)

  Calculated Deception (Book 1)

  Calculated Contagion (Book 2)

  For my family

  One

  Martín Vásquez ran a frantic hand along his nightstand and fumbled his buzzing phone onto the floor. He found the infernal device and squinted his eyes against the harshness of the glowing screen. Those who knew him well did not make it a habit to contact him in the middle of the night, and the message was almost certain to be urgent. Before he could read the lengthy text in its entirety, his stomach dropped. Their hacker had found a way in. Again. He rubbed a hand down his face and reached for his laptop. While he waited for the login screen to appear, Martín reread the message and looked over at his sleeping wife. It was a wonder Camila hadn’t awoken from the noise of him stirring or from the force of the tension radiating from his entire person.

  When his computer made an ironically cheerful sound, Martín entered his password. A few keystrokes later, it was clear the hacker had made good on his threat. How their attacker had access to his personal cell phone number was anyone’s guess. However, it was probably easily obtained by the same person currently holding their computer systems hostage.

  Despite the futility of the gesture, he pounded his finger against the enter key on his keyboard with a quiet desperation. It had been over ten years since Martín had a literal gun placed against his head. However, the sinking realization that he had no choice but to do as he was told and hope that he could survive to fight the next battle was exactly the same. Lives would be affected if he didn’t pay. Families would go without food and medical care while the insurance company sorted through the wreckage of who was responsible to determine if the charity’s policy would cover it. His people were under attack and God only knew what someone like this was capable of if they didn’t get what they wanted. At 11:30 p.m., he entered his banking information and hoped that the worst was over.

  Two

  Scarlett Callahan had very nearly succeeded in taking a break from her work as a FBI profiler over the weekend. While research showed that yoga and meditation were good for the psyche, she preferred to unplug by redirecting her nervous energy to something more tangible—repurposing antique furniture. Which she did very well…until she checked her email. Scarlett couldn’t resist peeking into the one from the complaint department. While working in the complaint department was almost universally dreaded and where new FBI agents were sent to pay their dues, those emails always held the most promise for a bizarre case—her favorite. All manner of crazy non-cases flowed in through complaints but this case had all the hallmarks of a real criminal. By Sunday evening, she had a meeting set up with two special agents and was already formulating a game plan.

  On Monday morning, Scarlett arrived at the office early to study the details of her new case before she brought in the agents who would be helping with the fieldwork. Scarlett had recently transferred to the Chicago FBI field office from the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime in Quantico, Virginia, and still had plenty of proving herself to do. While the FBI kept a concentration of behavioral analysts, known colloquially as profilers, at the NCAVC, the Chicago field office had enough work to keep a dedicated, on-site profiler busy. When the position in her hometown opened up, she jumped at the chance to come back to the eclectic, busy city she’d never stopped considering her home. She had fewer years of experience than some, but her Ph.D. in psychology and track record of success had enabled her transfer to a position with a higher pay grade and (slightly) bigger office.

  Scarlett settled into her desk chair and began to study the meager pile of information they’d collected on the case over the weekend. The ransomware attack at World Partners for Peace was a new twist on an old favorite. While cybercrime had unfortunately become quite common, the extortion of thousands of dollars from a respected charity was unusual, to say the least. She shook her head as she read the summary of who would be impacted by the cyberattack. Fortunately for her, one of her closest friends was a FBI special agent who, like her, specialized in the unusual. She and her partner would be arriving shortly.

  The sound of footsteps approaching her office brought Scarlett out from behind her desk and into the small sitting area she’d squeezed into her large-for-the-FBI office. Scarlett had designed her small space to be a quiet haven from the buzz of a demanding workplace. While it was personally nice to have a cozy office, it was a professional necessity. She intended to do everything she could to make sure those who visited it had a clear head without distractions. Hers was a business of mind games, and winning them required attention to the smallest detail. Thus, it had been worth the effort to haul two compact couches through the painstaking security procedures at the front door. Fortunately for her, the antique furniture she preferred was smaller than modern furniture and the reupholstered seats served their purpose of being both comfortable and welcoming. Scarlett laid out two sets of crisp, clean documents on the small coffee table in front of the couches just in time for Alexis and Parker’s arrival.

  “Hey Scarlett!” Alexis Thompson walked into her office carrying two coffee mugs. Alexis wore a pair of neatly-tailored gray pants and a blue dress shirt, and her hair was pulled back in a bobbing ponytail. As usual, her eyes were bright with purpose. She held out one of the mugs to her friend and Scarlett smiled when she saw the tea bag floating at the top. Alexis gestured to her own cup. “I would have brought you coffee but…”

  “Yeah, I’m not that desperate. Blech. I mean, thank you.” Scarlett wrapped her hands around the warm mug and lifted it to her old friend. While many of her colleagues willingly drank the dark substance that came out of the communal pot the Bureau swore was coffee, Scarlett had her limits. There was a café in the building for those that weren’t brave enough to consume the free stuff, and Scarlett was a regular. However, she’d arrived today before the small café even opened, and tea was the safer choice.

  “Morning, Dr. Callahan.” Special Agent Parker Mitchell entered the room and nodded at Scarlett before closing the door behind him. Parker picked up the papers she’d laid out and settled on the couch to study them. Scarlett didn’t know Parker well yet but Alexis spoke well of him. While Scarlett was still forming her opinion of Parker, the approval of the whip-smart, no-nonsense Alexis spoke well of her more quiet, serious colleague. Parker projected a calm and competent demeanor, and most importantly, he was low maintenance. He said what he meant and meant what he said. That wasn’t the sort of personality trait that Scarlett took for granted. He looked up from his reading. “Must be big to have such an early meeting.”

  Scarlett took a sip of tea. “It isn
’t big…yet. Just unusual.”

  Parker raised an eyebrow. “It’s never good when you’ve weirded out the psychologist.” Alexis rolled up the sheets of paper Scarlett had placed on the table and used them to whack Parker in the shoulder, who remained unmoved. “What? She’s seen it all and she’s friends with you. She’s got to have a high threshold.” Alexis raised the paper again and Parker held his hands up in surrender. “So, what’s up, Scarlett?”

  Scarlett plucked the paper out of Alexis’ hand, unfurled the weapon and flattened it on the table. Alexis raised her mug to her face to hide her grin. Scarlett and Alexis had been close since they’d been assigned to the same dorm freshman year. Alexis didn’t share Scarlett’s Ph.D. in psychology but her work as an agent for the FBI had further developed her considerable natural talent of reading people. Despite not realizing how much her new job jitters were on display, Scarlett felt her shoulders relax while refereeing Parker and Alexis. Alexis, to her credit, didn’t look too smug.

  Scarlett cleared her throat and began. “Yesterday, we received a call from the CEO of World Partners for Peace, Martín Vásquez. World Partners is one of the largest donors to sustainable development initiatives and crisis medical care both in the States and abroad. His insurance company required that he let us know that his computer systems were hacked. They were taken completely offline. Martín received an email immediately after the system went down, demanding a ransom to turn it back on. The amount was small and he paid it.”

  Parker sucked in a breath. “That’s a dangerous precedent.”

  Scarlett nodded. “He panicked. He was worried it would affect the people they support. He just wanted it to be over.”

  Alexis furrowed her eyebrows at the notes on the table. “Does he know who was responsible?”

  “No idea,” Scarlett said.

  “So what if it was just a test? You have the good faith of a hacker that they won’t do it again?” Parker asked.

  Scarlett sighed. “I don’t think he was given any sort of guarantee. Not that it’s worth much coming from someone stealing from you, anyway. In his defense, he probably didn’t think he had another option.”

  “So, what’s the plan to stop it from happening another time?” Parker asked.

  “It already did. His contact with us only occurred after the hacker had taken over the system a second time. It happened late Saturday night, ten days after the initial attack. This time, a text message was sent to his cell phone. The first message was all business but the second message was a little more personal.”

  Parker whistled. “Okay, I get it. He tried to keep it under wraps until it happened again. Now they’re panicking.”

  “Exactly,” Scarlett said. “And the last time Mr. Vásquez paid the ransom, he received a follow up message.” Scarlett looked down at the paper. “‘Strike Two. Want to see what else I can do?’”

  Alexis scrunched up her nose. “Ew. Someone wants attention.”

  Scarlett nodded. “And they’re getting it. He contacted his software providers immediately after the first attack but they didn’t find the hole the hacker used to get in either time. That means they probably left the door open and are planning on coming back.”

  “What kind of person goes after a charity? And what if our hacker turns violent?” Alexis asked.

  Scarlett placed the mug of tea on her desk. “Both good questions. We don’t have a lot to work with from the message alone. We should presume our hacker is capable of escalating to an in-person attack. Most hackers don’t want to risk coming out from behind the curtain but the tone of the message Mr. Vásquez received last weekend suggests it’s personal. Unit Chief Sandhill asked me to take the lead on this case but we don’t have much to go on. I need you guys to find out what you can on the ground. There’s a person hiding behind all of this code. Take some time to digest the details of the case and we’ll meet up again soon.”

  Alexis picked up the paperwork and rose to leave. “Please tell me you are talking to Jordan about this today.”

  Scarlett nodded. “My next stop is his desk.” Scarlett had only been in the office for a few weeks, but Jordan Sykes’ knack for getting into locked computer systems was well-known within the FBI, even outside of his home base of the Chicago office. He’d consulted on one of her investigations in the not-too-distant past and made a break in a case that had most of her best people at Headquarters stumped.

  Parker said, “We should get Mikey on this. No one bullshits him and we could use the extra set of eyes.”

  Scarlett looked up from her paper. “Mike Moretti? Seems to be pretty sharp from his reports. Is he in the office? I haven’t met him in person.”

  Alexis and Parker exchanged a look. Parker said, “Mikey’s happiest in the van, where he doesn’t have to talk to people.”

  Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “And this is the agent you want helping us?”

  Alexis shrugged. “He’s one of the best we’ve got. Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite.”

  A glowing recommendation wrapped in a hedged statement wasn’t exactly the sort of reassurance Scarlett was looking for. However, in her experience, like attracted like. Parker and Alexis had the kind of reputation and respect in the Bureau that went well beyond their years of experience. If they trusted him implicitly, she’d at least give him a chance to prove himself. “Okay, bring him up to speed if you think we need him. I better go find Jordan.”

  Scarlett navigated a series of wide hallways until she came to a nondescript black door at a dead end. She ran her badge over the small black box next to the handle. Upon receiving a green light and shrill chirp, she pulled the door open. The lights were off inside the large open room that housed the cybersecurity team. Not surprisingly, it was mostly empty. While most of the analysts on the cybersecurity team kept later hours than the more traditional agents, Jordan Sykes was one of the few that was consistently present during normal working hours. He sported his usual clothing: ironically out of date sneakers, a zip-up sweatshirt, and jeans. Prior to his second career working for the FBI, Jordan had been trained by the best in Silicon Valley, founded a company, and sold it before age thirty. After the requisite lengthy application process, Jordan proudly referred to the FBI as his retirement job. He sipped from a large, shiny can of energy drink with angry letters scrawled across it and raised it to her in salute.

  “Wow, hitting the juice pretty early this morning, Jordan? That can’t be good for you.”

  He grinned and took another swig as she wrinkled her nose. “Good morning to you too, Scarlett. In my defense, it’s actually late, not early. I was up all night working on this one.”

  “You didn’t come in last night, did you? I emailed you to let you know we were going to be talking about it this morning. I didn’t mean for you to pull an all-nighter. Did you break any laws?”

  Jordan cracked his knuckles and grinned. “Says the person sending me emails on a Sunday. And no. But if I did, you’d never know it.” When Scarlett put her head in her hands, he chuckled. “I just peeked to see how vulnerable their systems are. It actually looks good. I haven’t found a way in from the outside just yet.”

  “Really?” Scarlett said.

  “Yeah. I even threw out a couple of phishing attacks to see how easily I could fool the people who work there. They were beautifully done, but no bites yet. It’s still early, but they’ve got people who actually know what they’re doing.” Jordan looked away from Scarlett to glare at the lines of code that were nothing but garbled letters and numbers to her.

  “You know, you’re supposed to consider that good news.”

  Jordan gave a long-suffering sigh. “Technically, yes. But that means I don’t have any more information for you. Whoever broke in is top notch if they went from the outside in. You sure they couldn’t find a trail on the inside?”

  Scarlett looked at the file again. “The CEO said someone from IT checked the history of every person who logged into the system and they couldn’t find a rec
ord of anyone using their permissions to shut the system down. We also have the analysts tracing the source of the messages to the CEO but haven’t had any luck on that either. It just isn’t that hard to buy an untraceable cell phone.”

  Jordan rubbed his face. “Yeah, this is definitely my department. Do me a favor, though. Get some feet on the street and see if the CEO is hiding anything. Does he owe any money? Would it be to his benefit to fabricate the story?”

  “I’ll get the team working on it. Also, what about the IT guy who checked the access of everyone who was in the system?”

  “Yeah, him too. You never can tell with the computer nerds.” Jordan grinned and went back to the task at hand.

  “Don’t forget to get your paperwork in order if you want to try and jailbreak the system, Jordan,” Scarlett said over her shoulder as she left.

  “No having fun without your permission. Roger that.”

  Three

  With her team assembled and fully briefed on the case, Scarlett began the afternoon in a trendy but modest waiting room at World Partners for Peace. The charity had a reputation for doing meaningful work and had a large staff to support their efforts. Their headquarters was substantial for a non-profit—it took up an entire floor in one of the many skyscrapers in downtown Chicago. Despite his busy schedule, Scarlett had arranged a meeting with the CEO with only one quick phone call that morning. Then again, it wasn’t every day the CEO of a huge charitable organization was being personally targeted by a hacker.

  The CEO’s assistant called her name. Scarlett stood, straightened her black suit and pulled her notebook out of her handbag. Scarlett tapped lightly on his open door before entering. Martín Vásquez was middle-aged, with only the slightest paunch, brown eyes and thinning salt and pepper hair. The corners of his mouth were turned down when she entered his office, but he rose from his desk to greet her. His welcome was warm, but his eyes were cautious.