Torched_ Afterburn - Shay Mara Page 0,41

Wright passed the sweep of his computer and eluded detection. I’d been able to find the exact day he’d done it simply by checking the USB history logs on his computer, every machine kept a record whenever one was inserted or removed. After that, it was simply a matter of using video surveillance to piece his movements together. Lo and behold, I’d busted our little rat on a hidden camera in one of the labs, he used a heat pen to remove the USB chip from his flash drive and then inserted it into a fake key fob. Keys were hand-checked and passed around the outside of the body scanner, explaining why security hadn’t caught him. Beyond that obstacle, all he would have had to do was solder the chip back to an identical circuit board in a different USB stick and plug it in.

I had a feeling FTX would be instituting a new policy of leaving keys with devices at the door.

I pulled up next to Silas’ car in the lot and saw him sitting at a nearby picnic table. He was wearing his usual designer duds and looked completely out of place. As I hopped off my bike and started walking towards him—sans helmet since Torch wasn’t paying enough attention to bitch about it—he spotted me and stood up. The sun was just starting to set and I planned on getting in a ride to stash the money and clear my head afterward.

He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. “Lovely to see you, Styx. Thank you for the heads up, Mr. Wright is already being questioned.”

“Good.” I dropped my backpack on the table, fished out a memory stick, and handed it to him. “Everything your client needs is on there, he shouldn’t have a hard time making the guy spill.”

“You’re positive it’s him?” he asked. “We only have about six hours before the deadline.”

“It’s him,” I promised. “I found a copy of the attack code on his personal laptop and his arsenal of stolen documents hasn’t included anything saved on the servers past the day I caught him plugging in the USB.”

“I knew I could count on you,” he said, handing me my finder’s fee in a black plastic bag. “My client sends his gratitude, he was extremely relieved to find out it was simply a greedy employee who could be cornered, he feared a much worse threat.”

“Your client should probably do a little refresher training so he doesn’t have to waste money on a hacker next time, but I’m happy to take it off his hands. Pleasure as always, Silas.”

“Indeed.” He held out his hand for a shake. “I’ll be in touch, my dear.”

“I’m sure you will. Happy travels.”

I stuffed the cash inside my backpack and walked back over to my bike. As soon as his car pulled away, I hopped on and took off in the other direction.

Torch didn’t know where I hid my money and he’d never asked. Aside from the stash he’d found in my go-bag while I was locked up, he had no idea just how much I’d saved over the years. Some I kept in an offshore account, some in bitcoins, the rest in cash; and that cash was currently located at the club’s safe house about ten miles outside of town. It was the first place Torch and I had made mad, passionate, rain-soaked love after reuniting.

The cabin stood on about five acres of land and club members mostly just came out for shooting practice. Other than that and the occasional emergency, the house generally stood empty.

I made it there quickly and took the money inside. Off from the kitchen was a walk-in pantry, the perfect hiding spot in a house belonging to a bunch of dudes because nobody ever organized non-perishables or tossed food unless it stank. Kneeling down on the floor, I pulled out some expired cereal boxes and reached under the shelf to slide out my combination-secured steel box. I punched in the code and added the day’s haul, before putting everything back the way I’d found it.

After locking up and getting back on my bike, I glanced over at the grassy clearing that had been the site of one of the best days of my life. Torch and I had made scores of new and wonderful memories since then, but the safe house would always hold a special place in my heart. Maybe we could spend a weekend there once everything—whatever the hell it was—blew

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