A Deadly Twist, Jeffrey Siger [top business books of all time TXT] 📗

document dumps, and two mysterious deaths officially recorded as accidents, all reported on by Nikoletta. He did not object when she pulled a notebook out of her bag and started taking notes but warned her not to record his voice or take his photo.

She pressed him with questions, and he answered with details she already knew, plus many she did not but that were consistent with her long-held suspicions. Details that only someone intimately aware of the ransomware and documents involved, and how the victims’ deaths were made to look like accidents, would know.

“It’s easier than you can imagine to interfere with a computer that controls a vehicle’s antilock brakes, and if you do that on a twisting mountain road, investigators will just chalk it up to another tragic accident.”

Nikoletta stared at him. “You do realize how nonchalant you sound in talking about the harm you’ve done to so many.”

He shrugged. “All I want to know is have I told you enough to establish my credibility?”

“I assume you won’t tell me your name.”

He smiled. “Next question.”

“What about your online nickname?”

He smiled again, saying nothing.

“Why are you telling me all this? You’re implicating yourself in major crimes, including murder.”

“I don’t view them that way. I think of myself as employed to make computer systems do what my clients want. It’s an intellectual challenge. I’m a black hat hacker, battling the white hats trying to keep me out of their systems.”

Her eyes narrowed. “This is not a video game. What you’re doing literally destroys lives. You can’t seriously believe that’s just an intellectual challenge.”

He leaned in. “My bottom line is that however you wish to characterize my past, I’m giving up that life. I no longer feel the rush I once did on achieving what others had thought impossible. It is time for me to leave the game and, having made that decision, I want to set the record straight.”

“Some might say this is all hubris on your part, a desire to see your exploits glorified in the press.”

He smiled. “They can say what they like, but that’s not in keeping with how I’ve lived my life.” He picked up his nearly empty wine glass. “My reason for this conversation is simple. The world should know that there are people out there like me. Plain, seemingly ordinary folk, paid to do very bad things for calculated purposes without leaving a trace of guilt or motive. We thrive in places where officials are quick to embrace innocent excuses for anything bad that happens on their watch—and where the media are reluctant to question authority.”

He slugged down the rest of his wine and leaned forward. “In other words, I mean this conversation as a warning to you and your readers. Beware: we are among you.”

He called for the check. “I think you should leave now, Nikoletta. I’ll take care of paying. You just take care of yourself.”

* * *

Nikoletta couldn’t believe her good fortune at the widespread attention generated by her story. Magazine and TV crews tracked her down on Naxos for interviews, and her editor told her to forget about writing the tourism piece. He wanted her back in Athens, where he’d assigned two reporters to assist her on follow-up stories tied to her mysterious interviewee.

She told him she wanted to write the Naxos article. When he asked why, she said fate had sent her to Naxos for a reason, perhaps an even bigger one than meeting with the hacker. She’d only know for sure once she completed the piece.

Her editor pointed out that it was he, not fate, who’d sent her to Naxos, and now he wanted her back in Athens ASAP. They argued back and forth and compromised on her returning in Athens in four days’ time.

“But I can’t promise you that the police won’t be hounding you before then,” he told her. “They keep screaming for access to you, and I don’t know how much longer I can stall them.”

“I’m sure you’ll do your best, as you always do.”

“Stop with the BS and just make sure you’re back here in four days.”

“You mean on the fifth day.”

“First thing in the morning. Bye.”

As soon as they hung up, Nikoletta set off in search of sources for her other story. With her newfound celebrity, she had little trouble getting politicians to talk, but they spoke only in platitudes reflecting the interests of their particular constituencies. Representatives of the tourist industry were also readily available and eagerly expressed their polished, politically correct views on each topic she raised. She completed those interviews in one day, all without leaving Chora.

Her next three days had her trekking across rural Naxos, trudging from one remote location to another, following one introduction to the next, charming and cajoling opinions out of largely taciturn farmers and herders. Most interviews were frustrating, teeth-pulling exercises, but every so often she came across a tiger anxious to devour a perceived adversary with sharp- toothed rhetoric.

It was a grueling four days, but she got what she wanted for her story, and more.

Nikoletta returned to her hotel in Chora exhausted. It was well after dark, but also her last night on the island, and she’d promised a group of locals who’d helped her with her story that she’d celebrate with them at a bar in town.

She made it to the bar by eleven with the intention of putting in a quick appearance and heading back to her hotel. But her friends had brought along homemade food and a bouzouki band. She had to stay—and didn’t escape until after two in the morning.

Alone and a bit tipsy, she stumbled in the direction of the hotel. At the base of the path leading up along the bluff, she paused, wondering if she dared risk going that way. As she was about to take the longer, safer route, she noticed fireflies moving along the bluff path.

Fireflies? she thought, shaking her head. It couldn’t be fireflies. Then it hit her, and she laughed. They weren’t fireflies but