Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

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    “If someone has penetrated the casino accounts, I want to know it,” he said. “Then I’ll find out how they did it. And then . . .”
    “You going to kick some ass?”
    “I’ll leave that to your deadly feet.”
    She smiled. She hadn’t found many men who were comfortable with her intelligence and her lethal skills. “You sure you’re happy with the sexy curator?”
    “I’m working on it.”
    “If it bounces, let me know.”
    He gave her a quick, sideways glance. “If I have anything to say about it, it won’t bounce.”
    “Yeah, I figured that out for myself. Story of my life,” she said, yawning. “The good ones are gone, and the bad ones aren’t good. You have a coffeepot around here?”
    “It’s called the telephone. Room service is 01. Have them send enough coffee for two and some food.”
    “What kind?”
    Shane’s fingers sped over the keyboard, programming in new demands. He pushed back and slid to another computer station. “They know what I like. Get whatever you want for yourself.”
    “Sushi,” she said.
    “Ask for Norataki. He’s our best Sushi chef.”
    April started to answer, then saw she had lost him. He was eyebrow deep in yet another computer program. The graphing screen was undergoing constant transformations that appealed to her as an art form but utterly baffled her as to meaning. For all she knew, he could have been running a connect-the-dots, 3-D sculpture program.
    Frowning, she punched in 01 and ordered coffee, food for Shane, and a selection from the sushi chef for herself.
    After she replaced the phone, she simply stood and watched Shane work. She’d been told by government computer specialists that Tannahill had been among the top programmer/hackers of his generation, but that he lacked the desire to dedicate himself to it full-time, so he’d likely lost his edge. She wondered if that was true or if Shane just didn’t feel the need to strut his stuff for an admiring audience.
    “Shit.”
    The soft, hissing word was all Shane said. Then he bent over and keyed in instructions for the special program he’d created to fry hackers if and when he found their tracks in his mainframe.
    April wanted to ask what had happened. A look at his face told her to put it on hold. The man was angry, the kind of angry that burned like dry ice.
    A minute later Shane hit the enter key and pushed back from the computer terminal. The screen showing the 3-D graph kept changing. He gave it a disgusted look and turned away. He had seen enough.
    “What?” April said.
    Shane glanced at the screen that was executing his most recent program and decided it was safe to let her in on the good news. Good for her, at any rate. It sure as hell wasn’t good news for him.
    “I’m the owner of an unusually profitable casino,” he said evenly.
    “Meaning?”
    “My slots have been steadily earning more than they should, despite the losses from a techno-team last week. Instead of the usual autumn slump at the tables, things have been humming along. Nothing outrageous enough to send up an alarm. A few percent here. A few more there. It adds up fast. Because my watchdog programs are designed to chase consistent, unexpected losses rather than gains, no alarms got tripped.”
    April watched Shane with dark eyes and total concentration. She didn’t say a word.
    “I made it easier on them—whoever they are—by not shifting my firewall program every few weeks,” Shane added. “I’ve been too busy chasing Celtic gold.” And Risa, a fact he didn’t figure April had any need to know.
    “Keep going,” April said.
    “Somebody got into my computer. Instead of hosing me the usual way, they added money to my accounts, millions of dollars that I have no way of explaining but have already declared to the Gaming Control Board and paid all appropriate taxes on.”
    “Bottom line?”
    “Looks like you have yourself a laundry boy.”
    The leashed emotion in Shane made her pause. He was agreeing to help her, but he was a long way from beaten. Angry, yes. He was furious. Yet there was a feral kind of triumph in his eyes that she didn’t understand.
    And what she didn’t understand made her nervous.
    “Drop the other shoe,” she said.
    “Did one of Uncle’s computer experts set me up?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “You better hope it was the bad guys.” Shane glanced at the program that was running and smiled when program completed flashed on the screen. “Because I just