Trust Me

who had taken her to the edge of chaos.
    Stark returned to his senses slowly. He deliberately tried to make the process last as long as possible. The joyous pleasure of being inside Desdemona, of feeling as though he were a part of her, was too good to rush.
    Her words rang in his mind. I love you.
    Stark opened his eyes. His gaze rested on the glowing screen behind her. It took him a second to realize that a message had appeared.
    He grabbed his glasses and shoved them onto his nose.
    NAME OF HIDDEN FILE: Insurance.text
    A second wave of satisfaction crashed through him. It was almost as intoxicating as the first. ARCANE had worked. Some days were definitely better than others. “Gotcha,” Stark said.

16

    “But what does it mean?” Desdemona demanded.
    She was leaning so far over his shoulder that Stark was amazed that she did not fall into his lap. Not that he would mind if she did. His body still hummed with the aftereffects of passion.
    He felt so good, so right. The way he did when he sensed himself on the verge of comprehending a vast, complex pattern. It was the kind of moment that pushed back the borders of chaos.
    Desdemona had pulled on her jeans and rebuttoned her shirt, but she still smelled warm and moist and sexy. Her hair was a wild tangle of curls, and her mouth was still swollen from his kisses. The invisible bonds that bound them together when they made love still linked him to her.
    Stark forced himself to concentrate on the screen. “Insurance.txt is the name of the hidden file. Look at the number of bytes in it. That’s exactly the number that aren’t accounted for when you add up the bytes used by the other files.”
    “Maybe it’s just a private file he used to store insurance records,” Desdemona said.
    “Maybe. But I doubt we’ll find the usual sort of insurance records. You saw his landlady and the place where he lived. I dont think that Tate was the kind of guy who bought a lot of insurance.”
    “So why name the hidden file Insurance.txt?”
    “Let’s find out.” Stark gave the command to view the file. The screen went dark for a few seconds, and then a short memo preceded by an email address appeared. Stark saw that the address was that of an anonymous mail server. The message was short.
    Order filled. Second half of payment must be received within five days of this date. Delivery of product will follow.
    Desdemona scowled. “That string of characters at the top of the message is an email address, isn’t it?”
    “It’s an email address, all right. To an anonymous server.”
    “What’s an anonymous server?”
    “It’s an automatic computer mail service which receives and forwards mail to and from people who want their identities kept secret.”
    “From each other?” She glanced at his face in astonishment. “But why would Vernon want to send a message to someone he didn’t know?”
    “There are all kinds of reasons why people want to remain anonymous,” Stark said quietly. “Let’s see what else is in this file.”
    He hit a key, and another message appeared. It, too, was preceded by an email address identified only as anonymous.
    Price for chips is one thousand. Delivery by first of month.
    The next message was one that Tate had received rather than sent.
    Understand you can supply software for new hotwire program. Request info on price.
    “I think I’m beginning to see a pattern here,” Stark said.
    “What on earth was Vernon doing?”
    “It looks like he had set himself up in business as a sort of computer mercenary. A hacker who, for a price, would supply whatever the buyer wanted. He conducted business through the anonymous mail server.”
    Desdemona’s fingers bit into Stark’s shoulders. “You mean that he stole software and chips and things like that on demand?”
    “Maybe.”
    “That line of work must not pay very well, judging by where he was living.”
    “Don’t bet on it,” Stark said. “Tate may have been stashing away some big bucks somewhere.”
    “Well, if he was making good money as a computer mercenary, why on earth did he want the job with me?”
    “I’ll give you one guess,” Stark said.
    “Oh, my God,” Desdemona whispered. “He used me.”
    “Looks like it.”
    “You must have been one of his targets.” Her voice rose in outrage. “And he used me to get to you.”
    “Someone probably hired him to go after ARCANE. With luck, maybe I can dig the messages covering that particular deal out of this