9
The next morning, Rojo woke up with a start, not expecting to see three strangers standing at the foot of his bed. Dressed in dark and expensive Armani suits, the menace in their eyes was impossible to mistake. They weren’t there to wish him a good morning. He rubbed his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?”
One of the men, removing a pair of round-lensed spectacles, stepped forward.
“We are ‘you don’t need to know’. And you are Rojo.”
The hacker was at a significant disadvantage. Not only was he outnumbered, but they were definitely there for him.
“Yes. I am the one and only. El Magico. El Rojo, Digital lock-picker extraordinaire. How may I help you, gentlemen? If I’d known you were coming I’d have baked a cake.”
Rojo couldn’t help but introduce himself in this way and had always told hi
