Cyber Teen Project

Chapter 17

“How are you feeling?”

The first person Nigel saw when he opened his eyes was a tall bald man in a suit. The room was large enough to accommodate two beds. He heard beeping sounds. Something was pulling at his arm; it was tubing that led up to an IV. Nigel could easily see out the window; he had a view of the inlet that led to the ocean. The bed next to his was unoccupied. I"m in the hospital?

I"m in the hospital?“Who are you?” Nigel asked the man.

“I’m Detective Foster of the Milford Police Department. I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Where are my mother and brother? Where are my friends?”

“Your family is in the waiting room. Your friend, Josephine, is recovering in the room next door.”

Nigel just stared into space, taking it all in.

“Do you know why someone would want to harm you or Josephine?”

“I had a third friend with me, Milo.”

“We found him hiding in a dumpster several blocks from the incident. He is being questioned now.”

“Can I see them?”

“Not until we get this sorted out,” Detective Foster said. “Now, please answer my previous question: Do you know who would want to hurt you or your friends?”

“NO!” Nigel shouted.

“Please calm down, Nigel. We cannot leave until this matter is resolved.”

Nigel sighed.

The questioning lasted several hours. Detective Foster asked the same questions over and over.

“I will be right back, Nigel. Please stay here.”

Nigel winced as he started pulling the tape connecting the IVs to his wrist. The floor was cold to the touch; he started shivering as he made his way across the room to the closet where his clothes were kept. He put on his jacket and shoes. He kept the rest of his clothes in a plastic bag.

He opened the door which led to the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible. Two uniformed officers were talking about twenty feet from his room.

He walked quickly past the nurses’ station, then proceeded left down another hallway. A door blocked his way and wouldn’t budge. He scanned the walls for a way to control the door. A large hand grasped his shoulder. Nigel spun his head so fast he felt something pull in his neck.

It was Detective Foster and two uniformed officers.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The uniformed officers escorted him back to his room.

“See to it that his door is manned until all of my questions are answered.”

* * *

Nigel was interrogated for several more hours before Detective Foster was satisfied.

“Thank you for your cooperation. Your family will be permitted to see you now,” Detective Foster said as he left the room.

Permitted to see me? Am I a suspect?

Permitted to see me? Am I a suspect?Several minutes later, Ellen and Ralphie appeared.

“Nige!” Ralphie said excitedly as he ran over to him.

Tears were forming in Ellen’s eyes. She gasped as she examined Nigel’s bandages. The doctor told her that Nigel was lucky; the bullet grazed his temple. Other than some scarring, there would be no permanent damage.

“Are you okay?” Ellen said in a quivering voice.

“I have a headache—probably from all the questioning—but I’m okay. Do you know if I can leave?”

“The doctors want to keep you another night for observation, but I will be back here in the morning.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Visiting hours have long passed. The doctor said I could see you before I had to leave, but I can’t stay over.”

Nigel’s face flushed as he watched his mother and brother leave. He was angry that his time was cut short by Detective Foster, who offered absolutely no information as to who was trying to shoot them.

Nigel got up and opened his door; there weren’t any uniformed cops or anyone else in sight.

He opened the door to the room next to his and saw Jet lying on a bed next to a window. She appeared to be sleeping. Nigel’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed her condition. Bandages covered most of her face. Her left arm was in a sling.

“Can I help you?” a female voice said.

Nigel spun around and saw a woman in hospital scrubs. “I’m checking on my friend.”

“She’s lucky to be alive. She suffered two gunshot wounds. One shattered several bones in her left arm; another grazed her forehead.”

Nigel felt paralyzed. All he could do was stare at Jet for a very long time. His eyesight blurred. Nigel felt emptiness inside.

* * *

Nigel couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Jet on top of him—and not in a good way either. His eyes, blurring with blood, distorted Jet’s lovely features.

He awoke in a cold sweat. The rays of first morning’s light appeared in the room. The nurse forgot to close the blinds again—no matter. Nigel loved the sunshine. He observed how the rays came in and reflected on various pieces of equipment in the room, creating wonderful projections on the walls and curtains separating the hospital beds.

The nurse forgot to close the blinds again—no matter.Nigel heard some commotion outside his room; it sounded like it was coming from the room next to his. Is Jet awake? Nigel carefully jumped out of bed, taking care not to pull the IVs that were held in place by medical tape. Nigel wheeled the unit carrying the IVs into the hallway. He felt a cool breeze across his backside as he made his way to Jet’s room.

Is Jet awake? Jet was eating breakfast from a tray; none of the food looked appetizing to Nigel. C’mon, who serves Jell-O for breakfast anyway?

C’mon, who serves Jell-O for breakfast anyway?Jet smiled as Nigel made his way over to her bedside. “How are you holding up?”

Jet looked at Nigel’s bandages on his head. She was relieved that Nigel retained most of his facial features. During the incident, Nigel’s face was covered in blood, and it was difficult to determine how many wounds he had.

“I’ve been a whole lot better.” Nigel winced as she attempted to eat the Jell-O with a spoon in her good hand.

“I’m left-handed. I’m not sure if you knew.”

Nigel shook his head.

“Which makes it almost impossible to eat.”

Nigel shifted his IV unit around to her right side. He took her spoon and fed her using slow and deliberate motions.

“I’m being released today,” Jet said.

“Wow, that was quick.”

“Doctors treated my injuries as best as they can. My mother is supposed to pick me up any minute now. The nurse wants to make sure I eat everything first. Do you want something from my tray?”

Nigel’s nose crinkled. “No thanks.”

Jet laughed.

“We should discuss the attempt on our lives. I want to compare notes. Something is very wrong here,” Nigel said.

Jet gave Nigel a concerned look. “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it. I mean, I do…I just need more time.”

Nigel nodded. “I understand. Let’s plan to meet soon.”

“If I can,” Jet said.

What does that mean?

What does that mean?Before Nigel could process that thought, he was interrupted.

“Mr. Watson! I need for you to return to your room. Josephine’s mother is waiting at the nurses’ station. She doesn’t want to see a half-n***d teenager.”

Nigel flushed.

Jet giggled.

“Pick this up later?” Nigel asked.

Jet nodded and gave him a smile.

* * *

Milo tossed his radio frequency scanner into his backpack. As he entered the alley where the incident happened, he froze as he relived the experience of being chased. Police tape was strewn around the alley haphazardly. Milo wondered if they even finished processing the crime scene.

He began scanning for anything with a radio frequency. He had had the feeling that they were being watched that day but failed to act. He felt guilty for not at least saying anything. Jet and Nigel probably would have dismissed the feelings anyway. Milford was a small town, and nothing like this had ever happened—in his lifetime anyway. The frequency scanner would emit a loud, high-pitched tone if the scanner came too close to a device that had a frequency.

Milo didn’t find anything for a long time; he was about to give up when he heard a slightly higher tone than usual. The difference was subtle but there. The picnic table was clean. Milo confirmed by physically checking it. Judging from the signal strength, Milo determined another signal was being transmitted from another location nearby, within thirty feet. Other than some scattered debris, there was little else an intruder could bug. Perhaps the assassin had a powerful directional microphone?

Perhaps the assassin had a powerful directional microphone?Frustrated, Milo leaned against a wooden fence separating the alley from the back ends of other businesses. His scanner screeched to life. He jumped at the abrupt sound. Milo examined the fence; although he could not see anything, his scanner told a different story. He moved the probe methodically across the fence until he found what he was looking for. He examined the probed area in more detail and noticed an imperfection in the wood. Someone went through a lot of trouble to conceal whatever this was. He took out his Swiss Army knife and poked at the edges. Something dislodged. A pill-looking thing was attached to a stiff wire. He tugged on the wire and felt it pull. He also heard something fall. From the other side?

From the other side?Milo scaled the fence and saw what he was looking for: A small box was attached to the wire. He jumped to the other side, detached the wire, and shoved the box and the wire into his backpack. He wanted to investigate at a safe location because he didn’t know who else might be watching.

* * *

After the attack, Nigel wanted to ensure secure communication with his friends, since their previous communications via the game were breached somehow. Nigel smiled at the idea of communication via a mobile app.

Milford was a small town, but not so small that it didn"t have a local computer shop. Mr. Henry, who ran Better Buy Computers, spent a lot of time with his customers, a move that set his shop apart from the big guys. He held free seminars and classes, teaching local townsfolk anything from spreadsheets to internet access.

It was even rumored that Mr. Henry was a former government agent. If anyone knew how to protect communications, it was Mr. Henry!

The day he got out of the hospital, Nigel walked into Better Buy Computers. Mr. Henry was helping an elderly woman with her tablet.

“Be right with you, Nige.”

Nigel thanked him as he browsed the display cases. Approximately ten minutes later, Mr. Henry called out for Nigel. As Nigel approached, he involuntarily looked around the store for any threat that may have been lurking.

“Can we talk in private?” Nigel asked.

“Sure. It"s time for my lunch break anyway.”

Mr. Henry turned over the "Be Back Soon" sign and locked the front door. Nigel followed him toward the back of the store. The hallway narrowed to reveal a room just big enough to fit a desk and a couple of chairs.

“Have a seat, Nigel.”

Nigel sat in the small guest chair.

“How can I help you?”

“Mr. Henry, if I wanted to send a message securely without having to rely on email client encryption, how would I do it?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“A school project, just doing research. As part of the project, I need to interview an expert on the subject and submit a written report along with a prototype.”

“Oh! Well, email is the most common method, but you do have a couple other options. You could use a mobile encryption service that actually uses its own network. While it"s secure, the only one I know of is run by a company in Russia.”

“What if I wanted to send messages through cryptocurrency networks?” Nigel asked.

“Before I answer that, how much do you know about cryptocurrencies?”

“I know they are a new form of digital money, but that is about it.”

“Correct. Some of the secure coins offer messaging services, but there is a catch,” Mr. Henry explained. “Cryptocurrency networks charge a small fee for the service. The downside is that everyone on the recipient list must have a ‘wallet.’ This wallet not only stores the cryptocurrency, but the messages as well.”

“Right, each recipient of the secure message I send will need their own address and wallet to send messages to. Any other downsides?”

“Transactions, including secure messages, take time to process. Remember that the transactions need to be verified a number of times before the cryptocurrency can be transferred, and the same is true for a message.”

“Would you be willing to help me put something together?”

“Absolutely!”

* * *

Agent Appleton did his daily search on Collective activity and found some pattern matches showing up when certain encryption activity was present on publicly routable networks. Agent Appleton was shocked when he noticed all coordinates of the matches were strangely concentrated in and around Milford, that town where he helped that woman who got hacked a couple weeks ago.

This couldn’t be a coincidence.

Helping Ellen Watson wasn’t Agent Appleton"s primary goal—finding what possible network activity that placed a member of The Collective behind her keyboard was. Agent Appleton needed to know what technical information could possibly be in the logs that were gathered by the FBI forensics team. The only problem was that team was already overcommitted and equally overworked. He needed to find a technically capable person that would keep a secret. Maybe that Henry fellow...assuming he wasn’t a Collective spy.