Two hackers
Mario and Isabella move in silence.
Outside, the men from the DataCom emergency response team talk
amongst themselves.
Mario checks through a
window to make sure nobody is out back.
“It's
clear,” he whispers to Isabella, opening the door and waving her
towards the bicycles resting against the fence.
They climb onto the
seats and escape through the side streets of the residential
neighborhood.
Pedaling, Isabella
asks: “Where are we going?”
Mario hesitates. He's
not too keen about revealing the existence of a slightly secret side
of his life. He hates to admit that he keeps secrets from his own
wife. “I've got some friends. They're good at moving around the
network to find... particular kinds of information. Usually I only
communicate with them online, but every once in a while I meet them
in their lab. I think they can help us out.”
“Mario,
we should go straight to the police. I'm scared.”
They reach a row of
warehouses in the industrial zone, and go further inwards towards the
old abandoned factories.
“Mario,
this place -”
“Don't
worry, dear. We're almost there.”
They enter an abandoned
building full of broken glass and rusty iron. Mario stops near a
hatch door. He knocks three times, waits, and knocks again.
The little door opens.
The head of an Asian boy, Lin, rises up from the floor. “Hey,
Mario! What are you doing here? Hello, Mrs. Orsini.”
Lin walks with them
into the lab, where he's working with his friend Eugenio. Isabella is
intimidated by the sheer number of cables, monitors and LEDs. Mario
tells them what happened.
“So
the man who committed suicide had the same first and last name that
you found in the analysis of user data... hmm,” Lin reflects,
undecided. “It's unlikely that this is just some coincidence. Let's
try looking through the Ministry's server for names of other recent
suicides.” His fingers beat frenetically against the keyboard.
“Holy
cow! Mario, when did you release that new code?”
“About
two weeks ago. Why?”
“Look.
In the last two weeks, the daily suicide rate in Italy has increased
tenfold. It's scary! Eugenio, let's look at some other countries.”
Mario's head starts to
spin. He feels like he's sinking into a nightmare.
A little vibration in
Isabella's bag distracts her: “Excuse me, where's the bathroom?”
Isabella closes the
bathroom door behind her. She takes a device, no bigger than a
fingernail, out of her purse and brings it to her ear. “Robi, not
now -”
“Isabella,
I'm worried about you. The people from DataCom are here and so are
the police. They're asking everyone what they know about your
husband. They even asked me about us,” says Roberto, Mario's boss.
“Robi,
I need to go.” Isabella goes back to join the others.
“Oh
my god!” Lin is saying. “France, Germany, the United States.
Suicides have multiplied by at least ten everywhere! Look at the
profiles! They're all linked to -”
Eugenio interrupts:
“Lin, we have a problem. A call came through the police network:
they're coming here. They intercepted a call in our building about a
minute ago.”
Eugenio, Mario and Lin
turn towards Isabella.
“I
didn't call anyone,” she defends herself. Her husband's stern gaze
makes the tears come to her eyes. “It was...Roberto.”
“How
did he call you? I smashed your smartphone against a wall!” Mario
asks, stunned.
“Roberto
gave me... this.” She shows him the miniscule device. “It's
registered under his name.”
“Isabella, can
you explain to me why you're walking around with my boss'
microphone?”
“Not now,
Mario.” Lin intervenes. “We need to cut the cord.”
Mario gives his wife a haunted
glance.
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