Link plugged the USB cable from his computer into Walker's confiscated phone, and typed a command into his machine. Most phones would shut down completely if wrong passcodes were entered too many times, but there were software tools that could get around that, and Kiredori had a few of them. Although Link couldn't send an entire machine to Kir, Kir could send software to Link. The software could not only brute-force the password, it could bypass the safety precautions, preventing the phone from bricking itself after a certain number of tries. It was a process that could take minutes or hours, so Link hit the return key and opened his physics textbook.
About a forty minutes later, the computer chimed, letting him know that the phone was unlocked, and displaying the code for future reference. Link frowned, but as far as he could tell, the digits were random, nothing related to Walker's life in any way that he could see.
That was a bit more security than the laptop, although four-digit passcodes weren't really all that secure. Link made a note of the code and unplugged the phone from his computer to look it over.
There wasn't much to it. It was an older iPhone, a reminder that Walker's spending habits were either extravagant or frugal without much in between. A few years ago, this phone had been top of the line, but Walker appeared to be keeping it as long as it was useful rather than upgrading at the first opportunity.
He had a pared-down collection of apps: the usual pre-loaded apps, an alarm clock, an app that helped him navigate public transit. He used his calendar to keep track of doctor's appointments, prescription refills, tests and the due dates for major papers, and played Minecraft in survival mode, opting to make his home in a spent nether reactor spire. He wasn't much of a farmer. He had fenced in two cows and a handful of sheep, but no chickens, and his wheat field was planted haphazardly on a river bank. His armor and weapons, however, were all diamond.
Link shut down the game and further explored the phone, frowning as he opened the e-mail. It was the same address as the fake account on the computer, nothing but junk mail.
On the other hand, maybe something could be gleaned from the junk mail. This could be the sort of account one created to get information from websites that demanded e-mail addresses as the price of admission. If so, what was Allen interested in?
At first glance, it appeared that he had a small penis that wasn't working very well, and no luck at all with women. Interspersed with the usual garbage, however, were e-mails from sites about dance, programming languages Link had never heard of, Linux, computer components, artificial intelligence, and poker.
Poker? Actually, Walker was good at poker.
Was that it? Poker? But how? Allen was too young to play on the internet, too young to play anywhere at all. It also wasn't an unusual thing for someone to get interested in, the way people got interested in chess, skat, or pool.
Link checked for messaging services, but all he found was Messages, which given the sheer number of options, was absurd. Messages itself was barren, even of communication with someone like Lavi.
The address book was full of Order members, plus a few of the staff at St. Ignatius.
Text messages? Nothing.
Either Allen deleted everything, or this phone was a dummy phone, the same way Allen's visible user account on his computer was a dummy account.
Link's hackles rose, but he had a sudden, bad feeling that he'd already been caught. Walker might not know who was prying, but he could know that someone was. There were a handful of apps that would allow Walker to monitor his own computer, and on a Linux machine, Link didn't have a hope in Hades of disabling them.
The worst part was that he still had no idea what the kid was into. Guns still seemed unlikely, because Allen's age made it even more dangerous than usual, not just for him but for those who would have to do business with him. Involving a child in gun running made the penalties that much steeper.
Prostitution? Now there, children were in demand. Walker's looks were startling to the point of bizarre, but there was a market for everything, and it would explain the money.
Did Walker have that kind of time? Or freedom?
Not that Link could see, but Walker could be a camboy. They were rare, but with the right kind of personality, they could make bank.
He could also be selling drugs. As hard as the monks tried, there were some things they could never quite manage to stamp out.
Or was it poker after all? Walker was too young to play in casinos or professionally, but the right kind of backing from the right kind of people could allow him to pass online as an adult.
Christ! He was barely sixteen!
Link had been even younger.
But why hide his coding skills? As far as Link could tell, Walker had made no attempt to join St. Ignatius's computer clubs, either the official one or the unofficial one, and he wasn't taking any programming classes, although it was possible that he didn't need them.
Was he writing code for something illegal? He didn't have to sell things himself to make money on the black market. All he had to do was facilitate those sales, and he could get a cut.
That was entirely possible, but along with that possibility were some uncomfortable prospects. Allen's laptop had a camera, and so did this device. Could either of them take pictures of whoever messed with them, and send those pictures to Allen? Or to someone else, if someone was running him?
Link would have to ask Kir, which he preferred not to do, because if his ignorance identified him to the wrong people, Madarao would kill him without even waiting to see whether or not the Rouvelliers were willing to make good on their threat.
Once again, he thought of Daisya, and wondered if it was time to start researching ropes.