CHAPTER 5 THINGS DON'T ALWAYS GO BETTER WITH COKE

Sea Bluff 3:30 pm

The day had been one ginormous pain, Maddox thought sourly on walking into his house. Everyone around him was getting their undies all in a twist over final exams coming up the next week; then there were those who were uptight over finishing the two-week binge testing period known as Advanced Placement exams. It was a whole year of busting ass to get college credit decided by one exam. He could understand the latter. He'd seen friends reduced to tears because they didn't get their 5s. Then there were the students known as the crazy ones, the ones who stayed up until one or two am every night working on their International Baccalaureate diplomas for months, fighting for that special diploma that recognized they had not only done well in AP and honors classes and exams. Still, they had spent the last two years of their life developing a college-level research project. He'd loved the pressure. It was how he'd developed several of his software programs under the guise of IB Research. Max had also done well on the SAT test, scoring 2250 out of 2400. That, along with his dad's sizeable donation to UC Berkley's Computer Science Department, resulting in the naming of a computer lab for his grandfather, guaranteed him a coveted slot in Berkeley's freshman class this fall.

"Oh well, life's a bitch, and then you die." He thought as he opened his IPad. Popping the tab on his can of Coke, Max took a long swallow. He saw the mail icon glowing. Double-clicking on it, he opened it.

"What the hell" he swore loudly as he read.

Greetings Max,

You are the person who removed $45,000.00 from my bank account at the Usata Bank the other night and neglected to return it. I suspect you are also responsible for several other recent attacks on Bay Area computers, including the one early this morning on the computers of the San Francisco Police Department. Yes, I know, that was supposed to be a secret, but it's been talked about all day in those tiresome chat rooms. I am in need of someone with your abilities. Keep the money. Consider it a down payment. Decline this offer, and I will make certain your father will be charged under the Patriot Act for terrorist acts and crimes against the United States Government. Edward Snowden will look like an Eagle Scout compared to him.

You will receive instructions shortly about meeting my messenger. Attempting to backtrack this message to the source in order to find me will result in the release of a major malware attack that will ultimately be traced back to computers belonging to your father and his company.

Go to the police, and you will be visiting your father in federal prison.

Be seeing you.

Apostle

The message glowed, flickered for an instant, and disappeared. Max stared into the screen, stunned. How did this stranger know these things about him? He'd been careful about releasing the malware. He hadn't bragged about anything like some hackers did. Shit, he hadn't even posted on the community brag board he frequented. This guy, "Apostle," had to be a hacker, and a really good one to have sent an encrypted message like that one to him, as well as the speed that he found out. Max could backtrack into the Usata bank and find out specifically who he'd taken the money from, explain that he'd used a veiling program of his own design, that the money was still there, but send his dad to jail under the Patriot Act?

Max had problems with his dad from time to time, any kid his age did, but not enough to send him to jail for the rest of his life. Dad was all he had in life. How would he handle it if he lost him? What the frack was he going to do? If he went to the police, they'd find out that he was the one that launched the attack this morning, and he'd get busted for that. Bye Bye, Berkeley and his dreams of being a software designer. He would never be trusted near a computer again. He'd never be able to walk through the front door of an Apple Store or Game Stop without alarms going off. He paused. There was one way he could get word to the police. But he needed the assistance of Officer 7942 to pull that off. And he knew how to get his attention without going near a computer.