Hot Combat. Elle James
Charlie McClain pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed her eyes. Fifteen more minutes, and she’d call it a night. The computer screen was the only light shining in her house at eleven o’clock. She’d kissed her six-year-old daughter good-night nearly three hours ago, and made it a rule not to work past midnight. She was closing in on breaking that rule and knew she would pay for it in the morning.
She looked forward to the day when her student loans were paid off and a little money was socked away in the bank. Until then, she telecommuted developing software during the day and at night she moonlighted, earning additional money surfing the internet for the Department of Homeland Security.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to use her own internet provider to do the DHS surfing. She lived on the edge of town, beside Grizzly Pass’s small library with free Wi-Fi service.
Since she lived so close, she was able to tap in without any great difficulty. It had been one of the reasons she’d agreed to take on the task. As long as a hacker couldn’t trace her searches back to her home address, she could surf with relative anonymity. She didn’t know how sophisticated her targets were, but she didn’t want to take any more chances than she had to. She refused to put her daughter at risk, should some terrorist she might root out decide to come after her.
Charlie had just about reached her limit when her search sent her to a social media group with some disturbing messages. The particular site was one the DHS had her monitor on a regular basis. Comprised of antigovernment supporters with axes to grind about local and national policy, it was cluttered with chatter tonight. The group called themselves Free America.
Charlie skimmed through the messages sent back and forth between the members of the group, searching for anything the DHS would be concerned about.
She’d just about decided there wasn’t anything of interest when she found a conversation thread that made her page back to read through the entire communication.
Preparations are underway for TO of gov fac.
Citizen soldiers of WY be ready. Our time draws near.
A cold chill slid down Charlie’s spine. TO could mean anything, but her gut told her TO stood for takeover. As a citizen of the US and the great state of Wyoming, she didn’t like the idea of an antigovernment revolt taking place anywhere in the United States, especially in her home state.
Granted, Wyoming stretched across hundreds of miles of prairie, rugged canyons and mountains. But there weren’t that many large cities with government facilities providing prime targets. Cheyenne, the state capital, was on the other side of the state from where Charlie and her daughter lived.
Charlie backed up to earlier posts on the site. She needed to understand what their grievances were and maybe find a clue as to what government facility they were planning to take over. The more information she could provide, the more ammunition DHS would have to stop a full-scale attack. What government facility? What city? Who would be involved in the takeover? Hell, for that matter, what constituted a takeover?
Several of the members of the group complained about the government confiscating their cattle herds when they refused to pay the increase in fees for grazing rights on federal land. Others were angry that the oil pipeline work had been brought to a complete halt. They blamed the tree huggers and the politicians in Washington.
Still others posted links to gun dealer sites and local gun ranges providing training on tactical fire and maneuver techniques used by the military.
The more she dug, the less she liked what she was finding. So far, nothing indicated a specific date or location for the government facility takeover. Without hard facts, she wasn’t sure she had anything to hand over to DHS. But her woman’s intuition was telling her she had something here. She tried to follow the post back to its orgin, but didn’t get very far.
A message popped up in Charlie’s personal message box.
Who is this?
Shocked at being caught, Charlie lifted her hands off the computer keyboard.
I can see you. Come, pretty lady, tell me your name.
Charlie’s breath lodged in her lungs. Could he see her? Her laptop had a built-in webcam. Had he hacked into it? She slammed the laptop shut and stared at the device as if it was a snake poised to bite. Her pulse raced and her hands shook.
Had he really seen her?
Pushing back her office chair, Charlie stood. If he had seen her, so what? She could be anyone who just stumbled onto the site. No harm, no foul. She shoved a hand through her thick hair and walked out of her office and down the hallway to the little bedroom where her six-year-old daughter lay peacefully sleeping.
The message had shaken her and left her rethinking her promise to help DHS monitor for terrorists.
Charlie tucked the blankets up around her daughter’s chin and straightened. She shouldn’t let the message bother her. It wasn’t as if just anyone could trace her efforts at snooping back to her laptop. To track her down would require the skills of a master hacker. And they’d only get as far as the library’s free Wi-Fi.
Too wound up to sleep, Charlie walked around her small cottage, checking the locks on the windows and doors, wishing she had a big bruiser of a dog to protect her if someone was to breach the locks.
Charlie grabbed a piece of masking tape, opened the laptop and covered the lens of the webcam. Feeling a little better, she took a seat at her desk and drafted an email to Kevin Garner, her handler at DHS. She’d typed This might not be anything, but check it out. Then she went back to the social media site and was in the middle of copying the site’s location URL where she’d found the damning call to arms when another message popped up on her screen.
You’re trespassing on a private group. Cease and desist.
Charlie closed the message and went back to pasting the URL into her email.
Another message popped up.
I know what you look like and it won’t take long to trace your location. Pass on any information from this group and we’ll find you.
The next thing to pop up was an image of herself, staring down at her laptop.
A horrible feeling pooled in the pit of Charlie’s belly. Could he find her? Would he really come after her?
Suddenly the dead bolt locks didn’t seem to be enough protection against whoever was at the other end of the computer messaging.
Charlie grabbed her phone and dialed Kevin’s number. Yeah, it was after eleven o’clock, but she needed to hear the sound of someone’s voice.
“I got it,” Kevin’s wife, Misty, answered with a groggy voice. “Hello.”
“Misty, it’s Charlie.”
“Charlie. Good to hear from you. But what time is it? Oh, my, it’s almost midnight. Is anything wrong?”
Charlie hesitated, feeling foolish, but unwilling to end the call now. She squared her shoulders. “I need to talk to Kevin.”
A moment later, Kevin’s voice sounded in her ear. “Charlie, what’s up?”
She drew in a deep breath and let it out, willing her voice to quit shaking as she relayed the information. “I was surfing the Free America social media site and found something. I’m not sure it’s anything, but it set off alarm bells in my head.”
“Shoot.”
She told him about the message and waited for his response.