"HUNTER"
Online Time: 2:08am
Location: Campus, Chicago.
August 30, 2008
Hey everyone and welcome to my journal. Sortof. If there is anyone who is able to read this, let me first commend you on getting past the guards, blocks, and security on my computer. However, I'd also like to point out the supreme idiocy of reading a journal on a primo piece of machinery like this, but hey that's just me.
I've never had a journal before. I didn't do the Diary's thing like my sisters did. But I guess a journal, even a digital one, is a great way to keep my mind organized, and since I practically live in cyber-ville, it's easier to write on here, and my spelling is better for sure. Most journals begin with an introduction, so here goes.
My name is Rebakah Cooper. Known to everyone as Beka, except perhaps my social worker, who calls me Miss Rebakah Cooper, which is rather annoying. As for my name, I don't know what possessed my mother to name me Rebakah, instead of Rebecca, but I got stuck with the name, and Beka works for me. I've already mentioned my sisters: Diona and Lorine. I also have two brothers: Wilhem (Will) and Niliro (Nilo). Again, props to my mother on the crazy names. Well. I shouldn't talk like that, she did her best for a single parent. But when she died, my brothers, sisters, and I got tossed into "The System."
Foster-care. Not cool. Really not cool. Anyway, since no one in their right mind wants to foster five children, we got split up, though we met up every week, as per our social workers orders. My brothers stayed together, my sisters stayed together, I seemed to be the hard one to place, but I got to go with this one little librarian lady, who was otherwise unmarried, and probably the only woman in the world brave enough to go into a staring contest with me. I don't live with her no-more, which is, I guess, as good a place as any to start this history of mine.
Anyway, Librarian. She took me to work with her every day, especially during the summer. Libraries are interesting places, and you meet some interesting people there. I met this one guy, Ersken, there. His mom was probably crazier than mine, cuz she wasn't in the pangs of labor when she named him and she still named him Ersken. Yeesh. Right, so, this guy, Ersken, he showed me how to use the Library computers, which was pretty cool. Surf the internet, write and email, set up my own email account, fun jazz like that.
Well, one day, I was surfing the Web, and I got hit by a spam-tornado. Pop-ups everywhere as the computer started making these distressed awful noises. Before I knew what happened, the machine was smoking and whirring, and supposedly the entire inner workings had either gone "poof" or completely melted. Either way, the Library was mad at me (inevitably, its my fault, and not the evil person who created the pop-up-ado). Anyway, my Librarian foster mom told me I could pay off the computer by "working" for a while. They needed someone to put books back on the shelf. I'll tell you, no one knows Dewey Decimal System better than I do.
While I worked at the Library (which I now realize was "technically" illegal, cuz I was a minor-but whatever, I needed to pay for the computer). I put a lot of books away. When I wasn't putting books away I was digging through the isles, finding stuff to read. I guess I can almost thank that spam-spreader. I found my secret love at the library.
Computer code. Binary, computer programming and defragging, and hacking.
What, did you think I'd say some guys name?
Well, those books were so interesting to me, because I wanted to know why the whole mess with the computer happened in the first place. And if you're the kind of person who is reading this a second time, just to make sure you heard me correctly, yes, I fell in love with computers. My specialty? (Promise not to tell the Librarian?) Hacking. Yes, I said hacking. Now there aren't books in the library about how to hack, but there were some on how to prevent it (albeit they were a bit outdated) and how hacking was evil.
Still, after I'd worked off the computer I'd broken, which actually wasn't that long, since I worked all day during the summer, I tried my hand at the stuff I'd picked up from the books. After a few rocky starts, where I almost thought the computer would go ga-ga, I eventually got the hang of everything. Mostly, I defragged library computers, cuz seriously, what was I gonna hack there? I fixed their anti-virus program as well, so no more spam-ados.
Well, I guess the real story starts sometime around the end of that summer. I'd noticed that this guy walked into the library every Wednesday, sat down at a computer, and after sweating profusely all over the keys, he'd freeze the computer, make it go haywire, and then just unplug the darn thing (which isn't always the best way to fix the dratted things). Anyway, by the end of the summer, I was onto Mr. Sweaty-Palmed Poltergeist. I figured the only reason he went to all the trouble to fritz the computer would be to hide something or destroy data. Time to find out what.
Anyway, when he walked in, I checked out his library card number, which is nothing really, but since I'm good at the whole programming thing, I set the expiration date for a month back. So, he was using an expired card. I then proceeded to go up to the loser, who'd already sat down at a computer, and told him his card was expired, and that he had to go to the front desk to fix it. That way, he didn't have a chance to fritz the computers memory. Hah! Take that.
Anyway, after about a millisecond, I had pulled up all the windows he'd had open. Woah, I thought, reading his mail, This guy is seriously bad stuff. I printed out the big problem page, wrote down the guys email, and his very uncreative password (Stud#1, really, come on). Anyway, I closed the windows and told the Librarian that I was going to go see Ersken. She liked Ersken, cuz he always brought his books back the day they were due, and he never wrote in them, and the pages were never dog-eared or sloppy. She let me go, and I made a bee-line for his house.
"Ersken!" I said, knocking on his door, practically banging on it. He opened and I showed him the email I'd printed out. Ersken's eyes bugged out.
"Beka, we gotta take this to the cops," he said, frowning. "But the police stations a whole long way away from here."
"We could take the bus." I said, recalling that the bus-map in the library showed that the bus went right past the Downtown Police Station.
"The Bus? By ourselves? No way, Beka. You have to go on the bus with an adult." He wouldn't change his mind neither. So I left, taking my email with me. As I was waiting to cross the street, the bus pulled up. After letting all the people go in front of me, I got on the bus and asked the driver if he was going towards the Police station. He said he was, and I gave him my dollar. (It was supposed to be for a can of pop from the vending machine, but I sacrificed it anyway). When we drove past the police station, I got off and went inside.
The lady at the main desk had awful horn-rimmed glasses and her teeth and nails were all yellow. I saw the cigarettes in her pack. Moron I thought, doesn't she know those will kill her someday? The Librarian hated smokers. Anyway, when I told her I needed to speak with a police officer she told me to beat it, unless I was reporting a murder. Which, let me just say, I wasn't. She was absolutely no help. So I just went into The Pit.
The Pit, as they say, is the place where all those cops have their piddly little desks, overflowing with paperwork. I picked a cop at random, poking him on the arm. His name was Rollo. When I showed him the email, he took one look at it and grunted, "You want Narco, I can't help you with this." And proceeded to fill out more paperwork.
Well, I checked all their dratted desks that day, and none of them were named 'Narco,' or anything even close to 'Narco' and I was glum. But as I was sitting near the water cooler, wondering what I should do next, I saw two cops leave an office with a door. The door said "Captain Gershom Haryse" on it. Bingo. If anyone knew who 'Narco' was, it would be the floor Captain, right?
Now, I know your probably thinking I was a bit of an idiot at the time, but bear with me.
So I knocked on the Captain's door, and he barked for me to come in. I walked in, closing the door behind me. He looked up from his desk, which had a bajillion files on it, and he did a double take. "Can I help you, little girl?" He asked. First I gotta say, even though he was really stressed out, the captain was a real-looker. Salt and Pepper hair (which he still has), solemn-but-not-sad eyes, and he was tall and regal-looking. Almost lordly, or knightly, so you can't help but call him 'sir.'
Anyway, I told him what I found, who I was looking for, and I showed him the email. He hesitated a bit before taking it, sizing me up. After he checked something on his computer, he told me to sit down and start from the beginning, about how I figured Mr. Sweaty-Palms was trouble. So I told it to him again, and his eyes became more and more intense.
"Which is why I'm in here. That Rollo-cop out there said that I should look for Narco, and I want to know which officer in that messy room outside is Narco?" I told him, trying hard to be polite, even though I figured this Captain would probably get that patronizing look in his face and tell me I should go play with my dolls or something. But he didn't, he went to his door, opened it, and shouted into the Pit.
"Jewell!" he barked so that I cringed, "Get your rear in here, bring your crew, and Ahuda's. And bring one of those fancy new lap-computers."
"Yessir!" someone else responded immediately, and I hear scrambling in the other room. Captain Haryse came back into his office and steered me to his desk, telling me to sit in his chair (which was really cool—still is). He filed some paperwork away, clearing the desk a bit, as three men and a woman walked into the Captains office, a little taken aback to see me in his chair.
"Captain Haryse, you wanted to see us, sir?" said the first man who walked in, he had the coolest lap-top in his hand that I couldn't help but drool over it. Like a puppy over a liver treat or something.
"Jewell, put that computer on my desk, would you," said the captain, still filing away folders and folders of paperwork. I looked at Jewell, he was a big guy, and sortof scary. He still is: he can crack a man in investigation faster than anyone. They call him the Pit-Bull. Because he'll interrogate you like no-ones business. I didn't know that at the time, so I gave him a very severe look. Behind him was a no-nonsense black-woman who kept her hair cut short. She looked tough, her name tag read "Ahuda." The other two men couldn't have been more opposite: Yoav was tall and big and burly, and while Potterkin was small and wiry.
The captain handed Jewell the email I'd printed out and as he read out loud, his eyes bugged out. "Sir, is this lead legit?" He said, practically gasping for air.
The captain looked at me, "Could you please bring up this mans entire email?" He glanced at the laptop, and I practically leaped at the chance of using it. "Don't be scared, hun. These old dogs won't hurt you."
"For the record," I said coolly, "My name is Cooper. Beka Cooper."
"Kid's got the Bond line down," laughed Potterkin, but no one else chuckled.
"Also," I glared at the captain, "I could have done the whole thing on this old honker which is on your desk, but I'm not gonna give up the chance to use this sweet a piece of machinery." I start up the laptop and get to work. That made the captain chuckle.
The four cops and the captain hovered for a moment, then came to stand behind me and watch me crack Mr. Sweaty-Hands' email account all over again. Easy. They had me dig around the email box, using specific dates and weekends. I just pulled up the mail from all the Wednesdays he was in the library. Bingo. Just what they needed.
"Wouldn't it be great if we got this load before it hit the street?" Said Yoav into Jewells ear.
"No way of knowing where the pick up is. It just says, 'The usual spot.' Like we're going to deign where that is?" Jewell growled, like he was a dog, and his leash was too short.
"We could have him followed," suggested Potterkin.
"Yeah right," barked Ahuda, "He'll notice he's being tailed. All these freaks are paranoid, you know that." She scowled. "Isn't there a way of finding out where he's been?" They muttered to each other. Seeing as they weren't looking too well at these emails, I spoke up.
"What about if you track where he went at the drop off time, by using his cell number as a locator and triangulating his location by cell phone tower?" I said it, cuz I'd read about police doing something similar in one of the Librarians crime-thriller novels. They just stared at me.
"We don't have his cell phone number, hun" Yoav said to me, in that patronizing tone. I glared at him.
"You don't have his number, now. But if you give me a minute, I could." I cracked my fingers putting them on the keys of the lap-top. Then looked up at the captain for the 'okay.'
"Don't we need a warrant?" asked Potterkin. Ahuda shushed him.
"WE do. She doesn't. Do it, kid." Ahuda said, practically licking her lips at the idea of getting Mr. Sweaty Hands and all his awful friends. When I got to work, they realized I wasn't just some half-bit of a kid who knew too much about computers. I was the real deal. With just the information from his email I managed to track down a credit card statement he'd paid online. From Credit Card, to Bank, to Bills he paid, including his phone bill. From the Phone Bill I got the company name and, you guessed it, his cell phone number.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this kid is hacking, right?" asked Yoav quietly. No one corrected him. "Holy crap, this kid is hacking?! Is no one worried that this is illegal?"
He got slapped in the back of the head by Ahuda. "No judge is going to care about an 8 year old hacker when you and the rest of Narco bust this dirtbag. Possession with intent to distribute is a felony, but you're getting the whole gang, plus five hundred pounds of dirty coke, before it hits our city's streets. Shut up, and let the kid to the triangle-thingy."
"I'm almost 11," I told Ahuda, then quickly turned by gaze back to the computer when she glared at me. She and Yoav were arguing about legalities of busting a drug-dealer on data gathered illegally.
That's right. Mr. Sweaty Palms was a drug dealer. A nasty one. And yes, I knew what coke was. When you're in the system, you learn street names for shit like drugs real fast. Ice, grass, meth, dust, coke, crack, everything. It's actually depressing, in retrospect, but we know and we learn fast when street names change. I also figured out what Narco was. The Narcotics Unit. As in, dealing with illegal narcotics or the illegal sale of narcotics, or both.
While they argued the legalities, the Captain gave me a wink, and I triangulated what cell-phone towers the guys phone was near during the drop off time. I narrowed it down to a four block area, pulled up a map, and pointed to the screen. "There."
They all looked at the screen, to see where I pointed. They grumbled and growled. "If a kid can do it, our people can do it too, with a warrant." Yoav argued, stickling for the rules.
"Give it up Yoav, the kid is too good." Jewell was practically grinning.
"Don't you need, like probable cause for a warrant?" I asked. Yoav glared at me, and I glared right back at him. "I'm just saying, because this way you can say you got an anonymous tip about the drop-off. No muss no fuss. No waiting 24 hours for a warrant, when the drop-off is tonight, just before the weekend."
Ahuda, Jewell, and the Captain all grinned in a way that showed off their teeth, almost like they were licking their chops. The captain spoke first.
"Bring me his head on a plate. I want all of them. Don't let a single one get away." I clicked on the screen, and emailed two lists to the captains computer. Opened his computer, and then hit print. I then proceeded to delete all evidence that I'd been on either computer. The captain picked up the printouts: email addresses, and phone numbers, of contacts. The whole ring would be in there, all they had to do was play match-up.
As the cops left, I closed the computer. I tried to leave with a quick "goodbye!" but the captain grabbed me by the arm.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"The Library, over on Kedzie," I told him, tugging my arm out of his fingers.
"What's there?"
"My Foster mother works there," I told him, and turned toward the door. "I have to go back. Thanks for listening to me." I walked out of his office, but I heard him muttering as I left, already calling people up on his phone.