> master password: _

Lilly typed in the one from last time.

Wrong.

He sighed. The system had been changed yet again. It happened every few weeks. The passwords relied on a changing coding system. The pattern of changes had enough hints that you could figure the new password out with a bit of trying and maths. For some reason, the ability to solve puzzles was both a necessary and a sufficient requirement for access to the website. It was still better than having someone try to hack their way in.

Over all, the community Lilly was trying to access resembled a bunch of overgrown children, in some of the best and worst ways. The access challenge was a game. The codes varied in a way that you could brute force your way in, but you didn’t need to. Logic and a few tweaks went a long way to unravel the new password, but not enough to serialize the process.

Lilly could have written a little something to study the patterns and predict the newest one, and the program could change on itself as need arose.

Actually, that was a thought worth saving for later. Interactive algorithm.

Time, he thought. Running the algorithm every time I log in costs more than doing the puzzles every now and then. Plus, he couldn’t access the script when logging on from a computer other than his own, simply because of equipment quality.

Optimize runtime, include pattern expressions, improve portable version.

His to-do list grew yet again. For now, he’d have to do his puzzle solving manually.

Ten more minutes of careful probing and trying out, and he had gained access.

> score: 61

> detected attempts: 3

The score was all part of the game. For some people, at least, in the same way as programming contests and maths competitions.

The system started you with a hundred score points. For every failed log-on attempt, points were deducted. If the score ever fell below fifty points, the system locked you out for a measure of time. If you failed again, the lock-out time grew. Like entering the wrong PIN into a phone too many times.

In addition, the system did some rudimentary scans for scripts, runtime, methods, all that kind of stuff. Brute-forcing, if detected, was not tolerated. Anyone who tried out the most common thousand combinations was kicked out or denied first access at all. This platform was for people who recognized the pattern, creating a sense of exclusiveness that locked out the bored high school kids looking to buy weed.

It was elitist bullshit, in Lilly’s opinion, but it did make reaching the right people so much easier.

Lilly could have spent time and effort to have his attempts go completely undetected, could have used the optimized prediction algorithm he had in reserve. He could have improved the runtime and efficiency, all that kind of stuff. His score would have ended up in the high eighties or low nineties. Time and effort or a score on an online list to compare whose was bigger. He preferred a minimal cost approach that usually landed him around sixty. Enough to get in.

His personal score disappeared and the system rerouted him to the main page. There were no profiles and no nicknames, no personalized log-in.

A box with the last week’s top ten scores popped up, and Lilly skipped over them without looking at the names. He navigated to the board he wanted. His setup made sure to mask his IP address and the website’s own functions did the rest. Any of his posts would be sent after a random delay, with a scrambled time stamp, all within a set interval.

All for the sake of anonymity, or the pretence of it, at least. Lilly doubted that whoever ran the site and scramblers would skip on the opportunity to gather some data for insurance or an emergency. Log-on and message times could get you a long way in finding a location.

That kind of data wasn’t sold, not with any regularity at least. Otherwise the site wouldn’t be up and running and bristling with activity as it was. It was the best he could hope for to fulfil his purposes, so Lilly kept using the board.

He quickly found what he was looking for and typed out a short text, a casual request for information on Max Rivers’ operations, starting a new thread he called “Adam”. It was public, automatically linking itself to relevant search terms and popping up as a suggestion whenever the right comment was posted. The thread would be advertised to the right people, those dealing information. Lilly had no need for jobs or hits or specially obtained items.

Now he had to wait for the thread to be published, for someone to read it, to answer, and for that answer to be published yet again. It was half an hour before a comment popped up.

> ADAM: What’re you looking for?

Lilly grinned. No user names, no identification. To any outsider, the comments would be a bundle of messages, with no way to tell who had said what. He replied.

>ADAM: Heard there was a fire. Wondered if something’s left.

Again, it would be some time before anything happened. Lilly turned his attention to the new Opener software. Back at the job in the police station, one of the doors had caused problems. Aside from using ID cards to open, the lock got another signal to re-engage when the latch shut. Without the signal, or if the door wasn’t shut, an alarm went off after a set time.

The situation had worked out in the end, but it might be a problem next time. The Opener had failed to replicate the re-engage routine, because it hadn’t noticed the need for one in the system. How could he put it in for future use? How to detect that little loop in the system?

Another half hour brought two answers in the thread.

> ADAM: oddly specific

Well, yeah, stupid.

The second comment as from someone else, he guessed.

> ADAM: The usual. Time?

At the end of the comment was a number. Lilly grinned. This was fun. He checked the string of digits. Hello, public key. Five minutes later, he sent an encrypted invitation into the thread. Two minutes after that, a new window popped up. Private channel.

Lilly typed quickly, and the reply was instantaneous. The time scrambler was disabled for private conversations.

> ADAMONE: 10.30

> ADAMONE: Done

Wonderful. He deleted both messages and their traces, then erased the channel. There was a built-in function for that on the site, but Lilly preferred to keep his skills sharp by performing his own wipes. And it made him feel a bit safer.

If his contact was in any way competent, he would perform the same routines. The messages were already off the site, but they would still be displayed in the other’s channels. They would only truly disappear when they were gone from every system they had ever been on.

And if the site did real time back-ups on a separate server, they were all screwed anyway.

There was still the problem of the public key and invitation floating in an open thread. But by the time anyone had cracked the private key, then the code, then restored the private channel, there would be no information left. In the unlikely case that someone managed to crack the key and recover the wiped data and figure out the meeting place, the meeting itself would be over. Cracking private keys alone could take a very long time. And the meeting was in less than two hours. Safe as can be.

At least, Lilly knew of nobody capable of intercepting him in time.

An hour later, at a quarter to ten, Lilly entered the Stove. It was a nice place, a large room with tables and niches and a couch, with a bar running along the back wall. All done in dark, warm wood, and smelling of home. There were always a few people milling about nursing drinks or sipping coffee, some shady, some jumpy. And of course there were the obligatory college students who had “discovered” the newest hip location.

This early, there was plenty of space. The evenings were when it got so crowded you couldn’t take two steps without bumping into someone.

Lilly wove through the scattered tables and settled down at the bar. Yoshua greeted him with a nod and prepared a glass of iced tea without prompt. He set the glass on the polished surface of the bar counter. Lilly took a sip a placed the glass back into the circle of condensation it had left against the dark wood.

‘Is Eliah in?’

Yoshua squinted at him. He was a big man, with short, very light hair and blue eyes. Eastern European ancestry somewhere, judging from his jaw and complexion. If you didn’t make trouble in his bar, he was a generally nice guy, if almost as quiet as his sister.

‘No tea in the back,’ Yoshua finally answered.

Lilly nodded and gave himself a few more minutes to finish the glass in peace.

He had over thirty minutes before his contact showed up. The Stove was a popular meeting place, not just among college students, but among thieves and brokers. “Broker” was really just a fancy name for an informant or fence that was discreet enough that nobody had silenced them yet. Lilly didn’t like dealing with them much, but he rarely had a choice. Selling whatever Orion and Poison brought home from jobs wasn’t easy if he had to find the buyers himself.

Orion couldn’t implicate himself like that with the enemies he’d made in the city. Poison usually took care of any physical valuables recovered, she knew the right people to ask. And Lilly took care of the information handling. Instead of meeting a potential buyer and implicating them both, he resorted to using brokers as intermediaries. He’d meet someone for a friendly chat, and that person would meet someone else for a friendly chat, and for the official version, that was it. Lilly never knew who he was selling to, and the buyers never knew who had provided the goods, and everyone was happy.

It was an old system, but the brokers in this area had made what they would call an art form out of it. The Stove was one of a few designated places to conduct exchanges.

Lilly finished his tea and moved towards a back door, with a large “Private” sign taped across. Yoshua glanced his way and tapped the underside of his wrist. A lock clicked open.

Lilly stared at Yoshua’s hand in glee. That hadn’t been here last time. Motion recognition? Implanted chip? Glued-on chip? A simple signal to someone else in the room? Timer? Empty gesture to draw attention from the real mechanism? No mechanism and all and the lock was just always open?

He shook his head in a small, rapid motion and slipped through the door, letting it fall shut behind him. He could hear the whirr of the lock re-engaging and wondered whether that was a distraction, too.

The workshop was cool and well-lit. Fully stocked shelves, tools neatly organized in an order he couldn’t discern at first glance. Nothing lay on the floor or the workbenches, except for what was in immediate use, right then and there. Eliah had always been particular about keeping order among her things, though it was a rather special kind of order. She had created a comfortable space for her to work in, to do things her own way, and she was rarely disturbed. Lilly didn’t doubt she knew where every single one of her tools was.

He took a few hesitant steps into the room. Most of the shelves reached up to the ceiling, dividing the room into corridors and little pockets of open space. A maze with a straight way to the back and dozens of branching alleys and niches. He was hesitant to wander too far, afraid that he might upset some part of Eliah’s work.

Just when he was starting to get uncomfortable with his indecision, a head popped out from behind one of the shelves. Blue eyes identical to her brother’s regarded him blankly, framed by the matching light hair. Lilly waved and smiled hesitantly. Eliah’s head withdrew, which was as much of a greeting as he ever got. Lilly strolled around the shelf after her.

‘Orion says to congratulate you on the new Opener. Worked like a charm.’

He got a nod and even a small quirk of her lips that rated very close to a smile. Orion liked to build his own tech stuff, but sometimes he commissioned Eliah for workspace or materials or tools. And on a few rare occasions, he asked her to implement his ideas.

Eliah sat down at a workbench and nudged a free stool with her foot. She pulled up the pair of goggles resting around her neck and returned her attention to a small, unfinished box. Lilly sat down on the indicated stool, right next to her yet out of the way.

He liked to think she invited him to keep her company because she enjoyed him being near, and not just out of politeness. Who knew, maybe she did. In any case, Lilly enjoyed these times, when he got to watch her work on an Opener.

Small, slender fingers touched the incomplete device; gently, almost reverently, and possessively calm all the same. She turned the wires, moved pegs, fastened screws, brazing, rasping, and twisting. Lilly lost himself in seconds, following her movements, understanding each intuitively.

Every motion was calculated, every little gesture was vital. If the twitch of a finger didn’t tweak the Opener, it stretched the muscles of her hand to keep them from cramping up and spasming. Minimal effort. Everything, all parts and materials, were left in a way to prepare for future steps, every tool came to rest so it could be most easily accessed for its next use.

It was the kind of fluent ease that only came with long years of practice and experience. Eliah knew her parts, her tools, every little action by heart. She’d done them all a thousand times, and she strung them together anew to build something unique. Lilly imagined this was what playing an instrument must be like, familiar motions creating a new masterpiece.

Yet watching Eliah work, Lilly could empathize. He knew enough about what she did to feel the motions in his fingers, know the next step in his mind. He was once again struck by the way she moved her skill, shaping it, packing and folding it into a small box, a simple design of wires and clasps. Everything was put neatly together, no space wasted or lost. Creativity poured into the circuits, collecting pieces of metal into a function, a purpose, a tool. A mind, controlling and creating.

Practised motions from muscle and sinew, skin stretching over joints. Fingertips recognizing objects and components by touch, without the need for eyesight to identify the tool she picked.

Muscle memory. Knowledge and experience flashing in her mind, glinting in her eyes like a thousand tiny flares. The mind making connections faster than it could consciously comprehend, tending to a hundred different little tasks, thinking and moving, calling on memory and fresh impressions. Connections forming and snapping together in thoughts and inspiration, fitting easily into a growing net of ideas. With his own mind hurtling in tow, barely keeping pace yet understanding, somehow, what and why.

Lilly could almost see it all in his mind, blazing across her, shining in her eyes and around her fingers. Like raw energy dancing around her form, wild interconnected lines, barely contained but directed securely towards a purpose. Energy flowing steadily from thought to creation, through all the channels into this work, this one tool.

A short, pointed prickle against his finger jerked him out of his reverence. Almost half an hour had passed watching Eliah work. He had to head out again for his meeting. Thank the gods for his ring, the same model he had given Orion and Poison on their last job. He would have lost himself in here and forgotten.

Standing, he put a hand on Eliah’s shoulder for just a second, not daring to let it linger too long, then turned towards the door. She never showed whether she noticed him leave.

The broker entered the Stove at precisely ten thirty and stopped just inside the room, taking his time to look around. He didn’t seem bothered by the people trying to enter after him and finding their way momentarily blocked. The man’s leisure provided Lilly with the opportunity to study him in turn. Button down shirt, suit jacket, yellow scarf, combed-back hair. He had his hands in his pants pockets, standing at ease.

Lilly was rather sure this was his man, by his attitude, and by the scarf. Yellow apparel was the unofficial work uniform of brokers, paired with a heavy air of superiority.

He waited until the broker glanced his way and idly held eye contact. He scratched the side of his neck, faked a yawn, and looked around, casting his glance further around the room as if looking at nothing in particular. He was surprised how often this ruse seemed to work. Anybody not explicitly watching him wouldn’t find anything out of the ordinary with the gesture.

The broker lazily strolled about the room and just so happened to find himself at Lilly’s table, one of the two set back into niches along the wall. They were lightly sheltered from curious observers, just enough to give a bit of privacy. Lilly had played with the idea of choosing a more open spot to irritate the broker. He had decided that this particular kind of person was annoying enough already and didn’t need more motivation to pester him.

‘That seat free?’ The broker had a heavy, drawling accent, and Lilly wondered whether it was fake.

He nodded at the man and glanced over towards Yoshua, ordering some more iced tea for the two of them with a gesture. The man settled with a sigh and stretched himself into a lounge.

‘Heard there was a fire at one o’ the warehouses in the south part o’ the city.’

Lilly shrugged. ‘Shame, really. Area close to the water, right?’

The broker made an exaggeratedly surprised face. ‘Well, fancy meetin’ someone who knows ‘bout it. What might be your name, sir?’

‘Lilly.’ He wasn’t sure what to think of the man. He had a kind of charm, but that counted against him, too, at least in Lilly’s book. Yoshua brought their tea and left. ‘Yours?’

The man paused for a second, then grinned. ‘Adam’ll do.’

Lilly snorted at the joke and took a sip of his tea, smiling. This one was all right, he guessed. He disliked brokers in general, the word-play and dancing around the topic. He much preferred the part of a job that didn’t bring him in direct contact with someone specialized in reading and playing people. At least he liked brokers a great deal better than cons or hit-men, and he dealt with those often enough.

Sometimes Lilly cursed his connections in the city, forcing him to go out and deal with people. Orion would have had much more fun trying to outwit this guy. Poison, on the other hand…

For a moment, Lilly imagined her in his place, furious as the broker strung her along, pushing her buttons, and almost choked on his tea.

Adam leant back and stretched his legs out under the table.

‘All right. Watcha got?’ Straight to business. Either the man was kindred to Lilly’s own way of doing this, or he was far too good at reading him and acting accordingly. Lilly mentally took a cautious step back, scrutinizing the broker.

‘Depends. Will my name pop up?’

Adam scowled. ‘Now that’s insulting right there. Your trustworthiness is the only thing I’ll ever mention, an’ you know that. Wouldn’t keep my hide else-way.’

So far so true. Lilly shrugged. ‘Apologies. Now then, I’ve acquired some plans, schedules, records, some nice treats. Probably not sole copies. But the owner might be interested in keeping them from spreading.’

Adam nodded slowly and made an opening offer.

Lilly barked a laugh. ‘This is Max Rivers’ information we’re talking about. It’s worth much more than that.’

‘So you say.’

‘There were lives at risk to get this. Mine included. If the info doesn’t hold up to prove its worth, you know how to contact me.’

Adam considered, then sighed. ‘This system relies too much on honour.’

‘Mine, and yours, and every contact’s. Works better for all of us like that, we all benefit,’ Lilly shrugged. ‘Someone screws up, they’re cut out. Business, clean and simple. Would you rather we go back to relying on informants?’

‘Hells, no!’

‘Then be glad for your system of honour.’

Adam raised an eyebrow at Lilly excluding himself from the system, but didn’t comment. Instead, he asked, ‘You looked at the information?’

‘Of course.’

Adam sighed dramatically. ‘Regretfully, that lo’ers the value.’

‘Not by much. The price others would pay stays the same, and it’s not a sole copy anyway. Keeping the stuff from anyone’s eyes will push Rivers’ offer up along. If I can sell back to him for a better price, I might as well do that.’

They haggled for a bit like that, back and forth, forth and back. The broker seemed a little surprised that Lilly, despite his social shortcomings, knew exactly what kind of information he was handling. He caught himself quickly and his demeanour turned from superior to something more plain and ruthless. The discussion was almost fun.

Finally, they settled on a price roughly three times the initial offer. It was a good enough outcome.

Lilly asked about some more things that might be of interest, and Adam inquired about any other information he might have for sale. Nothing worth the price came around, and they ended the exchange.

Adam waved Yoshua over, they told him the outlining details, and he watched the exchange of a flash drive against a stack of cash. Insurance that the transaction had been witnessed by a neutral party. No barkeep or server in a place like this only ever worked the culinary side of business.

It was another part of the system that relied on trust, and reputation, and integrity. Honour, one might call it. Funnily enough, it worked with professional killers and thieves and cons alike, in a way that was almost peaceful. Losing parts of the network to corruption would collapse the system, and without the system everyone would be yapping at each other’s heels and nobody would get any work done. It was a frightening enough thought to keep most of the participants in line.

When the flash drive and most of the cash had safely disappeared from open view, Lilly used a single note of his new pocket change to pay for the tea, and Adam left. He hadn’t touched his tea.

‘I’m surprised this keeps working so well,’ Yoshua mumbled, clearing away the glasses.

Lilly leant back and shrugged. ‘The Stove is safe. Neither law enforcement nor people like Rivers dare send someone in and disrupt the balance. This is neutral territory. Strictly business. We all prefer making our deals without bloodshed.’

Lilly doubted a single informant in the entire city would dare enter the Stove or any similar place, and he was glad for it. An informant would as soon run off to tell on you to your enemies than give you what you wanted. Brokers weren’t hired by anyone in particular, so they had quickly taken over the intermediary jobs in the city’s underground network. It was all right with Lilly.

Satisfied with the outcome of the barter, he switched places to the bar counter once more, clearing the niche so that someone else seeking to make business could take it.

‘Would you get me some stew?’ Yoshua nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

Lilly felt suddenly tired, weary. Maybe the tension was simply leaving him, as it always did after a job concluded. He folded his arms on the counter and settled his head on top, closing his eyes. Yoshua would bring him something wonderful to eat, and he’d enjoy it, and then he’d go home and be done.

‘Rough day already?’, a voice asked next to him.