14
“This is it” said Tom, pointing to a building, behind a fence, beyond a football pitch sized field, which was seemingly surrounded by construction materials and vehicles.
“Is that Ryvak?” said Anthony Kendrick, pulling the Alfa Romeo across onto the kerb. He stopped the car and they both looked at the building for a few moments.
Anthony was 24, five feet three inches, had a mousy appearance with a mop of curly hair. He wore a charcoal ribbed half zip neck sweater and stone cord bootcut jeans. Eventually, Tom said:
“I just had to see the place, had to know that what they are building there is going to close very soon”.
“Is that it then, shall we go? We don’t really need to see it do we, and, you know, do you really think it’s a good idea? What we’re doing”.
“Yes. It is, what ‘we’re’ doing. If you want out, then it won’t bother me, I can do it myself. To be quite honest, it doesn’t really need two at all, but you can hack into other databases while I concentrate on the main one.
Once I screw that up, then whatever you do won’t matter. It screws them up faster with two”. Anthony folded his arms and stared at the steering wheel.
“I don’t know, you know. It’s a bit risky”.
“Oh, really? And screwing the banks isn’t more risky? We’re not stealing money here.
We’re taking down a company that tortures animals. They won’t trace us. Do you know what type of prison sentence we’re in for if we’re caught? That’s ‘we’, me and you. We’re in this together. You know you can end it without being traced, but no, you’re quite happy to siphon off money from people’s accounts to pay for your posh cars and clothes.
Quite happy with that, aren’t you? But now you’re having second thoughts because you’re not getting anything out of it. Shall I tell you what I’m getting out of it?
Satisfaction, that’s what. Seeing those greedy bastards in there getting fucked, that’s what. I can do it on my own, bail out if you like.
As soon as I get home I’m starting it, I hope you will as well. Think of the animals”.
Anthony pulled away from the kerb.
“I’m in anyway aren’t I? If I’m caught then I’m in for a long jail term, so let’s do it”.
Tom smiled.
“Long jail term?” said Tom. “You can be the most psychopathic killer on the planet and get a light prison sentence, but if you steal money, then they’ll bring back the death penalty”.
They drove in silence for a while, and Anthony knew Tom’s mind was churning with possibilities and naivety. He changed the topic of conversation:
“I see that psychic detective has found another body by that remote viewing he does.
That’s four successes in a row. Doesn’t that tell you that there must be something in it?” Tom just looked at him for a few seconds, as though his thoughts were on pause. He shrugged.
“Coincidence, that’s what it is. You’re not going to bottle out of this are you?”
“What? no, not at all”.
Anthony drove Tom home, and promised to keep him updated as to his progress. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all. As he drove homeward, his instinctive reactions switched to auto-pilot, enabling him to drive while his mind toiled with guilt and apprehension.
He thought it quite ironic that he had no guilt whatsoever in stealing from people’s bank accounts, keeping him constantly with a regular income. Tom and he both targeted separate banks, but here, they were both going to hack into Ryvak to put them out of business, and minor surges of adrenaline coursed through Anthony at the prospect of being caught. He quite liked animals, but to risk a prison sentence for them was, to him, absurd.
He knew it was hypocritical to basically steal from people’s accounts, but it was remote, faceless. He would feel more guilty if he was to steal from somebody’s purse or pocket, which if he was given the opportunity, would refuse. He would not lower himself to such a level. It was only Tom’s success and inducement that made him take the risk in the first place.
He would never have done it alone. Now though, his influence was leading him down a path where he did not want to go, where he would never have tread. He wondered how he could tell him that he didn’t want to do it. He always felt guilty saying no to people for fear of upsetting them. He’d lost count of how much he was owed by people, students who saw him as a cash-pot. ‘Lend’s a tenner, Ant, I need it to buy a lecky card. I’ll give it you back, ‘onest’. They’d look at him with wide, hopeful eyes, and Anthony would give in. ‘You’ll give it me back in a few days, ye?’.
‘a promise, Ant’. Days would turn to weeks. Weeks would turn to months. He knew he was a doormat, and could do nothing about it. He was just glad he could now afford it, so if they didn’t pay him back, it didn’t matter, he wouldn’t miss it.
He knew that most of the people that came back to him to ‘lend a tenner’, would be banging on the door should they be owed any money. Still, money was no concern for him now.
A long spell in prison was, however. The courts would grant him no favours, and probably give him the harshest sentence they could. Siphoning money from people’s accounts, and aiding in the closing of a company responsible for medical research. ‘Not only do you steal from the innocent, Mr Kendrick, but you may very well have cost more innocent people their lives because of your naivety and lack of understanding. I therefore find you guilty of these counts, and have no hesitation in sentencing you to 35 years in a maximum security prison, TAKE HIM DOWN!’. The judge slammed down his gavel in his mind, and Anthony jolted. He dry-washed his face with his hands, and wondered why he was parked outside a line of shops. He then saw a telephone box and remembered. A card stuck above the telephone read: ‘Shop a con. Call Crimespy anonymously’. Being a ‘grass’ was something he had never contemplated.
He knew that there were not many types of people hated more than grasses. Paedophiles, murderers and rapists would always be ahead, but a grass would always follow in their shadow. He didn’t want to do it, Tom was a good friend.
Yet, he knew that if Tom knew it was him that did it, and that was fairly probable, then he also would go down with him. They may very well end up in the same cell together, not friends though, not as they once were. It would be more trouble than it was worth, he thought, starting the engine. He pulled away from the kerb, and drove away.
Tom drank from bottled water, looking out of his bedroom window. He found himself mostly gazing at the reflection of his monitor which awaited his input. It was time to do it, he thought, time to begin the process of taking down the company responsible for the inhumane experiments inflicted upon animals. It was time to become the animal’s voice, assuming their reaction to be hostile to those who would use them as objects manipulated without choice.
He knew it would be easy, he thought, grinning slightly as he took another swig. It was simple. As they were still under construction, he guessed that they probably would not have their computer system fully up and running yet, but have the basics ready for installation.
Security would be down, and it would be easy to hack into the accounts database. He wanted the screen which basically gave him the overall total funds that the company had. It would be an ever changing number as costs were spent and funds were received. All he needed to do was copy the screen. He would then overlap the original, but alter the total, so it gradually reduced, so it would look like the company was losing money.
The fact that they were not was of no concern. He wanted the bosses to see and believe that their profits were falling. He would do it slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion. As the money decreased, people would lose their jobs. He hoped that the first to go would be the torturing scientists. As long as everybody profiting from the place lost their jobs, that was all that mattered. The managers and directors at the top would be running around in panic as their worst nightmares came true.
Goodbye profits, hello giro. He smiled at that prospect. He could imagine the absolute shame and humiliation of the bosses, walking into a jobcentre, their shoulders slumped, heads down.
‘I’ve come to make a claim’. Tom nodded, drank the rest of his water, and turned and crossed to his computer. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and said quietly: ‘Right, let’s do this’.
After 10 minutes, he was finding it difficult in trying to find a backdoor server which would allow him access to the administrator record files and directories which in turn would link him directly to the salaries of all the employees and to the company finances.
A few more minutes went by before a message popped up: ‘Input system password:’. It needed the IP address of one of the computers connected to the internal server.
Usually Tom could easily evade passwords, but as he tried to bypass this one, it simply kept popping back up, no matter what he did. His face became more and more crimson each time it appeared. Eventually he slammed his palms down on the table.
“Shit, no!” he shouted, folding his arms. His mother looked around his bedroom door.
“Everything alright dear? Would you like a cup of tea?”.
Anthony was lying on his bed, channel surfing. All these channels and there’s nothing on, he thought. His mobile phone rang on his bedside table, and he picked it up and saw that it was Tom. He didn’t have time to acknowledge him before Tom spoke:
“Ant! Crisis! I can’t hack the mainframe. It needs an IP address of one of the computers in the building”.
“Ah, oh well, I thought it was a bit risky anyway”.
“No, I’m still doing it. I know you won’t help me with this one you big coward, but I’m breaking in. I just need to access one of the computers, get the address, and get out of there”.
“And maybe rescue a few animals while you’re there”.
“No, the place isn’t ready. They won’t have any animals there yet. They’ll be the last things to go in. Security will be low, so I’ve got to do it as soon as possible. I’m doing it tonight. I’ll tell you how it went tomorrow, anyway, catch you later”. He hung up, and Anthony sighed. He returned the phone and put his hands to his face.
He knew his conscience was gearing up, ready to assault him. He couldn’t let this go without telling somebody.