The morning guards had to swallow their usual teases when they saw Brock with Gillian. They still called him 'one of them big bosses', and wouldn't dare to joke around him. So they just nodded at Gillian with discreet smiles and watched them walk out of the building.
Brock didn't ask where they were going, and let her lead the way. Gillian didn't ask herself either. It was breakfast time at work, so she just took the way to Betty's bakery. She'd barely slept a couple of hours, and was deep into that mix of autopilot and overdrive coming from adding stress to exhaustion. A state she was familiar with and didn't fight. She could still function, and now that Brock was there, he'd cover for anything she might overlook. She didn't know why on earth he was there so early, especially since his clothes showed he didn't have to come to work this morning. But she wasn't about to miss the chance of his help.
The fresh morning air in her face was a sweet caress, collecting her ideas. She started talking, so Brock could at least get the same blurry picture she had. "As far as we know, this blackhat is among the five most wanted nationwide. Tanya and Connor tell me he's a living legend in the deep web. If he can't crash a system, nobody else can. He can build malware inside malware and firewalls within firewalls. There's no cracking his codes, unless he leaves an exploit on purpose."
They reached the corner and the light was green for them to cross the street, but she didn't notice until Brock moved to do so. She just followed him, as she went on. "We were able to figure out what this malware was about only because he used a handler. Even so, they cannot tell exactly how it works, or how to use the code to track'im down. We were lucky to find his signature."
"He included it to show off what he's capable of?"
"Tanya and Connor agree it works rather as a warning: this is my playground, don't mess around. No hacker would try to copy or use it, knowing it's his. They talked about retribution. Too technical for me, but I understand that challenging him would be like flapping a red flag before an angry bull the size of a T Rex."
"So he's been around long enough to build quite a reputation about his skills, his cunning and his vindictive habits."
She nodded. "He's been considered elite for about two years now, but he must've started climbing up the ranking at least a couple of years before that."
They turned around the corner and Brock saw several cruisers pulled over up ahead. Gillian didn't pay them any attention, so he didn't mention it.
"How long to acquire the necessary skill to be an elite blackhat?" he asked.
Gillian shrugged, grimacing. "Don't know. But Tanya and Connor grew up with computers, and they can pull about anything I may ask them. Yet they claim they're hardly past the Ghost's soles."
"So we're talking about years of training, plus a couple more to make himself a name, and another couple keeping it."
"Meaning he's at least in his late twenties."
"Why do they respect him so much?"
"He hacked and crashed some huge targets."
Brock looked down with a focused scowl as she listed the servers the Ghost had reportedly and successfully hacked. "Okay, we know where he's been," he said. "What about his motivations? Hackers usually operate on three: political agenda, financial profit or recognition."
Gillian tilted her head a little. "T and Connor said our guy openly despises political hacking."
Brock kept elaborating, to help her think. "So financial profit or recognition. Some of them attack important companies to get a job as their system's security chief. Or hijack their servers for ransom. And the others only seek their community's praise. They're not after the money, but their peers' respect. They dream of becoming celebrities in their virtual worlds."
Gillian nodded slowly as he spoke, eyes ahead but not really seeing. He knew she was taking in the information, and without any conscious process involved, her mind would bring it all together with what she already knew, to start outlining the right puzzle.
"Hey! Morning, Reg!"
Gillian and Brock scowled up at the same time. To find Taylor's nice, confident smile right outside Betty's. The auto-overdrive wouldn't allow Gillian to even feel awkward—that would come later. It was only natural Taylor was there at that time, so she was hardly surprised.
"Hey! On your way to work?"
"Trying to be in time, for a change."
"Good luck with that. You sure remember Agent Brockner."
Taylor gifted Brock with another nice smile as he stretched out his hand. "Of course. We met for the Amber Alert, back in December." He shook Brock's hand, holding his eyes as he nodded. "Never got a chance to thank you for always keeping Reg in one piece."
An alarm flared in the back of Gillian's head at the way Brock's scowl deepened. Maybe it'd be wise to put an end to the conversation. But the overdrive wouldn't listen to the full warning, and she heard herself say, "Sorry, babe, gotta go now. See you tonight?"
Taylor turned to her, so none of them noticed how Brock's face darkened at her words—Babe? Tonight?
"Of course. Tell Russell I'm coming with Banks, in case he needs us to bring anything."
"I'll tell'im. See ya."
"Take care, babe."
She brushed Taylor's cheek with her lips, turned her back on them and walked into the bakery.
Taylor gifted Brock with one last smile. "Have a nice day, sir."
Brock nodded back. He'd seen the bakery was crowded with uniforms—that was why there were so many cruisers all around—so he didn't bother to follow Gillian in. Instead, he watched Taylor get in his car and drive away, his mind ruthlessly listing everything he could conclude from that brief meeting. Not only that he'd just shaken hands with Gillian's young, attractive lover, but also that they'd been together for over nine months by now. The man hadn't flinched at finding them together. Neither had she. Their relationship had to be really solid, for Taylor to meet her on her way to breakfast with another man and don't be even slightly bothered, or jealous. Well, he was attending her son's birthday, at her home, with her two best friends. It couldn't get much more solid than that before moving in together.