Zero Day_ A Novel - Mark Russinovich [27]
“They were awfully good people, and very loving. They passed before I was graduated from college. I’ve been mostly on my own since, until recently that is.” He’d brightened, then told her about his girlfriend, Cynthia. That had been the end of any thoughts she’d had about the two of them.
After that they worked together from time to time. At one juncture he’d provided her with significant information unofficially. A few months later, she’d done the same. From then on they’d formed a fast and close working relationship, unfettered by his relationship with Cynthia.
She’d learned through a mutual friend of Cynthia’s death and had, in her subsequent contacts with Jeff, noticed the change in him. Where once he’d frequently been lighthearted, now he was somber. She regretted that she’d never found the proper moment to express her condolences at his loss.
She was looking forward to seeing him, especially as she was convinced he was the one person who could help her with this virus. As for the rest, well, time would tell.
11
RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL
RUA FRANCISCO OTAVIANO
TUESDAY, AUGUST 15
10:16 A.M.
With a touch of distaste Maria Braga watched the scraggly-haired young man enter.
The Euro Internet Café, just two blocks from Copacabana Beach in Rio, catered largely to the tourists who walked by and to certain Cariocas who didn’t have a computer of their own. She knew both types at a glance. The tourists were dressed in fresh beach attire, while the locals were primarily diligent, well-scrubbed students. With six computers and one booth for international telephone calls crammed into the long, narrow room, Maria made an adequate living for herself and her daughter. In the four years she’d run the café, she’d only been robbed once.
The young man’s name was Nicolau. Maria thought he was weird. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, staring at her modestly covered breasts as if she were naked. She was certain he was some kind of pervert.
And he was a nerd. She could tell this guy knew all about computers. He’d probably built his own at home or, at least, bought the very latest models. From the looks of his expensive watch, he could afford it. He didn’t have to use hers, so why did he?
Nicolau rarely stayed at the station more than three or four minutes. That alone was strange. He was up to something, but she had no idea what. She’d thought about charging him more—maybe he’d go somewhere else—but her fees were posted.
Nineteen-year-old Nicolau da Costa was a hacker. His father was a senior vice president with Banco Central do Brasil, while his mother ran a modest flower shop on Avenida Nossa Senhora de Cobacabana. Nicolau spent his nights at his computer playing video games or online in various chat rooms, exchanging virus code, talking endlessly about creating a virus that everyone in the world would know, but wouldn’t cause enough damage to get him arrested.
He’d found it wasn’t that easy. More than once he’d been on the verge of launching a virus, but had always held back. Brazilian prisons were notorious. He had nightmares about ending up in one. You never knew when the authorities might decide to make an example of someone. Even his father wouldn’t be able to help.
Every once in a while, though, a job came along. This was the fifth in less than a month. He dropped onto the chair and checked to confirm that the computer was connected to the Internet. He looked back at Maria up front, then slipped his floppy into the computer and launched the code. The e-mail had told him to leave the floppy in place for three minutes. As he waited, he browsed two Web sites, then, satisfied, extracted the floppy.
Now he entered his Yahoo e-mail account and sent the following message.
Date: Tues, 15 August 10:21 —0700
He typed in the address, careful that no one was looking.
From: Riostd Subject: sent rlsd code. rdy for another when u r. send $. RioStud