Zero Day_ A Novel - Mark Russinovich [88]
Sue slipped the keycard into the slot, then pulled it up sharply. When the light switched green, the man turned the handle. In they went, in a quick rush. Greene had removed his jacket, shirt, and undershirt, and he was standing by the bed wearing only his trousers, looking toward the television set. “What the…?” he stammered.
Manfield pushed Sue into Greene so hard the pair fell back against the bed. Drawing his pistol, Manfield said, “Quiet now. If I have to make any noise, I’ll kill you both. Tell me what I want to know and nobody gets hurt.” Gesturing with the gun, he motioned for them to sit. They sat on the edge of the bed.
“If you want money,” Greene said, attempting to take charge of the situation, “I’ve got—”
“Shut up!”
“—plenty right there on the desk…” Greene stopped and stared at the barrel of the gun, the energy draining out of him.
Manfield moved slowly to the desk and glanced down. With his free hand, he pocketed the cash without counting it.
“Who are you?” he said to the man.
“Joshua Greene.”
“What are you to her?”
“Why … we’re…”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“He’s my boss,” Sue said, understanding what the Brit wanted to know.
“Ahh. I get the picture.” Better and better. “Sue, lie on the bed, facedown. Pile the pillows over your head. And don’t move. You”—Manfield indicated Greene—“come over here.” Greene hesitated, looking at Sue for an anguished moment. “Now.”
Sue lay across the bed, rolled uneasily onto her stomach, then crawled up the bed, inching her way slowly. She pulled the pillows to her, then piled them over her head, feeling very young. How does he know my name? she thought. What does it mean? From a distant childhood memory she found a prayer and began to say it to herself.
Greene rose, then crossed to Manfield.
“Over there,” Manfield said, indicating the floor in the corner. Greene walked slowly, like a man condemned, as if each step was one of the last he’d ever take.
When Greene’s back was turned, Manfield put the automatic away and brought out the knife, snapping it open one-handed. “I have a few questions. I’m sure you’ll tell me what I want to know.”
On the bed Sue made a small sound, perhaps a sob, muffled by the pillows.
WEEK FOUR
ROOTKITS PROLIFERATING AT DISTURBING RATE
By Arnie Willoughby
Internet News Service
September 1
Nearly one-quarter of all malware located in the Windows operating system is found to be stealth rootkits. This is the result of a recent survey by an alliance of cyber-security companies. “Rootkits are the fastest growing segment of malware,” said Arliss Scarbrough, the alliance director. “Rootkits are generally not detected by existing antivirus software. They implant themselves deep within the kernel of the operating system.”
Infection rates are reportedly increasing by 100 percent each month, and at this rate rootkits will soon represent the majority of malware present in computers. “Rootkits can be used to cloak any type of virus and make it very difficult to detect and remove the malware. This is an especially disturbing evolution in cyber-security,” said Scarbrough, who advocated increased financing for rootkit detection software.
Internet News Service, Inc. All rights reserved.
44
MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY
CENTRAL PARK
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1
10:05 A.M.
Just north of the Pond, Jeff and Daryl sat at a picnic table. He placed her portion of the ravioli in front of her, along with the plastic utensils, as she set down their coffee and two unopened bottles of water. Jeff peeled the top from his coffee and blew steam from the hot brew as Daryl took her first taste.
“Hmm. Good,” she said. “I was getting sick of bagels and rolls all the time.” Jeff nodded in agreement. He’d felt the same way, which is why he’d suggested the impromptu