Computer security -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Privacy, Right of -- Fiction; Records -- Access control -- Fiction
"Yeah, well, we may have fucked up a little on that. Didn't
count on youse guys having much in the ethics department if youse
know what I mean." Vito laughed at what he thought was a pretty
good joke. "So, we all screw up, right? Now and again? Never
mind that, I got something real good, something youse really
gonna like."
"Sure you do."
"No, really, dig this. I gotta list of names that . . . "
"Great another list. Just what I need. Another list."
"Whad'ar'ya, a wise guy? Youse wanna talk or listen?" Scott
didn't answer. "That's better, cause youse gonna like this.
Some guy named Faulkner, big shit banker from La La Land is
borrowing money from the mob to pay off a blackmailer. Another
guy, right here in New York Shitty, a Wall Street big shot called
Henson, him too. Another one named Dobbs, same thing. All being
blackballed by the same guys. Youse want more?"
"I'm writing, quiet. Faulkner, Henson and Dobbs, right?"
"That's whad'I said, yeah."
"So how come you know so much?"
"That's my job. I deal in information. Pretty good, huh?"
"Maybe. I gotta check it out. That last stuff was . . ."
"Hey!" Vito interrupted, "I told youse 'bout that. Eh, paysan,
what's a slip up among friends, right?"
"I'll ignore that. Gimme a couple of days, I'll call you."
"Like hell you will. I'll call you. You'll see, this is good
stuff. No shit. All right? Two days."
Click.
* * * * *
Monday, December 14
Washington, D.C.
The FBI runs a little known counter intelligence operation from
the middle of a run down Washington, D.C. neighborhood on Half
Street. Getting in and out is an exercise in evasive not to
mention defensive driving. The South East quadrant of Washing-
ton, D.C. is vying for the drug capital of the nation, and per-
haps has the dubious distinction of having the highest murder
rate per capita in the United States. Since the CI division of
the FBI is a well kept secret, its location was strategically
chosen to keep the casual passerby from stopping in for a chat.
Besides, there was no identification on the front of the build-
ing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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