47 - The king phisher
Brisbane - 5:30 am Tuesday AEDT
Welcome to the penultimate chapter of my online cyber thriller, The Phisherman. If you haven't been reading it and don't want to ruin the ending (there are several significant reveals in this chapter plus leads for two future stories), you're best starting HERE.
Abaddon was glad to awaken in her comfortable king-size bed. Three nights away in a four-star rural holiday rental had been three nights too long.
She sat up, casually flicking several locks of blonde hair from her bright blue eyes, then luxuriously stretched her toned body. With all the Pilates, strength-building and Taekwondo sessions she undertook at the nearby gym, she was in great shape.
As her muscles relaxed, she carefully eased her body off the premium mattress to avoid disturbing her lover, then wandered naked into the expansive kitchen she had designed and installed herself.
She turned her coffee machine on, poured just enough fresh Colombian beans from the air-tight bag into the grinder, and then hovered nearby to inhale the delightful aroma as her double-shot short-black brewed.
Hearing a stealthy movement behind her, she grabbed her favourite razor-sharp kitchen knife from the black magnetic block and turned in one smooth motion. The curved wooden handle fitted securely into her palm, ensuring she could make any unwelcome intruders pay the ultimate price.
Within a second, the knife’s metallic thud echoed across the spacious room as it gently dropped from her fingers. Her now-free fingers gently stroked the soft spotted fur of Jasper, her ginger Bengal, as he paraded across the marble benchtop.
A loud meow from the floor shifted her focus. Nikko, her chocolate Oriental, sat at her feet, the intense stare of his yellow-green eyes willing her to comply with his demand for attention.
Before Abaddon could reach down, the coffee machine burst into life as brown liquid gold poured into her favourite Linux mug.
She chuckled softly as her thoughts swiftly refocused on the previous day.
How good was THAT! Watson’s reaction when he felt my tit was priceless. His anger and disgust were so transparent. And then, seeing his realisation that he’d been defeated in the cyber universe and flesh-and-blood by a woman, the thing he despised above everything else – what a rush! No wonder last night was unforgettable.
After taking a long, loud sip of the steaming brew, she started her wake-up playlist, then wandered onto the balcony to gaze at the Brisbane River, affectionately known as the Brown Snake.
The sun had just started rising over the horizon. Its golden glow danced off the river as the muddied water meandered out to sea. She trembled with delight as a gentle breeze blew over her, not caring if anyone saw her, though that was unlikely – she owned the penthouse of the tallest riverfront complex in the vicinity.
She enjoyed another sip, then leant on the thick wooden handrail that doubled as a bar. As both cats rubbed against her legs and mewed in tandem for her attention, she reflected on the previous twenty-four hours. Finalising every project by conducting a lessons-learned exercise was a lifelong practice.
She’d been amused back in Griffith when she noticed via Watson’s webcam that he talked to himself while he worked on 831. It didn’t take her long to flick his mic on. The desperate hacker never realised an undisclosed listener was recording every hateful word that spewed from his spiteful mouth.
And what words to hear.
The phisherman’s angry ranting made it clear who his first target would be once he had 831 operational: her, though the Englishman didn’t realise until too late that his Shadow mentor was a woman.
She laughed at the thought of him learning at the end of his miserable life that a cyber chick had pwned him since he was a teenager.
For too many years, Abaddon had tolerated his sexist vitriol. Sometimes, Watson was so feral, she’d been compelled to interfere and he was mysteriously cut off in the middle of destroying a female online. He never suspected that the entries in his system log describing his network connection failure were caused by Abaddon.
Understandably, she’d revelled in releasing her pent-up fury on the degenerate when his time had come. He personified the plethora of pigs who thought they owned Abaddon’s world simply because of what they were born with between their legs. She’d loved every moment of Watson’s exquisite agony.
My only disappointment was that it ended too swiftly. Everything else – the screams he couldn’t hear, the blood that splattered across my face, the feeling of his body breaking a little more with each hammer blow – had been precise and perfect.
And I can relive it whenever I want in 4K ultra-high definition.
When the show had ended and the final curtain closed on the story of the phisherman, there was one concluding act to complete in the theatre of Watson’s finest performance.
Abaddon’s physical presence in Griffith and on the Englishman’s computer could expose her identity to the Australian authorities when they cleaned up the bloody mess she’d left behind.
So, after beating the phisherman sufficiently to disguise the distinctive marks of 831 and make it look like a crime of passion, she logged into the British hacker’s computer and removed all traces of her communications with Z and lul over the last week.
After ensuring nothing could be traced to her, the Spider created several backdated secure chats with a lady called Kelly. She left enough breadcrumbs for the authorities to work out that Kelly’s sister was viciously murdered one night while working as a prostitute in London. Abaddon ensured the evidence pointed the finger for the pathetic prick’s pitiless punishment at Kelly.
When the police tracked everything back, they would discover that Kelly’s sister was one of six small yet well-endowed ladies murdered by Alan Watson during his infrequent trips to Soho.
Lastly, she ensured the Project 831 documents were still on Watson’s computer for the authorities to find.
She didn’t know who in GCHQ and the CIA would know he had them when the story came out. However, if the files had disappeared, those aware that the phisherman had stolen their secret would suspect it was out there somewhere else.
And if the Australian authorities find the information on 831, the Agency will have some explaining to do to their allies. Hopefully, it will help obscure any lingering suspicions the Agency might have about an unknown third party.
Satisfied with her handiwork, the Spider drove for four hours to an off-road location.
She carefully burned the protective attire for working in a sterile area that she’d stolen from an anaesthetic nurse, ensuring nothing of value could be retrieved from the small pile of ashes that she buried in the damp earth.
From there, it was a short trip to return the hire car at Sydney airport in time to catch the last flight home for a big night of drinking, dancing, and dallying with her current paramour, a gentle Indian named Madhu.
Having finished her coffee and mental review of her latest mission, Abaddon dropped onto the balcony’s luxurious daybed and emitted a massive sigh of relief.
Life was good. After all the misogynistic crap she’d tolerated since her tradie father punished her for wanting a computer as a kid, she felt like the tide had turned. Armed with 831, the balance had shifted in her favour. She could do more than destroy the pigs online.
I can terminate as many of them as I want in the world of flesh and blood.
And all it takes is one … little … click.
She unlocked her smartphone and delighted in the savage power of the frightening photos she’d taken. They were perfect for their intended purpose.
And so satisfactory. Alan Watson deserved what happened to him and so much more.
Yet, the photos evoked a sense of loss within Abaddon.
The spiteful pig had brought her numerous victims over the years. He was a star among her many pupils in the Abyss1 And, like the rest of them, he’d never realised what he was trained for. Or who by. He had been a great cyber puppet.
However, the rules say that when a pawn2 reaches the other end of the board, it disappears into oblivion and the queen arises.3
And everyone knows the queen gets what the queen wants.
After all that had transpired since that awful night when she was an innocent sixteen-year-old girl with a fascination for computers, Abaddon knew she had transformed from a pawn into a queen, the most powerful, destructive chess piece.
And she was not merely a queen.
With 831 in my toolbox, I’m the queen of pwns.
She shivered with anticipation as she stared into Alan Watson’s bloody eye sockets.
831 changed everything.
The digital world was about to invade the physical universe in a way most people would think impossible.
Though it will be much more than an invasion - 831 opens the door to a cyber slaughterhouse.
And I pwn the key.
Closing her phone, she climbed off the bed and ascended the stairs to her rooftop terrace.
Stepping onto her yoga mat, she closed her eyes to focus and began her custom morning asana, carefully preparing each muscle for whatever the day would bring.
Despite both cats’ constant attempts to interrupt her flow, she worked her way through her thirty-minute routine. She only stopped when she heard a loud splash.
Looking up, she found it impossible to ignore Madhu standing in the rooftop spa, attired only in a birthday suit.
Abaddon slowly stood to her feet as her eyes feasted up and down the length of Madhu’s body.
The dark-skinned Indian waited until Abaddon had finished her appraisal before slowly sinking into the water, eyes closed in mock bliss.
Abaddon didn’t need a second invitation.
All thoughts of 831, Alan Watson, Nick Davies, and the one who mattered most, disappeared from her mind, if only for the next hour.
She took four rapid steps and jumped into the large spa, causing Madhu to squeal in delight as her mysterious blonde king phisher disappeared beneath the bubbles.
I hope you enjoyed this insight into Abaddon’s life. Obviously, a sequel is coming, so I hope you are ready to get to know her a lot better. And you ain’t seen nothing yet!
If you’re a subscriber, thank you so much for your support. I hope you will click the heart-shaped LIKE button at the end of this chapter.
Lastly, if you have any suggestions to improve the story or you want to encourage me as a storyteller (either would be nice), please …
And you thought the “A” on the cover image’s crown stood for Anarchy. Sorry. What Abaddon has planned is going to be much worse than mere anarchy!