The End Game by Gerrie Ferris Finger

The End Game by Gerrie Ferris Finger

Author:Gerrie Ferris Finger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: police procedural, kidnapping, private detective, female sleuth, atlanta, georgia, arson, human trafficing
Publisher: Bold Venture Press


20

It was still misting when I stepped outside. I headed for my office, which was not far from the jail. I parked my old Bentley—how Portia came to sell it to me for a pittance is a long story for another time—in my assigned spot in Atlanta’s Underground parking lot and rode the elevator to the fifteenth floor.

Web was geeking away at his computer. When he saw me he grinned, guaranteed to bolster my spirit. “What you got for me? I’m on my way back to Cabbagetown.”

“Rush, rush,” Web said, playing his keyboard like piano ivories.

“This is a rushing business. You got me some good stuff on the slave trade?”

He hit the ENTER key. “How long did that take?” he asked.

“Five seconds.”

“Piece of cake to track this stuff.” He rolled his desk chair to a straight-leg chair and lifted green computer boards from it. He tossed them on top of a tangle of cords on a desk and scooted the straight-leg up to his monitor. I sat on it. He said, “Here’s a search site for pedophile procurers—but they don’t advertise as such.”

I read down the list, pointed to a site, and Web downloaded it.

It began: “I clap my hands and my blue-eyed slaves appear to please me. I welcome those to my side who are willing to participate in the pleasure of the flesh.”

Another “buyer” advertised, “We do not recognize pedophilia—that is an American barbarism. It is America’s backward thinking that blights the pleasures of youthful flesh. Beauty of any age is its own reward.”

“Rationalization for depravity,” I said. “My snitch thinks the Rose girls are heading for South America, or the islands.”

“Makes sense from Georgia.”

“Okay, you got me the procurer’s sites. What about the sellers?”

“Now you’re talking self-incrimination. Jail time. Sting operation fall guys. No ring’s advertising on the Web, but they use the lists to troll for buyers. There are contact codes in some of the ads. One has an embedded e-mail address in it.”

“I bet you’re going to decode them.”

“I ran the alphabet on the script kiddies who do the routine codex of using numbers and characters for the alphabet, and the routine hacker prefixes, suffixes and equivalencies.”

“Dandy.”

“I found one e-mail series that’s interesting. I finally figured out what crypt they’re using. It’s a Perl-Crypt-Enigma simulator.”

“Which is?”

“It’s an application of the Enigma Machine used by the Germans in World War II.”

“You mean you use World War II technology to crack an e-mail code?”

“Exactly. The platform is based on actual Enigma values, which is pretty simple when you understand how Enigma works.”

Web inclined his head, and I toned down my impatience. Although I never take Web for granted, at times I give him short shift when he launches into details. Afterward, I get the guilts because he is, first, a fine human being, and, second, he has a passion for justice not usually found in geniuses.

He said, “Ever see an Enigma machine?”

“I’ve seen them in old movies. Looks like a klunky typewriter.”

“It’s a rotor scrambler with a keyboard.



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