Boston, Mass
1997
Stone stepped into the office of the place holding the kid he had heard about. All his medals, awards, and accomplishments visible against his formal dress greens. His shoes were high shined, and everything was pressed crisply. He pulled his sunglasses off and walked to the desk, showing ID and asking about the hacker they held.
The officer told him to take the stairs down, then to the left, he was in the holding cell waiting on the Feds.
Stone thanked them and followed the directions, down stairs and toward the guarded room. "Kid in there?"
The man nodded, then checked Stone's ID as well. "I'll be taking him with me, just going to ask him some questions first."
Stone stepped into the room and looked down the row of cells to find Christian Driscoll, the file read, and he pulled a chair along with him to sit in front of the bars, looking at the kid on the other side. "Good Afternoon, Christian." He sat down in the chair, and pulled a cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket and offered him one as he placed his own to his lips.
The kid was about sixteen years old, young, cocky, with a bit of an attitude toward authority figures. He'd had a rough start in life and had learned how to take care of himself the hard way. He was sporting a black eye behind a pair of taped-together glasses. He was tall and good-looking, but not filled out yet, making him a slightly awkward teenager.
Stone pulled a lighter from his other pocket, deciding the kid didn't want the smoke, and lit his own. "Why'd you do it?"
"That shit will kill you," Chris nodded at the cigarette.
"So will prison guards," Stone tapped the bars with his foot.
Chris didn't have a comeback for the man's remark, so he just shut his mouth and and adjusted his glasses.
"Christian, why did you decide to target the Federal Reserve? You have a hankerin' for some new glasses, duds, and car?"
"Yeah, it was totally the glasses."
He inhaled deeply the smoke from the cig, then blew out a cloud of gray-white smoke. "My name is Matthew Stone. You tell me the truth, or you are going to head to Federal, my young friend. Pretty little boy like you, I'd give two weeks."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
"I ain't got time to be the boogeyman. What'd you use to get in, and why did you do it?"
He was already pretty scared, though he was trying hard not to show it. He hadn't actually succeeded in skimming any money off the Federal Reserve, but he had been successful in breaking through, before they'd realized it and shut him down. "Who are you and why are you interested?"
"I just told you who I am, and I'm interested in keeping with American, and not that Asian punk in Florida."
"Keeping what?"
"Your ass outta the sling boy, fuckin' Christ. You speak English?"
"You military?" he looked over the man's uniform and badges, unimpressed.
"Yes, I am, and I am here to find out why you did this, how you did this, and if you are worth saving."
"Why do you wanna save me? What do you care?"
"You've seen movies, Van Damme and those idiots that go to jail, talkin' about guys grabbin' ankles and droppin' soap? You wanna take it in the tail pipe? Look Christian, I need a guy with your...skills. I don't have time to pussyfoot around here. So, I need two answers from you, not questions. I don't want some fuckin' brainiac MIT Grad. Ain't got time for that shit."
He paled at the man's reply. He didn't want to be anyone's bitch. He'd already been threatened and rewarded for his smart mouth with a black eye. All he wanted was to get the hell out of there, and if this way his way out, who was he to argue? "My skills? You mean computers."
"This file says you are intelligent. I ain't seen a damn thing come outta your mouth that says so. Born in 81, Your Mother, and Sister... You." He stopped and looked at him then. "That's what landed you here, right?"
"What?" He narrowed his eyes at the guy, wondering how much he could guess, almost testing him. Though he was trying to play it cool, his palms were sweating and his face was pale.
"Christ kid, I tell you what, enjoy prison, say hi to the fellas for me." Stone starts to stand up from the chair.
He paused a moment, biting his lip, heart pounding in his chest. The guy could he his one and only get out of jail free ticket and he was about to walk away.
He then pulls the pack of smokes from his pocket, "Maybe you can trade these for some less ass pillagin'." He sat them on the flat narrow spot between the bars.
He glanced at the pack of cigarettes, quickly going over the options in his head.
"See ya next life kid." Turns on his heel and starts down the row of cells again, toward the exit.
He considered for a split second and then slid to his feet, clutching the bars of his cell and peering down the hall at the man's retreating back. "Wait!"
Stone started whistling some old Hank Williams song, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder, before turning around to look back down the row. "What? Ain't got time to be jerked off, Precious. You gonna answer me or not?" He was standing still, but close to the exit.
He was suddenly terrified at the prospect of being abandoned and left behind to rot in prison, even though he probably deserved it. "I'll talk, but not... not here." Not where the others could hear him and use it against him in the mess hall or the yard or worst of all, the showers.
He knew what the kid had done, just wanted the hows and whys. He had the skills, and he was what he needed for sure. "Here is what you have. Me, out here in this uncomfortable chair, you on that rack. And I'm not wearin' pink panties so I ain't passin' notes." He glared. "Now talk."
"Please." All the bravado was gone. He looked both terrified and desperate. He was just a kid, after all.
"Guard!" Stone shouted, and a guard was there immediately, so he and Stone whispered a bit, looking back over toward Chris every now and then.
"Are you armed, Sir?" The guard finally asked Stone to which he answered "Always." The guard came down to Chris' cell and unlocked the door. "Back away from the bars, Junior. You are going up to Interrogation."
Stone watches them, waiting for Chris to get cuffed.
He swallowed hard as he heard the guard ask if the man was armed. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to try to escape. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. He was just trying to help his family survive. He did as he was told, stepping back from the bar.
The guard turns him around pulling his arms to slap the cuffs on him, pinching them down tightly. "Okay, follow the Colonel, Driscoll." The guard said as he pushed him through the cell door.
Chris stumbled a little as he got shoved out the cell door, hands cuffed securely behind his back, heart pounding in his chest. If he got out of this alive, maybe he'd just take the job at the gas station his mother had suggested.
Stone starts up the stairs trying not to laugh seeing how scared the kid was, then he's waiting for the guard to open Interrogation Room Four. The Guard takes Chris over to a chair, and sets him down, undoing his cuffs at Stone's request, as Matt sits across from him and thanks the guard for his time. Once the door is closed, he sets the file down, looking at Chris. "Okay, you aren't in general population, spill it."
He rubbed at his wrists for a moment and then folded his hands on the table. "Don't I get a cup of coffee and a cigarette or something?" His only glimpse of jail before this had been on television.
"Christian, your bravado is annoying me. I offered you a cig while ago, and you left them down stairs." Matt narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what I want to know, now."
"You Army?"
"I am a Ranger."
"I'm not..." He paused, wondering how to tell the guy he didn't want to join the military without insulting him.
"You wouldn't hack it, kid. Now why'd you do it, but more importantly, how?"
"Why are you asking me? Isn't it part of my file? Or do you just want to see if I'll lie to save my own skin?"
"Okay, you wanna be someone's pretty little bitch... fine." Stone moves to stand again, and call for the guard.
He started to panic again. "Okay, okay."
Stone stares, ?Stop jerkin me off, cause you suck at it."
"Fed's not so hard to hack into. Just a matter of time. I was close. So close." He sighed, annoyed with himself.
"Why'd you do it?"
He shrugged. "Money mostly. That and to see if I could."
"Boredom and money?" Stone glared at him. "Fashion, car... what?"
"I should have stuck with smaller banks. Their security systems are easier to hack."
"A little smarter, but...you write the programs?"
"Who you think writes them? Bill Gates?"
"So why being a crook?"
"A crook?" He leaned back in the chair and chuckled. "That's funny. You think because I got caught I'm a crook, when your own government is out there robbing the people. Yeah, that's hilarious. You need help and get shit from your own country, but I'm the bad guy."
"Oh, so you are saying I'm the bad guy?"
"When we have enough money and weapons to blow up the world, but we could care less about the sick and destitute. Yeah, I get it."
"You realize what you did is just the same as walking into the Federal Reserve and demanding cash?" He raised a brow, "Sick? Who's sick Christian?" He knew that struck a nerve with the kid for some reason, and that could be motivation.
"You want to get me out of here so you can use me to hack into some other country's defense system or steal their secrets. Is that it? You can't find someone else to do your dirty work?"
"How much?" Stone leaned back in his chair, looking at the boy then, waiting.
He clenched his jaw, eyes filling with tears, and turned to glare at the wall, sixteen years of anger and frustration all coming to a head.
"How much were you trying to get?" He asked again, knowing the kid was hurting inside, and feeling a little bit sorry for him, but not showing it.
He shook his head and shrugged, sniffling back tears. "I don't know. It's never enough."
"How much." Third time was a statement, not so much a question. His patience was growing thinner by the minute.
"Ten, twenty for starters. They won't do the surgery unless you can pay."
"You were hitting the Fed for twenty?" Stone chuckled. "Okay, so who is sick? Sister? Uncle? You?"
He turned to Stone, looking a little surprised at his reaction. "I'm not greedy."
Stone reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled an envelope from his pocket, while waiting for his answer.
He pushed his glasses up to wipe the tears from his eyes, then darted a glance at the envelope. "What's that for?"
"Answer me, who's sick?"
He paused a moment before answering quietly. "My mom."
"And she needs twenty grand?"
"She has cancer."
He slid the envelope over toward him. "Listen to me, you work for me now. When I need a code cracked, or something figured out with comms, you are my guy, you understand?"
"Why me?" He asked, eying the envelope suspiciously.
"You want to be some guy's bitch?"
"Can you get me out of here?"
"So you agree, you are working for me then?"
"Yeah, okay." He reached for the envelope, feeling like he'd just sold his soul to the devil. "Beats the hell out of flipping burgers, I guess. She's gonna ask how I got the money."
"Faustian Deal..." Stone said as he slid a piece of paper from the jacket pocket as well. "Sign here." He pointed to an X.
"She doesn't want me to get in any trouble." He pulled the paper closer and reached for a pen.
He slid the pen closer, along with a card. "You work for A&O Computing, Assistant Manager."
He arched both brows. "Assistant Manager? I'm sixteen. I dropped out of school."
"Okay, counter jockey." Looks at him, "She knows you are into the computers?"
"Yeah, she knows."
"And, you WILL get your ass back into school."
"She says I..." He scowled. He'd always hated school. It was boring as hell. There was nothing he could learn there that he didn't know already.
"Off the streets, away from that clusterfuck of a gang you run around with. They are really gonna net you some trouble." Matt had been watching him a while. "I didn't like school either, but it is that, or you study your ass off and get me a G.E.D. Understand?"
He leaned back in the chair again. "They're not gonna let me. Once you're in, you're in. You don't get out." He'd thought it was fun, at first. An easy way to make money, but things had changed. He didn't want to hold up liquor stores and sell drugs on the street. He wanted to make something of his life, but his mother and sister came first.
"Hell they aren't. Most of them are being round up as we are talkin'. Kinda like herdin' cats, they scatter around, but eventually you get them. In fact, James "Jimboy" Dixon is the one being investigated for the fed as well as a lot of other crimes in the area."
"I didn't do anything."
"Right now, your file is mine, Christian." Stone patted the file in front of him.
"How long?" The word blackmail came to mind, but he knew better than to mention it.
"You try to fuck me, this is getting to the Feds and so are you. A&O isn't far from your house. Jackie works there, he's one of mine too. It's a real job, but it will allow you perks as the latest and greatest of systems."
"I'm not stupid. I'm not gonna fuck you."
"Good....and how long, what?"
"You get me out of here and I'll do whatever you want. How long do you own me?"
"Christian, for what I do if you stay as sharp and talented as you are. You can make a lot of money in your lifetime. So come on, I'll take you home." Stood and offered the kid his hand. ?Shake a man's hand, that's a commitment where I'm from."
His eyes widened a little and then he leaned forward, picked up the pen, and scribbled his signature on the line by the X. "This is totally illegal."
He takes up the paper. "Not where I'm standing. I'll tell you more in the car."
He hesitated a moment before moving to his feet, looking suspiciously at the offered hand.
The hand remained, offered and waiting.
He took the man's hand finally, jaw clenched, looking determined. "Is this where I thank you?"
A firm shake, then Stone moves into the room next to the one they were in, claiming the tape as evidence, and motioning Chris. "Come on. See if you want to thank me when I have a gun in your hand."
A brow lifted at the mention of a gun, but he said nothing, wondering what the hell he'd just gotten himself into.
1997
Stone stepped into the office of the place holding the kid he had heard about. All his medals, awards, and accomplishments visible against his formal dress greens. His shoes were high shined, and everything was pressed crisply. He pulled his sunglasses off and walked to the desk, showing ID and asking about the hacker they held.
The officer told him to take the stairs down, then to the left, he was in the holding cell waiting on the Feds.
Stone thanked them and followed the directions, down stairs and toward the guarded room. "Kid in there?"
The man nodded, then checked Stone's ID as well. "I'll be taking him with me, just going to ask him some questions first."
Stone stepped into the room and looked down the row of cells to find Christian Driscoll, the file read, and he pulled a chair along with him to sit in front of the bars, looking at the kid on the other side. "Good Afternoon, Christian." He sat down in the chair, and pulled a cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket and offered him one as he placed his own to his lips.
The kid was about sixteen years old, young, cocky, with a bit of an attitude toward authority figures. He'd had a rough start in life and had learned how to take care of himself the hard way. He was sporting a black eye behind a pair of taped-together glasses. He was tall and good-looking, but not filled out yet, making him a slightly awkward teenager.
Stone pulled a lighter from his other pocket, deciding the kid didn't want the smoke, and lit his own. "Why'd you do it?"
"That shit will kill you," Chris nodded at the cigarette.
"So will prison guards," Stone tapped the bars with his foot.
Chris didn't have a comeback for the man's remark, so he just shut his mouth and and adjusted his glasses.
"Christian, why did you decide to target the Federal Reserve? You have a hankerin' for some new glasses, duds, and car?"
"Yeah, it was totally the glasses."
He inhaled deeply the smoke from the cig, then blew out a cloud of gray-white smoke. "My name is Matthew Stone. You tell me the truth, or you are going to head to Federal, my young friend. Pretty little boy like you, I'd give two weeks."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
"I ain't got time to be the boogeyman. What'd you use to get in, and why did you do it?"
He was already pretty scared, though he was trying hard not to show it. He hadn't actually succeeded in skimming any money off the Federal Reserve, but he had been successful in breaking through, before they'd realized it and shut him down. "Who are you and why are you interested?"
"I just told you who I am, and I'm interested in keeping with American, and not that Asian punk in Florida."
"Keeping what?"
"Your ass outta the sling boy, fuckin' Christ. You speak English?"
"You military?" he looked over the man's uniform and badges, unimpressed.
"Yes, I am, and I am here to find out why you did this, how you did this, and if you are worth saving."
"Why do you wanna save me? What do you care?"
"You've seen movies, Van Damme and those idiots that go to jail, talkin' about guys grabbin' ankles and droppin' soap? You wanna take it in the tail pipe? Look Christian, I need a guy with your...skills. I don't have time to pussyfoot around here. So, I need two answers from you, not questions. I don't want some fuckin' brainiac MIT Grad. Ain't got time for that shit."
He paled at the man's reply. He didn't want to be anyone's bitch. He'd already been threatened and rewarded for his smart mouth with a black eye. All he wanted was to get the hell out of there, and if this way his way out, who was he to argue? "My skills? You mean computers."
"This file says you are intelligent. I ain't seen a damn thing come outta your mouth that says so. Born in 81, Your Mother, and Sister... You." He stopped and looked at him then. "That's what landed you here, right?"
"What?" He narrowed his eyes at the guy, wondering how much he could guess, almost testing him. Though he was trying to play it cool, his palms were sweating and his face was pale.
"Christ kid, I tell you what, enjoy prison, say hi to the fellas for me." Stone starts to stand up from the chair.
He paused a moment, biting his lip, heart pounding in his chest. The guy could he his one and only get out of jail free ticket and he was about to walk away.
He then pulls the pack of smokes from his pocket, "Maybe you can trade these for some less ass pillagin'." He sat them on the flat narrow spot between the bars.
He glanced at the pack of cigarettes, quickly going over the options in his head.
"See ya next life kid." Turns on his heel and starts down the row of cells again, toward the exit.
He considered for a split second and then slid to his feet, clutching the bars of his cell and peering down the hall at the man's retreating back. "Wait!"
Stone started whistling some old Hank Williams song, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder, before turning around to look back down the row. "What? Ain't got time to be jerked off, Precious. You gonna answer me or not?" He was standing still, but close to the exit.
He was suddenly terrified at the prospect of being abandoned and left behind to rot in prison, even though he probably deserved it. "I'll talk, but not... not here." Not where the others could hear him and use it against him in the mess hall or the yard or worst of all, the showers.
He knew what the kid had done, just wanted the hows and whys. He had the skills, and he was what he needed for sure. "Here is what you have. Me, out here in this uncomfortable chair, you on that rack. And I'm not wearin' pink panties so I ain't passin' notes." He glared. "Now talk."
"Please." All the bravado was gone. He looked both terrified and desperate. He was just a kid, after all.
"Guard!" Stone shouted, and a guard was there immediately, so he and Stone whispered a bit, looking back over toward Chris every now and then.
"Are you armed, Sir?" The guard finally asked Stone to which he answered "Always." The guard came down to Chris' cell and unlocked the door. "Back away from the bars, Junior. You are going up to Interrogation."
Stone watches them, waiting for Chris to get cuffed.
He swallowed hard as he heard the guard ask if the man was armed. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to try to escape. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. He was just trying to help his family survive. He did as he was told, stepping back from the bar.
The guard turns him around pulling his arms to slap the cuffs on him, pinching them down tightly. "Okay, follow the Colonel, Driscoll." The guard said as he pushed him through the cell door.
Chris stumbled a little as he got shoved out the cell door, hands cuffed securely behind his back, heart pounding in his chest. If he got out of this alive, maybe he'd just take the job at the gas station his mother had suggested.
Stone starts up the stairs trying not to laugh seeing how scared the kid was, then he's waiting for the guard to open Interrogation Room Four. The Guard takes Chris over to a chair, and sets him down, undoing his cuffs at Stone's request, as Matt sits across from him and thanks the guard for his time. Once the door is closed, he sets the file down, looking at Chris. "Okay, you aren't in general population, spill it."
He rubbed at his wrists for a moment and then folded his hands on the table. "Don't I get a cup of coffee and a cigarette or something?" His only glimpse of jail before this had been on television.
"Christian, your bravado is annoying me. I offered you a cig while ago, and you left them down stairs." Matt narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what I want to know, now."
"You Army?"
"I am a Ranger."
"I'm not..." He paused, wondering how to tell the guy he didn't want to join the military without insulting him.
"You wouldn't hack it, kid. Now why'd you do it, but more importantly, how?"
"Why are you asking me? Isn't it part of my file? Or do you just want to see if I'll lie to save my own skin?"
"Okay, you wanna be someone's pretty little bitch... fine." Stone moves to stand again, and call for the guard.
He started to panic again. "Okay, okay."
Stone stares, ?Stop jerkin me off, cause you suck at it."
"Fed's not so hard to hack into. Just a matter of time. I was close. So close." He sighed, annoyed with himself.
"Why'd you do it?"
He shrugged. "Money mostly. That and to see if I could."
"Boredom and money?" Stone glared at him. "Fashion, car... what?"
"I should have stuck with smaller banks. Their security systems are easier to hack."
"A little smarter, but...you write the programs?"
"Who you think writes them? Bill Gates?"
"So why being a crook?"
"A crook?" He leaned back in the chair and chuckled. "That's funny. You think because I got caught I'm a crook, when your own government is out there robbing the people. Yeah, that's hilarious. You need help and get shit from your own country, but I'm the bad guy."
"Oh, so you are saying I'm the bad guy?"
"When we have enough money and weapons to blow up the world, but we could care less about the sick and destitute. Yeah, I get it."
"You realize what you did is just the same as walking into the Federal Reserve and demanding cash?" He raised a brow, "Sick? Who's sick Christian?" He knew that struck a nerve with the kid for some reason, and that could be motivation.
"You want to get me out of here so you can use me to hack into some other country's defense system or steal their secrets. Is that it? You can't find someone else to do your dirty work?"
"How much?" Stone leaned back in his chair, looking at the boy then, waiting.
He clenched his jaw, eyes filling with tears, and turned to glare at the wall, sixteen years of anger and frustration all coming to a head.
"How much were you trying to get?" He asked again, knowing the kid was hurting inside, and feeling a little bit sorry for him, but not showing it.
He shook his head and shrugged, sniffling back tears. "I don't know. It's never enough."
"How much." Third time was a statement, not so much a question. His patience was growing thinner by the minute.
"Ten, twenty for starters. They won't do the surgery unless you can pay."
"You were hitting the Fed for twenty?" Stone chuckled. "Okay, so who is sick? Sister? Uncle? You?"
He turned to Stone, looking a little surprised at his reaction. "I'm not greedy."
Stone reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled an envelope from his pocket, while waiting for his answer.
He pushed his glasses up to wipe the tears from his eyes, then darted a glance at the envelope. "What's that for?"
"Answer me, who's sick?"
He paused a moment before answering quietly. "My mom."
"And she needs twenty grand?"
"She has cancer."
He slid the envelope over toward him. "Listen to me, you work for me now. When I need a code cracked, or something figured out with comms, you are my guy, you understand?"
"Why me?" He asked, eying the envelope suspiciously.
"You want to be some guy's bitch?"
"Can you get me out of here?"
"So you agree, you are working for me then?"
"Yeah, okay." He reached for the envelope, feeling like he'd just sold his soul to the devil. "Beats the hell out of flipping burgers, I guess. She's gonna ask how I got the money."
"Faustian Deal..." Stone said as he slid a piece of paper from the jacket pocket as well. "Sign here." He pointed to an X.
"She doesn't want me to get in any trouble." He pulled the paper closer and reached for a pen.
He slid the pen closer, along with a card. "You work for A&O Computing, Assistant Manager."
He arched both brows. "Assistant Manager? I'm sixteen. I dropped out of school."
"Okay, counter jockey." Looks at him, "She knows you are into the computers?"
"Yeah, she knows."
"And, you WILL get your ass back into school."
"She says I..." He scowled. He'd always hated school. It was boring as hell. There was nothing he could learn there that he didn't know already.
"Off the streets, away from that clusterfuck of a gang you run around with. They are really gonna net you some trouble." Matt had been watching him a while. "I didn't like school either, but it is that, or you study your ass off and get me a G.E.D. Understand?"
He leaned back in the chair again. "They're not gonna let me. Once you're in, you're in. You don't get out." He'd thought it was fun, at first. An easy way to make money, but things had changed. He didn't want to hold up liquor stores and sell drugs on the street. He wanted to make something of his life, but his mother and sister came first.
"Hell they aren't. Most of them are being round up as we are talkin'. Kinda like herdin' cats, they scatter around, but eventually you get them. In fact, James "Jimboy" Dixon is the one being investigated for the fed as well as a lot of other crimes in the area."
"I didn't do anything."
"Right now, your file is mine, Christian." Stone patted the file in front of him.
"How long?" The word blackmail came to mind, but he knew better than to mention it.
"You try to fuck me, this is getting to the Feds and so are you. A&O isn't far from your house. Jackie works there, he's one of mine too. It's a real job, but it will allow you perks as the latest and greatest of systems."
"I'm not stupid. I'm not gonna fuck you."
"Good....and how long, what?"
"You get me out of here and I'll do whatever you want. How long do you own me?"
"Christian, for what I do if you stay as sharp and talented as you are. You can make a lot of money in your lifetime. So come on, I'll take you home." Stood and offered the kid his hand. ?Shake a man's hand, that's a commitment where I'm from."
His eyes widened a little and then he leaned forward, picked up the pen, and scribbled his signature on the line by the X. "This is totally illegal."
He takes up the paper. "Not where I'm standing. I'll tell you more in the car."
He hesitated a moment before moving to his feet, looking suspiciously at the offered hand.
The hand remained, offered and waiting.
He took the man's hand finally, jaw clenched, looking determined. "Is this where I thank you?"
A firm shake, then Stone moves into the room next to the one they were in, claiming the tape as evidence, and motioning Chris. "Come on. See if you want to thank me when I have a gun in your hand."
A brow lifted at the mention of a gun, but he said nothing, wondering what the hell he'd just gotten himself into.