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I pause. “Social engineering. He charmed his way into gathering the information he needed.”
Sam’s excitement is palpable. “Exactly. So, how do you think we get inside a place called Devil’s Lair?”
“We give them what they want.”
“Which is?”
“Money. They want to be paid.”
“By the damn minute,” Sam confirms.
Immediately, my mind starts piecing together possibilities. “How many of those individuals do you think actually enjoy their jobs, Sam?”
“No telling, why?”
I immediately begin typing. A few minutes later, I share my screen so Sam can view the phishing exercise I’m crafting. After a few seconds he demands, “Now why weren’t you this smart when we were working together the first time we met?”
“Give me a fucking break, Sam. I was eighteen when I joined the navy. I’m now forty-three. I’ve learned a hell of a lot in the years in between.”
“Still, this kind of coding is shit hot. It might even impress Leanne. Maybe you can ask her for a job when it’s all over.”
“Fuck off, Sam,” I grumble.
“Kidding, but I’m kind of not.”
“Give me one second…I just have to…right there.” Now that my hands have been lifted off the keyboard, I can’t help but smirk. “The email’s ready. We’ll get a copy of each one when it goes out so we’ll have the email addresses they go to.”
“Good. Let me get the background to substantiate it.” In a matter of minutes, between the two of us, we’ve stood up a site on the dark web very reminiscent of Devil’s Lair. The hosting name boasts of a ridiculous number of made-up visitors.
By the time Leanne joins us after a meeting she has at Castor, we’re ready to cast our net. She changes her voice and gives us the green light before declaring, “I hope this works.”
I chuckle darkly. “Whoever falls into this trap deserves to.”
I press send and the email bounces off the back end of Devil’s Lair’s website. For a second, just a second, I hold my breath—praying my coding goes through. Then, my elbow jerks back and I hiss, “Yes,” before realizing emails are coming back to me. “Holy shit. Over two hundred people work there? Why would people demean themselves to work for a phone sex hotline?”
That’s when Leanne verbally slaps me from thousands of miles away. “Why? Who knows. But I’ll bet you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“At least one person working there is doing so because of love. And I know better than anyone that love will drive a person to do desperate things.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SEVEN VIRTUES, NORTH CAROLINA
How did I fall in love with baking? Sweets were a rarity in my childhood. I wanted them to be a part of my daily adulthood.
—Executive Chef Trina Paxton, Narcissus Restaurant Group for Food Network Magazine
“I got a job offer last night,” I tell Clarabel as we walk into the kitchen not far from where my mother’s getting chemotherapy.
“You’d leave the Biltmore?”
I shake my head. “I’d move into Biltmore if I could. It would only cost me about one point seven to renovate it.”
“Million? That’s not too bad.”
“Billion. That’s with a ‘b.’”