He spent 23 hours a day alone in a 6 foot by 12 foot cell. He was given one hour’s exercise, in which he walked figures of eight in an empty room. He wasn’t allowed to sleep after being wakened at 5 am. If he tried to, he would be immediately made to stand up by the guards who were not allowed to converse with him. Every five minutes the guards checked on him asking if he was okay in which he was required to respond in some affirmative manner. During the evening, if the guards couldn’t see him clearly because of a blanket over his head or from being curled up against the wall, they’d awaken him in order to ensure he was okay. Each of his meals were eaten in his cell and he didn’t have sheets or a pillow or personal items of any kind. Anonymous caught wind of this and created a #FreeTopiary campaign that stood against the harsh conditions and torture Gardenslayer was forced to face. The reason for his apparent torture was to break him and have him implicate other ‘Anons’ as well as give up some of his own sources and information. As far as he knew, there was no way Scotland Yard could have known about the delicate vital information he had purposefully sent to the editors of Infinity News Network…
“The story just went live..” said Marvin, clenching his teeth and a mug of hot coffee. The office was quiet as everyone gathered around the giant table in the main conference room where Ainsley held Infinity’s often humorous and laid back morning meetings.
“Are we even prepared for this?” said Jack. The team worried about the response. It could go one of two ways: the news media would condemn Infinity for publishing a conspiracy or they would realize that their claims could all be backed up with an immense amount of evidence. Ainsley could see it now, FOX claiming that they’re in bed with WikiLeaks and MSNBC reporting that Infinity was trying to defend the right by saying Breivik wasn’t the conservative activist he claimed to be. The team had gotten ‘on the record’ statements from the various scattered sources that Gardenslayer had provided them with. No one could refute that there was more to this story than what was originally reported as just a random act of violence from a ‘crazy person.’ The fact that Breivik was being kept so secure only helped their argument. Infinity was careful to simply report and present the new facts that they had learned. It almost sounded encyclopedic, but the last thing they needed was to be criticized. The story read:
WASHINGTON– The confessed mass murderer Anders Behring Breivik has been ordered to remain in custody for a further eight weeks during a closed court hearing, according to Judge Kim Heger.
Although the 32-year-old has confessed to setting off a bomb in Oslo and shooting dead 69 at an island youth camp on July 22, Infinity has learned that at least three Norwegian government officials took part in the island massacre. An email exchange between Breivik and the government accomplices’ was intercepted from a now deactivated server in Stockholm suggesting a detailed ploy to create a scenario in which the character of Anders Breivik is the supposed ‘right wing extremist’ who single-handedly perpetrated the killings that were according to Breivik’s 1, 500 page manifesto, “necessary to save Norway and Europe from being overrun by Muslim immigrants.”
The article went on to publish the emails as well as a link to the original draft of the manifesto that was created almost a year before Breivik’s version. Infinity had much much more but decided it was best to unload just the start of the cache of information. They didn’t want to dump everything they knew just yet. This was enough to stir up journalist and get news agencies talking. The truth was going to come out and they were on top of the story. At least that’s what they thought.
Ainsley was pacing back and forth beside the row of windows looking down onto K Street. Jack started for the door and grabbed Ainsley’s coat.
“Coffee?” he said.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
The two made their way into the hall, took the elevator down to the lobby and headed straight for the Starbucks across the street.
The sun was just about to set on the deep suburbs of isolated Boise when Simon Young decided to terminate all of the information on his massive computer. Not only did it contain thousands upon thousands of illegal songs and movies, it also held backup information from his internet buddy Topiary Gardenslayer. Simon watched as the screen powered down and eradicated every last bit of memory. He sighed and rested his head against the window awaiting a long expected arrival. It had all finally caught up with him and the game he had been a part of for years would now come to an end. He had his alibi, and surely there was nothing to prove inside his home. He had grown tired of tracking the FBI as they attempted to track him and recently slipped up somewhere along the line. Outside crickets chirped and cool mountain air began to settle over the quiet homes. Simon had just quit his band earlier that day. The West Coast tour would have to be rescheduled or Second Things Second would need a new drummer. Simon closed his eyes and listened closely as the front door was kicked in and the flashlights started flooding his home. He turned around and stood at the entrance of his bedroom, ready to greet his much anticipated pursuers.
NSA Headquarters, Fort Meade, Maryland
Tarrence Yellets clicked his high beams, skirting right off of Interstate 2-95 Baltimore-Washington Beltway and onto the “Employees Only” exit. He flashed his badge at the gate, parked his car and headed straight for his office. As one of the country’s top cyber security agents, Tarrence had been alerted to a possible breach at headquarters. Swiftly he walked across the giant circle of the American Eagle National Security Agency logo embedded on the slick polished floor and made his way toward the elevator. After entering a secure pin number and swiping his fingerprint at three different area checkpoints, he arrived at the NSA command center. Most of the agents stood in the middle of the room with puzzled expressions and folded arms. America’s most skilled techies, some being former hackers themselves were at least momentarily disabled from conducting business and bringing the system back into a functioning state. Everyone exchanged suspicious glances at one another leaving a tension so thick it could be sliced. Friends and colleagues were now secretly questioning the loyalty of those around them… or was this exactly what the hacker or hackers wanted? What was normally a room buzzing with cyber activity had come to a complete stop. Every computer monitor glowed in the darkness, each bearing the same message: