CHAPTER TWELVE

"Good morning, Jenn," smiled the handsome man with the salt and pepper hair. He had a rugged face with lines etched by hard work and hard times. But he was the best boss Jenn had ever had.

"Morning, Cap," smiled the woman at the reception desk. "Did you have a good weekend?"

"Great. Our warrior run was a huge success. We had donations totaling more than six million for the traumatic brain injury center, which included three separate million-dollar donations from new corporate donors. It was amazing."

"Congratulations! I know how hard everyone worked to make that happen."

"Thanks, Jenn. Let me know when Coop arrives."

She nodded as he walked back toward his office. Other than Jenn, he was always the first one in the office in the morning. Retired Captain Tony Ebert, U.S. Air Force. He'd started Warriors for Warriors ten years ago when he retired, focusing on the needs of those with disabilities, especially traumatic brain injury.

Their foundation was now one of the largest non-profits in the country, helping America's warriors weave their way into a new reality and new world. With the help of other retired veterans, they used their know-how of the system, relationships with the V.A., and other non-profits to help those most in need.

He set his leather satchel on the desk and took his seat, opening his computer. Immediately, a screen began flashing.

Your computer is infected with a virus. DO NOT turn it off or you will lose everything and further infect your server. Call 1-875-922-2222 for help in clearing the virus from your system.

"Fuck me," he growled. "Jenn! Jenn! Did you get a virus notification on your computer?"

"No. Don't touch it until Sammy gets here. He'll know what to do."

More than an hour later, his IT guy was sitting at his desk staring at the same screen he'd seen an hour before.

"Well?"

"I think I'm going to phone a friend," he said, frowning. He dialed a number on his cell phone and waited. "Code? You old bastard, I need your help."

"Hey, I need you guys to come in here. Now!" said Code over the speaker system.

A dozen thundering footsteps ran down the hallway to the comms room. On the split screen on the wall was an old friend and an old enemy.

"Shit, Cap, what the hell did you do?" frowned Nine.

"I didn't do a fucking thing, but why do you assholes look better than me?" he growled. The men all chuckled, shaking their heads. Most were fifteen to twenty years older than Cap, maybe more. "This was on my computer when I came in this morning. Sammy didn't touch it, instead calling your boy, Code."

"We're chasing these assholes, brother. They're tapping into non-profits all over the country and pulling a scam. They withdraw a huge amount of money from the business's account, transfer it to one of their employee's personal accounts, then transfer it again to a ghost account, leaving the employee to blame."

"What the fuck?" muttered Cap.

"They haven't touched anything yet because they have no access to the funds," said Code. "Cap, if you'll trust me, I'd like remote access to this so I can trace the virus."

"But can you get to them before they get to my money?" he asked.

"I'm going to do my own little number," smirked Code, nodding to Monroe. The little boy waved at him, smiling.

"Are you shitting me? That kid is going to do this?"

"Don't you remember Pigsty?" smirked Code. "This kid is even better than him."

"I don't believe it," said Cap.

"Watch me," laughed Monroe. He took the keyboard and began pecking away.

"Hey, we didn't give him access yet," said Sammy.

"Don't need it," smiled the boy. "I'm in. I'm going to block anything that has a dollar value attached to it. Banking, payroll, anything. Then, I'm going to divert it to a different account protected by our G.R.I.P. Steel Virus Protector. It will be a private account into a dummy account we have created. I'm going to give them access to exactly $11.43. While they're trying to figure out what the heck is happening, I'm going to go in and see where they are."

"If my money disappears, Nine, I'm going to be seriously pissed off."

"Language. He's just a kid," smirked Nine.

"Jesus, I'm getting an ulcer here, and you're worried about…"

"It's done," smiled Monroe. "They took the $11.43, but they couldn't get into anything else. You're welcome. Before they could initiate the bouncing to all the servers, I installed a virus that prevented that, and that let me trace their location." Monroe smiled, waiting for someone to thank him. Then he frowned.

"Sorry, kid. You did great," said Gaspar. "Now, can you tell us where they are?"

"No."

"No?" repeated Nine.

"Well, I mean, the servers are in Utah, but it's just a room in this building," he said, showing the address on the screen. It was a cinderblock storefront in a strip mall on the outskirts of town. The sign in the window said that a new business was coming soon.

"Damn," muttered Antoine.

"Yeah, but whoever was trying to bounce the signal was in Las Vegas at this address."

"Kid, you did good," smirked Gaspar.

"What about our computers?" asked Cap.

"Oh, you can go into them now," said Monroe. "I cleaned it up for you. You had a lot of spam and stuff. It should run faster now, and I gave you more hard drive space, and you're protected by our Steel program. Can I go meet Victoria now? We're working on something really cool."

"Yeah, kid. Go have fun," smiled Code.

"Who in the hell is that kid?" asked Cap.

"He's my grandson," said Nine proudly. "Jax and Ellie adopted him."

"Damn. You eggheads really stick together," he smirked. "Listen, I'll never be able to repay you, but if you guys need any help, let me know. I've got a lot of vets we're helping out that would be itching to get at guys like this." Nine nodded.

"We appreciate it, brother. Talk to you soon."