The Insider. Ava McCarthy

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      Sandra Nagle was looking right at her.

      Moisture trickled from Harry’s armpits. She heard the swish of nylon mashing against nylon as the woman marched towards her. She closed down her access to the network and flipped the helpdesk application back into view just as Sandra Nagle reached her desk.

      The woman was breathing hard. She was so close that Harry could see the pale hairs on her upper lip.

      ‘Just who are you, and what do you think you’re doing?’

      ‘Are you Sandra Nagle?’ Harry stood up and flung her bag across her shoulder, snatching out the CD and slipping it back into her pocket. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

      ‘What –’

      Harry brushed past her and marched towards the doors, trying to ignore the trembling in her knees.

      ‘I’ve been sent in by IT to check the health of your systems,’ she said. ‘You’ve got serious virus problems here.’

      Sandra Nagle was close behind her. ‘How –’

      ‘You don’t need to cease operations right away, but I hope for your own sake you’ve been following the bank’s anti-virus procedures.’

      The woman’s step faltered. Harry looked back over her shoulder.

      ‘I see. No doubt you’ll be hearing from IT in due course.’

      She pushed against one of the double doors, but it wouldn’t open. She tried the other one. Locked.

      ‘Hang on, who did you say you were?’ Sandra Nagle was stomping after her.

      Fuck it.

      Harry spotted the door-release button on the wall. She pressed it and heard a click. She shoved open the doors and raced across the reception area. Melanie stared at her, her mouth wide open.

      Harry burst through the glass doors into the sunlight and raced down the street.

      Electrified by adrenaline, Harry sprinted alongside the canal, her shoes smacking against the pavement and the blood drumming through her body. When she was sure no one was following her, she slowed to a walk and then perched on the canal wall to cool down.

      Water hissed through the tall rushes by the banks and a light breeze buffeted her face. When the thumping in her chest had eased off, she fished her phone out of her bag and dialled.

      ‘Hi, Ian? Harry Martinez here, from Lúbra Security. I’ve just finished the penetration test on your systems.’

      ‘Already?’

      ‘Yeah, I hacked in and got all I needed.’

      ‘Jesus. Hey, lads, have we had any IDS alarms?’

      Harry could hear some commotion in the background. ‘Relax, Ian, your Intrusion Detection System is fine. I didn’t come through from the outside.’

      ‘You didn’t? But we were expecting a perimeter attack.’

      ‘Yeah, I know you were.’ Harry winced. ‘Sorry.’

      ‘Ah Jesus, Harry.’

      ‘Listen, a huge number of hacker exploits are inside jobs. You need to protect yourselves.’

      ‘No kidding.’

      ‘So I came in through the bank’s own network, and got admin access –’

      ‘You what?’

      ‘– and found the customer bank accounts and PIN numbers.’

      ‘Ah fuck it.’

      ‘Let’s just say your internal security doesn’t look too good. But a few simple precautions should sort it out. I’ll make some recommendations in the report.’

      ‘But how the hell did you get in?’

      ‘A bit of social engineering, and some hard neck. If it makes you feel any better, I nearly got caught.’

      ‘It doesn’t. What a mess.’

      ‘Sorry, Ian. Just thought I’d give you some warning before your management gets wind of it.’

      ‘Well, thanks, I appreciate that. But I’m still dog meat.’

      ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ Harry’s phone beeped. ‘I left a stash of hacker tools behind, just to test your anti-virus software. But we can go through that later when we do a clean-up.’ Her phone beeped again. ‘Sorry, Ian, got to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

      She took the incoming call.

      ‘Hey there, Harry, how’s the break-in going?’

      Harry smiled. It was Imogen Brady, a support engineer from the Lúbra Security office. She pictured her friend sitting at her desk, her feet not quite reaching the floor. Imogen looked like a Chihuahua, with huge eyes in a gamine face. She was one of the best hackers Harry had ever worked with.

      ‘I’m just finished,’ Harry said. ‘What’s going on back there?’

      ‘Mister Loads-a-dosh is looking for you.’

      She was referring to their boss, Dillon Fitzroy. Rumour had it that he’d become a multi-millionaire at the age of twenty-eight during the dot.com boom. That was nine years ago. He’d founded Lúbra Security shortly afterwards, expanding it by merging with other software companies until it was now one of the biggest in the business.

      ‘What does he want?’ Harry said.

      ‘Who knows? Maybe a date?’

      Harry rolled her eyes. Imogen may have looked as though a breeze could blow her away, but when it came to digging for gossip she was a terrier.

      ‘Why don’t you just put me through to him?’ Harry said.

      ‘Okey-dokey.’

      A few seconds later, Dillon’s voice came on the line.

      ‘Harry? You finished over at Sheridan?’

      Judging from the background acoustics, he was yelling into a conference phone from several feet away.

      ‘I’m done,’ Harry said. ‘Except for the paperwork.’

      ‘Ditch it. I’ve another job for you.’

      ‘Right now?’ She was starving and could smell the coffee and bacon rolls from the sandwich bars in Baggot Street. She stood up and strolled towards the canal bridge.

      ‘Yeah, right now. Send me on the Sheridan details, I’ll get Imogen to compile the report. I want you on another vulnerability assessment.’

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