"We've got it, SABS are fucked, the package is cached in a public infobank." Sally, tall and gaunt, almost screamed as the two hours of intense data manipulation and retrieval finally paid off.

"I still think you lot are mad going for SABS info. You're seriously going to get yourselves in a whole load of shit by B.M.'ing a governmental department, never mind the anti B.M.'ers " Yan was finishing off his beer and leaving, he had never been into the operations anyway. Nobody seemed to notice him and nobody worried about his loyalty. The scrawny figure experienced no resistance as he left mid-blackmail.

(illustration by Sam Loe [saml@wide.co.uk]

"SABS is not strictly a governmental department, anyway" offered Matt (clean and intelligent looking) who sat at his portable, fixated by the scrolling list of figures and digits, a dance of ones and zeros.

"So what happens now?" asked John, the non-cerebral member of the crew: purely flesh expertise.

Sally patiently explained how Matt would move the data around over the next hour, how he would do this as she negotiated a price with the SABS. All going to plan they would be paid to not open and read the classified document contained within the package.

John, although not strictly fancying Sally, thought she had 'nice tits'.

"I'm afraid all SABS business is being referred to tomorrow" calmly stated the synth-fem voice.

"Look - pass me on to some authority or we'll open a classified package" Sally's voice creaked out of the five cred plastic toy, it had a yellow handle and a small red three way switch that was positioned on the 'GHOST' setting.

The emotionless answer came back: "I'm sorry, please try again later"

No matter how much Sally tried, she could not get any further than the SABS reception. Yan had been gone about half an hour and now Matt and John were stood nervously over Sally. Matt had stopped moving the data around within the public infobank system - there was no point if SABS were not even interested in listening to their demands.

"Well fuck them then!" John exclaimed pragmatically.

All three looked at one another, knowing that they only had the one option left - and that was to open the package of data, read the contents and sell the information to whomsoever it concerned. Those whom it concerned could be: ransomers, hostage holders or blackmailers of some kind. The information would be a directive for the Special Anti-Blackmail Squad to follow, the identity of a blackmailer or the location of a ransom trade.

Sally had not planned for this. She had been so sure that SABS would give into their demands, that she had never actually envisioned herself having to go through with their threat. At least someone would benefit from the information contained in that package - and maybe her crew could make a little off the back of that.

There was no difficulty retrieving the package from its safe place - and there it sat on the desktop. lines of code lying dormant, inactivated semantic DNA just needing the catalyst of the double click to spark the blossom of information.

It took about as much time as it takes a dead man to see the truck headlights and know that he's dead, to realise that the address on the document was theirs.
A split second after the shuffling of jack boots at the door, the very same door came crashing open. Frog-marched in front of five combat-clad men was Yan, beer still in hand.

Ian McClelland [Ian_McClelland@flextech.co.uk]