Eraser

By Miguel Boura

A detective cybercrime thriller, in which Steven Crane takes on rookie detective Josh, as well as a dangerous case. Elsewhere, Will embarks on the cusp of his career-ending case.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miguel Boura
• Release date: Sep 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393029946

Book preview

PART ONE

>C ONNECTION OPENED TO G65ACqh184MScir0FI.ONION

>ERASER HOMEPAGE - TERMS AND CONDITIONS

What is a name?  A name is something that would be very important to anyone else in this world. To any parent, it would be the name they give their newborn children. To the world, it can be a unique identification of each and every individual that is living and breathing, or even dead.  But it isn’t important to me. Why? Simple: I have nothing.

Why do I not have a name? To me, it is just an inconvenience, a waste of time. to remember and identify myself easily. There are some instances in which I must accept that I need to know such a thing.

I’ll get to that later. Right now, what you need to know about is what I do. It is my entire life: I know nothing else. I am my job. The only thing you need to know is the name. You have seen that little rubber thing people use to wipe away their mistakes, to hide them forever. That is called an eraser, a magic piece of stationery. And yes, even me. I do make mistakes too, but I correct them, just like everyone else.

For a very high sum, I can erase anyone else’s mistakes. It doesn’t have to be a mistake they made: it could be something that evolved into a mistake. They only need to do one thing: download a specific software that will allow them to go beyond normal access: the dark web. In the dark web, they can’t just enter a specific site into the search engine, they would need my EXACT address, which I’ve only ever handed out to trusted accomplices. With that link they can come to my page and request my services. Then it is my job to be the eraser.

It is my job to come in as a nameless individual, scope out said mistakes, get close to them, and then erase them. This takes time, because I need to figure out the right moment, the right time that I can make them disappear without a trace.

Now back to the topic of names and I did say there were names that were important to me. Those include the name of the target I’m paid to erase. Their address, their family names, their friends’ names in case I need to go undercover. I do need to know my employee’s name, because if my mission fails and my client tries to turn on me, I have a new target to erase.

Still with me so far? I am the eraser. Hire me and I will remove a human and any trace of that human ever existing or disappearing. I do expect a steep payment, or you will find yourself my target. Blackmailers will meet the same fate. With all these risks present, do you still wish to hire me? Do you have someone you want erased? Because I’m the right person for the job.

If you are done reading, but have not moved forward yet, be warned. This website is bugged and a malicious virus will infect your computer if you linger. I do not accept people who get cold feet, and the bug I leave will be a reminder for you to not waste my time.

You can be reassured I won’t come after you simply for window shopping.

>I ACCEPT THE CONSEQUENCES

1

It was a dismal day for Steven Crane. For anyone else, a dismal day would be cloudy skies, non-stop rain and puddles everywhere. People would be complaining about rain water leaking through the holes in their shoes, and soaking their socks and jean anklets. There was none of that today; and yet Steven was still unhappy. It was a cool winter morning, only a few stray clouds dotting the clear sky, though the air was humid from rain that had fallen the night before. The ground was still so wet that Steven could see his blurred reflection, but at least his socks were still dry. That is, when he could avoid the large puddles of water that covered the pavement of the footpath.

His ’75 Ford F100 was parked in a covered lot ten minutes away, which meant he had to carry a box over to his office, as well as the key which would open his own door. Steven let out a cough, nearly dropping his box as he struggled to keep a hold, before he righted himself just outside the door to the complex. Fishing the key out of his pocket, the private detective unlocked the door and promptly headed for the first door on the right of the hallway – opening and closing it quickly as not to alert anyone to his arrival. Crane wanted to unpack and organize his new office before he had to greet anyone.

It was a fairly small room, smaller than he had anticipated, a single desk being the only large piece of furniture that took half of the space easily. He didn’t mind; one desk was all he needed anyway. Steven liked to work alone. The box moved from his arms to the surface of the desk, and the nearly middle-aged male groaned and arched his back, farther and farther until a satisfying crack could be heard.

Steven blinked and sighed as he looked around the room, realizing that he probably got the short end of the stick– he could walk from one side to the other in just two steps. Walking from the desk to the front door would only be three steps – it was a surprisingly small room but at the same time, it was big for an office. He was lucky enough to secure three chairs – one for himself and two others for whoever would come to his office. Not that anyone would come today; he hadn’t put out any ads yet.

Steven even had a small bathroom to the side, which he quickly made use of as soon as he had forced the door open. It seemed to stick, he noticed, so he decided to leave it open a bit so getting out would be easier. Pushing the button down and hearing the splashing of the toilet flushing, he turned to the sink, and took a moment to regard himself in the mirror while he washed his hands. Despite having wrinkles that showed his age, Steven had a well chiseled chin that boasted an impressive darkened shade of shadow. His hair looked like it had a field day in the wind, but to Steven, that was how he always kept it.

Possibly the most defining feature was the scar above his cheek, which extended from the bottom of his eye down to his upper lip, a battle wound from his previous job. Steven was happy to retire to being a private detective; he figured there’d be fewer risks in a job like this. And besides, no one would bother to come to him anyway.

Shit. He mumbled as he rubbed his temple, feeling a headache as soon as he left the darkened bathroom to a bright office, a single window let in as much light as possible, while the bathroom had only a dim light that was fading fast. Reaching into his coat pocket, Steven took out a Nurofen capsule, placed it between his teeth and bit down hard, shivering as the sour pill powder coated his mouth and let his saliva wash down his mouth before he swallowed.

The box was emptied quickly and discarded next to the front door, as the diplomas Steven had found their place on the side wall, being hanged in chronological order. His bachelor’s degree from QUT would come first, before the Masters that he had undertaken from Griffith. He had spent ten years studying, before reaching a job on the police force which was commemorated with his personal badge being framed. He had worked for 15 years, before deciding to retire and start up his own agency.

This was the only wall he had worked on, but Steven was content. He didn’t want an extravagant office – the bare design worked well enough, and he nodded with a satisfied huff. Taking a seat, Steven pondered his next move, before taking out a pad and pen and scribbling out an advert before picking up his phone and calling the newspaper. Hello, I’d like to quickly add an advertisement. No, yeah, the last page. Small.

THE WEATHER WAS UNUSUAL most of the time. It would bounce from bright and sunny one day, to cloudy and dreary the next, but most of the city’s patrons were used to this irregularity. Today, there were barely any clouds in the sky, and the ground had dried up completely so there were considerably less slippery. Despite everything, the clouds found a way to crawl through the sky and cover the sun if only for a minute,

This single minute did well enough to cool the warm day, and no one was more thankful than Josh Kravitz, who seemed to be in a hurry. The youthful 25 year old had skipped his breakfast, instead opting for a quick trip down the busy street, weaving through the crowd as he looked for his destination. He had a small backpack that was light, and a clean cut face, which suggested he had taken the time to shave the night before, and he wore a Tarocash jacket and trousers, his choice of wear for a job interview.

He didn’t have one arranged, as Josh seemed to rely on just showing up and demanding an interview. This strategy had not worked before though, and Josh was questioning why he had decided to rely on old tricks, but he was already close to the office. As he had done so many times before, he prayed that he would at least get an interview. Maybe he’d get lucky today, he smiled; he might even land the job.

He stepped into the complex, and immediately found the door. Opening it, he met a barely filled office, and a despondent man sitting at the desk. This man looked up and merely sighed. Are you here because of my ad? The detective’s voice seemed crackly, like he already had a long day at this point; it wasn’t even ten in the morning.

I did see your ad in the paper, and immediately made my way over here. Josh smiled as he swung his bag around, opening the zip and pulled out the paper. He turned the pages to find the ad, where Steven was offering his services. There was no mention of any help being wanted, but Josh ignored the small details. And I was wondering if you had any room for a junior detective?

I have no positions available, so you can turn around and leave. Be sure to let in anyone that wants my help. He wasted no time in showing his disinterest by immediately looking down, waving his hand.

The young detective wasn’t deterred, he simply stood his ground. Please, Mr. Crane. Just interview me, give me a chance. I’m sure I can impress you.

I work alone. Now beat it kid.

He did not move. Mr. Crane, I am only asking for ten minutes.

Crane sighed in exasperation as he looked up. You won’t leave? Fine, take a seat and give me your résumé.

The young graduate could only cheer as he quickly moved to the chair, fishing his résumé out and handing it to the senior, who looked over quickly before returning his gaze to the young man.

So you graduated just last year?

Yes, sir. With honours. Josh smiled as he pointed to a line, as Steven looked down. I have a part time job at the supermarket, but right now I’m looking at something that’s more long term.

Steven seemed to go into another bout of concentration, seemingly scanning over the paper with a fine toothed comb, and Josh could feel his heart beating like a jackhammer. He  gulped softly as he opened his mouth, a question seemingly making its way out, only to be interrupted as the door opened.

Steven groaned as he placed the résumé down, looking up at the newcomer that had burst into his office suddenly. Josh had jolted a bit, turning his head only to gasp at who had entered.

Um, excuse me, but is this the office of Steven Crane? Her voice seemed cautious, but it carried an air of elegance. She seemed to dress heavily, her figure shrouded by a thick coat which would repel any coldness. Her brunette hair hung over her shoulders, as her eyelids seemed to dance with every blink.

This is my office, yes, but I am in the middle of an interview. Could you please come back in ten minutes?

But this is an urgent matter. The woman seemed to whine in impatience as she pleaded with her eyes. The young interviewee then noticed Steve was about to retort again, so he lifted his hand.

If I may interject, sir? He seemed to be insulted, but nodded nonetheless, so Kravitz continued, "I don’t mind putting my interview on hold. We could do this