Search Parameters: Hackers

By J. R. Rada

Chris Alten has adjusted to life in a wheelchair, in large part because of Harvey, a sentient computer program that has become his best friend. Chris, Harvey, and Ashlyn Jacobsen enjoy sharing adventures in cyberspace.

However, Chris must also allow the FBI access to Harvey when they have problems that need solving. That is, until Chris feels they are using Harvey to hunt down and kill criminals. When Chris threatens to cut off the FBI's access to Harvey, the FBI confiscates Chris's father's computer equipment and pulls their security detail off the Alten family.

This leads to ManPower, the cyberterrorist group that killed Chris's father, kidnapping Chris's mother in an effort to get Harvey's program. Chris has to make a choice as to whether destroying the only sentient computer program in the world is worth his mother's life.

It is a race against time to see if Chris, Ashlyn, and Harvey can locate Chris's mother before ManPower is able to destroy Harvey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AIM Publishing
• Release date: Feb 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215559055

J. R. Rada

J. R. Rada is the author of seven novels, a non-fiction book and a non-fiction collection. These include the historical novels Canawlers, October Mourning, Between Rail and River and The Rain Man. His other novels are Logan’s Fire, Beast and My Little Angel. His non-fiction books are Battlefield Angels: The Daughters of Charity Work as Civil War Nurses and Looking Back: True Stories of Mountain Maryland.He lives in Gettysburg, Pa., where he works as a freelance writer. Jim has received numerous awards from the Maryland-Delaware-DC Press Association, Associated Press, Maryland State Teachers Association and Community Newspapers Holdings, Inc. for his newspaper writing.If you would like to be kept up to date on new books being published by J. R. Rada or ask him questions, he can be reached by e-mail at [e-mail] see J. R. Rada's other books or to order copies on-line, go to jamesrada.com.

Book preview

Search Parameters

A Hackers Novel

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by

J. R. Rada

AIM

Publishing Group

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

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SEARCH PARAMETERS

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Published by AIM Publishing.

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

Copyright © 2020 by James Rada, Jr.

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN 978-

AIM

Publishing Group

315 Oak Lane  Gettysburg, Pennsylvania 17325

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 1

So is this our first date? Ashlyn Jacobson asked as she batted her eyelashes.

Sitting across the small table from the attractive blonde girl, thirteen-year-old Chris Alten was so focused on what appeared to be butterflies fluttering on her eyes he missed what she said. When her comment sunk into his head, he coughed as he choked on the piece of steak he had just put in his mouth. Then, he grabbed at the glass of water next to his plate and took a big gulp to wash the lump of meat down. He snatched up the linen napkin and used it to cover his mouth. He didn’t want to spray meat or water on Ashlyn. Date or not, that would not be a good thing.

Ashlyn just laughed. It was a full-throated laugh, not a little titter that some teenage girls did. It always made Chris smile to hear it, although not when it was directed at him.

You think me choking is funny? Chris asked when he got his coughing under control.

She nodded. Yes, because you’re not really choking.

He understood what she was saying, but he still couldn’t convince his body that he didn’t have a big piece of filet mignon lodged in his throat. It was an involuntary response. He rubbed his throat and took a deep breath. Ashlyn watched, still smirking and on the verge of laughing again.

Chris looked around. He and Ashlyn were sitting in an expensive restaurant in downtown London called Fleming’s. It was on the top floor of one of the high-priced office buildings in the city. Chris could see Big Ben’s clock face shining in the night through the floor-to-ceiling window next to the table. He was surprised Harvey had come up with such a minor detail. He shouldn’t have been. Very little got by Harvey.

The restaurant contained three dozen tables, and diners sat at nearly all of them. The walls were wood paneled and showed off expensive-looking artwork. Not that Chris was any judge. He thought anime art was great. A large fire burned in a stone fireplace at one end of the room. The fire added to the low-level of lighting in the restaurant dining room.

Ashlyn wore a formal white gown, although it was slit up the side nearly to her waist. She probably needed the slit to walk in the gown since it clung to her everywhere else. It also seemed to glow in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Chris wondered if she actually owned a dress like that or if it was another one of Harvey’s details.

Chris felt a little hampered in his tuxedo, but he thought he looked like a very mature thirteen-year-old. Of course, Ashlyn had joked that he looked like a tall penguin.

I can’t wait to try dessert, Ashlyn said as she took a bite of her steak.

Why? It’s not like you can taste it, Chris reminded her.

That’s the best part. I can eat all of it I want and not gain an ounce.

He doubted Ashlyn had to worry about gaining weight, not with all the jumping around she did in cheerleading.

Chris thought for a moment and then said, So, it’s like farting without the smell.

Now it was Ashlyn’s turn to choke while Chris laughed.

A middle-aged man approached the table. He was heavyset and had a white goatee, which was unusual since the hair on his head was dark brown. He was also dressed in a tuxedo. If anyone looked like a penguin, it was this guy.

Behind the first man was another, much larger, man who must work out twelve hours a day. He looked like a whoopee pie in his tuxedo; two chocolate cake ends surrounding a creamy white filling that was being pushed out. His tuxedo was trying to squeeze him out in the same way, although Chris saw nothing creamy about the man. He kept looking around, never settling his stare on one place. Obviously, he was a bodyguard and not one whom Chris would like to take on since the man was at least three times his size.

Mr. Alten. Ms. Jacobsen, Big Penguin said with a British accent, which wasn’t unusual since they were in London.

Big Penguin pulled out the expensive wooden chair with rose-colored upholstery and sat down at a table with the two teenagers. Chris and Ashlyn looked at each other but didn’t say anything.

The bodyguard remained standing, which made Chris nervous. Whoopie Pie loomed over the table, ready to act. It was as if a boulder hung by a fraying rope over the table.

My name is Harcourt Westwood, Big Penguin said.

Should we know you? Chris stopped eating and nonchalantly tried to push himself back from the table.

Harcourt Westwood snorted, and it rippled his goatee. "Of course not. You are children. He said the word like he was saying, Slugs are crawling up my legs. I, on the other hand, have made it my business to know the two of you."

Why? As you said, we’re children. If Chris had been Spider-Man, his spider sense would have been sounding in his head like an air horn.

Yes, yes, but you are children who have a particular computer program about which I have been hearing quite a lot. It is a special program for which I have a need.

Chris and Ashlyn glanced at each other. The game had started.

Unless you mean the new Battlebots 4 program my mother gave to me to beta test, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chris said with unconvincing feigned innocence. Too many years of getting in trouble in school had given him a look of permanent mischievousness.

Westwood stared at Chris without saying a word. Chris stared back. He was good at stare downs, but he knew he wouldn’t win this one. When Harcourt Westwood kept staring, Chris put a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth and chewed with his mouth open. Westwood frowned and looked away.

I’m sorry, we can’t help you. Well, maybe not sorry, but we can’t help you either way, Ashlyn said.

As I said, you two are children; one of you more than the other. Westwood glanced at Chris. "I did not think, however, you were stupid children. Do you think I would come here to speak with you if I was not sure about my information? I have sat down at your table and given you respect you have not earned. Yet, you, in turn, insult my intelligence."

I’m sorry you feel insulted, Mr. Westwood, but no one invited you to sit down, Ashlyn said. We were enjoying a quiet dinner by ourselves.

Yes, I saw it, Westwood said, glancing at Chris again.

I enjoy seafood, Chris said. He pointed to his open mouth. See? Food.

Westwood rolled his eyes as he reached out and picked up Ashlyn’s full glass and sipped it. She looked stunned at his rudeness.

Ah, sparkling cider. Well, I should have guessed the restaurant would not serve you wine, he said.

That was very rude, Mr. Westwood, Chris said. You need to leave now.

Who are you to speak to me of rude? Westwood set the glass down. I told you, I want the program. His voice never rose above a conversational tone, but it sounded to Chris as if he was yelling.

Even if we had what you’re looking for, we wouldn’t give it to you just because you want it, Ashlyn said. Not to mention how rude you are.

Westwood’s eyes widened, and his jowls shook as if he had been slapped across the face. Rude? I have not chewed my food with my mouth open. I have asked nicely.

Chris waved a server over. The young waiter in his twenties walked over to the table, still carrying the tray he had used to bring his last order to customers.

This man just sat down at our table and won’t leave, Chris said, pointing at Westwood. Can you call security or whoever handles such problems?

The waiter turned to Westwood and said, You’ll have to leave, sir, or I will call the bobbies.

Despite the tense situation, Chris forced himself not to laugh at hearing someone say bobbies. Just another one of Harvey’s details.

Westwood grinned at Chris. You enjoy being able to wave your hand and have someone do what you want? I can do that, too.

Westwood lifted his hand and flicked it at the waiter as if swishing away a fly. Whoopie Pie, who had been standing behind Westwood, punched the waiter in the face. The young man yelled and dropped his tray to grab his bleeding nose. Then the bodyguard picked the waiter up by the collar and waistband and tossed him onto the next table. The waiter landed in the middle of another couple’s prime rib dinners and sent the table over on its side with a crash. The couple shouted at Westwood.

He merely grinned and watched things unfold.

Chris threw his drink in the bodyguard’s face and then lunged to his feet swinging at the big man. It was a dumb move. He knew it the moment he started to swing, but he was already in motion. Chris hit the bodyguard in the jaw. The man may have looked like a soft whoopie pie, but the man’s head just turned a bit at the impact from Chris’s punch. Then the bodyguard backhanded Chris, who toppled over backwards with his chair.

The bodyguard stepped to the other side of the table and grabbed Ashlyn, twisting her arm behind her back. She yelped in pain.

Chris struggled to his feet, rubbing his face. It didn’t hurt as much as it should have, but the blow still left his head ringing. He wasn’t sure how that was even possible. Chris laid his hand over the steak knife that had been knocked to the floor with the rest of his meal.

Now, can we dispense with the bravado? Give me the program, Westwood demanded. He still sat in his chair as if he was eating a meal at the table.

Chris jumped behind Westwood and placed the knife at the big man’s throat.

Let Ashlyn go! he demanded.

This is daring for you, Christopher, Westwood said. He didn’t seem as concerned as he should have.

Your man has someone important to me. Now I’ve got someone important to him, Chris said. It will be hard for him to get paid if you’re dead. Not to mention, no one hires bodyguards who lose their clients.

Whoopie Pie looked back and forth between Chris and Westwood. Chris pressed the knife tighter against Westwood’s throat.

But how far are you willing to go? Westwood asked, unconcerned with his predicament. Injure me, and Ashlyn will be hurt even worse.

Injure you? I guess I didn’t make myself clear. I wouldn’t injure you. You would just keep coming after me for hurting you. No, I’m going to kill you.

Ashlyn suddenly drove her balled fist backwards into the bodyguard’s crotch. Whoopie Pie grunted and doubled over. His grip loosened, and she slammed the heel of one her high-heeled shoes into his foot.

Wait a minute! Chris shouted. Halt the program.

Everything around them froze. What’s the matter? Ashlyn said as she straightened up and ran her hands down her sides to smooth out her dress.

Chris waved a finger in her direction. You’re playing out the scenario wrong. The bad guys were supposed to take you, so there could be a big car chase, and I would get to use some of the spy gadgets from the Bond movies.

Where’s the fun in that? She was actually pouting. Chris wondered if she knew it or was doing it unconsciously.

It’s lots of fun, Chris said.

Ashlyn shook her head. For you maybe, but all I’m playing in this scene is the damsel in distress. Heck, I took out the bodyguard, and now we can get away. No problem.

But that’s not how it’s supposed to go. Harvey!

Westwood looked up. Yes, Christopher?

Chris jumped back and let go of the knife he was holding. It hung in the air where he had released it. You were playing Westwood?

Harvey/Westwood nodded. I wanted to see what the perspective of the scene would be as the antagonist.

Harvey was a nice program (if you could say that about a computer program), but he was getting into the habit of playing bad guys in their games. He seemed to enjoy it, which was another odd thing to say about a computer program, but Harvey was an unusual program.

You were supposed to ride in with the troops at the end to round up the bad guys, Chris said.

I could have switched to that character at the appropriate time, Harvey said.

Chris threw up his hands. Is no one going to stay in character?

Is it in character for the hero to whine so much? Ashlyn asked. I don’t want to be rescued. I want to be a kick-ass heroine like Rey in the Star Wars movies.

This isn’t Star Wars, and Bond girls don’t act like that.

Ashlyn walked over to Chris and poked him in the chest. He winced as if she was really poking him. You’re no James Bond, Chris Alten. Need I remind you how I saved your butt a couple months ago when ManPower broke into your workshop?

If I remember right, you wound up with a broken arm for your efforts and nearly spoiled my plan, which worked, by the way.

That earned Chris a punch in the shoulder. Her arm appeared to have healed, or at least the VR equipment made it appear that way.

Harvey/Westwood stood up. "I see that this is the end of the role playing for this afternoon. The restaurant faded to a solid blue. Chris and Ashlyn now stood in their school clothes in the blue room where all of their adventures began. It was Harvey’s canvas where he constructed his scenes.

Why do you still look like Westwood? Ashlyn asked Harvey.

I do not have a default form like you and Christopher, Harvey said.

Do you want one?

Harvey nodded. Yes, but this is a choice I find I am having some difficulty selecting.

What forms have you considered? Chris said. "Maybe we can