Sergey closed his laptop. The Russian had gotten what he wanted and looked pleased. Lancaster handed him the Droid with Zack Kenny’s information.
“Your turn,” he said.
Chapter 19
Brute Force
Hacking a cell phone was virgin territory for Lancaster. He didn’t have a clue as to how a hacker got his hands on personal information stored inside a phone. Was it skill or luck or a combination of both? To his surprise, it was none of the above.
It was called brute force. Using a sophisticated software program, a hacker could systematically try many passwords or pass phrases until the correct one was found. The method was fast when used to check short passwords, but grew longer when the password consisted of a combination of numbers, letters, and symbols.
To aid his search, Sergey needed personal information about Zack Kenny. This included names of pets, favorite foods, names of schools he’d attended, girlfriends, and any other easily remembered things that might be turned into a password.
Using his Droid, Lancaster got on the internet and pulled up Kenny’s LinkedIn page, which contained the names of Kenny’s previous workplaces. He recited this information to Sergey, then found Kenny’s profile on Facebook, and read off the names of schools Kenny had attended and his favorite musicians and movies.
“This isn’t very much,” Sergey said. “What about hobbies or pets?”
“I don’t have any of that,” he said.
“What else can you tell me about him?”
“He’s a sexual demon who’s attracted to young girls.”
Sergey frowned. “Then we’re probably looking at a long password.”
“That would be a good assumption.”
“Then this could take a while.”
“How long are we talking about?”
“Days,” the Russian hacker said. “My software program will test hundreds of thousands or even millions of words and eventually get a hit. But it’s a long process.”
“Is there a way to speed it along?” he asked.
“Get me more information. That usually does the trick.”
He thought back to his meeting with Karissa Clement. She’d been happy to share what she knew about Zack, and with a little prodding might provide him with a piece of information that would unlock her ex-boyfriend’s cell phone.
“Where’s a quiet place I can make a phone call?” he asked.
“You can use a VIP room,” Sergey said. “If a girl comes in, kick her out.”
“Tell me the way, would you?”
Sergey gave him instructions, and he soon found himself in an empty VIP room with mirrors on the walls and ceiling and a red leather couch with a gaping tear in it. He took a spot on the couch and gave Karissa a call. She answered with a cheery voice.
“Hey there. I was thinking about you. How’s your investigation going?”
“I’ve hit a wall,” he said. “I was hoping you could help me.”
“I’d be happy to try. By the way, you didn’t tell me you were a celebrity. I googled you when I got home and read up on you. I also watched the video on YouTube. Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
“I was in the military.”
“Five hundred thousand hits. You must have women swarming all over you. It said online you were a Navy SEAL. Is that true?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“You’re the bashful type, aren’t you?”
Karissa was more assertive and self-assured over the phone than she’d been in person, and the conversation was starting to sound like a date. Either she liked to flirt or there was real interest, and he decided to tread cautiously. “I don’t like to talk about the past. There’s an expression in police work. You’re only as good as your last case. Right now, I’m striking out and need your help in a big way.”
“I’m more than happy to help. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t wear a ring. Are you single?”
“I am.”
“So am I. And I think you’re cute. Fire away.”
He didn’t remember a woman ever calling him cute before. Maybe his mother had when he was a baby, but that was a long time ago. It made him feel strange, and he glanced at his reflection in one of the room’s mirrors. His face was bright red.
“I confronted Zack in the parking lot of his apartment building,” he said. “He knew I wanted his cell phone and smashed it on the ground. I went to a Verizon store and conned them into believing that I was Zack. A salesperson sold me a new phone and downloaded all of his personal information onto it. I want to look at his data, but it’s password protected. I was hoping you could help me hack it.”
“Wow. What do I have to do?”
“I need the names of Zack’s pets and his hobbies and stuff like that. People use familiar names for passwords.”
“Let me think for a second.”
“I’m going to put you on speaker so I can type your answers into my phone. Is that okay?”
“Sure thing.”
He balanced his cell phone on his lap and put it on speaker. Then he minimized the screen and opened up an app called InkPad. On the screen appeared a yellow legal pad and a keypad. He’d started using InkPad when he was a detective and had found it invaluable when questioning subjects during investigations. Everything he wrote down was stored in the cloud and could be accessed on his desktop computer, on his mobile device, or by going on the internet and logging in to his personal account. There was never a chance of him losing important information by forgetting to empty his pockets before he put his clothes in the wash.
“Ready when you are,” he said.
The door to the VIP room opened. A black dancer wearing a string bikini strolled in with a drunk customer. She had the customer by the tie and dragged him like a horse.
“This room’s taken,” he said.
The dancer frowned. “You in here by yourself?”
“It would appear so.”
“Want me to come back when I’m done?”
“No, thanks.”
“You sure? They don’t call this place the Booty Call for nothing.”
“I’m sure. Have a nice day.”
He rose from the couch and showed her out. She wiggled her ass as she left, just to let him know the invitation was still good. He returned to his spot on the couch, picked up his cell phone, and took Karissa off speaker. “You still there?”
“I’m here. Where are you? Who was that?” Karissa asked suspiciously.
He normally didn’t discuss the details of his cases with strangers. Only Karissa had heard everything and was probably thinking he was a real sleaze. If he wasn’t straight with her, she’d hang up, and a good source of information would be lost.
“I’m in a strip club called the Booty Call,” he said. “The owner is a Russian hoodlum who’s also a hacker. He’s helping me get information off Zack’s cell phone. I’m sitting in a VIP room, and a dancer just came in by mistake.”
“That sounds crazy enough to be true,” she said.
“I wouldn’t lie to you. It’s all true. I’m going to put you back on speaker. Ready?”
“Fire away.”
Ten minutes later they were done. As they exchanged goodbyes, Karissa asked him to keep her apprised of how things played out with Zack, and he agreed to call her once his job was done. He walked back to Sergey’s office feeling like he was making progress.
He rapped on the door, and a familiar voice invited him in. He entered to find Sergey lying on the couch talking on a cell phone. The Russian mobster motioned for him to sit and ended the call.
“That was my bouncer. He’s at the hospital getting X-rayed. You hurt him.”
“I hardly touched him,” he said.
“Your touch is a deadly one. You ruptured the tendon in his hand. He’s no good to me now.”