Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 25

James

Adam is safely born. Beth is asleep. Richard too…

Nervous exhaustion?

Lol! NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

It’s quiet. And it’s dark.

And it’s the first real chance I’ve had to sit quietly. To think…

… To consider what Charlotte said.

But… but… you sent me an email, with the link to the site and that photo. I went right through it. They had some lovely things. But I knew you liked that corset so I bought it.

I turn the words over in my head.

Not like her to fall for something like that… Way too canny…

Too suspicious…

So it must have been good.

…

?

It seemed to come from me…

So, someone had my email address…

And baited the message with something so perfect Charlotte had no reason to doubt it…

And they… they…

… they what?

They sold her a corset…

?

?

Weird or what…

Yes… What?

How could they know her that well? To target her so well?

*****

“Charlotte, do you still have that email? The one you said I sent you. Or have you wiped it?”

She glances up from her laptop. “I was just about to wipe it. Why?”

“I’d like to see it. And the invoice for the corset if you still have it. And the packing slip.”

She frowns, then her face clears. “Sure. Gimme five.”

She returns with a couple of A4 sheets. “Invoice and delivery note.” Shaking her head slightly, “Why the interest, Master?”

“Let’s say I’m taking offence at your being targeted. The thing is, this has all the hallmarks of a scam, except that all it appears to have achieved is to sell you an item of sexy lingerie.”

“Appears to have achieved?” She swallows. “I’ve not done something stupid, have I?”

“No, I don’t think so. But someone else has gone to a great deal of trouble if the only intention was to sell you expensive underwear.” I snap my fingers at the sheets in her hand. “Let me see.”

I don’t know what I’m looking for, but somewhere in the back of my head, alarm bells are ringing.

*****

Two hours later, I’m still shaking my head. The lingerie company appears to be a perfectly legitimate business. It’s been trading for nigh-on thirty years and the only thing that’s changed in that time is the fashions it’s selling.

A quick check with the registrar reveals that the company listed on the paperwork is the same one as is connected with the website. A further search shows that the directors are authentic, actually exist as people and, judging by the string of company accounts I’ve looked over, are doing solid and growing business over some decades.

But those alarm bells are still ringing. Something smells off.

The website has a newsletter. So, making a couple of adjustments to my online security first, I sign up and wait to see what develops.

A welcome email pops into my inbox within two minutes. Welcome to Arcadia Lingerie! We’re thrilled to have you aboard….

I read on…

It’s standard marketing stuff. Not inspired, but since they’re selling a quality product that speaks for itself, they’re doing alright anyway.

I sit back in my seat, fingers drumming the desktop.

“Mind if I join you?”

I spin in my chair, but it’s only Richard. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m not surprised. Yes, of course. Drink?”

“Beat you to it.” He pulls up a chair by my desk, slides a glass across to me. An inch of amber nectar sits in the bottom of the glass. He sips from his own.

“Beth alright? And Adam?”

He gives me a silly grin. “Doing great. Just catching up on their sleep.” He leans in peering at my face. “What’s bothering you?”

I push the paperwork Charlotte gave me to him, along with some of the print-offs I’ve taken.

He glances at them, then shrugs. “What’s so exciting about a sales pitch for a corset?”

I sip the malt, then take a gulp. “Something’s wrong.”

“Elizabeth gets emails like that all the time, trying to sell her this or that: clothes, jewellery, bags, hats… For that matter, so do I.”

“Do they arrive in Beth’s in-box purporting to come from you?”

He sits back in his seat. “No, they don’t.” He pulls at his chin. “If I’m mentioned, it’s because the ad comes from one of the How To Spend It outlets. Usually trying to persuade her that I need a new diamond watch, or a yacht or an antique car.”

“Exactly. This email professed to come from me.”

“Personal email address?”

“No, work address.”

“Well…” He inhales… “… that’s public information. Anyone taking a ten-second look at a Haswell corporation brochure would pick it up.”

“In which case, why the personal connection to Charlotte?”

Richard Hmmms… Sips his whiskey… Swallows… “Perhaps you’re tackling this from the wrong end. What did that email lead Charlotte to do? It purported to advertise a lingerie website. What exactly did she do when she read the email?”

“She clicked a link. Click-baiting is a common enough tactic with hackers, but this link was to a legitimate company, a legitimate website.”

Richard Hmmms again. “I’m not enough of a tech man to know but, just because a company is legitimate… It’s website too, perhaps… Does that necessarily mean that an individual page or link couldn’t have been… interfered with?”

Of course it fucking doesn’t…

He watches my face closely. “Why don’t you take a close look at the link and page together? Perhaps I can ask some numbskull questions that you can answer.”

I pull up Charlotte’s email onto the screen, ‘from me’.

Thought you might like to browse this site. Find something you like. Life’s getting back to normal xx

The image of the girl modelling the corset is there: a very attractive redhead wearing an emerald green corset. The model can’t match Charlotte for looks, but the suggestion is there: a red-headed girl in sexy

underwear which, had I really sent this message, is just the kind of thing I would have suggested for her.

The real sender was right on target, whoever they are. This is no random spam. It’s targeted… at Charlotte.

I go over the link to the website… again… I already know what I’ll find, I’ve done it three times already. The link is clean, with none of the ‘behind the screen’ coding that would suggest anything suspicious.

It simply directs the clicker to the home page of the target website. There’s not even that attached tagging that tells the more alert reader that some associate account is going to earn a few per cent on any sale.

I scour the home page, looking for anything out of kilter. But there’s nothing.

Richard pours another inch into my glass, then his. “Alright, so Charlotte’s on the Home Page. Where would she go next? How about the page it’s showing on the email? The one with the corset image?”

“But the link on the email doesn’t lead her…” And I swallow my words in mid-sentence.

No, the link doesn’t lead her there.

But Charlotte believes I have sent her a request to buy that item.

Christ!

She’ll have searched through to find it, scoured the menus until she found that item.

Then she would have clicked again.

Resting my chin on the knuckles of one hand, with the other I mouse through menus until I find the image from the email.

On the face of it, there’s nothing suspicious. To the casual observer, and indeed, any other visitor to the page, it is simply displaying and offering to sell an item of luxury lingerie.

A right click, then I bring up the source code.

And it’s there.

“Fuck!”

Richard peers in, swinging his head. “What is it? What does it do?”

“To anyone else visiting that page, nothing whatsoever…” I’m muttering into my hand, pressed to my mouth… I point to a couple of lines of code. That’s Charlotte’s IP address. When she clicked through, carrying the breadcrumb trail from ‘my’ email, it triggered…”

What?

What did it trigger?

My temples are beginning to throb. Something highly specific, specific to Charlotte has been set up to… To what? What does it do?

Richard sits by me in silence for a couple of minutes as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. “Perhaps I can ask another question?”

“Go on.”

“What did Charlotte do next? After she saw this page?”

“That is a very good question… She bought the corset, along with several other items.”

Richard nods. “So, she paid online for the goods. An attempt to hack her bank account or credit card perhaps?”

“Perhaps…” Still… “Richard, could you give Charlotte a call please…”

“I’m here.” She’s hovering by the door, twisting a lock of hair in her fingers. “What’s happening? What have I done?”

“Charlotte, humour me, please. Check your bank account and credit cards. Make sure that everything is as it should be. If you find anything untoward, freeze them immediately.”

Her face clouds. “Back in a minute.” And she darts off.

“You don’t look convinced,” says Richard.

“I’m not. I’m just covering all the angles. This is… too elaborate. Too specific.”

Charlotte reappears, her open laptop in hand. “My accounts are fine. Nothing’s gone out that I don’t know about.”

I scratch at my chin…

Need a shave…

“Charlotte, when you ordered that corset, did anything seem odd about the transaction? About the way the website worked? How they took your money? Anything?”

Her mouth is a little slack. “No, it seemed completely normal. Master, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Richard says, “Charlotte, after you ordered the goods, what did you do next?”

Her eyes go vacant for a second, then she turns to me, “I sent you a message, Master, to say I’d bought it…” Her voice trails off… “Oh…” Her eyes widen.

I take a breath. “And I opened it. But I wasn’t paying attention. Charlotte, was it a fresh email? Or a reply to the one you thought I’d sent you?”

“It was a reply.” Her hand rises to her mouth… “But if there was anything wrong in there, your security would have stopped it… surely?”

“Not when it came from you. My system is set to accept any messages from you.

An hour later, I know what’s happened. I’ve been hacked and, right now, I can only guess the consequences.

Richard, Charlotte and Michael sit by as I explain. I don’t want to tell Mitch until I’ve had an opportunity to think things through.

*****