Strangers On A Train
There are worse places to be trapped than onboard a train alongside a beautiful woman in Montenegro.
Photo by David Gubler/Wikipedia
Author’s Note: My editors tell me I can indulge in a wee spot of fiction on occasion so long as I don’t make a habit of it …
The man had just settled in after the train left Bijelo Polje when the young woman’s backpack struck him roughly behind the ear. The unexpected impact upset his coffee. Looking up furiously, his eyes met hers.
The woman disarmed his simmering invective by means of spontaneous apology. Before he could object, she had taken the seat facing his and proffered a blue bandana to help mop up the mess. Her infectious smile made it impossible to sustain any serious ire. Extending her hand, she said, “Megan Humphreys. I’m an American, and I’m truly sorry.”
The man took her hand and said flatly, “Ted Morgan. Likewise, American. What are the odds?”
“Pretty low would be my guess, considering we’re on a half-empty train in Montenegro,” she answered. “I start college in three weeks. This trip across Europe is my last taste of freedom until I turn sixty-five or die. What’s your story?”
Ted thought for a moment. This trip was a bit north of two hours, and Megan seemed like decent company if a bit obnoxious. Her smile really was mesmerizing. He made a spot decision to be uncharacteristically reckless.
“Well,” he answered with a smile of his own. “I’m from Illinois. I’ve lived in Bijelo Polje for nearly a year. I like it, though it can seem confining. Montenegro is the 35th most peaceful country in the world. Ever since joining NATO in 2017, it has also been politically stable. I settled here because it is one of a relatively few civilized nations on Earth that does not have an extradition treaty with the U.S.”
At this, her curiosity was clearly piqued. There was that smile again. She leaned forward and put her chin in her hands.
“That sounds like a cool story. Let’s hear it,” she said.
Ted indulged in another pause. One more sentence, and there was no going back. This woman was a stranger, an undeniably attractive stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.
Whatever, he thought. If he played this right, maybe Megan would stick around once they got to the coast. He had planned to be there for three days. Her company would add a whole new dimension to this little mini vacation.
“You did ask,” he said. “I’m nominally a criminal —a fugitive. I live very comfortably here in Montenegro, but I can never go home. It’s a weird life, but I chose it.”
“What, you kill somebody?” she asked with a giggle.
“No,” he answered. “Nothing like that. I was just an IT guy who got bored. I started dipping into hacking and corporate espionage. It was a sweet hustle and a victimless crime. The money was good. In fact, the money was great. However, eventually somebody got their feelings hurt, so here I am.”
“How’s that work?” she asked, now genuinely interested. “I’m trying to figure out what to major in. Got any advice if I wanted to follow in your footsteps?”
“I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it, though it did work well for me,” he said. “Pretty simple really. Set up a server to randomly ping other servers around the clock. Most digital security is airtight. However, the algorithm identifies systems that might be vulnerable. These I would then manually slam. I’d research the business and the people and try passwords until I found one that worked.
“Some were shockingly easy. Kids’ birthdays, simple utility credentials that were established during setup and not deleted — stuff like that. Once I got in, I harvested a little data to sell on the Dark Web, locked up the system, and offered the key to unlock everything in exchange for Bitcoin. The key to success was volume. By the time I settled in Bijelo Polje, I had accumulated $27 million in crypto. That medium also turned out to be a great investment. I can’t leave Montenegro, but there are worst prisons.”
Megan let herself sit back, processing the young man’s fascinating story.
“Wow,” she said. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“Yeah, nobody does,” he said. “Truth be known, since I got here, you’re the first person I’ve shared that with. It felt good. But anyway, how about you? You say school’s coming up. Put some flesh on those bones. What’s your story?”
“Nothing nearly so interesting, I’m afraid,” she said. “I’m from a small town in Ohio. Joined the Army out of high school looking for excitement, found it, acquired some marketable skills, and came home after four years to mop up the mess after my dad killed himself. Took this trip to clear my head before embarking on Life 2.0.”
Now it was Ted’s turn to lean forward.
“Megan, I’m truly sorry about your dad. That must have been horrible.”
“Yeah, it was. All that and more,” she said.
“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”
A sound suppressor on a typical combat pistol makes you a more neighborly shooter.
Hollywood claims they are used for more sinister purposes as well.
Megan dropped her eyes briefly to gather her thoughts. Discreetly slipping her hand into the zippered space in her backpack, she felt the familiar shape of the automatic pistol.
“Dad was a small business owner. He invested his entire life in that little place, built up his customer base, and made enough to support me and my mom. He was a great guy.”
She raised her gaze to meet Ted’s. There was now a coldness he had not noticed before.
“The hack took everything he had and his business failed, but he still retained some life insurance. I guess he believed we’d do better with the money than we might with him. He was always a proud man, so nobody got a chance to talk him out of it.”
There was an awkward, painful silence despite the background noise of the train.
Pulling the silenced pistol out of her backpack, she said, “You have no idea how hard it was to find you.”
