Harry could hear some commotion in the background. ‘Relax, Ian, your Intrusion Detection System is fine. I didn’t come through from the outside.’
‘You didn’t? But we were expecting a perimeter attack.’
‘Yeah, I know you were.’ Harry winced. ‘Sorry.’
‘Ah Jesus, Harry.’
‘Listen, a huge number of hacker exploits are inside jobs. You need to protect yourselves.’
‘No kidding.’
‘So I came in through the bank’s own network, and got admin access –’
‘You what?’
‘– and found the customer bank accounts and PIN numbers.’
‘Ah fuck it.’
‘Let’s just say your internal security doesn’t look too good. But a few simple precautions should sort it out. I’ll make some recommendations in the report.’
‘But how the hell did you get in?’
‘A bit of social engineering, and some hard neck. If it makes you feel any better, I nearly got caught.’
‘It doesn’t. What a mess.’
‘Sorry, Ian. Just thought I’d give you some warning before your management gets wind of it.’
‘Well, thanks, I appreciate that. But I’m still dog meat.’
‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ Harry’s phone beeped. ‘I left a stash of hacker tools behind, just to test your anti-virus software. But we can go through that later when we do a clean-up.’ Her phone beeped again. ‘Sorry, Ian, got to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
She took the incoming call.
‘Hey there, Harry, how’s the break-in going?’
Harry smiled. It was Imogen Brady, a support engineer from the Lúbra Security office. She pictured her friend sitting at her desk, her feet not quite reaching the floor. Imogen looked like a Chihuahua, with huge eyes in a gamine face. She was one of the best hackers Harry had ever worked with.
‘I’m just finished,’ Harry said. ‘What’s going on back there?’
‘Mister Loads-a-dosh is looking for you.’
She was referring to their boss, Dillon Fitzroy. Rumour had it that he’d become a multi-millionaire at the age of twenty-eight during the dot.com boom. That was nine years ago. He’d founded Lúbra Security shortly afterwards, expanding it by merging with other software companies until it was now one of the biggest in the business.
‘What does he want?’ Harry said.
‘Who knows? Maybe a date?’
Harry rolled her eyes. Imogen may have looked as though a breeze could blow her away, but when it came to digging for gossip she was a terrier.
‘Why don’t you just put me through to him?’ Harry said.
‘Okey-dokey.’
A few seconds later, Dillon’s voice came on the line.
‘Harry? You finished over at Sheridan?’
Judging from the background acoustics, he was yelling into a conference phone from several feet away.
‘I’m done,’ Harry said. ‘Except for the paperwork.’
‘Ditch it. I’ve another job for you.’
‘Right now?’ She was starving and could smell the coffee and bacon rolls from the sandwich bars in Baggot Street. She stood up and strolled towards the canal bridge.
‘Yeah, right now. Send me on the Sheridan details, I’ll get Imogen to compile the report. I want you on another vulnerability assessment.’
Harry could hear the click of his keyboard in the background. Trust Dillon not to waste an opportunity to multi-task. His left hand was probably flexed across his laptop like a pianist’s, while his right hand made notes on a pad.
‘So where to this time?’ Harry said.
‘The IFSC, and the client has asked especially for you. I told them you’re the best.’
‘Thanks, Dillon, you’re a gent.’ Now she was glad of the kitten heels. The International Financial Services Centre was definitely upmarket.
‘Call me when you’ve finished,’ Dillon said. ‘We’ll grab some dinner and you can fill me in.’
She felt her eyes widen. Doubly glad of the kitten heels. ‘Okay.’ Before she could let herself wonder what dinner might mean, she said, ‘So tell me more about the IFSC job. Do we know what kind of systems they have?’
‘Nope, you’ll find all that out when you meet them …’ Dillon paused. ‘If you ask me, I think they want to look you over first.’
Harry stopped in the middle of the pavement. ‘Why would they want to do that?’
Dillon hesitated for just a second too long. ‘Look, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe I’ll put Imogen on to it.’
Harry stuck a hand over her ear to block out the din of traffic. ‘Okay, what’s going on here? Who’s the client?’
She heard him suck in air through his teeth as he thought about his answer.
‘All right, it was a stupid idea,’ he said. ‘It’s KWC.’
The adrenaline shot out of Harry’s system like water from a burst main. She stumbled over to the canal wall and sank back on to the cold stone.
KWC. Klein, Webberly and Caulfield, one of the most prestigious investment banks in the city, servicing some of the wealthiest individuals and corporations in Europe. It was headquartered in New York, with offices in London, Frankfurt and Tokyo, as well as here in Dublin.
It was also the company her father had worked for before they sent him to prison.
‘Give me your worst-case scenario,’ Harry said.
The man across the boardroom table looked at her through half-closed eyes. He was in his forties, with bristly grey hair cut like a US Marine’s.
He shrugged. ‘Someone getting access to our investment accounts.’
‘Worse than that.’
He leaned back and folded his arms, flesh straining against his shirt. ‘What could be worse than some hacker getting hold of our clients’ money?’
‘You tell me.’ Harry sneaked a look at the business card he’d given her. Felix Roche, IT Procurement, KWC. She scribbled a note on the back: hostile.
Her gaze strayed to the window behind Felix. It wasn’t just a window, it was an entire wall of glass that made the quays along the Liffey seem like part of the room. In the distance, she could see the peppermint green dome of the Custom House and the corrugated cap of Liberty Hall tower. Business must be good for KWC.
Felix leaned forward across the table. ‘Okay, I’ll give you a worst case,’ he said. Harry could smell the onions he’d had for lunch. ‘How about someone getting a look at our confidential M&A deals? That bad enough for you?’
M&A. Mergers and Acquisitions. The department her father had worked for before he was arrested. Harry swallowed and fiddled with her notepad. Then she flicked a glance at Felix. His pasty face looked unhealthy, like the underbelly of a dead fish. She was used to antagonism from the technical guys, but this was something different. She’d told Dillon she could handle this assignment, that KWC was just another client. Now