Agent ZX’s career progress was undoubtedly due to his notable intelligence, but also to a dogged determination, which he now brought to bear on the Conley problem. A few minutes of dispassionate reflection was enough for him to realise that his tracks were only superficially covered.
At home, the anglepoise lamp over his computer desk had been switched on for hours and its metal shade was becoming dangerously hot. But without slaving away at night, fuelled by a thermos strong coffee, how could he create informatics cul-de-sacs within mazes skilfully shielded by a minefield of malware?
Each day, during lunchtime at work, as at the present moment, when nobody would stumble on his activities, he infiltrated the program with his brainchildren. He smirked as he fumbled the pen drive into the
