With her head bent low, Nadiya Thora carefully gave the nearly deserted coffee shop an inconspicuous glance. Her lower back hurt and her legs felt stiff from the long hours she had been seated at that table. Her butt cheeks had passed the numb stage and just throbbed.
A quick glance at the wall clock confirmed she had been there for more than three hours already. But no matter how long she had been there, that didn’t mean she had gotten comfortable enough to let her guard down. The opposite was actually more true. The longer Nadiya sat in this small coffee shop, on what was becoming the most uncomfortable, hardest chair she had ever sat on in her life, the more anxious she felt.
There was a reason people who went to hidden-in-the-corner coffee shops always tended to look over their shoulders, she thought. And right now, it wasn’t just because of the possibility of danger lurking outside the front door. It wasn’t even just that she couldn’t trust any strangers or anyone who looked remotely suspicious. It was that there was a possibility that someone could easily walk in on her sitting there. Someone who could get her arrested if they figured out what she was doing.
Thankfully, everything seemed normal, boring, and safe. There was an old woman at the table on the far end with her wrinkled, pale, small hands wrapped around a red mug of what Nadiya only assumed to be coffee. It was the only thing the coffee shop served that didn’t taste like old socks soaked in dish water last week.
In her opinion, anyone who walked through its doors and stayed to finish their order either had no functioning taste buds and had an iron stomach, or was so zoned out of their minds that they didn’t care what they ate or drank.
That was why Nadiya had picked this location for the job. That, and the free Wi-Fi she was using from a law firm across the street. Amazing that some idiots could still leave their network unsecure in this day and age. However, that wasn't Nadiya's problem. Especially not when she was benefiting from the mistake. But now, she was ready to leave and never return.
The unpleasant stench of artery blocking grease, day old pancakes and probably rat poison was getting on her nerves and turning her stomach. She could hear the steady rhythm of the heavy metal fan above her head hanging from the ceiling. It was probably the thing responsible for the awful smell continuously circulating the shop. And that seemed to be the only thing it was good for, because it sure as hell didn’t affect the temperature in the small building.
“Would you like more coffee, dear? Or maybe something to eat now?” the waitress asked as she stopped at Nadiya’s table.
Nadiya put on a pleasant smile and nodded at the woman with dark bags under her sad eyes. The waitress was probably in her mid-fifties, with an apron so faded she couldn’t tell what its original color had ever been. The woman had on flat shoes but still shifted her weight around like her legs were tired of keeping her upright and moving.
“More coffee would be great,” Nadiya answered.
She watched as the woman refilled her cup even as her stomach churned at the thought of more of that vile liquid entering her body. But at least it was drinkable, she reminded herself.
Nadiya had first tried the coffee house’s special green tea when she had staked out the place weeks ago. The memory of the foul taste that had hit her tongue still made her shudder. Vomit after a night of drinking tasted better than whatever had been in that cup.
Finally, the waitress stepped away and returned behind the counter to do whatever it was that waitresses did when there were no customers to serve.
Nadiya made sure no one else was about to approach her table and then focused back on the laptop she had placed next to her refilled coffee cup. In a heartbeat, her mind sank back to the reason she was there.
A window opened on her screen told her the download was almost complete. She fought the urge to tap her fingers on the table and give off any sign of anxiety or impatience. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself.
Even though there were only two people in the coffee shop, the old woman who looked like she was missing her hundred cats waiting for her at home, and the bored and exhausted waitress, she couldn’t take chances. That was why she also had a boring long, brunette wavy wig covering her own short black hair with blue highlights. She had also removed all her piercings and applied concealer on her tattoos. It would have taken her hours to cover all her ink, but thankfully, most of it could be hidden with the right clothes, such as a long-sleeved top and a pair of trousers.
To any one looking, she just looked like a boring, normal, regular young lady. They would probably assume she was even a student at a little college down the street.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. For one thing, Nadiya Thora wasn’t a student at any college and had never been one. Her highest educational achievement was the tenth grade before she dropped out and ran away from home at the sweet age of sixteen. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t smart.
Very early on in life, Nadiya had discovered that while her life made little sense and the world was a crazy place, computers would never betray or hurt her. They were the one thing she could trust to not let her down. She was responsible for any result her laptop gave her. If the answer was wrong, then she had asked the wrong question. It was as simple as that. So, she had thrown all her energy into understanding the language of codes and programming. And she became very good at it.
A black hat was what the world usually called people like Nadiya. Others just called her a hacker. Nadiya didn’t much care what she was called. It wasn’t like she went around advertising what she did for a living.
And she did hack for a living. It was her job, and she was just about concluding her current assignment. A smile spread across her lips even as she reached for the burner phone in her bag and sent a text message, informing her anonymous client that she had the takeout lunch he had ordered.
Barely five seconds later, the phone vibrated, informing her that she could leave it at the front desk. In other words, she could email it.
Nadiya scoffed and logged into her account. It was the first time she was dealing with this client, but the rules never changed. First she got her p*****t, then she delivered the happy meal while it was still warm and fresh.
She waited for a full minute to see if the moron would play nice or need a reminder. Thankfully, just as her patience was running out, she saw her account balance had increased by two thousand dollars. Her p*****t in full. It wasn’t a lot, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
It wasn’t her usual mode of p*****t. Electronic transactions offered too many ways for the wrong people to trace her. Even though the account was opened under one of her false IDs. So she made a mental note to take care of that potential loose end soon.
Feeling even more cautious now that she was almost done, Nadiya quickly sent the client the information and then she erased her activities. She didn’t want anyone connecting s**t to her. It was the nature of the job and a prerequisite to staying out of jail and alive.
As soon as she was certain there was no way for anyone to point a finger in her direction, she packed up her laptop, paid for the horrible coffee, and walked out into the bright sunshine.
She had to blink a few times for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, and then she started walking down the sidewalk as casually as she could. Nadiya was very far from her tiny apartment and she would have to catch two buses before she was home and could remove the ridiculous wig on her head. But she wasn’t complaining. After all, she had two thousand dollars in her account. That would keep the cold and hunger away.
Half an hour later, she sat on the first bus. She waited until she was well away from the east side of the city where the coffee shop was located before she turned on her personal phone. The burner she had used for the job long disposed of.
Almost immediately, notifications of several messages and missed calls popped onto her screen. With a smile, almost certain of what she would find, Nadiya opened the first message.
Su: Clubbing tonight?
Nadiya chuckled silently, thinking she should have added a hashtag ‘party animal’ next to the woman’s name and moved onto the next text message.
Su: It’s Friday!
Nadiya knew which day of the week it was and she also knew Su never considered the day when she wanted to hit the clubs. Not that Nadiya actually minded. She didn’t have a formal employment she had to stay sober for. Her time was her own. It was one of the perks she loved about what she did. No rules and no restrictions.
However, Su, who was as close to what Nadiya would call a friend, had no idea what Nadiya did for a living. In fact, no one knew what she did. And she worked hard to keep it that way.
Letting that secret out was a sure way to find herself in an orange jumpsuit behind bars or dead. Some of the people she stole information from would surely be bidding to take the first shot at her if they knew who she was. That was why she operated under the name Thor. For a start, it threw people off and made them think she was a guy, not a woman.
Nadiya had met Su at her favorite tattoo shop. The young woman was so similar to her in a lot of ways and yet also so different. Nadiya knew she could never trust Su with her secrets, but the girl was good for a good time. And she could use a good time after a successful day.
Nadiya’s fingers flew over the screen of her phone.
Nadiya: If you are buying, I’m dancing.
Su: Glisson will buy.
She shook her head and chuckled. Glisson was Nadiya’s on and off friend with benefit. Actually, that term was too generous to describe what they had. She met Glisson Barkley at the clubs. They usually ended up in a hotel room somewhere together, but neither had ever seen each other’s places or even gone out for coffee.
No one needed to tell Nadiya that she was no role model material. But after the way she had grown up, she didn’t care. Life was just a large circus sometimes and living it too seriously was like trying to teach a grizzly bear how to dance salsa.
She looked out the window and saw she was approaching the bus stop. That meant she needed to get off and catch her second bus.
There was no hesitation in her fingers as she typed back a response.
Nadiya: Meet you there at six.