Page 51 of You Were Warned: Part One

“404,” Clay says.

“That’s a shit name,” the Jester says, looking at him.

“Your security is shit.”

Clay drops his head, and I press my lips together.

The Jester blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your. Security,” 404 says slower. “Is. Shit.” The Jester walks further into the room. “Your security is so objectively shit a toddler could hack your stuff.”

The Jester just stares at him, and I’m not sure I have ever seen him this quiet, which is probably not a good thing. They end up in a stare-off, and I wait for his knife to make an appearance. Instead, the Jester slowly smiles. “I don’t know if I like you.”

“I don’t care,” 404 says back.

The Jester turns to me. “Why am I here? Surely it’s not so some idiot can insult me.”

I point at the chair.

“I prefer to stand.”

“Suit yourself,” I say, and 404 brings the files back onscreen. Not all of them, just some to get the point across.

“I found Jensen’s flash drive,” I say, and the Jester looks back at me, but before he can speak, I point to the screen.

He turns back and moves closer to it, and at first he looks bored, then his smile disappears completely. I have seen him angry, jealous, covered in blood, and laughing like he had just been handed the best fucking gift of his life. But I have rarely seen him still.

I watch his face instead of the screen, his jaw tightening as 404 opens more files. The muscles in his neck shift, his fingers flexing once at his side, then he looks at me.

“This was on Lucky’s drive?”

I nod silently.

His eyes return to the screen, and for several seconds nobody speaks. Then the Jester laughs, but there is nothing amusing about the sound of it. “Someone is going to die,” he says as 404 closes the file. “I need to know who hired me.”

“Already found them.”

The Jester’s head turns, and 404 brings up a photograph.

He studies the man’s face. “Are you sure this is him?” the Jester asks.

404 nods.

“And you got this from my account?”

“Yes, easily.” The Jester’s eye twitches, and 404 responds before he can ask. “Your password structure is bad, and your authentication is worse. Your recovery pathway is embarrassing, and one of your security questions could be answered by anyone who has known you for ten minutes.”

“You take that back.”

“No.” 404 is not in the least bit concerned that he is sitting in a room with a man who is paid to kill people.

“I’m dangerous.”

“That doesn’t make your passwords any better.”

The Jester points at 404. “Be a good little nerd and print me the picture and address.”

404’s expression doesn’t change. “Don’t call me a nerd.”