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people sometimes judge a hacker by their appearance.
    “On to the subject’s history,” Philips said.
    He reached over to Garman’s briefcase, and started shuffling through a bunch of photos.
    “You know Malik,” he said, spreading out the photos—ones I had not seen before. Then he placed another photograph on the table, of a high school boy, thin and unkempt.
    “This is Abdul Zaqarwi. He is fifteen, and happens to be in your computer class at Elmwood High.” I studied the photograph. If the photo of Malik I had seen in jail looked harmless, then Zaqarwi was even more so. He was a stereotypical nerd. He looked like he would have the most fashionable gadgets, but not a fashionable girlfriend. I raised an incredulous eyebrow, which was getting to be my favorite expression. Philips picked up on my doubt.
    “He looks like an ordinary kid, but don’t get the idea that he is not in this up to his neck.”
    I put down Zaqarwi’s picture.
    “He’s my contact?”
    “That’s right. With your overdeveloped computer skills, you should soon attract his attention. Just do your stuff.”

    “Did you have anything in mind?” I said.

    “What do you mean?” Philips said. He sounded genuinely surprised at my question.

    “Hacking is all about stealth, about not being seen. Now I’m supposed to get caught?”
    I wasn’t really concerned. Hackers are like any other group. They find each other by animal radar or something like that. But I didn’t want to undersell my task. I needed some breathing space, and like any businessman going into a deal, I wanted to put the worst light on things.
    “For a man with your talents for improvisation,” Philips said a little testily, “it should be simple. Like I said, these people have their eyes out for any prospects.
    They’ll find you.”
    I nodded, without speaking. But now Philips was spooked.
    “Are you sure you can handle this?” he said. It was as if he had taken my concerns seriously. Whether he doubted my ability, or was prodding my hacking ego to see if I doubted my ability, I couldn’t tell. Either way, I let some of my natural arrogance back into my voice, and I smiled.
    “No problem.” I decided to change the subject.
    “What about my equipment? I need a phone, a notebook computer, and some money.”
    14

    Philips looked at Hannah, who reached into her bag. She took out a notebook computer and a cell phone, and put them on the bed next to me. They didn’t look like anything special—not the toys that a computer hacker would have. I powered up the notebook.
    “It’s been rigged with a key logger?” I asked. “So you can see everything I’m doing?”
    “It won’t stop you from doing it,” was Philips terse reply.
    “It just means you get to watch,” I said, feigning annoyance. I wasn’t concerned about that, either. I powered down the notebook, and put it back into the bag, where, apart from a few uses—to keep the FBI thinking that they were tracking me—it would remain. The phone got the same treatment.
    “I guess you know that we’ll be tracking every phone call you make,” Philips said, as he picked up the phone.
    “If I know that you’re listening to everything I do, it’s going to freak me out.”
    “You don’t have any choice,” Garman said. I decided to tackle the subject now. I knew that at some point I would have to argue my way into getting some free time, to devote to my Knight agenda.
    “Look,” I said, “I’ll do what you want me to do, but we agreed that I could do it my own way. If I see anyone following me, or trying to interfere, I’m out.”
    “Nobody is going to interfere with you in any way whatsoever. We can’t afford to. Once Malik shows an interest, they’ll probably put you under twenty-four-hour surveillance. Directional microphones and bugging devices mean that Malik could be listening in to any conversations you have, even in the house—especially in the house. That’s why from now, until the end of the