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their firewalls.
    Then last week, he came up with a way to take things a step further. His goal was to install a sort of Trojan horse known as a “packet sniffer” in Pike & Dolan’s data center; basically, a wire-tap device that eavesdropped on network traffic. But instead of listening in on people’s conversations, this “sniffing” program intercepted passwords and emails, and acquired all the data transmitted throughout the company.
    With any luck, that data could finally give Noa and the rest of Persefone’s Army an advantage over the conglomerate.
    To gain access to the servers, he was posing as Ted Latham: freelance tech genius for top computer security firm Rocket Science. Ted was also the fictional foster dad that Noa had created to escape the foster care system and earn enough money to support herself.
    Peter had been nervous about assuming the identity, especially since he hadn’t cleared it with Noa first. But he was hoping that if things panned out, she’d be happy he took the initiative. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
    Based on what little Noa had told him, Peter knew that no one at Rocket Science had ever met Ted Latham; all of their business was transacted virtually. The CEO hadn’t even blinked at “Ted’s” rambling email about spending the past several months offline while doing a walkabout. Moreover, when “Ted” offered to step in and handle their most troublesome client, Pike & Dolan, the CEO was beside himself with gratitude.
    Peter felt a little badly about the subterfuge, but Rocket Science had enough high-profile clients to weather one failure. And if his plan succeeded, and he gained a window into the inner workings of Pike & Dolan, it would all be worth it.
    Hopefully Noa would think so, too. He had the feeling that if she saw him right now, strolling down the corridors of Pike & Dolan in geek business casual, she’d have some choice words for him.
    But she’s not here , he reminded himself, feeling a flare of resentment. In fact, he hadn’t seen her for months; their only contact now was limited to brief online chats.
    “Here we are!” Terri announced, waving her key card in front of a wall-mounted panel. The light turned green, and she pushed the door open.
    Any halfway decent company recognized the importance of this room: These server towers were the modern-day equivalent of a treasure vault. The air inside was noticeably cooler than the outer hallway; temperature, humidity, and particle filtration were all precisely controlled. Also true to form, it was located in the center of the building, far from exterior walls, elevator banks, and any other sources of potential electrical interference or water damage.
    The servers themselves were housed in tight lines of tall gray metal cabinets that resembled the lockers in Peter’s high school. In between the cabinets, metal shelves held rows of what looked like strung-together car batteries, which wasn’t far from the truth; those modules kept the precious servers humming along as they delivered everything from emails to shipping manifests.
    Peter’s palms started to sweat. This was way too easy. He’d expected to encounter resistance; heck, he could hardly believe he’d made it past the lobby. And now that he was here, the enormity of the crime he was about to commit hit him hard.
    “So?” He turned to find Terri staring at him expectantly. “How do you fix it?”
    “Um, I just need to access the servers, to . . . check some things,” he mumbled.
    Terri released a world-weary sigh and said, “Obviously. But do you need me to do anything?”
    “Not really,” he said. “Unless you want to help with the secure socket layers.”
    Terri rolled her eyes. “Well, they said to keep an eye on you, but you look harmless enough.” Her eyes trailed over him, apparently confirming her assessment because she chirped, “Anyhoo, I was going to grab a latte. How much time do you need?”
    “Not long,” Peter