32 Dark Business

Entering the dimly lit room, I closed the door behind me and locked it, exhaling deeply, my back pressed against the wooden door, with a smile on my face, throwing the hood off my head with my right hand.

The second phase of my mission had been completed. The money was in hand, all that was left now was to 'wash it' and get the funds into an account I could use for my ambitions.

It was time to squeeze out every ounce of hacking instincts I had because the final phase wasn't going to be easy. If nothing at all, it could threaten my life...

With the briefcase firmly held in my left hand, I approached the single bed with creased white bedsheets at the corner of the North wall and sat on the mattress, putting the briefcase on my lap.

My heart was now at ease, I stared at the silver coating of the thick briefcase for a brief moment and unclasped the lockers, pushing the lid backward to display its contents.

Multiple stacks of hundred dollar bills were perfectly arranged inside in columns, filling every inch of space. My eyes widened in surprise as it fell on a silver revolver lying comfortably on top of the money at the right corner of the space.

It was loaded and had faint scratches on it that indicated usage. A gun? It must've been Nikki's alter ego's.

It was probably what she had been using to deal with threats and it most definitely didn't have a permit so it was illegal.

Well, not that the legal status of the weapon was a concern. In fact, it was a welcome addition. I definitely needed a long-range weapon I could use, especially now that I was going to dabble in muddy waters.

If my luck didn't run out and I didn't have to use it, then I would take it home and hide it for my personal use.

I had a lot of experience with guns, despite the strict gun laws of my former native country so it wouldn't be like I was about to experiment with a toy.

I took the gun and nodded at the weight. Fidgeting with it to get a feel, shifting it, and checking the cartridge that held only four bullets, I placed it gently back on top of the bills and closed the case with a click.

I put it on the bed and bent down to send my hands under the bed. The moment my fingers touched the familiar fabric, I pulled out my duffle bag and zipped it open.

Shifting my hands through the clothes and essentials, I took out my black laptop.

After zipping the bag to a close and pushing it back under the bed, I stepped towards the simple black table and chair positioned in front of the West wall, with a lamp on top of it, and sat on the chair.

Pulling the chair forwards and making sure I was in the right posture, I placed the laptop on the clean table surface and opened it, pressing the activation button.

A dim light flickered on the screen as it started booting, showcasing a DELL logo on a black background. The camera's webcam was fully shrouded by a small horizontal stripe of black tape.

A few seconds later, the computer finished booting up and tapping the enter key, and the plain background window holding a few installed applications popped up.

With a few clicks, I logged onto the motel's wifi and accessed the pre-installed VPN on the computer. Choosing an Indian server, I opened the Tor browser and deftly accessed the Tor Network.

Letting out a breath, and staring at the screen intently, I followed the procedure I could remember and I waited as the webpage started loading.

Indicating I was about to enter the dark, dangerous, and unrestrained part of the internet. The Dark Web...

When I was a teenager, my father had my elder brother teach me how to use and access this particular place.

After all, as a member of his politically backed business empire, I needed to know how to deal with and handle the other dark side of the business when the need ever arose.

And that entailed a number of things from knowing how to communicate using the special vocabulary, how to 'wash' money, how to doxx someone and a whole lot.

I excluded myself from the family business after I got fed up with the almost total control and autonomy my father had over me but like always, you can't run away from your past, no matter how fast you are. After all, your past shaped your present...

Running my palms through my face, I exhaled deeply to calm my agitated heart and stretched my fingers over the keyboard as the unfamiliar but familiar sight appeared on the screen.

Time to see if I still had it.

Clacking sounds began to echo in the room, from the keyboard, as I started navigating the dangerous shithole this place was, my eyes fully alert as they read and cross-referenced every piece of information or data that flashed.

This place or site was rife with all sorts of characters from underground cops, hackers, human traffickers, etc so it took someone who really knew what he or she was doing to get any legit info.

One wrong move and someone could steal your IP address, hack into all your accounts, steal your information, a government agent could track you for arrest, doxx you, ad infinitum.

The possibilities of danger, when it came to this place were almost endless. But it seemed like that wasn't the case in this era.

Everything was going more smoothly than it should've, it was almost...a little easy. Like, the number of fake proxies, links, etc was getting less and less as I dived deeper into the abyss.

I was only twenty minutes in but I was starting to see or find the real chatrooms, URLs, proxies, and contact details required for real business.

Sigh. Most of the time, I was still under the impression that it was the era I came from.

This was the late two thousand. A time when social media wasn't really a thing and people didn't know jack shit about the world.

I could bet the people who knew about the Dark Web around at this time were less than a third of the total population, meaning, the traffic was less, underground crime was high, and the government's presence was only half based.

This explained my ease. Most of the people on this side weren't the overly cautious smelly ingrates I knew in the future. Hell, no one really cared about them so why should they?

This was the best time to make it big in the underground, everyone was welcome...

Smiling, as I caught sight of an online 'washing operative' called 'The Vault' and contacted him via an online chat box app that displayed on his details.

It was time for business...

Me: I have a lot of clothes that need washing. Think you can help?

After typing the coded message, I leaned forward on the desk so that my elbows stood on it, propping my chin up with my knuckles, and waited.

He responded after five minutes.

The Vault: For sure, I can help. How many are we talking though?

I took a second to think of a suitable reply.

Me: A couple mils.

The Vault: Perfect. Wait a sec, I have to inform the laundry men about your order.

Me: Sure, I'll be right here.

The person went offline the next second. As a middleman, the person was now going to contact the money laundering service who would then either accept the order thus, giving me a time, place, and commission, or decline totally due to mistrust.

A very serious and legit would accept, despite the danger, but they'd have a lot of measures in place to prevent any problems. They didn't joke when it came to money, especially the quantity I was suggesting.

Plus, most of them had armed personnel or pieces who could fight and take the fall for the organization so the fear of the probability of me being an undercover agent wouldn't deter them in the slightest.

Hopefully, it was the real deal. I didn't have a lot of time on my hands...

As I was about to stand up to take a leak after waiting for close to seventeen minutes, a reply popped up.

The Vault: Mr. Client, your order has been accepted. When do you want it done?

A genuine smile crept on my face.

Me: Today if possible.

The Vault: That can be done but it would affect the tax significantly. Are you sure you want it today?

Already expecting this response, I took a few seconds to think about it and sent my reply.

Me: Yes.

The Vault: Good. Then I would like you to provide a location of your choice for the meeting. And do you have any special requests?

Me: Bernie Park, Las Vegas. And yes, I do. I'd like a new offshore account in addition, one particularly linked to a trading company.

The Vault: Sure, I'll add that to the order. Expect an escort at Bernie Park five hours from now. The code word is Speirrò. More details would be communicated at the meeting.

Me: Understood.

The Vault: Perfect. It was a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Client. Let's hope all goes well.

The next moment, without waiting for a response, he logged out of the chat, ending the conversation with a dark note.

Silently, I stared at the screen for a while, deep in thought, and logged out also, clearing every online signature of mine.

The meeting had been scheduled. If all goes well, I would have at least a million dollars in a personal account by the end of the day.

Now, all I had to do was wait for five hours. Well then, it was time to train...