Jamie's Revenge
Jamie is out for revenge... and he is taking everyone down - even the innocent.
From the second, this bloke's battered Coogi Highs, despoiled Hamilton College's pavement. I smelled danger. His faded jeans, worn out New Era fitted cap and 1960s' Garage Tee made him stand out like a clown on Wall Street. After all, the students at this college were the sons and daughters of London's elite entrepreneurs. On his first day, I had spotted him around school observing Chaz Hamilton. Chaz was your average school prince: jacket and tie, trim, gentleman physique, blonde hair. He was also the son of Richard Hamilton. Richard was the man who funded the school; his name was imprinted on everything from desks to toilet bowls.
I had already registered Jamie under my list of people to steer clear of. However, try as I did, he came looking for me. "My name's Jamie Akins." He had said in a heavy northern English accent. He was slim, and stood at about 6'2. He had almost mat black hair and metallic blue eyes. He never smiled with teeth, but had a rather unsettling smirk. We were standing under a faint street light near the school library. Face to face with him, I felt lankier and frailer than usual. My frizzed afro, rimmed bifocals, and skeletal, computer techie arms were no match for his rugged, nonchalant look. It was dusk then, and I had been making my way to an Office Administration meeting.
"Lance-Lance Leatherby." I replied. Without any other informal introduction, he proceeded to his motive. He told me he required a hacker; which was exactly what I was.
"Not to do my dirty work, no," he had said as if I were a naïve twelve-year-old boy. "I just need you to teach me for two months."
Hacking was a treasured trait of mine, and I had not intended to distribute it to the public. However, when he flashed 200 pounds, I was quick to assent. So, everyday for two months, I taught Jamie like my uncle did me. He was a fast learner and in the blink of an eye he became my little prodigy. Nonetheless, the fact that Jamie was trailing Chaz had me agitated to my cuticles.
I had asked him countless times what he intended to do with his newly gain hacking skills, but he only gave me oblique replies. "What do you intend to do with yours, Lance?"
I had overheard Jamie having a heated conversation with Chaz in the boy's lounge one day. I remembered hearing Chaz warn off Jamie with a disgusting insult about his financial situation. Then Jamie replied in the most bitter of tones, "Wait till you get what's coming for you." I had also caught him sneaking by Richard Hamilton's school office, trying his best to be inconspicuous. I had confirmed it; Jamie was tracking the Hamilton family's every move like a hawk.
Next thing I know, Jamie was nowhere to be found. It was very unusual. The student body, especially Chaz, had breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief. Unfortunately, Jamie's wrath had just begun.
At the school's monthly PTA meeting, an intimate video of Chaz and his father's 28-year-old secretary popped up on the auditorium screen for all to see and enjoy. That alone had put the Hamilton family under speculation, and the school in an uncontrollable pandemonium. Chaz was suspended and his medical school application was canceled. The secretary was fired and was rumored to have fled out of the UK.
Then, Chaz's father's phone was hacked and filthy text messages between him and a mysterious woman were leaked via the Internet. Chaz's mother received a special edition and soon after she filled for a divorce. After that, Richard's own computer was hacked and somehow every news agency got a copy of his bank documents proving fraudulent payments. He had spent five hundred thousand dollars of his company's funds to settle a gambling debt. He got arrested of course.
It was all entertaining and terrifying. What happened next - like the events of the past weeks - was not expected. The MI6 had tracked down the hacker and I heard that he lived in Westminster. I had summed up my own range of suspects, but missed one name on the list. Mine.
An hour before the police invaded my dorm, Jamie visited me. He told me about his father. According to Jamie, his father had stolen two thousand dollars in the mail room where he worked. His father was broke and desperate. All he wanted was a decent life for his family. Richard Hamilton, who had owed the mail room at that time, found out and took advantage of the incident. Richard knew Jamie's father would eat bricks to withhold his small job. Jamie's father was blackmailed into carrying out Richard's dirtiest deeds; he stole and gambled.
One night Jamie's father placed a bet over the casino table that cost Richard $700,000. Jamie's father was dragged to an alley, three copper bullets were popped in his skull and four ferocious pit-bulls were left to shred his corpse to pieces. "His name was James T. Akins." Jamie explained as water rushed over his blue stream of iris.
He gave me little time to reply. He then thanked me for being his successor, and apologized for framing me. Then he left. Jamie Akins, like the paintings of Botticelli in Florence, seemed to vanish from the face of the earth.
I had already registered Jamie under my list of people to steer clear of. However, try as I did, he came looking for me. "My name's Jamie Akins." He had said in a heavy northern English accent. He was slim, and stood at about 6'2. He had almost mat black hair and metallic blue eyes. He never smiled with teeth, but had a rather unsettling smirk. We were standing under a faint street light near the school library. Face to face with him, I felt lankier and frailer than usual. My frizzed afro, rimmed bifocals, and skeletal, computer techie arms were no match for his rugged, nonchalant look. It was dusk then, and I had been making my way to an Office Administration meeting.
"Lance-Lance Leatherby." I replied. Without any other informal introduction, he proceeded to his motive. He told me he required a hacker; which was exactly what I was.
"Not to do my dirty work, no," he had said as if I were a naïve twelve-year-old boy. "I just need you to teach me for two months."
Hacking was a treasured trait of mine, and I had not intended to distribute it to the public. However, when he flashed 200 pounds, I was quick to assent. So, everyday for two months, I taught Jamie like my uncle did me. He was a fast learner and in the blink of an eye he became my little prodigy. Nonetheless, the fact that Jamie was trailing Chaz had me agitated to my cuticles.
I had asked him countless times what he intended to do with his newly gain hacking skills, but he only gave me oblique replies. "What do you intend to do with yours, Lance?"
I had overheard Jamie having a heated conversation with Chaz in the boy's lounge one day. I remembered hearing Chaz warn off Jamie with a disgusting insult about his financial situation. Then Jamie replied in the most bitter of tones, "Wait till you get what's coming for you." I had also caught him sneaking by Richard Hamilton's school office, trying his best to be inconspicuous. I had confirmed it; Jamie was tracking the Hamilton family's every move like a hawk.
Next thing I know, Jamie was nowhere to be found. It was very unusual. The student body, especially Chaz, had breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief. Unfortunately, Jamie's wrath had just begun.
At the school's monthly PTA meeting, an intimate video of Chaz and his father's 28-year-old secretary popped up on the auditorium screen for all to see and enjoy. That alone had put the Hamilton family under speculation, and the school in an uncontrollable pandemonium. Chaz was suspended and his medical school application was canceled. The secretary was fired and was rumored to have fled out of the UK.
Then, Chaz's father's phone was hacked and filthy text messages between him and a mysterious woman were leaked via the Internet. Chaz's mother received a special edition and soon after she filled for a divorce. After that, Richard's own computer was hacked and somehow every news agency got a copy of his bank documents proving fraudulent payments. He had spent five hundred thousand dollars of his company's funds to settle a gambling debt. He got arrested of course.
It was all entertaining and terrifying. What happened next - like the events of the past weeks - was not expected. The MI6 had tracked down the hacker and I heard that he lived in Westminster. I had summed up my own range of suspects, but missed one name on the list. Mine.
An hour before the police invaded my dorm, Jamie visited me. He told me about his father. According to Jamie, his father had stolen two thousand dollars in the mail room where he worked. His father was broke and desperate. All he wanted was a decent life for his family. Richard Hamilton, who had owed the mail room at that time, found out and took advantage of the incident. Richard knew Jamie's father would eat bricks to withhold his small job. Jamie's father was blackmailed into carrying out Richard's dirtiest deeds; he stole and gambled.
One night Jamie's father placed a bet over the casino table that cost Richard $700,000. Jamie's father was dragged to an alley, three copper bullets were popped in his skull and four ferocious pit-bulls were left to shred his corpse to pieces. "His name was James T. Akins." Jamie explained as water rushed over his blue stream of iris.
He gave me little time to reply. He then thanked me for being his successor, and apologized for framing me. Then he left. Jamie Akins, like the paintings of Botticelli in Florence, seemed to vanish from the face of the earth.
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