Late at
night.
They did find a young man in the bedroom, with a computer. But it was
the wrong one, and for all intents and purposes the wrong computer. It
took the police almost ten minutes of quizzing Pad's brother to work
out their mistake.
Hearing a commotion, Pad's parents had rushed into the hallway while
Pad peered from the doorway of the front sitting room. A uniformed
police officer ushered everyone back into the room, and began asking
Pad questions.
`Do you use computers? Do you use the name Pad on computers?' they
asked.
Pad concluded the game was up. He answered their questions truthfully.
Hacking was not such a serious crime after all, he thought. It wasn't
as if he had stolen money or anything. This would be a drama, but he
was easy-going. He would roll with the punches, cop a slap on the
wrist and soon the whole thing would be over and done with.
The police took Pad to his bedroom and asked him questions as they
searched the room. The bedroom had a comfortably lived-in look, with a
few small piles of clothes in the corner, some shoes scattered across
the floor, the curtains hanging crooked, and a collection of music
posters--Jimi Hendrix and The Smiths--taped to the wall.
Pages:
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439