More plastic
bags and labels.
One of the officers called Pad over to the front door. The jack was
still wedged across the mutilated door frame. The police had broken
down the door instead of knocking because they wanted to catch the
hacker in the act--on-line. The officer motioned for Pad to follow
him.
`Come on,' he said, leading the hacker into the night. `We're taking
you to the station.'
Pad spent the night in a cell at the Salford Crescent police
station, alone. No rough crims, and no other hackers either.
He settled into one of the metal cots lined against the perimeter of
the cell, but sleep evaded him. Pad wondered if Gandalf had been
raided as well. There was no sign of him, but then again, the police
would hardly be stupid enough to lock up the two hackers together. He
tossed and turned, trying to push thoughts from his head.
Pad had fallen into hacking almost by accident. Compared to others in
the underground, he had taken it up at a late age--around nineteen.
Altos had been the catalyst. Visiting BBSes, he read a file describing
not only what Altos was, but how to get there--complete with NUI.
Unlike the Australian underground, the embryonic British underground
had no shortage of NUIs.
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