Flight of the Sparrows

Nine minutes and two hundred seventy-two megabytes of data later, Quill backed out of "Server5" and returned to the police network to find another accessible machine. This time "Disc380Z" opened to his persuasive, legitimate commands. Ten seconds into the next download, the connection severed.

Disgusted, Quill pushed back from the computer. "Shit! Someone in the chain powered down. Bastards!" The program didn't have a chance to send his clean up in for the server log. The relay's address would still be in its memory.

"Fuck!" His face twisted into a dark scowl, the unpredictable event a personal failure. He raked both of his hands through his unruly curls, tugging at the stray strands that insisted on tangling in the odd assortment of silver rings on his fingers.

Kevin glanced at Liam then slapped at the back of Quill's head. "Cool it, mate! It's just a zombie a hundred miles from here. Don't sweat it. They'll never trace it back to us. That's the whole point." He squeezed Quill's shoulder in sympathy.

"I know it, you wanker. I wrote it." He folded his long legs up under his lanky frame and hunched down into the arms of his swivel chair, instantly feeling guilty for his outburst. "I just like to keep everything clean. No reason to take risks, Kev. That's how people like us get nicked. Don't fancy doing time in any prison."

"No one's going to prison, so chill out. Who'd you get?"

"Gimme a minute." Quill copied data from one directory to another, glancing through the file to get a feel for the nature of the stolen data. Strangely, all of the file names in one folder were of animal species. Maybe they had hit the Wildlife and CountrysideDirectorate. That would be disappointing.

"Shit. The file's huge. Where the bloody 'ell were you?" Kevin split his attention between the screen and draining the last few drops from his beer can. Liam tossed his brother a fresh can the moment he finished drinking. It was fortunate their favorite brand was also the cheapest beer on the market.

"I said, gimme a minute." A few more keystrokes and an individual file opened on the screen. Quill's eyes flew over the text, his breathing turning rapid and shallow as he tabbed down the page. "Ah ... bloody hell."

Kevin abandoned his beer and took another look at the monitor. "What?"

"Looks like ... um ... MI5."

Letting loose a whoop of celebration, Liam shot out of his chair to dance around the table. Stunned, Kevin downed his beer in several huge gulps, then joined his brother in the uncoordinated victory dance. They worked their way around the room, ending up back at the computer where Quill sat ignoring them, his sole focus on the text on the screen.

Quill felt the first stirrings of tightness in his chest warning him to relax. Taking several slow, measured breaths, he worked at convincing his body he was calm.

One nervous hand strayed to the inhaler lying in wait beside his keyboard. Long nights, too little sleep, and the heavy dampness of the last few days were playing havoc with his sensitive lungs. Quill had no idea how long this latest inhaler would last him. He had already used it three times and he had no idea how full it had been when he nicked it off a luncheon counter weeks ago.

Oblivious to his growing unease, Kevin clapped a vigorous hand on Quill's shoulder, jarring his slight frame in the chair. "Shit, you jammy li'l sod! I can't believe you broke into MI5."