Sandra eyed the coffee mug before reaching for the bag. Shaking, she dumped its contents on the table. She would’ve said something about not recognizing them as her clothes, but Cynth slid a key across the table.

“You will need this.”

Sandra frowned. “Oh, right.” She grabbed the key. Still shaking, it took her a few seconds to line it up with the lock to her ankle shackles. They clicked open with a satisfying sharp snap.

Having released her feet, she stood up and reached for the clothes. Who cared if they weren’t hers? Right now she’d put on anything, except…

Cynth met her gaze with a coiled smile. “I did a little shopping for you. It will fit. Like a glove.”

Sandra unfurled a pair of dark purple leather pants. “You’re kidding.”

“I thought your look needed a little refresh. Or how do you say it in your trade? Ah, yes. An upgrade.”

Sandra stood for a moment. The shivering settled the question. She pulled on the pants. She had to sit down to do it, but they fit, and rather well after the initial pulling and pushing.

Next she tossed a thick T-shirt blouse over her head and wiggled into it. The warmth of it surprised her. The black leather jacket with matching purple shoulder and arm stripes went on last.

Cynth regarded her with an up-and-down scan. “We’ll have to do something with the hair. Spike it up a bit, purple accents. Boom, as they say.”

Sandra sat down, still shivering. Her gaze drifted over to the steaming coffee mug. It wasn’t steaming as much anymore. The room was sucking its warmth away, like it had sapped hers.

She fixed her gaze on Cynth. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I believe you said you had something to share?”

Oh, yeah, that. It seemed so distant now, it was starting to sound stupid. Still, what else did she have?

“I think I’ve been punked.”

“Punked?” Cynth gestured at Sandra. “I hope you don’t mean your new look. I can assure you that wasn’t my intention, to make you look… punked.”

“Someone cracked me. As a joke. Or more…”

“More?”

“I’m sure by now you’ve downloaded my whole life into that tablet of yours.”

“Hmm. Not into the tablet, but we have been exploring your—and shall I say it?—very interesting life.”

“Then you know I… My company has a new release coming. For one of my games.”

“Hmm.” Cynth faked a grimace. “You had to get quite leveraged to pull it off. Hard to get venture capital, I hear. Maybe it threw you a tad into the dark side in search of funding to support your big release.”

“No, listen. I’ve been setup.”

Cynth sighed and gave her another disapproving motherly tilt of the head.

Sandra dropped her gaze for a moment. “I’m sure that’s what all the slimy hackers tell you, huh?”

“The wisest admission you’ve made in hours.”

“But listen. I’m not one of them, OK?”

“Or so the story goes.”

Sandra bit her lip. Here she could object. Again, she could insist she hadn’t touched the stuff and hadn’t crossed paths with any of her colleagues for years. Any consulting services she had rendered for government projects had come with full background investigations. She had made herself an open book. She had stayed the hell away from her past transgressions. And to prove it, she’d passed every polygraph test, scheduled and random alike, hadn’t she?

“I’m not into that, and you know it,” Sandra said.

“Ricardo was.”

“I’m not Ricardo.”

“A Cuban friend of mine once shared one of his favorite sayings. Tell me who you’re with, and I’ll tell you who you are. Not always necessarily true, but it does pan out often enough to make you take notice, wouldn’t you say?”

“Ricardo wasn’t doing anything—”

“How do you know?”

Sandra leaned back in her chair. “He promised me.”

“Hmm. Men and their promises. And they say women are fickle.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Come on, Sandra. Wise up. Help me a little.”

“You think he—” That would make sense, wouldn’t it? He handled the business side. Yeah, that was her hand-penned signature on the invoice, but he could spoof that easy enough—from a scanned document she’d signed, for instance.

“He wouldn’t do that,” she rushed to add. “Not to me.” Why was she saying this? To convince Cynthia, or herself?

“Hmm.” Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “Who, then?”

“You can read about it online. I can point you to a couple of blogs.” She swallowed, wanting to quell her icy core with that coffee. “I’ve been getting a lot of resistance about my new game. Gamers in general aren’t very accepting of women at the top of their world.”

“The boys’ network, even in egalitarian cyber-gaming. Not so much of a meritocracy, after all.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Cynth raised her hand to make a little roof. “And you’re about to reach for that top of their world. If your game takes off, you’ll be invading their domain.”

“Yeah, it’s why I don’t do social media anymore. I get cyber-stalked all the time.”

“I see. And you think someone’s set you up with this illicit equipment sale to undo any chances your game may have.”

“Right,” Sandra said, getting the feeling that Cynth knew all this already. She’d just strung her along… But for what? Sport? Because she could?

“Well, that’s an interesting story, but one not yet supported by the evidence.” She aimed two index fingers at Sandra. “All of which points to you.”

“Can’t you investigate? Get to the bottom of it?”

“Oh, sure.” Cynth uncrossed her legs to lean forward. Resting her elbows on the table, she smiled. “We’ll get right on that. Start digging for that golden truth that will set you free. And you’re going to start digging with us, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Already dressed for it.” With elbows still on the table, she gave Sandra a half-wave. “You’ll blend right in.”

“I’m sorry. You want me to—” It hit her then. All this humiliation? The discomfort? All this intimidation? Cynth’s whole act? A way to get her to play along with them.

“You want me to go undercover?” Among hackers, she didn’t add.

Cynth shifted to one side so she could slide the mug of coffee toward Sandra. “I’ll be right behind you. Making sure it’s all quite safe.” She gestured at the cup. “All yours.”

Sandra wrapped her hands around the mug and held them there, soaking in the ceramic surface’s fleeting warmth. She almost closed her eyes, it felt so good.

She eyed the mug’s chocolate colored liquid. “What’s in those racks, anyway?”

“The equipment?” Cynth smiled. “Fancy stuff. Right up your alley.”

Sandra could tell Cynth paused for her to bite. She didn’t.

“When you put together how your master’s thesis and those computers link together, you’ll see why we had no choice but to think it was you. Besides all the other digital breadcrumbs, of course.”

Cynth grinned for a beat before adding, “You’ll also see why it has to be you now.”

Sandra had started to raise the coffee mug, but stopped in mid-motion. “Quantum computers?”

“State of the art. Your game would scream on them, I’m sure. But, of course, that’s not their final intended purpose, is it?”

Sandra swallowed and shoved down the urge to ask another question.

“That no-name corporation on the invoice?” Cynth added. “A shell front for a North Korean Cyber unit.”

Sandra muttered a curse.

“Now you can appreciate all the flying dandruff. A sharp girl like you will also realize why we need to button this up posthaste. And, as I said, with your name all over this affair, who better than you to assist your country?”

Sandra took a sip of the coffee. It had cream and lots of sweetener in it—way more than she preferred on both counts. But it still went down sour and bitter.

I hope you enjoyed reading the beginning of Virtual Identity. As we speak, I am readying to release this story next month, February 18. To stay up to date about this and future news, join my Reader’s Club. Oh, and let me know what you think of this story!