A traditional FBI dark-coloured SUV trailing at a distance of no more than three car lengths followed me through all the twists and turns. For now, I ignored them, but at some point I was going to have to do something about them. Damn O’Shea, he was going to make things difficult right off the bat this time. I pulled up to a small green-trimmed house, a two-story, with a perfectly manicured lawn out front. The only concession to living in a more rural part of the country was the Christmas lights that were still up from last year. Leaving my Jeep, I made my way around the side of the house and through the perfect, non-rusty gate in the perfectly trimmed white fence. The basement was a separate suite and was rented out to Kyle Jacobs, an eighteen-year old computer geek fresh out of high school who also happened to be the best hacker in town. Make that the best hacker, period. Not bothering to knock, I let myself right in.
