Cybersleuthing
He Didn’t Clean Up the Bootprint. He Built a JSON File.
Jason Clarke took a week of vacation. He told his boss it was a personal emergency.
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
Chapter 8 of Hold Fast is Jason alone in his Queens apartment with his laptop, a full pot of coffee, and a tech support brain that hasn’t had a real problem to solve in two years. The garbage bag on the kitchen counter stays empty. The bootprint stays on the coffee table — deliberately, because somewhere during this week Jason decided it was evidence, not mess.
He starts with what he already knew: FRIENDLY_01. The upstate routing he’d noticed weeks ago, the clean minimal footprint of someone genuinely good at this. By Tuesday he has a full picture of their methodology. Advanced. Current data within 24 to 48 hours. Observation, research, and — crucially — protection. You don’t protect someone you’re just watching. He’s not worried about FRIENDLY_01.
Wednesday he finds HOSTILE_01. North central Pennsylvania. Sloppy, working from stale data, detectable if you know what you’re looking for. Amateur hour with intent. Someone pointed them at Jason. The question is who.
Thursday morning he finds HOSTILE_02. Greater Chicago. And he goes very still for a long time afterward.
This one isn’t surveillance. It’s construction. Social media penetration. Systematic contact harvesting. Active network intrusion attempts probing for entry points. They aren’t watching Jason. They’re building something.
Preparation, he types into the notes field. Preparation for what?
He doesn’t send an email. He doesn’t build a spreadsheet. He builds a JSON file — structured, parseable, confidence-rated — because he wants Taylor to know exactly who they’re dealing with before they’re ever in the same room. He saves it somewhere FRIENDLY_01’s monitoring will pick up. Not sending it. Just placing it. Visible to anyone watching closely enough.
Looking forward to meeting you. —JC
Then Danny arrives. Looks at the bootprint. Looks up at the light fixture above it. Looks at his phone and doesn’t like what he sees.
The bug in the light fixture isn’t theirs.
In the garage of his building, Rami is waiting — not upstairs, not with Baxter, but there, in the garage, arms open. Jason doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.
Upstairs, Baxter draws a bath with lots of bubbles. Chef Ryan has supper ready. And later, when Jason tells Rami what he needs — what he’s been locked out of for almost a week — Rami closes the bedroom door, turns down the lights, and takes very, very good care of him.
Mine, he says afterward.
Jason feels his back against Rami’s chest and knows it’s true.
Chapter 8 is available now for subscribers at reamstories.com/romanhenrystories — get on the mailing list so you never miss a Thursday drop.
