Feeling like the industrious industrial investigator, a.k.a. industrial spy. Yep, he IS, or rather I AM. Fully equipped too, because back in the sixties microminiature cameras were virtually non-existent, yet today they  are everywhere, so nobody gives a shit anymore. And it is practically untraceable too: my phone is a custom job, based on the HTC Touch HD: always ready to mimic a normal HTC Touch HD, but fully prepared to do my bidding: from camera mode it has a slightly altered user interface towards the E-mail interface, that automatically transmits any snaps taken immediately to my web server somewhere on the web. Fully encrypted of course, and with a proprietary approach, custom made by me aeons ago. Cleanup then automatically wipes all traces of ever having taken the image from memory, so I walk out unscathed.

The server is very near, but off the beaten grid. My true company, Sisters Inc. had it encased in the advertizing column of the company I'm spying on. Heck, I'm typing this right on my work PC, because the keystroke logger has been disabled by my USB stick the moment it's plugged in! No nagging 'Run AUTOSETUP?' question, it just locates the system-wide keyboard hook built into Windows, and takes it out for the duration of my intercourse with that system. Hey, a guy has to have protection right? I mean, even if the lady is just trying to protect her bosses' interests.....

Last weekend, I finally figured out that my colleague whose computer screens are right in my line of vision is probably a free mason. But I'm not afraid, because the seemingly mindlessly left attributes on his desk give away his true color: red-blooded vampire! And the vampires and the vamps are like two hands on one pregnant belly....   spawning the New Age!

Yep, I'm a vamp, though I don't look the part: Male, 6 foot 6, 222 pounds. And I'm a mean motherfucker too: Ever see Swordfish? Gabriel ain't no angel, but he sure knows how to move! That's my cover, how about yours? Actually I have two: this one was just the hard outer shelll, but outside of my deep undercover job, I'm a sissie. I mean it: Still male, 6 foot 6 and 222 pounds, but somehow I'm lighter out there, because that's where the Truth is...

And that is where I met my colleague: No, not the Sister in Sin who's got me running after her pretty ass trying to get a glimpse, but the one in my target company, who seemed so calm and collected, just doing his work. I figured he was behind a few of my visitors on my private site, so that would automatically make him on the level because I trust my friends. But just now, the contents of his desk scared me a tiny bit:

There was a syringe there with blood in it! Now what would a syringe with blood do on a programmer's desk, if he wasn't prepared to use it? It said Mortara on the side, a clear reference to mortar, and hence the Freemasons. Also, there was a comic which raised my suspicion even further: 

But as he cam in it soon became obvious that he had no knowledge of what had transpired on site last weekend. So now my conscience hasbeen put to  rest, we just chatte about movies and books during coffee, and traded DVDs: Tomorrow I bring him What the Bleep, and he pulls the twin brother of Waking Life from his video board. But now, after coffee, I better be like the good boy I want to seem, and ride all quiet in the back of the bus, like Vin Diesel in the Chronicles of Riddick....

Love your Stealth, 

Dré