Never Tell (Detective D.D. Warren #10)(94)

“There hundreds, if not thousands of portals within the dark web,” Keith says now, his fingers still moving as he scrolls down a screen too fast for my eyes to follow all the content. “One of the most famous, the Silk Road, was run by the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

“Princess Bride,” I murmur.

“Jacob Ness wasn’t the only felon who prided himself on being clever.”

“This page,” I say, “it looks so boring.” White background, menu items running down the side, with innocuous-sounding labels. Small photos of goods I have to squint to see, paired with brief descriptions. Frankly, it reminds me of scrolling through any old e-commerce site.

Keith has already moved on to another page, is scrolling rapidly. I don’t know how he can take in data that fast. But then, my skill sets have always been more hands-on. And while I had passing knowledge of things like the dark web, I’d never tried to visit or analyze it myself. I didn’t have the computer expertise. Plus, I genuinely worried the stark reality of such a platform would completely overwhelm me. I had enough sleepless nights patrolling Boston. An entire virtual world of predators … Even I knew I couldn’t take it.

“Post–Silk Road, these sites had to learn to be more careful. Many now appear exactly like a normal retail page.”

“Obviously.”

“There are backdoor portals that get you to the real page. Even then, sales items often appear under clever labels—hardware for guns, or you may have a prescription meds site that at first blush is completely legit, except if you click on the photo of aspirin, the jpeg file is much larger than it should be.”

“Data is hidden in the photo. There’s a term for that …” I search my mind.

“Steganography. Not all dark websites bother. But marketplaces dealing with child porn, human trafficking—”

“Jacob’s kind of places,” I fill in.

Keith looks at me. “They have the highest security features in place. They have to. They’re hated even by other criminals who’d turn on them in a hot second. Which, of course, makes our job of retracing Jacob’s virtual footprints that much more challenging. It’s not just that he was walking around in bad neighborhoods, so to speak; he was touring the most sordid, dangerous back alleys possible, where everyone is suspicious and taking extra precautions.”“

I’m confused. “Given all that, how would Jacob even learn of such marketplaces? Know that clicking on this photo actually gets him that pornographic image? Is there like a web version of street smarts?”

“Welcome to forums—or chat rooms as some people call them. Ness had to belong to at least one to learn all the things he learned. Unfortunately, given the paranoia of the members of the more twisted forums, learning who, what, when, where, how, and why is that much more difficult.”

“So what are you doing?”

“The dark web is a competitive marketplace, right? Illegal or not, the goal is still to make money. Hence customer reviews, rating systems, everything.”

“Okay.”

“I’m hoping one of Jacob’s past business associates will find us. Start a private chat in a pop-up window, hey we haven’t seen you in ninety days, welcome back with a free thirty-day trial …”

“Business is business,” I murmur. I nod slowly. “You don’t know all the forums Jacob visited or the members he might’ve ‘chatted’ with. So if you can’t go to them, you’re hoping one of them will come to you.”

“Exactly. You said Jacob used a lot of drugs.”

I nod.

“Those e-commerce sites have less security, believe it or not, so might be one place to start. But I think those deals had to be local, because to order off the dark web Jacob would need a PO box for delivery. Given his life on the road, always going from state to state …”

“He had mail sent to his mom’s house.”

“Exactly. Meaning he’d have to return there every time he needed a fix; and we know he didn’t go there that often. As an illegal consumer, what other items would Jacob have been into?”

“Porn. And not child porn. But more like everyday porn.” I grimace in distaste at the distinction. I tap the screen, where new images have appeared. “Wait. Is that what this is? But it looks like a gardening catalogue? Aren’t those photos of different kind of daffodils?”

Keith glances up. His expression is faintly apologetic.

“It’s awful,” he says.

I stare at the screen. “You said only the really terrible sites relied on steganography. The ones even other predators hate.”

“It’s awful,” he repeats.

Meaning those daffodils aren’t really daffodils. Young girls? Images of children for sale? He’s right; the possibilities are too awful to consider. I sink down into the chair beside him. Just as a pop-up window appears on the screen.

Keith straightens, looks over the laptop monitor to Quincy. “We have contact.”

The FBI agent marches over, takes up position behind Keith’s shoulder.

She reads the message, nods in grim satisfaction, then takes out her iPhone. She aims it at the screen and hits video.

“All right,” she says. “Let’s play.”





CHAPTER 31