Mike Works Magic

I took a screenshot of the site.

     We shook off our hangovers, and mike powered into the website.
There was nothing interesting about it. Nothing. It was a simple webpage, with a .jpg stuck into the middle of it. He tracked the i.p. through two proxies, and bumped into a firewall, somewhere in the caiman islands. So, mike started his bigger computer on the firewall, and left it to grind away. Meanwhile, he moved to his smaller computer to focus on the site again.he started sifting through in detail, and opened up the source code of the site. Then he opened up the .jpg in some program i didn't understand and started scrolling through the code. He knew that Gregory had built that site for a specific reason, but the surface of it didn't mean anything. I watched him scroll through all the code, and while I didn't understand any of it, Mike seemed to read through it with ease. He flew through it a mile-a minute, then suddenly he stopped scrolling, and I saw his eyebrow pop up, before he opened his web browser. He opened the site again, and put a backslash in, with a short string of text. I won't say what the website was, but after the slash he wrote "spite_and_malice".
     Immediately we watched a new webpage load with a log in screen. We were so frustrated with this stuff. Every attempt we made to make sense of it all just raised more questions. Mike Got to work on that log in page, and I left to get breakfast. I grabbed some breakfast sandwiches and coffees, and headed back to the hotel. I was gone maybe twenty minutes, and when I returned, mike was in the shower, but his little laptop was open on my bed. He had a user name plugged in, and the computer was repeatedly punching in passwords.
It was October 23rd. I had been chasing this stuff down for four months. I didn't really know anything that I didn't know on that day in June when a heart appeared on my doorstep. Well, I had learned to shoot, I had learned to stitch myself up, but I hadn't come to understand what was happening around me.
     I sat on the bed and lifted my pistol off of the nightstand. I spun the chamber in my hand staring at it for a long while. I took the safety off, just as mike left the bathroom. He saw what I was doing, and I became immediately embarrassed. He didn't say anything, but it was in his eyes. I put the safety back on, and put the gun back down. Mike walked to his computer, looked at it for a second, and then moved back to the other bed. He grabbed a sandwich and turned on the TV.
A half an hour later, his big computer beeped a note, and he got up, and dashed to it. He had made it past the firewall in the caimans, and was ready to keep tracking the i.p. Forty minutes after that, he had found the last address in the chain.
It was in my hometown.
In fact, it was in my house.