Shaman of Stonewylde by Kit Berry Page A

apologise.
    A new network was almost up and running but Harold was worried that it would be hacked into again. The computer doctor had explained about Trojan viruses – ones concealed within apparently harmless data and links – and how some of the more sophisticated ones were very slow burn. They could lurk unnoticed for a long time before being detonated either by a pre-determined trigger, or by someone physically activating them. It terrified Harold that whoever had done this at Imbolc, or even before then if the slow-burn theory was correct, could and would do it again. There was a traitor in their midst and Harold had no idea who it could be.
    In the meantime, everyone who’d responded to his January sales marketing drive was still waiting for their orders to be fulfilled, but Harold didn’t know who they were. Their money had been taken but no goods could be sent out, and he couldn’t even e-mail them to let them know. A few irate letters had arrived and luckily the orders could be dispatched to these, but other than that, the warehouse near the Gatehouse now sat idle. Yul had ordered a halt to all quota work as Harold had no idea what goods were required, and all the new schemes such as the llama herd and the range of toiletries were on hold.
    Harold was devastated and took the disaster as a personal failure. He felt that he’d been targeted by the hacker. He constantly relived that dreadful moment when his temple of figures had crumbled and the red message had flashed before his eyes. He wondered almost obsessively who this Malus could be. And what did it mean? As soon as he was back online, he’d researched the meaning of Malus. Dismissing the crab apple links, he’d found references to an evil entity in a
Doctor Who
episode, and also a character linked to Dracula through a computer game. He dismissed these as well and decided that Malus must be a reference to an ‘
evil one
’, if Magus meant ‘
the wise one
’. So there was an evil one lurking in Stonewylde ready to cause mayhem, and the thought of that gave Harold nightmares.
    One thing he knew for sure was that there was nobody within the community with the expertise to devise such a virus. The professional who’d assessed the damage was adamant that this was an extremely sophisticated bug and not the work of an amateur. Nobody living at Stonewylde could have created it, so the traitor was getting external help. Who could afford that? The thought crossed Harold’s mind, much as he tried to dismiss it – was it actually Yul himself? He seemed the only person clever enough to come up with such an idea, but Harold couldn’t see any possible motive. Yul had been delighted with Stonewylde. com and the much-needed money pouring into Stonewylde’s coffers. Why would he set out to destroy it?
    Sitting now in his cold bedroom, for Yul’s bad temper was such that it wasn’t a good idea to spend any more time in the office than strictly necessary, Harold felt thoroughly depressed. Every scheme he’d dreamt up was now suspended, including the negotiations for supplying venison to a supermarket chain. In the furore after Imbolc when there’d been no Internet access for a good couple of weeks, and then with all his contacts lost, he’d missed the opportunity for that particular deal and the buyers had gone elsewhere. All his costings and research for schemes such as the bottled spring water had vanished and Harold was now far too despondent to start all over again, or at least not until he knew it was safe from sabotage.
    There was only one bright hope on the horizon, one idea that had not gone down the pan on the night when this evil Malus had entered the heart of Stonewylde.com and wreaked such havoc. Harold, his thin face quite haggard with worry and stress, and his nervous tic even more jerky than usual, allowed a tiny hope to flare. This was the exciting proposal he’d been waiting to hear about on that terrible night. The e-mail never had come