Kyle lifted the barbell one last time.  "One hundred", he said, as it reached the top.  He racked it in the bench and sat up.  At only six hundred pounds he wasn't really building muscle, but it would tone him a bit.  His phone notified him that he had a text, and he walked over to his desk to check it.  He'd had the phone hacked so that the giga-corps couldn't track it or hack it without at least a supercomputer or a technopath, but his clients weren't so secure.

The text was a simple message, a series of emoticons.  To anyone else that saw the message it would look like a normal junk text, but he recognized it as a message from a whistle-blower client of his.  Tonight they would meet at a fighting arena/ underground gambling establishment that the corps wouldn't bother watching.  There they would just be two gamblers, and would be able to talk.  It was the best they could do without a secure communications connection.

[i]Speaking of secure connections[/i], he thought, then opened up his electronic dropbox program.  Making use of the Darknet, it would let him use a system akin to a dead drop to contact the person who had secured his phone, though it cost him ten dollars worth of bitcoin to use.  The picture he left the user known as "thOrne-rOse" was two simple Chinese dragons.  Hopefully she would get the message, that he needed secure equipment, by the number and type of dragon, two laptops, and would respond with a location for the deaddrop.  That is, of course, assuming that she or one of her drones were in Atlanta still, and could make the drop.  With the laptop his client would be much freer to use the internet, to the point where he could go public without having to worry about his former employer tracing it back to him and having him eliminated.  If he got it before the meeting he could even give it to the man there.