Wire (Pierce Securities Book 2)

by Anne Conley

  EmberFalls: Sorry guys. New job.

  Red_Dawn: What’s this one?

  EmberFalls: Consultant at a software company. *yawn* can we play?

  Grazy_Lady: *Yawn* is right.

  Mystic: Let’s get it on.

  While none of them shared anything personal about themselves, Evan considered these guys his friends outside of work. The guys at the securities firm were his brothers, without a doubt, and if he died, they would be the only ones at his funeral. But his gaming buddies were his drinking buddies. He swigged his beer and played, hoping the list of people he’d compiled would shrink magically while he lost himself in the game.

  He didn’t know them well, but he trusted them. Mystic, he suspected was in the medical profession somehow. She was a healer in the game, and her chat about medicine led Evan to believe he or she was a doctor of some sort. Red_Dawn was relatively new to the team, and Evan thought he might be unemployed, although he seemed to keep himself busy. If he had a job, it had very flexible hours, or a gaming station in his office. Grazy_Lady was wicked smart and only online in the evenings. She probably had a day job, one with lots of responsibilities, like him, that kept her offline during the day and ready to let loose at night.

  RoW was an RPG much like the video game version of Dungeons and Dragons, only they were in medieval Germanic worlds full of old-world charm and frighteningly dark adversaries. The main goal was to find and save an elusive princess by killing off the enchanted foes and building up the player’s own magical life force. Evan could admit it was juvenile, but captivating nonetheless. It gave him a fantasy life to which he enjoyed escaping.

  Red_Dawn: You guys find The Crimson Lady on this level yet?

  Mystic: Nope. You?

  Red_Dawn: Yeah, she’s in the southwest quadrant, behind the Miracle Mountain.

  Curiosity piqued, Evan turned his character around, searching for The Crimson Lady. She wasn’t a central character, in fact she rarely did anything. But she was always worth a few extra life points if you could get her to say something. Evan’s avatar trudged through knee-deep grass to the Miracle Mountain and went around it, killing a black fairy in the process.

  Grazy_Lady: WTG Ember.

  Thanks, he said in his head as he came around the mountain to see The Crimson Lady talking to an elf. The elf nodded and turned, trudging away quickly. The Crimson Lady turned to Evan, staring at him. The recognition in her eyes was eerie.

  He got chills, not sure if they were caused by his assignment and the knowledge someone was using this character to get kids to attack people, or the pure menace in her expression when she settled her gaze on him.

  She was horrifying, really. Even with his graphics on a lower resolution to make game play easier, it was still a phenomenal design. Her red, snake-like hair seemed to have a life of its own, tendrils waving and curling around her sunken face. Her skin was greenish, garish against the red dress she wore that went down to her feet, giving her an ethereal feel of floating around the game.

  He sat back from his computer screen, pushed a button on his keyboard, and spoke into his mouthpiece. It would be heard by the game but not put into text for his team to read.

  “Crimson Lady, my latest target. How do you do?” He spoke in the formal language of the game, hoping to connect with her somehow.

  She didn’t speak, only nodded demurely, casting her eyes at his feet.

  “Who is your creator?”

  He was answered with a shrug and a knowing smile. It was uncanny, the level of Artificial Intelligence programmed into her. It was as if she understood him, and she probably could, actually. It was possible for a program to understand words, although it seemed unlikely a programmer would go to the trouble. Apparently, someone had the motivation to do so.

  Evan sighed, and she looked up at him, her smile still in place. Did she hear the sigh? She seemed to be reacting to him, and it was creepy, as he looked around his gaming room, swigging his beer uneasily. Evan watched in fascination as she inhaled deeply, the detail of the graphics so distinct he saw her shoulders rise. Then her mouth opened—a wide, yawning chasm which showed rows of sharp, dirty teeth—and she screamed shrilly, long, and loud.

  Evan wrenched his earphones off, spilling his beer in the process. His eyes were glued to the screen, and he could hear her screams through his headset as she dissipated into floating crystal motes. Evan’s life point counter went up fifty points.

  Mystic: Whoa, dude. What did you say to her?

  EmberFalls: Nothing, really.

  He turned his avatar to see Mystic standing behind him, a white-haired woman in a long green dress that flowed with the wind. They high-fived each other and continued playing, dread settling uncomfortably in Evan’s stomach.

  All of my pawns are in place. By the time I’m finished, Paige Lawson isn’t going to know what hit her. I’ve been patient for years waiting for this moment; all I need is a few more weeks. Some would call it a magnum opus, but I’m just calling it retribution.

  I’m sick of poor, pitiful Paige being handed everything on a silver fucking platter. I’m sick of watching the little orphan girl and her rags to riches story being replayed ad nauseam. Nobody seems to care that she wouldn’t be anywhere if it weren’t for me.

  She’s not a programmer. If it weren’t for me, she’d be a fucking real estate agent. She’s the one who followed in my footsteps. Now it’s time she repaid me for my efforts.

  She’ll get her come-uppance. She and that asshat, Evan Rocco, will both see who the mastermind behind PSL is by the time I’m finished with them. They will be nobody. Nobody.

  Wednesday, Gene knocked on Evan’s door before sticking his head inside the office. “Hey, Boss. Today’s the birthday party and you’re on the list of attendees.”

  He was about to pop back out before Evan stopped him. “What do you mean?”

  “Happy birthday, man. You’re one of the birthday boys. It’s the monthly birthday party. Come get your present and have some cake.”

  Bewildered, Evan stood and shut down his laptop. He wasn’t getting any work done anyway with everybody poking in and welcoming him. It was a friendly place, but he’d be damned if he could figure out how anybody accomplished anything.

  He walked out to the main area and scanned the cubicles where a few people were still working. But his attention was pulled to the lounge area to the side where everyone was standing or sitting around talking and eating cake from brightly colored plates.

  He made his way over to a rousing chorus of Happy Birthdays, still curious as to how anybody knew when his birthday was. It was a pretty heavily guarded secret, only the NSA knew, and the IRS, come income tax time. He didn’t tell his employers, choosing instead to square it away with the government in private. Not that he trusted them, either, but it was taxes after all.

  He found Paige against a wall, a line of people in front of her, as she dipped into a large gift bag and pulled out items for each person. When it came to his turn, he was full of questions.

  “Everyone gets a present?” he asked when it was his turn. She looked gorgeous as always, dressed in a wrap-around knit dress which set off her green eyes, settling just above her knee. Wearing clear crystals at her throat and ears, she wasn’t looking at him, choosing instead to focus on something near his chest.

  “Yep. Birthday presents for the guests of honor and party favors for everyone else.” She offered a wan smile somewhere off to the left of him while digging around in her bag. “This is for you, the Halloween baby.” Holding out a small wrapped box, she finally met his gaze, but it was filled with trepidation.

  When he reached for the box, his fingers grazed hers and lingered, the touch sending a spark of energy up his arm, leaving a dull warmth in his bicep. Did she not feel this… thing between them? If she only would give him a signal, some sign that night meant something to her, too, he would be all over her in a heartbeat. He would take her in his arms and kiss the fool out of her.

  She tugged on
her hand, releasing the connection, and disappointment welled up in Evan. “How did you know when my birthday was?”

  He was astounded when a bright blush crept up her cheeks and she looked down again. “I have my ways,” she muttered to the floor.

  It was really strange. She was confident and friendly with everyone else, but with him, she hardly wanted to talk. And he was the one she needed to be talking to. Paige’s assistant whispered something in her ear, and she excused herself, leaving Evan standing there, holding a box. Somebody handed him a piece of cake, and somebody else gave him a cup of punch. Evan juggled it all on his way to find a seat.

  He took a bite of cake and balanced the plate on one knee, setting his punch on the floor to unwrap his present. Evan noticed the party favors were things like paperweights and coffee mugs with funny sayings on them. One man, Evan thought it was the lawyer, Scott, had gotten a set of highball glasses with a city map of Austin on them. He was drinking punch from one. It looked nice, and Evan wondered if it was crystal.

  Opening his present, Evan’s breath left him in a rush, and he suddenly rethought Paige’s reactions to him. She’d gotten him a set of platinum cufflinks with peridot on them. Underneath the pale green gemstones was a segment of binary code—perfect rows of zeros and ones. The effect was beautiful, yet masculine, and perfect for him.

  He looked at her and found Paige in a group of employees, laughing at something a woman had said. She looked so carefree and laid back, totally unlike when she looked at him. When she looked at Evan, Paige looked scared to death.

  Why was she scared of him?

  Evan ate his cake, drank his punch, and threw his trash away. He was dawdling, wanting to catch her alone. When his PA, Gene, sat next to him, he admired Evan’s cufflinks.

  “Nice…” Gene drew out the word, giving it a double entendre, snapping Evan’s head around to look at him.

  “What do you mean? She got everybody gifts.” Evan was uncomfortably aware that his gift was certainly nicer than a set of highball glasses, even if they were crystal.

  “Yeah, but those are… special, don’t you think? I think she’s trying to impress you.” Gene waggled his eyebrows, grinning widely. Evan was starting to get it. That night had been special for Paige, and she didn’t know how to act around him. Could that be it?

  “Does she do this every month? For birthdays?” Evan was curious. It seemed like a huge overhead, to party like this with gifts for everyone every month.

  Gene shrugged, “Yeah. She’s a really cool boss. And it’s a great thing. Nobody would quit, not with the perks here.”

  Evan nodded. Last night had been something called Bar Night, but he hadn’t gone. Apparently, everyone went out one night a week for drinks, which wasn’t all that uncommon, especially in high-stress jobs. Not that video game software design was all that stressful, but it showed a camaraderie most offices didn’t have. He didn’t go because it had been his first day on the job and he didn’t really work here. He wasn’t up to the gossip and was way more overwhelmed by the office atmosphere than he’d anticipated.

  He would go next week, he decided. Looking away from Gene, Evan tried to find Paige once again. But she was gone, her office door closed, and her PA filling a trash bag with cups and plates.

  Nice.

  Evan was about to lock his office door and yank out all his hair. The welcoming party wouldn’t stop trickling through, each person in the office wanting to come in and introduce themselves. Of course, sticking to the undercover script he’d never read, since Paige was avoiding him, he had to act happy to meet them all. Inviting them in and getting to know each person was mind-numbing, and his cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Nobody could be crossed off his suspect list, not based on initial appearances, and he was daunted by day’s end, to say the least.

  Thursday wasn’t shaping up to be any better.

  “Gene!” he called from his desk mid-morning.

  Gene’s eager smile popped around the doorframe. “Yes, Boss?”

  The moniker was a Paul Newman throwback that made Evan genuinely smile for once. “You can call me Evan, and please don’t let any more people in. I need to actually work for a little bit.” He kept his voice even, hoping his frustration didn’t show.

  “Sure, Boss.”

  “Evan,” he reminded him.

  A cackle was his response as Gene firmly shut his door.

  Evan heaved a sigh and lowered his face in his hands. Without talking to Paige, he wasn’t any further on this than if he’d just worked from the Pierce Securities office. He could have hacked into their HR files remotely and done all the legwork on this without the steady stream of interruptions. He was frustrated with her. Why in the hell had she hired him if she wasn’t going to talk to him?

  He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts, finding the one he needed.

  “Kellog,” the tense voice on the other end of the phone rang out. Curt Kellog never sounded happy to hear from him, and Evan could understand why. Kellog was a man who needed facts and reasons, which made him a perfect FBI agent. Their relationship, though, had been instigated by a higher power, with no reasoning behind it. Kellog followed orders by working with Evan, but he didn’t know the reasons behind them, and he didn’t like it. Of course, Evan wasn’t entirely sure of the reasoning, either, except the NSA liked to keep tabs on him.

  “Agent Kellog, it’s Evan Rocco. I need a favor.”

  “Of course you do. I’m not in a favor mood, Rocco.”

  Evan chuckled. “Are you ever?”

  A long-suffering sigh eased down the line to Evan, and he grinned. “I don’t know who you blew over here, but… what’s the favor?” The man was resigned to his fate, even though he hated it.

  “The Crimson Lady.”

  “Fuck, you can have that one. I certainly don’t want her. That shit’s got escalation written all over it.”

  Evan agreed. They were lucky nobody had been seriously injured, although the last guy was still in the hospital with his injuries. “Can you send me what you’ve got? Any suspects?”

  “My money’s on Patton,” the FBI agent responded.

  “Yeah, me, too, but I haven’t got anything to go on besides motive. He certainly has means and opportunity, but so do a lot of others on my list.”

  Evan heard the creaking of leather on the other end of the phone as Kellog shifted positions. “Tell you what. Let’s trade. You send me what you’ve got, and I’ll email you my file.”

  “You gonna actually tell me if anything fits?”

  “Are you?”

  “Okay, deal.”

  It was a silly thing, really, this pissing contest he had going on with Kellog. They helped each other, even though neither wanted to. Kellog didn’t understand Evan was in the NSA’s pocket, and Evan didn’t know how to get out. All either of them knew was that Kellog had to give Evan anything he wanted, and Evan tried to stay under the NSA’s radar.

  They’d contacted him, trying to recruit Evan after the fiasco with TEKNIX Magazine, offering him serious money to come work for them. He declined, and contrary to popular fiction, they were actually nice about it. So far, he hadn’t woken up with any bullets in his head, but Evan wasn’t under any illusions that they weren’t watching him closely. He just tried to use his contacts wisely, not asking for too many favors.

  The NSA had given him Special Agent Kellog with the FBI and told them to work together as needed. Kellog worked on domestic computer crimes. He seemed to hate his job, but he was good at it, even though Evan was better. He had a contact at the NSA he could call for help, but it always backfired somehow. The two times he’d called in a favor with his NSA contact, he’d gotten roped into consulting jobs that took months. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything for them right now. His hands were full.

  When he received the encrypted email from the FBI with the PDF files of The Crimson Lady’s case, Evan hunkered down for a couple of hours of reading. It didn’t take long for his blood to r
un cold.

  The first victim was a homeless man, beaten senseless by Arthur Blake, a drummer in one of the local high school’s marching bands, who had failed Algebra and been prohibited from playing at the football games. This no pass, no play rule was state-wide, but hit this kid hard. After failing the class, he apparently went into a downward spiral and got suspended from school for getting caught with a baggie of weed. That wasn’t what got to Evan, though. While it was a sad story, and one that probably happened all too often, it was the ten Barbie doll heads left at the crime scene that got him. Arthur’s fingerprints were all over them, leading to a probable conviction of the youth in the crime.

  The next victim was also a homeless man, who had the shit kicked out of him by a suspended student, but this time there were nine matchbooks left at the scene, with the student’s fingerprints on them.

  A woman sleeping on a park bench was next, found gagged with her hands and feet tied. She, too, was beaten unconscious with a baseball bat. A high school drop-out confessed to the attack. He left eight pencils lined up in a row next to the woman.

  The fourth victim was a prostitute—bound, gagged and beaten—but she was also soaked in gasoline and left on a curb on Sixth Street. Seven SIM cards were left with her. The cards belonged to an honor student who had recently been suspended for distributing pills on campus.

  As Evan read, the blood drained from his head, and he could feel his heart pounding. The pattern was clear. The Crimson Lady was targeting kids who had made poor choices as well as the ‘undesirables’ of the city. A total of four attacks so far. She was leaving markers for investigators, seemingly random, yet with one clear purpose.