by Alex Siegel
* * *
Ipo parked the blue van under the tent behind headquarters. He, Hanley, and Marina stepped out onto the dirt parking lot. She checked her watch, and her tired eyes made the numbers a little blurry.
"It's four in the morning," she said. "We're not looking at evidence tonight. Go home and sleep. We'll reconvene at nine AM."
"Yes, ma'am," Ipo said, "but it's a long drive back to Oakland. I think I'll find a local motel."
"You can sleep in my hotel suite in San Francisco. Come inside, and I'll give you my room key."
"I also need to get my key," Hanley said.
The three of them walked around to the front of headquarters. A chill in the air made Marina rub her arms, which she found ironic. She estimated it was about fifty-five degrees here, while the temperature in Chicago was well below freezing. California was already making her a little soft.
They entered through the reception area. Marina didn't turn on the light because she preferred to move in darkness. Ipo and Hanley just followed her without comment.
Marina found Min Ho slumped over with his face on his desk. He was snoring softly.
Katie was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, fully awake, but her eyelids were droopy. A steaming mug was on the counter near her hand.
"You didn't fall asleep," Marina said. "Good job."
"Thank you, ma'am," Katie said. "This place is spooky late at night. It's so quiet."
"You have permission to sleep now. We're having a meeting at nine."
"How did it go in San Jose?"
"Not well," Marina said. "Ice Crusher escaped and some FBI agents were killed. We did establish this is a real mission though. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Go home."
"I'd rather just crash on the couch here. It's a lot closer than my apartment."
"Be my guest." Marina faced Ipo. "You need my room key. Let's see if I can find it before I crash, too."
* * *
A pounding noise woke Peter Hastings. He rolled over, checked the clock, and groaned. It was eight in the morning, far too early for him to be awake.
He realized he was in a hotel room, and it took him a moment to remember why. Soulfriends was gone. His dream of reshaping humanity to conform to his master plan was dead.
The walls of the hotel room were pale green. The carpet and blankets had circular patterns made of green, yellow, and black. He thought the use of color was excessive.
Somebody pounded on the door.
"Go away!" Peter yelled. "I'm sleeping!"
The pounding just got louder and angrier.
He stumbled out of bed and pulled on his underwear. He had closed the curtains, but there was still too much sunlight in the room. Natural light hurt his eyes.
He went over to the door and cracked it open. "What?" he said through the crack.
A big, muscular man was standing in the hallway. He had perfectly groomed blond hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a shiny brown suit with leather patches on the elbows.
"Mr. Hastings?" he said.
Peter was instantly afraid. It was impossible for this man to know his real name. "Who are you?"
"Most people call me Mr. Pickle," the man said, "or just Pickle for short. We need to talk. The entity you know as Rebecca sent me."
Peter was overcome with curiosity. He stepped out of the way and allowed Pickle to enter.
Pickle closed the door and sniffed the air. "When was the last time you took a shower?"
Peter's face grew warm. "Did you come here to complain about my personal hygiene?"
"No, but it couldn't hurt. Your hair is a greasy mess. It's embarrassing."
"How do you know my name?" Peter crossed his arms defiantly.
"Rebecca told me. I represent an organization known as the Pythagoreans. We're always looking for talented recruits, and she said you're very talented indeed."
Peter stared. "What kind of thing is she?"
"We call her a 'benefactor,' and she's not the only one. Sit down. I'll explain."
Peter sat on the edge of his bed. The fabric felt rough and cold against his bare thighs. Pickle sat on a chair and maintained excellent posture.
"I'll make this simple," he said. "There are creatures that exist outside this universe. They are in a constant state of war, and humanity is the prize. The Pythagoreans serve these creatures, and in return, they sometimes reward us with special abilities or technology. They aren't constrained by the normal laws of physics."
The explanation sounded absolutely ridiculous to Peter, but he couldn't deny his own experience. Rebecca had done things that defied science, and he still possessed her 'gift.' He looked into Pickle's eyes and saw the warped machinery of his mind.
"Do you have a special ability?" Peter said.
"Sadly, no, but the benefactor told me I would be rewarded if I help you."
Peter decided to withhold the information about his own gift. Pickle didn't need to know that Peter could kill him with just a few words.
"Some people have been coming after me for the last few days. They blew up my company."
"The Gray Spear Society," Pickle said. "They serve the Great Adversary, the most dangerous and relentless benefactor of all. The Pythagoreans have fought them many times over the last several centuries. They are our ancient nemesis. You're very lucky they didn't catch you, but you're not out of the woods yet. The Society will keep coming after you. Did you leave any identifying evidence behind?"
Peter usually made a point of not believing in secret conspiracies, but he was willing to buy this one. His enemies had certainly behaved like they were above the law.
"It's possible," Peter said. "I left in a hurry. What should I do? Run?"
"No. The Pythagoreans don't accept cowards. You have to fight back, and Rebecca sent me to help you. It's a test for both of us, and if we do well, we'll both be rewarded."
"What reward will I get?"
"The protection and support of the Pythagoreans," Pickle said. "Some of the most powerful men and women in the world will back you. We just need to come up with a plan. What are your skills?"
"I'm the best hacker ever. What about you?"
"I'm a professional assassin who specializes in poison. I got my nickname because I like to store bodies in pickle barrels full of brine. They stay fresh longer that way."
Peter grimaced. "Nice. Figuring out a plan will be tough. I've already tried to trap these guys three times."
"If it were easy, it wouldn't be much of a test. The 'best hacker ever' should be able to come up with a solution, especially if I'm helping you."
Pickle was right. Peter just needed to apply his massive intellect to the problem.
"OK," Peter said. "The Society wants to kill me, and that's their vulnerability. I can use myself as bait for another trap, but instead of finding me, they'll find you, and you'll be ready for them."
Pickle smiled. "I like where this is going."
"The tricky part will be leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. If it's too easy to follow, they'll be suspicious, but it can't be too hard. Does the Society have hackers?"
"Yes. Good ones."
"Hmm." Peter narrowed his eyes. "I may have an idea..."
* * *
A knock on the door of her bedroom woke Marina from a deep sleep.
"We're having our meeting in five minutes, ma'am," Ipo called through the door. "Are you awake?"
"I am now. I'll be out in a couple of minutes."
She couldn't believe she had almost slept through her own meeting. She had been so tired last night, she had forgotten to set her alarm clock.
Marina gently slapped her own cheek. Wake up, girl, she told herself. Get back in the game. You have a mission to finish.
She climbed out of bed. She had dressers and clothes racks, but most of her clothes were still in piles on the floor. She hadn't had time to move into her new home properly.
She found a gray sweat suit which was still clean, and she pulled it on. She went next door to her newly finished bathroom whic
h was big enough for the whole team to share. There were two toilets in private stalls, two showers, and two sinks. Her shower would have to wait until after the meeting, so she settled for using the toilet and brushing out her hair.
Marina went into the main part of headquarters. Her entire team was crowded around the small table in the kitchen area. Somebody had brought in a huge breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast. The food had obviously come from a restaurant, but she was still deeply grateful. She was starving.
She grabbed a plate and scooped food onto it. "Who should I thank for this?"
"Me, ma'am," Jia said.
Marina smiled at the Chinese girl. "Bless you, my child."
Jia blushed.
The team ate quickly and managed to finish only a few minutes after the scheduled nine o'clock start of the meeting. As soon as everybody was ready, she led them outside to the blue van.
Marina threw open the back doors to reveal the evidence taken from Ice Crusher's secret chamber. It was a jumbled mess. Ipo and Hanley had simply shoved everything into the van.
"I want a full analysis," Marina said. "Min Ho and Jia, focus on the computers."
Her team quickly unloaded the evidence, brought it inside, and divided it up. Marina decided to supervise instead of examining anything herself.
She went to Katie first. The legionnaire was sorting Ice Crusher's clothes into piles, but she was holding them with the tips of her fingers.
"Do you want to use gloves?" Marina said.
"Maybe I should," Katie said. "These clothes stink. The underwear is gross."
"Check for hidden pockets."
"Yes, ma'am."
Marina frowned at the clothes which were cheaply made and outdated in general. It looked like Ice Crusher shopped at rummage sales.
She wandered over to Hanley next. He was focusing on the small quantity of books, notepads, and folders the team had found in the secret chamber.
"Ah, ha!" he exclaimed.
He pulled a document out of a manila envelope. Closely spaced words were printed on it using small letters.
"Is that a contract?" Marina said.
"Better," Hanley said. "The articles of incorporation of Soulfriends. It's the one document where Ice Crusher couldn't lie about his identity, or he would risk losing control of his own company. And our mysterious enemy is—" He flipped to the last page. "—Peter Hastings."
She hurried over to Min Ho. He and Jia were examining the computers that had been taken from Soulfriends.
"Look up a guy named Peter Hastings," Marina said. "Right now."
Min Ho went to his workstation and performed the search. It took him longer than she expected, but eventually, he brought up a photo. She recognized the chubby face and shaggy, brown hair of the man she had seen last night on Hanley's phone.
"That's him!" Marina said. "I want to know everything about him. Most of all, I want to know where he is right now. Let Jia work on the evidence."
"Yes, ma'am," Min Ho said.
She grinned. She finally had the name and face of her enemy. It was now just a matter of time until he was dead. Just as importantly, Soulfriends had already been annihilated.
She announced the discovery to the rest of the team, and her good mood spread. There was a sense of impending victory in the air.
She decided to celebrate by taking a much needed shower. She couldn't avoid the fact that she smelled a little funky. The hot water felt like Heaven and improved her mood by another notch. She returned to Min Ho fifteen minutes later.
"Well?" Marina said. "Did you find him?"
He looked up at her with an anxious expression. He was wearing a pink shirt, a white belt, and black slacks. The shirt was tight across his narrow chest in a clear attempt to exaggerate his small pectoral muscles.
"I'm afraid not, ma'am," he said. "Peter Hastings is a ghost. No bank accounts, no credit cards, and no driver's license. I can't find an official record of him anywhere. I'm guessing he erased his own identity and is living under a fake name."
"That's not a surprise. We're dealing with a sophisticated and paranoid adversary. Can you tell me anything about him at all?"
"I found his parents. They live up in Richmond."
Marina turned around. "Ipo and Hanley, you're going to Richmond to interview the parents. Move."
"Yes, ma'am," her male legionnaires responded.
They immediately dropped what they were doing and started preparing to leave.
Marina watched Min Ho work for another few minutes. She didn't completely understand what he was doing, but it appeared he was searching various government databases for Peter Hastings. She saw "CIA," "FBI," and "NSA" on his screen.
"I can tell this isn't going well."
"That's correct, ma'am," Min Ho said. "All the usual queries are coming back with nothing."
Marina furrowed her brow. "Let's try a different angle. A couple of days ago, he paid those thugs at the marina using a 'bank error.' When I was listening to the Bill Conway tapes, I got the impression Ice Crusher funded Soulfriends in a similar manner. Let's follow the money. How did he hack the bank exactly?"
His rapid typing made his keyboard clatter. "Soulfriends was funded through the Santa Clara County Bank. I'll check the bank software for signs of tampering."
She went back to the kitchen to get another serving of breakfast. Missions always made her hungry. The fire of God's anger seemed to burn up the energy in her body. Since joining the Society, gaining weight had never been an issue for her, and she actually wanted to pack on a few more pounds of muscle.
After a few minutes, Ipo and Hanley came out of the supply closet where the costumes were kept. They had changed back into the blue suits of FBI agents, and the outfits were getting a little dingy. It was another sign this mission had gone on long enough.
"We're off," Ipo said.
Marina nodded. "Good luck. I'll have Min Ho text you the exact address."
He and Hanley hurried out of headquarters.
"Ma'am!" Min Ho said. "I found something."
Marina went back to him. "What?"
"Ice Crusher modified the master database used by the bank. The change allows him to move money around and even add new money to accounts."
"It seems like the bank would notice when the numbers don't add up at the end of the day."
"He's using fake foreign transfers, made-up loans, and mortgage adjustments to disguise his activities," Min Ho said. "This guy could teach me a few tricks. Somebody might notice eventually, but it could take years."
Marina nodded. "OK. I want you to booby-trap his hack. If he steals any more money, trace it back to him immediately. And check all the other banks in the area for similar tampering. Let's monitor all his sources of funding."
"That's a lot of banks to check, ma'am."
"Then get busy." She raised her eyebrows.
"Yes, ma'am."
* * *
Ipo parked the car in front of a blue house with a red tile roof. Hanley looked out the passenger window at the home of Jeffrey and Caroline Hastings, the parents of his enemy.
The unimpressive house was just one story tall and narrow. A chain-link fence protected a front yard which was the size of a parking space. A few bushes were jammed together in front of a bay window. A driveway on the side led to a parking garage in back.
"Let me do the talking," Ipo said.
Hanley faced him. "Sure."
They got out of the car and walked over to the house. Ipo knocked loudly on the front door, making it rattle in its frame. After a minute, a woman answered the door.
Hanley guessed she was in her mid-fifties, and the years hadn't been kind. Sagging, wrinkled cheeks and jowls made her face look like a deflated tire. Her bleached hair was twisted and brittle. A short, pink dress and pink stockings showed off her lumpy legs and varicose veins.
"Caroline Hastings?" Ipo said.
"Yes," she said. "What do you want?"
"We're from the FBI." He flas
hed his badge. "We have some questions. Mind if we come in?"
Caroline opened the door and stepped out of the way. The two men went inside.
Hanley looked around and tried not to show his disgust. Dirty plates, empty beer cans, candy wrappers, and cigarette butts were all over the small living room. The yellow couch was stained and had burn marks. One of the windows had been replaced with a sheet of plywood. The television was blaring, and the show featured drunken rednecks engaged in acts of stupidity.
"Is this about Peter?" Caroline said.
Ipo raised his eyebrows. "How did you know?"
"That punk was trouble since the day he was born. Always crying. Some days, I just left him alone until he cried himself to sleep."
What a wonderful mother, Hanley thought.
"Is your husband here?" Ipo said.
Caroline shook her head. "He's out drinking."
"Then do you know where Peter is?"
"I haven't heard from him in years." She shrugged.
"Any kind of background information would be helpful. Tell us what you know about him."
"He was smart, I guess. An A+ student. He went to college on a full scholarship, which was good because we're not exactly rich."
"Does intelligence run in the family?" Ipo said.
"Well, uh, Peter was a bastard child. I only knew his real father for one night, but my husband and I raised Peter like he was ours."
"I'm sure you were great parents. Did he have a happy childhood?"
She shrugged. "The other kids picked on him a lot, but you know how kids are. They didn't mean any harm."
"Why did they pick on him?"
"He was always... different. We were worried he was gay. When he was fifteen, we sent him to one of those camps where they straighten out gays."
"Interesting." Ipo nodded. "Did it work?"
"I don't know." Caroline shrugged. "My husband also tried to help Peter by making him tougher."
"How?"
"By punching him and stuff. Jeffery taught Peter to stop crying all the time. He was a lot quieter after that."
Hanley was getting a clear impression of a nightmare childhood. Peter wasn't born a monster. He was made into one.
"That's helpful information," Ipo said. "You're sure you don't know where we can find him? Does he have a girlfriend or something?"