I laughed. Daniel always told me he was the team's PR man, I was the brains. This time, however, I was stumped. "Best I can do is state the obvious: smells like an inside job – or a mouse."
I had the idea that the hacker might have slipped into Jordan Institute under a maintenance sweep. Danny logged on to check. Even though I could reach out and touch him in real time if I wanted to, I always felt alone when Danny surfed the LINK. He wasn't any good at multiprocessing, so he just stared blankly into space. His usually handsome face grew slack, and, with a smile, I wondered how he ever got through academy training without walking into walls.
His face grew noticeably paler. I sat up, thinking he might have found something. "You pick up here." Daniel waved in the direction he'd been staring, "I just got an urgent call from the big guy."
" 'The big guy'?" I asked him, but he didn't hear me. With a shake of my head, I accessed the LINK. I jumped to where we kept the syslog for the Jordan files, looked for Danny's bookmark, and started combing the records for a tiny extra power surge that would betray the hacker's entrance. I had been at it for only a few minutes when Danny interrupted me with a touch on my arm.
Logging off, I gave him my full attention. "What's the matter?"
That's when things got strange, in retrospect. He got all anxious, and he said we should leave – go somewhere more private. Since it was late anyway, and the bar would be closing, I suggested my place.
We got into his car. I could still smell the leather upholstery. Danny drove the slickest thing on the market. Nothing but the top of the line for him. His car screamed "new and improved." I couldn't stand the thing. I ran my finger along the slippery smooth surface of the monstrosity, a creature of chrome and steel. Anytime I was forced to ride in his car, I had the same complaint, "No fucking character."
"What are you saying about my girl? She's got plenty of character ... like a refined lady – elegant, distinguished. Anyway, what's more important – she's got power." Reaching over to pat my knee, he smiled into my face. "Which is more than I can say about your floating boat."
"Boat? I'll have you know my Chevy is a classic. Not like this dime-a-dozen clone." I huffed in mock indignation, as I buckled in and relaxed into our familiar routine. "Besides, power is overrated."
"Hmmmm, I don't know about that." He murmured low and sultry. "Power is awfully sexy."
I looked over at him, surprised at the tone of his voice. His gaze swept the line of my dress. Suddenly self-conscious, I felt naked.
"Yeah, right," I said. My voice sounded stilted in the close atmosphere of the car's interior. I covered my embarrassment, and myself, by tugging on the buckle that crossed my breasts. As the motion of my hands drew his eyes, I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair – willing him to look at my face.
Smiling a wolfish grin, he turned the ignition. The engine sprang to life with a healthy purr. His eyes stayed locked intensely with mine for a strained moment, then he turned his attention to the car.
I rolled my shoulders, relaxing them forcibly. Our teases bordered on the sexual in the past and had never bothered me. We'd been working on this case for too long and in too-close quarters. The nightlong brain-storming exhausted me; I wasn't reading him right anymore. He was in a strange mood, that was all, and I had mistaken the tone in his voice.
As if in confirmation of my thoughts, Daniel gave me a familiar wink. He patted the smooth control panel lovingly, and said, "Listen to that, will you? Just like a kitten."
The near-silent hum of the car's engine made a pleasant change from the sputtering of my Chevy, but I wasn't about to admit that to Danny, "Sure, if you like 'em quiet and unassuming. I prefer the ones with a little more spirit, more gusto, more character."
"Hmmmm, feisty." The look in his eyes told me he wasn't talking about the car anymore. "I'm beginning to see your point."
I'd walked right into that one; my attempt to lighten the mood and return to our old camaraderie ended with another awkward sexual innuendo. I batted at the air between us, trying to dismiss the entire conversation. "Oh, Danny, knock it off. Keep your mind on business, will you?"
"It's hard." In the semidarkness, the black iris of his hooded eyes caught the light of a streetlamp. His handsome features appeared, momentarily, quite feral. "You look sexy tonight."
"You've obviously had too much whiskey, big guy. Maybe I should be driving."
"Okay," he said, "I prefer my women in the driver's seat, anyway."
I'd never seen Danny like this – it was as if he were a totally different person, and not one I trusted. "Pull this car over, right now."
Normally my partner had no trouble recognizing the seriousness of my tone. Instead, Danny just smiled devilishly. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the car leapt forward. Just when I thought he would collide with the cab in front of us, he pulled up into an up-ramp and hit the sirens.
At that point, I realized he intended to scare me. Not willing to give him that satisfaction, I slid into cop mode. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to relax. That's when I noticed his face. His mouth hung open slightly, the way it did when he was on-line and concentrating.
I looked at Mouse, and said, Daniel was jacked in the whole time.
The page's tone was as inscrutable as his expression. Do you have any idea who he was talking to?
For all I know he was accessing Traffic Control.
The end of Mouse's embroidered shawl flapped noisily in the virtual wind. But you doubt it.
I did. I was beginning to believe that whoever stole the biosoftware from Jordan Institute was the one responsible for Daniel's shift in emotions. It was possible that Jordan's R&D had discovered more than just a way to access pain and pleasure, but other emotions as well, and that's what the tech-thieves were after.
Why is Mouse so hot for this story anyway? I'm sure he could read all the details on some bulletin board of mine.
The page watched me intently; his black eyes flicked over my avatar's form. Mouse is curious about who you think did it.
What if I told you I thought it could be Mouse, I said. After all it was possible, especially with what I now knew about mouse.net.
Do you?
The page seemed to want affirmation, but I decided to hold what few cards I had close to my chest. The barter was for half now, Mouse. I've got a date to keep.
I sent the image of my arms crossed in front of my chest. The page's black eyes held mine for a long moment.
All right I'll cause your distraction. Give me twenty minutes from NOW.
A digital countdown appeared in the corner of my vision. How will I know when you've done what you plan to do?
You won't. You're expecting me to trust you, aren't you? Before I could comment, the image shifted. The page discarded the feminine costume for the receptionist gear he wore when we first connected. I hate to be a bad "host," but ...
With the intensity of one of his boomerang viruses, the page snapped me back into real time. The ground rushed away from my feet, and I fell upward through the jumble of the LINK with blinding speed. The information stream crackled lightning-bright behind my eyes. I snapped them open to see Rebeckah kneeling in front of me.
My fingers fumbled for the filament in the helmet. Reaching out, Rebeckah popped the panel on the helmet and grabbed the connection. "You off?"
I nodded mutely, shutting the connections as quickly as I could. With the filament disconnected, Rebeckah gently lifted the helmet from my head. My hair was a mat of sweat, but the fresh air revived me; I took a deep breathe Rebeckah watched me intently. Her usually controlled face showed a hint of concern.
" I'm okay," I croaked. All the liquid in my mouth had evaporated, and my tongue felt heavy and clumsy.
Rebeckah pointed to one of her comrades. "Water," was all she had to say. He returned with a brimming plastic cup before I could even protest.
"Where were you?" Rebeckah's expression hardened now that it appeared I was going to live. "Sha
rron couldn't finger your ID on the LINK."
"Mouse's hub," I managed around a gulp of water. The muscles in my neck shot pain to my shoulders when I tried to move.
Rebeckah glanced at Sharron. Following her gaze, I could see the disbelief in the hacker's eyes. With another swig of water, I swallowed the urge to pout, "Was too!" Instead, I said, "It's all set. Mouse will provide a LINK distraction in" – I checked the display still floating in the corner of my vision – "fifteen minutes, thirty-one seconds and counting."
Rebeckah's eyebrow raised. "Sharron, could we pull off a simultaneous attack? Keep the boys hopping?"
"You got it, Chief." Sharron smiled that gleeful grin every LINK-hacker flashed when plotting a job. It reminded me of Daniel. At the thought of seeing him again, panic crawled along my extremities. I shook my shoulders before the feeling reached my heart. Far too late for regrets or second thoughts, I told myself. Rebeckah and Mouse's page were in on the fiasco now, and I could hardly let them down.
As the crowd dispersed, I stretched my leg out experimentally. Cramped muscles protested with every minute movement. "Man, I must've been completely zoned," I grumbled. "How long was I out?"
"Only twenty minutes or so," Rebeckah said. Standing up, she dusted her hands on her thighs. "But you were in it deep. In a few more I would've called a paramedic."
I raised my eyebrows.
She shrugged; her eyes left mine. "Even the best of us fall into old habits."
I let out an irritated huff; she figured I was off on an info-bender unable to resist the slick tech of the uniform and my new LINK connection. "I was a cop, Rebeckah, not a wire-junkie."
"Oh, really?"
I could feel my jaw working, but decided against defending myself. Rebeckah was part of a time in my life I left behind when I joined the force. She never saw my transformation. When she looked in my eyes she remembered a strung-out college girl, away from home for the first time, and lost in the LINK. I had to earn Rebeckah's respect; no amount of explanation would substitute. I kept my tone light. "Are you sure you still want to jeopardize your people in this venture?"
Hefting my helmet under one arm, Rebeckah sat down next to me on the battered plaid couch. The tired springs let out a creaky sigh. Raking her fingers through her flattop, she smoothed out her frown. "We're old friends, Dee. Besides, you're going to owe us one when this is done."
"So you've said." My face scrunched up in a lopsided grin. "Funny, I'm a junkie until you need something, then suddenly I'm a wizard, eh?"
Rebeckah's eyebrow arched at my words, then she let out a laugh. "That's about right. So, what's the plan?"
"While Mouse and Sharron are running distractions, I'm going to try to locate Daniel's buddy."
"Hell of a plan, Dee. There are over six billion users. You plan to ID each once until you find someone who might be a friendly? You'll be collared in under a millisecond."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. My head pounded like a killer hangover, but, perversely, I enjoyed the feeling. Every corner of my brain felt filled with an ache. No more emptiness. The pain felt good. Like an athlete returning to the game, the headache reminded me I was alive, using nearly atrophied muscles. If that made me a junkie, so be it. With a weak smile, I said, "I know where Danny will go, virtually speaking."
Rebeckah shook her head in disbelief. "I hope you do."
The digital readout continued to count down in the corner of my eye. Ten minutes and counting. There was no point in discussing the consequences if I was wrong. Leaning heavily on the couch, I stood up. "Do you have a meeting location figured out?"
"Come on." Putting an arm around my waist, Rebeckah supported my weight. "We've got transport waiting."
Transport turned out to be a rusty pickup truck from the turn of the century. As I stood staring at the antique, five of Rebeckah's soldiers filed in around one and methodically piled onto the flat bed of the truck. They all carried rifles and wore full combat armor. After stowing their guns in a tool case, they turned their armor's holographic defense on. One by one, the Malachim shimmered, then disappeared before my eyes.
I pulled myself into the truck and felt my way into the middle of them. Surrounded by limbs I could feel but not see, I settled in as best I could. I hugged myself closely for fear of accidentally touching a stranger. Rebeckah stepped in last and pulled the truck's gate up behind her.
With ten minutes left on the countdown, I jacked the armor's filament into my LINK receiver. Rebeckah squeezed my hand reassuringly. I flashed her a confident smile, but, truthfully, I had no idea if I could find Daniel's ally.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when the combustion engine sprang to life. Turning around, I looked in the cab. Raphael, who sat behind the wheel, didn't seem alarmed by the rumbling explosions coming from the truck, so I presumed all was normal. Listening to the popping and wheezing, I suddenly had respect for how quietly my Chevy ran.
"Oh damn," I said. Rebeckah looked up expectantly. "My car is in Hell's Kitchen. I'm never getting it back."
Rebeckah grimaced. "Are you still driving that thing you had in college?"
I nodded.
"Good riddance," she said.
"That poor car gets no respect."
"You should keep your mind on the task at hand. Time?"
"Six minutes, ten seconds."
Rebeckah looked at Sharron who sat in the cab next to Raphael. "Sharron, you set?"
"Ready to rock and roll, Chief." Sharron held a deck on her lap. That impressed me; only truly serious hackers augmented the LINK with hardware. Staring at the board, I thought of mouse.net and whispered good luck to the page. I prayed he would get away with whatever he was planning. The page was quickly becoming my favorite version of Mouse, even over the real boy. Seeing me, Sharron gave me a wink. Raphael tossed me a salute and a broad smile. Neither of them wore any armor. I presumed they were meant to be in disguise, although as what, I couldn't tell. The antique might attract some attention, but, no doubt, the Malachim were relying on the fact that most New Yorkers were self-absorbed enough not to look down at the streets while driving in the skyways. Even if someone did notice us, locals were notorious for not getting involved.
At Rebeckah's nod, I powered up my suit. Tiny pinpoints of light blinked on, then my legs disappeared. Looking up just in time, I saw Rebeckah fade away. A crackle in the helmet's intercom preceded Rebeckah's calm voice. "Let's do it, people."
Two guards removed a false-glass garage door, and the truck bounced out of the underground car park and into the glass city. The setting sun turned what was once the Bronx into a blazing jewel of colors. Every crystalline edge reflected rosy sunlight. The combustion engine's noise puttered strangely through the glass streets and alleyways. The exhaust fumes added to the acrid, smoggy taste in the evening breeze. I was grateful for the radiation shield provided by the armor I wore. We drove in silence for a while, until only a few seconds remained on the clock.
"Ten." Sharron started the countdown. "Nine."
Her deck lit up as her fingers flew across the pad. I shut my eyes.
"Eight ... seven ... six," she intoned. I could feel the bounce of the road beneath the truck, but I let the rest of my senses be enveloped by the LINK. "Five ..."
"Here we go," I said out loud.
New York on-line was a maze. Taking a moment to orient myself, I found the entertainment stream. Three jumps away lay Kick's cafe, where I hoped Danny's friend would be waiting. I held my breath as I approached the jump.
In real time, Sharron continued, "Four ... three ..."
The feather-light ID check of the sensors brushed my consciousness. I waited for the green light. Though less than a hundredth of a second passed, it felt like an eternity. Finally, the node opened; the uniform's LINK connection's constantly shifting home address fooled the access guardian.
"Two ... one!"
As I stepped through the queue at the node, I felt a ripple along the wire.
What the
heck was that? An untagged broadband crossed through the LINK.
"Yahoo!" Sharron shouted through the cab's open window. I opened my eyes to see her waving a fist in the air. Before I could congratulate her, she said, "Mouse rocks. Alarms are clanging from here to Timbuktu! I don't know how he did it, but it looks like hackers are popping up on almost every node."
Thanks to the confusion, I slipped easily through the next node. I was one step from Kick's. I slitted my eyes to concentrate, but I couldn't keep a grin from my face. As impossible as it first seemed, I might get away with this.
"Hold on to your avatar," Sharron beamed, "because here goes nothing."
She punched a key on her board triumphantly: I felt the LINK'S power dip again.
Fuck! A collective swear slipped through the system's censors. A full-fledged smile took over my face, as I passed through the last jump. If the broadband profanity censors had crashed, then the syscops had abandoned their posts. All I had to watch out for was the local patrol now.
Another terrorist attack, I think, someone said nearby. As I made my way along the entertainment band, snippets of conversation washed past me. The syscops weren't maintaining line privacy; chatter came from several users at once. I narrowly escaped Mexico City's node. I was hardbooted out of my game. Cairo is suffering some kind of brownout, I guess, because I just lost the signal! Where the hell are the system controllers?! Someone call the cops!
I slid out of the main byways to Kick's on-line cafe, a stationary and private spot on the usually fluid LINK. Despite the uniform's shifting ID pattern, my heart raced as my entry was automatically registered in the cafe. Though heads popped up to check me out, no one was interested enough to offer chatter. I let my breath out in a long sigh.
I feigned casualness as I checked the cafe's menu for the list of users. If my hands weren't virtual, they would have been shaking. Scanning the names, I noted several regulars from the days I used to frequent the real-time version of the tavern. Among the usuals, one name jumped out at me: John Kantowicz. Per LINK protocol, along with his name, a badge number appeared. Kick's had a long history of being a cop hangout. It could just be a coincidence that an officer with a traditionally Jewish name was hanging out here at this time,
Archangel Protocol Page 19