“How do you think everyone here would react if they found out Lucien McCarthy, their beloved Balor, is nothing more than a sorry—”
“Enough,” Balor hisses. “Give me the projector.”
He reaches for it, but Gun lifts it above the other man’s head. Balor would have to get out of his throne to grab it. It’s a calculated maneuver, but Gun is pretty sure the man would rather die than be seen squabbling like a commoner over a projector.
“Get me into the League auction,” Gun says, “and it’s yours. I only have one copy. I give you my word that no one else will have access to the information I have in here.”
“And what is the word of an Anderson worth?” Balor spats.
Gun shrugs. “I held up my end of our last bargain. I delivered the ornithropter.”
Balor’s nostrils flare. “Fine. I agree. Now give it to me.”
“League auction first,” Gun counters.
“What you ask isn’t easy. I need three hours.”
“Fine,” Gun replies. “I’ll wait.”
And with that, he returns the hologram projector to his pocket and makes himself comfortable at the foot of the dais. He’s careful not to let his emotions show, but he’s immensely pleased with himself.
He’s learned a lot since he was fourteen.
15
Code
When he emerges from his bedroom several hours later, he’s not surprised to find Maia and Nate sharing a bottle of booze.
“Tequila?” He gives them a disparaging look. “Really?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Maia sits up, blinking at him. That’s when he notices the second bottle of tequila, this one empty, lying on the floor next to the sofa.
“I have good brandy,” Gun reminds her.
His sister waves a dismissive hand. “Not good enough. Oh, God.” She clutches her stomach. “I think I might be sick.” She blinks up at Gun. “Wait, don’t tell me. Do we still own all our ornithropters?”
Gun goes to his mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. He tosses the first one to Nate, who catches it, and the second one to Maia. She bats it out of the air, then groans as she gets on her hands and knees to fish it out from under the coffee table.
“Seriously,” she calls from the floor. “What did you give to Balor this time? I want to be prepared when you tell Dad.”
“I want to make sure I’m sick with pneumonia that day,” Nate adds. He takes two long draughts from the water bottle. “Dude, don’t sugarcoat it. Give it to us straight.”
Gun shrugs, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Nothing.”
They both stare at him.
“What do you mean, nothing?” Maia asks.
“I mean, Balor got me into the League auction. All I had to do in return was turn over all the dirt I collected on him over the past eight years.”
“What dirt?” Nate asks. “You didn’t have me collect any dirt.”
Gun shrugs again. He never asked for Nate’s help. He was too embarrassed to ask after the ornithropter incident. “I did my own digging.” Granted, it took him longer on his own, but time was on his side.
“What sort of dirt?” Maia downs her entire bottle of water, then lurches to the minibar and grabs a second one.
“That’s between me and Balor. I gave him my word.”
“What you’re telling me is that I’m on the verge of puking for no good reason?” Maia tries to glare at him, but ruins the effect by rubbing at her temples.
“Yep.”
“You suck.” She turns her back on him. “I’m going to take a nap.” She staggers out, groaning.
Nate looks at Gun. “I don’t supposed you’re going to let me go take a nap?”
“Not a chance. We need to prep my avatar. Get the Dread Twins. I’m going up against the League. Here’s a list of everything I need.” He tosses a tablet to Nate. “Most important is finding out where they’re transmitting from. I can do a lot for Sulan in Vex, but I can do more if we can pinpoint where they’re holding her.”
Nate catches the tablet. “Where are you going?”
Gun pauses at the door to his suite. “To get the cooks to make pizza. This is going to take us all night.”
***
As Gun prepares to enter Vex the next evening, he endures a last-minute lecture from Nate and the twins. The faces of Lox and Mage fill the screen on the wall behind the desk.
“Make sure you use the Bifocals,” Nate says. “We need to see their firewalls.”
“Make sure no one touches your bow tie,” Lox adds. “That’s your Concealer. It’ll keep your tech concealed.”
“Stay in the site as long as possible.” Mage dry washes his gloved hands. “The longer you’re in, the better our chances of pinpointing your girl’s location in the real-world.”
“Got it,” Gun says. Anderson will skin him when he finds out about this, but Gun can’t worry about that now. “See you all soon.”
As he enters Vex, dressed as a giant frog in a tuxedo, he activates the League invitation Balor acquired for him. It bounces him to twenty-eight different sites before finally depositing him at the auction site, effectively burying the location of the League signal.
Gun and his team expected this. It’s a challenge, but not a deal breaker. He’s confident Nate and the twins can hack the location.
He materializes in a room of black. Balanced in the darkness is a giant mask of Imugi. The shiny white mask with the blue sea serpent leers down into the room.
There are a half dozen other avatars already here, gathered before the mask. One avatar looks like Elvis, another like Rasputin, another like a Chinese emperor. He wonders who they are in the real-world, but doesn’t waste much time trying to figure it out. Everyone here has enough money to have designed an avatar that will have no traceable link.
As he waits with the others, more and more avatars arrive. Gun takes advantage of the time to engage the Bifocals. They cut through the firewall, gathering snapshots of the raw code for Nate. He can’t send it directly; the League will be prepared for that. Instead, he waits for the arrival of new avatars. Each time someone new arrives, Gun sends the code out their entry port. From there, it will find its way back to Nate without the League being any the wiser.
When several dozen avatars are amassed in the blackness, Imugi’s mask speaks. The voice booms over the assembled, so loud it makes the buttons on Gun’s suit vibrate.
“Welcome to the League’s first Vex auction. As you know, we’ve plucked the world’s brightest stars . . .”
In the real-world, Gun feels someone shake him.
“Gun!” a voice yells, loud enough that it cuts into Vex. Nate.
Gun waves his arms, pushing his friend away. “Stop it!” He slips back into the cocoon of Vex, refocusing on the mask.
“I’m sure you’re all anticipating tonight’s auction as much as we are,” Imugi continues. “First, a few ground rules. An account number will be sent to the winning bidder. Payment is due immediately. Failure to send payment will result . . .”
“Gun!” Nate yells, voice insistent. “Listen to me!”
There’s enough panic is his friend’s voice to once again cut through Vex. Why isn’t he sending messages through the watch Axcent like they usually do? Gun mutes the volume, but doesn’t remove the Vex set; if he leaves the site, he won’t be allowed back in. The mouth of Imugi’s mask continues to move, but Gun can’t hear anything being said.
“What is it?” he asks Nate.
“The firewall,” Nate bursts. “It’s the same architecture we saw at Claudine’s birthday party.”
Gun’s blood runs cold. “What?”
“Remember how I told you it was a patchwork of firewalls and intrusion detection systems all knitted together from VHS kids?” Nate asks. “Well, the patchwork code is identical to what we saw at the party.”
“But . . .” Gun struggles to incorporate this information into his preexisting worldview.
“Th
ere’s something else,” Nate says. “Remember that MAC anomaly the Dread Twins found?”
Gun remembers. The string of numbers with BB5 at the beginning. BB5. Something about that tickles the back of his mind. Why does it seem familiar?
“It’s the MAC for the device controlling the auction site,” Nate says. “Gun, the Winns are the League. They’re selling their own people!”
Gun’s vision blurs as the impact of Nate’s words hit him. The Winns are the League.
It all unravels before him with frightening clarity. It’s so obvious, so brilliant. How had he missed this?
The Winns created the ultimate unification for the United States: a universal enemy. With that enemy in play, their business has done nothing but reap the benefit. Their profits are through the roof and the entire country sees Global Arms as a hero.
More importantly, the country’s defense contract is up for renewal. Global Arms is garnering positive press with many League attacks. They’re on the forefront of everyone’s mind.
This is a marketing and PR campaign unlike any Gun has ever seen. Even from his position, he can’t help but marvel at the brilliance.
Claudine even flaunted it right in his face at her birthday party. BB5. “Bald boys suck,” she’d said to Gun.
It hadn’t been an insult. She’d been bragging.
He’d been correct in guessing the 5 stood for an S, but it took him until now to link it with Claudine. BB5 was the MAC address for the League computer. That explained why it only showed up once in the Global data log; it wasn’t supposed to be used for Global work. Someone got sloppy, or perhaps had been in a hurry. It was meant to be used exclusively for League work, just as it was being used now.
It had all been right in front of him. He’d been too stupid to see it.
“BB5,” Gun growls. He slams his fist against his knees. “I need you guys to find the exact location of Sulan’s whereabouts. And get Kappa on the line. Tell him to load up an EMP bomb.”
“Bro, are you sure this is all a good idea?” Gun can’t see Nate’s face, but the hesitancy in his friend’s voice comes through loud and clear.
Gun has never been so sure of anything in his life. “I’m going to help Sulan any way I can. Tether to my Vex connection and get to work.”
“You’re the boss,” Nate says, muttering a few other things about lovesick idiots.
Gun ignores him, cranks the Vex volume back up, and unmutes his avatar. Every part of him narrows with concentration and focus.
“And now,” Imugi says, “it’s time to enter the auction room. I wish you all the best of luck.”
Gun readies himself. The Winns are the League. They have Sulan. They’re going to sell Sulan. Or try to, anyway. Gun won’t let that happen.
Whatever it takes, he’s going to get her out of there. And no matter what, she can’t know the truth about the Winns. It’s the sort of information that gets people killed.
Shoulders squared, he follows the other avatars into the auction room.
16
Infiltrate
The auction site transfers him automatically to his assigned seat. Luckily, he’s near the front, where Sulan will be able to see him. He chose the Frog Man avatar with the hope she would recognize him.
When Sulan and the others are brought into the auction, displayed on a rotating dais like cattle, Gun wants to rip down the Vex site with his bare hands. When Imugi enters and begins the auction, Gun finds himself wondering about the person behind the avatar.
Could it be Reginald Winn? Or even Claudine?
He dismisses the idea. The Winns would never expose themselves unnecessarily, not even behind an avatar mask. No, there’s someone else behind the mask.
As Gun joins the bidding fray, he vows to find the real-world person behind Imugi. Whoever it is will pay for what’s being done to Sulan.
“Gun!” Nate shouts in his ear.
Gun grits his teeth as his attention is split between Vex and the real-world. “What?” he grinds out.
“We’ve got a hook into their firewall! We need a distraction.”
Gun snaps fully back into Vex. In those few seconds, the bids climbed to nine hundred million. It makes his temper boil to see all these rich jerks trying to buy his Short Stuff.
Nate needs a distraction? Gun will give them all a distraction.
He stands. “One billion.” He lets his voice boom.
In the gap of stunned silence, he raises his arms and releases the Twains. Hundreds of tiny frogs pour from his tuxedo sleeves, filling the auction room in a hopping cloud of green and black. When they start detonating and lighting avatars on fire, Nate shouts, “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up! The avatars are cranking up their personal firewalls. The League site is struggling to keep from being flattened.”
Gun smiles without humor. Nate wants chaos? He’ll give his friend chaos.
***
Twenty-two minutes later, Nate crows, “We have it! We have their location! Deploying the EMP bomb.”
Gun stands amid the wreckage of the auction site. Imugi is dead. Sulan and her friends are safe, for the moment.
Gun restrains himself from snarling at the merc boy who clearly likes Sulan. All that matters is Sulan’s safety and the merc boy is nothing if not an asset. The EMP bomb will give them all a chance to escape.
“Get ready,” he tells her. “Wherever you are, get out of there. You know how to find me.”
The last thing he sees is Sulan’s dark eyes. He allows himself a full second to dwell in their depths. Then her Vex link is fried by the EMP bomb. As she disappears from sight, he yanks off his Vex set.
“Pacific Ocean,” Nate says, answering Gun’s unspoken question. “She’s several hundred miles offshore.
“Drones,” Gun replies. “Do we have any drones in their vicinity?”
“Deploying drones from San Francisco base,” Lox says. “Estimated time of arrival is twenty-two minutes.”
“Flying speed?”
“Eight.”
“Crank them up to ten.”
“Not advisable,” Mage says. “That will eat up the batteries and cut down your recon time.”
Gun grinds his teeth, knowing Mage is right. “Satellite imagery,” he snaps. “Get me live footage.”
Several silent seconds pass as his team works. Nate flicks the tablet, throwing an image up on the screen mounted behind Gun’s desk.
“This is all we can get of the area,” Nate says.
On the screen is a big, blurry blotch of dark gray.
“They have a cloaking device,” Mage calls from the tablet. “It’s blocking imagery for a two hundred mile radius.”
Gun slams his fist on the desk. “Damn it. I need to see what’s going on! Will the drones be able to transmit when they arrive?”
“Unlikely,” Nate says. “They’ll be blocked by the cloaking device.”
Gun slams his fist against the desk a second time. He glares at nothing in particular, pacing up and down. If only his ornithropter could get him to Sulan. But the trip would take him at least eight hours, and by then he’d be of no use to Sulan.
Nothing to do but wait for the drones. He did not like recalling the number of times he almost lost Sulan.
He continues to pace, replaying the battle with the Leaguers in his head: Sulan, charging through the orange cloud of Mortality like an Olympian heroine, not caring the Black Tech made her mortal in Vex; her fight against the Leaguers with the merc boy, the two of them catching the Leaguers by surprise with Mortality and taking them out; and Sulan firing her gun into the monstrous neck of Imugi while Gun brought his knife down into the creature’s skull.
She was so brave, so strong.
“Oh, no,” Nate says. The Dread Twins let out a string of curses.
“What is it?” Gun spins toward the computer screen on the wall.
The cloak has been deactivated. An image coalesces on the screen, the gray blur burning off like fog. In the darkness is flickering orange t
hat sends Gun’s stomach into his feet.
“Zoom in,” he orders.
The screen blurs as the satellite image is enlarged. The initial image is pixelated. Seconds pass while the satellite relay focuses, at last giving Gun a good look at the scene below.
It’s a giant metal freighter ship. A big hole has been blown in the hull, arms of flame lapping at its edges. The ship lists on its side, taking in great gulps of water.
Something glints in the light of the fire, bobbing in the water. It looks like a large, man-made object, though it’s difficult to make out the details.
“What’s that?” Gun points to the glint. “Zoom in on that.”
Could it be Sulan and her friends? Did they get to a life raft, or perhaps find a minisub for escape? He wouldn’t put it past her to pull off a stunt like that.
The image resolves. Gun blinks, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It is indeed a minisub. The interior is smudged and indistinct in the gloom, but he makes out someone moving inside. He sees a flash of black hair and pale skin. Could it be—?
The image blurs over. The screen is once again filled with a gray smear.
“What just happened?” Gun demands.
“Another cloaking device was activated,” Nate says. “Or maybe several devices. The radius has grown to five hundred square miles.”
“Damn it.” Where is Sulan? He refuses to believe she’s on the sinking freighter ship. She has to be in that minisub. She and her friends would have activated the cloaking devices to cover their escape.
“Find all the nearest land masses and deploy drones.” If Sulan is in the minisub, she has to surface somewhere. She’ll need land. “If you see even a hint of the minisub, notify me immediately.”
“Where are you going?” Nate asks.
“Not me,” Gun replies. “We. My father needs to be updated.”
Nate makes a face. “Don’t you think my skills are put to better use here?”
“Yes, but my father won’t see it that way. Either come with me now, or come in five minutes when he sends for you.”
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