by Isabel Jolie
“Yep. Saw it this morning before I came to work. Red arrows everywhere. Could go to Florida, the southeast, the northeast, or hell, for good measure it might go into the Gulf. That’s one job I wish I had. I’d have fun drawing those arrows.”
Matt smirked, appearing amused at Samuel’s statement, but I knew enough of his world to know he lived with a myriad of what-if scenarios on a day-to-day basis. He chugged from his water bottle, then addressed me.
“At what point do you prepare?”
Samuel piped in, “Not until they’re down to one or two arrows. When they don’t know continent yet, we just watch.”
I nodded. He wasn’t wrong.
“It’s late in the season, isn’t it?” Matt asked.
“No. Not really. Hurricane season officially lasts until the end of November,” Samuel said. “It’s been a quiet season here. Not for Florida, though. I’d bet those folks are tired of evacuating.”
Matt smiled, but he shuffled his feet. I got the sense he wanted to talk about something other than the weather.
“Hey, Samuel, can you do beach patrol today?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.
“Sure thing, boss.”
I gestured to my office. “Want to sit?” I pointedly asked Matt, ensuring no one would follow us in.
In my office, I closed the door behind Matt and shifted the cardboard box to the side of the desk so we could see each other’s faces across the desk. Ever curious, Matt peered into the box.
“What’s this?”
“Cali’s family photos. I brought them in so I could scan them. It’s hard to believe anyone these days would have anything other than digital.”
“Yeah. I can’t imagine paying to develop photos. Although some of these are Polaroid. Still, expensive.”
“Yep.”
He held up a photo. “Her dogs?”
“That one on the left is Nym. He’s living at my house now. The one on the right is her brother’s dog. Astra.” I sat down in my chair and rolled it up to the desk. Matt remained frozen in place, the photo lodged between his thumb and index finger.
“Nym. And Astra?”
“Yep.”
“Do you have a photo of her brother?”
I dug around and located the one I loved, the one where he was on a computer and she stood behind him. You could see the similarities between their facial features, even though in the photo they held markedly different expressions. He took it from me and ran his thumb over it.
“Logan. She named her dogs after hackers.”
“What?”
“Anonymous. Astra.”
A low-level quake flared beneath my rib cage. Her constant turning off her phone. Not feeling secure in her home.
“Her brother. He’s on our watch list. Logan, she’s a hacker.” He spoke low. His words acted like a wind funnel, sucking the oxygen from my lungs.
“What kind of computer does she use?” His gaze remained on the photo beneath his thumb.
“It’s nothing. Slim.”
“Then you haven’t seen her real computer.”
“She has an iPhone.” My head hit the back of my chair. She didn’t spend inordinate amounts of time at the computer. This didn’t make sense.
“She’s a hacker,” he confirmed. “I’d bet she has devices you haven’t seen.”
Her dad used a BlackBerry. And at the hospital her brother had a small Android, the cheap burner phone kind. Fuck.
“Logan, she could be the one we’re looking for. If she is, and the chatter we picked up is correct, she could have those servers on this island.”
“She has an oceanfront home.” Being a hacker might explain her nervousness and an attack dog. But storing servers in an oceanfront home? No one would do that. A numbness fell over me. As my brain slowed, Matt dug into the box of photos, rapidly flipping through image after image.
He held up a photo of five guys on a sofa. Each held joysticks in their hands.
“Do you know any of these guys?”
I pointed to Erik, the second from the end. “That’s Erik. Her brother. They’re twins. See? Same guy as in the photo I showed you.”
Matt’s face hardened and his lips fell into a straight line. “We’ve been searching for this guy. He’s in the CIA database under a different alias. Didn’t have his real name but had his photo. He slipped up about six weeks ago, searching for organs on the Dark Web, but also on legitimate sites for surgeons. Made a mistake of crossing requests on two different accounts. Traced one account with a Lord Nikon alias back five years to this photo with friends. But we’re still working on identifying everyone. So, his real name is Erik?”
“Erik Lai. What’s he wanted for?”
“He’s senior management in Spectre. He’s known as Zero Cool. Whole group loves pop culture names from that nineties film Hackers and, of course, Bond films.”
“What exactly is Spectre?”
“Think modern-day mafia. Digital underground.”
“Chinese?”
“No. China wants them. They’re pro-Hong Kong. Ties to some outfits connected to Russia. But they don’t need government funding. They’re the best thieves out there. This guy,” he waved the photo in the air, “goes by Crash Override. Another alias he uses is Wilson Fisk. We believe he’s CEO. We’ve been watching him for years. The entire business has imploded. They’ve stolen from Russia, China, Venezuela, UK, US. Name a government, they probably want them.”
Black spots faded in and out in my periphery along the ceiling. I spread my palms out on my thighs.
“You think she’s involved?” It physically hurt to ask the question.
He breathed in deeply, and his eyes slanted, bandying back and forth between the photo in his hand, the box of photos, and me. “Chatter is just chatter. You know that. But given who her brother is…”
“But she stayed here. Her brother and Dad are in a different country. She stayed here.” But for how long? Hadn’t she just mentioned she planned to visit them? Was she staying behind for clean-up? Did she plan to leave for good? She hadn’t asked me to join her. I offered. Holy shit. All the signs. Once again, I missed all the signs.
“What country did they move to?”
“Macau.” Nausea circulated. I’d heard of Macau. Never had a mission there, but the country had a reputation for being purveyors of crime. I just didn’t even think. Matt flicked through the photos, but his mind had moved ten steps ahead. I dropped my head to my hand; I couldn’t watch him. I couldn’t absorb this. How the fuck?
“We don’t know anything yet. She looks suspicious. She’s a person of interest. Having a dog named after a hacker doesn’t make her a criminal.” I recognized his calming tone.
“Holy shit.” The room spun as I remembered the day I teased her about being one of the few who used a BlackBerry. After that day, I’d seen her with an iPhone. I just never gave it any thought. She never once said anything about her ex.
“Can you run a search for me? Can you find out if she’s ever been married?” He remained frozen. “I need to know if she lied to me.”
In my gut, in the churning pit of my stomach, I knew. Cali lied to me. Possibly in every single way. She may have been using me for some as yet unidentified purpose. The realization hit harder than when Bethany lied. And she’d been fucking my friend. Anger, vitriol, furor all swirled together. The worst kind of anger because it wasn’t at her. No. These emotions, they were all aimed at me. For being a fucking dumb ass. Again.
“She doesn’t even have an ex-husband.” I spit out the truth. “God damnit.”
“I’m going to bring her in for questioning. I think you should stay away from her until I’ve talked with her.”
“Her photo hasn’t come up on any wanted list?” He’d met her once before, but I shuffled through the box, searching for a recent photo to thrust into his face.
“No. We’re still working on identifying all the players in Spectre. You know how it is. There aren’t directories. But you need to calm
down.”
“I am calm.” I gritted out the words and glared at him.
“I’m just saying—”
“You don’t think she’s got some guy out there, do you? Like a boyfriend or a husband? You don’t think she was targeting me?” I rose out of my seat and leaned across my desk, desperate for him to reassure me.
“I don’t know. I need to talk to her.” What he didn’t add to his statement was, “You need to calm down.”
“Do whatever you want. You need the key to my house? That dog. It’s from Germany. I’d bet she has a kill word.”
“Are you saying you think she’s dangerous?”
“I’m saying I don’t fucking know anything. At all. About her. Who she is. What she wants.”
“Okay.” He tapped away on his phone. “I’m calling in back-up.”
Fuck, how did I not see this? I’m fucking military intelligence. Or I was. Fuuuck. A sucker. A fucking moron.
Chapter 24
Cali
* * *
“Hurricane Melba trajectories have been updated. You can see here on the map the potential storm paths. Portions of the Florida coast are now under a tropical storm warning.”
My phone vibrated, and I muted the television. An unknown number.
“Erik. We need to talk. Are you alone?” I asked before he spoke. It could have been a telemarketer, but I’d been waiting for his call. I wanted honest answers from him, and if he was anywhere near our father, I suspected I wouldn’t get them.
“We’ll talk later. You’ve got to get out of there. I’m sending Wolf over. Where are you? At Logan’s?”
“What are you—”
“Cali, you don’t have time. Get moving. Out the door. They know. They’re coming to get you.”
“Who knows?”
“NSA. Get outside. Now. Leave the dog.”
“Erik, you’re not making any sense.”
“Dammit, Cali. Listen. Matt Rodriguez, Logan’s friend from the NSA, is on the island. Logan had pictures of us. He somehow recognized me. Now he knows my real name. He knows you’re involved. He’s called for back-up, and they are coming to get you. Get out of that house. Now.”
“Hold on. How do you know this?”
“We monitor all of Matt’s calls.”
“How?”
“We have a chip on his phone. Cali. Get. Moving.”
“But wait, have I done anything illegal? You told me I wasn’t breaking the law. You told me the profiles I was creating were to sway public opinion for pro-democracy causes. To counter the propaganda from your old company. That’s it. I was helping you. That’s all they were supposed to be used for. And I just saw three profiles being used for American politics. Anti-police. What are you doing?”
“It’s all related. Cali. Get with Alex. He’ll hide you. We’ll figure out how to get you here. We can talk about it all then. I’ll explain everything. Get out of there.”
“Hide me? Erik, I didn’t break any laws. And if I did, I did so in ignorance. I’m not going to run.”
“Cali. They could scapegoat you. You could be interrogated endlessly. This isn’t public safety coming to get you. It’s FBI. It’s NSA. I’m sure Homeland’s not far behind. Get. Moving.”
“I can’t disappear. That would kill Logan.”
“Cali, leave him. You can do so much better.”
“Dad likes him.”
“He likes the idea of someone taking care of you. Logan’s going to help them lock you up. If you think he’s choosing you, you’re wrong. He’s helping Matt right now. Whatever you think you have with him…it’s over.” I leaned against the window frame, looking out into the empty yard. I kept circling the fact that yet again Erik asked for more time, and once again his solution was for me to pick up and run. Over with Logan? No. He loves me. I can explain this. All of this. This is Erik’s nightmare. I’m done hiding.
“Let them interrogate me. Fake accounts are all over the Internet. That’s my worst offense.” I paced the floor, thinking through every random favor Erik had asked since that faithful night when he came clean, in a panic, worried I’d be the next victim. Research, article writing, and image creation. Little things, all because his team dwindled. His so-called splinter group.
“The servers. What’s on them?” I monitored the machines. But I wasn’t a hardware girl. But I could see how they could implicate me, depending on what data was routing through them.
“You need to F7 them.”
A knock on the door sent Nym into a barking fury.
“Sitzen.” Nym obeyed. The phone line went dead.
Nerves vibrated through me. My fingers quivered. I glanced down at my socked feet, then over to the back door. One of the public safety officers that worked for Logan stood on the back porch, his frame filling the glass pane. The repeated knock on the front door continued.
“Cali? Are you inside? We just want to talk.”
Chapter 25
Logan
* * *
“Have you heard of TLG Enterprises?”
“No.”
“Are you familiar with TJX?”
“No.”
“Do you have any contact with the PLA?”
“No.”
“The People’s Liberation Army of China?”
“I know what it is. And I told you, no.”
“What about the NEC?”
“You can keep throwing acronyms out at me. I don’t know anything of value to you. I am not a hacker.” Her index finger and middle fingers tapped the table, the only movement she’d made for the prior thirty-plus minutes.
The FBI agent interrogating her maintained an indecipherable expression.
“Not the kind of hacking you’re worried about. I do sock puppetry. That’s it. Fake accounts. You can keep me here for however many days you want. You can lock me away for months. You can waterboard me. Torture me. Cut off my fingers. Pull my teeth. Whatever you people do. My answers will remain the same.” She stared straight ahead at a wall, no doubt doing exactly what they had trained her to do.
Matt and the agent exchanged a glance. Matt pulled out a chair to sit, while the other agent stood. A changing of the guard.
“What do you think we’re going to do to you, Cali?” Matt asked with a gentleness to his tone. Too gentle to garner any trust, but it was easier to judge an interrogation than to conduct one. She sat there, simultaneously stoic and sad.
“Cali?”
“Lock me up?” There was a question mark in the lilt of her last word, but her chin tilted upward. Defiant. Her defiance stirred some of the anger that had been simmering within me, ever since I discovered the truth about the woman I’d essentially been living with.
“Is that what Erik told you we would do?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe this of the entire US government? Or only the NSA?”
“It’s all the same, isn’t it?”
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose, and I could tell that after two hours of questioning, he was unsure which direction to take. We had one holding cell.
A knock on my door pulled me away from the computer monitor where I watched the video of her interrogation. We didn’t have an interrogation room, so I’d rigged a camera in our small conference room. As the head of the Public Safety Department, Matt had invited me to watch the interrogation. An FBI agent named Jill Matera watched with me. She had been taking notes, but she stopped making notations about an hour ago.
I opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Samuel peered past me, no doubt curious. This kind of activity was far more interesting than the standard issues we encountered on a daily basis.
“Hey, just wanted to make you aware we’ve received updated information on Melba’s track. It’s looking like it’s going to be a direct hit on either North or South Carolina. Both governors have started voluntary evacuations.”
“Okay.” I scratched my beard, thinking through our steps. “What’s the timing looking like?”
> “It’s three days out. We’ll know more tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. Can you do me a favor and make sure we have everyone on staff tomorrow morning? Just in case? And call Chad for me? See if I can meet with him end of day? After he’s done with his afternoon round of golf. We should review evacuation plans.”
“Sure thing. How’s it going in there?”
“Not making much headway.”
“You gonna need assistance?”
“This is out of our department’s jurisdiction.” By a mile. “Once this is done, I’ll call you.” He took a few steps down the hall. “Hey, what are they saying are the chances it’ll hit here?”
“Oh, it’s coming to the Carolinas. They don’t know where the direct hit will be.”
“Start tying stuff down. Okay? Have everyone spend today tying anything loose down or getting it put away. PSD property first. Then we’ll start combing the island to batten down vacant homes.”
“Yes, sir.”
I pushed open my office door. Jill remained in her same position, staring at the screen.
“Did I miss anything?”
“She’s asking for you.” Her gaze lifted from the screen. “Are you two close?”
“She’s my girlfriend.” I would’ve expected Matt had already briefed them. But maybe not. She picked up her pen and scribbled on her yellow notepad.
“Matt. I am telling you. I have no knowledge of malware, Trojan horses, wiretapping, or any kind of coding, okay? Yes, I know how the game is played. I know that hacking is often done with phishing, screen manipulation, and even more mundane techniques like stealing a username and password. I understand how the world works, but that doesn’t mean I’m guilty. My brother is not a bad guy. He’s not working to attack the United States.” Cali’s volume increased. Her arms remained folded in front of her.
Matt crossed his leg and laced his fingers over his knee. “Ms. Lai, you are wrong about your brother. His efforts have everything to do with sabotaging the United States. We have been monitoring his alter ego for years. He is a part of one of the most dangerous crime syndicates in the world. We believe he functions as the CIO, the chief information officer.”