Jed swings at the bag, fist connecting with a hollow splat. She’d bought it off eBay, paying an extortionate amount for next day delivery, and strung it up on a willow tree in their back yard that morning. Jed grimaces, rubbing his hand. The bag had moved less than it had for her. Mallory holds in a sigh, fingers flexing.
‘You check your weight?’ she asks. He nods. ‘And your thumb wasn’t in your fist?’
‘No, Mal.’
‘We just got to keep practicing,’ she says. ‘It’ll get easier.’
He nods again and turns back to the bag, small features set with determination. He hits it nine more times and he does seem to get a little better, but the grimace grows with every go too. By the tenth, his face is flushed and his eyes look a little watery. She sees him gritting his teeth against it, though, holding it back – and that’s good. They switch places again.
Come on, Mallory thinks, lining up to try with her left hand now. The video had said you should be able to use both. It was very clear about that. She goes through every single step in her mind. Bend your knees for balance, level your arm just below your face, twist your hips as you move for more power… She drives her hand forwards with all the force she can muster, imagining the bag as Bobby Dahn’s sick ugly face, the face she tries not to see but keeps seeing anyway, all sneery and laughing and…
Pain shoots up through her fingers.
‘Crap, damn it!’ She kicks out at the bag. At least that makes the stupid thing swing more than foot.
‘You’re doing it wrong.’
She spins round. Roger is standing by the open door. He’s back from work; it must be later than she’d thought. He’s watching them, eyes squinting against the low afternoon sun, but still seeming more focused than usual.
‘You’re bending your wrist too much,’ he continues, soft and gravely, ‘so you’re hitting with the flat of your hand. You want to hit with your knuckles, preferably the first two. It’s stronger and it’ll hurt less.’ He sounds direct, clear, and Mallory falters, taken off guard.
‘It didn’t say that on YouTube,’ she says.
‘YouTube’s wrong then,’ he replies. ‘And you don’t want to pull back so far either. Wouldn’t have time in a real fight and it’ll give you less force anyway.’
She goes to respond, then hesitates. He’s been in real fights, Roger has. He was trained in the Marines, served three and a half tours. Maybe he does know… He almost takes a step forward, like he wants to demonstrate and she feels this sudden, unwanted spark of hope.
‘Go on, then,’ Mallory tells him, voice a little harsher than it needed to be. He’s been better the past couple of days, even helping her and Jed with some of the housework last night. Maybe some small part of what she’d said got through, but… well, she can’t trust it. A few good days doesn’t mean there won’t be more bad coming, and any losing sight of that isn’t sensible. He moves forward, though. She backs off, going to stand beside Jed as Roger stops in front of the bag. He balls his fists, eyeing it careful like, seeming to try and psyche himself up. Mallory watches nervously. She waits for thirty seconds, counting them up in her head and, by the time a half minute’s passed, sweat is already forming on his brow. Maybe this was a bad idea…
‘You going to do it or – ’ she begins.
His fist shoots forward and thumps into the bag. It swings backwards wildly, chain rattling above it.
‘Shit,’ gasps Jed.
Mallory doesn’t even notice. She’s staring at Roger and feeling all kinds of strange inside. When she was little, he’d always seemed so strong; she’d thought he could protect them from anything. It’s been so long since she’s thought of him as the same person, not since that last tour and…
He knows how to fight, though, she thinks. He really still does. Of course he still knows. The problem was never forgetting. There’s that ripple of hope again, the one she shouldn’t be feeling.
‘I’m a little rusty – ’ he says.
‘You show us how to do that?’ she interrupts. Maybe it won’t work out, but it’s not like they’re getting far without him. He glances at her, then his eyes slip down to the ground. The grass is still brown and parched from the hot summer. Knowledge or not, he’s hesitating like he never used to, some big internal war going on inside of him that no one else knows about. She stiffens. He’s not going to do it…
‘Yeah, Mal,’ he says, ‘I can show you.’ He looks up again, holding her gaze, and the words catch in her throat.
‘Jed first,’ she manages. ‘Show him first.’
Jed steps forward, looking at their dad with a newfound awe that somehow makes Mallory nervous. Roger studies him, then starts talking about how he can use his body in the punch, haltingly at first, then a little smoother. He tells him how being small can be an advantage, you just have to use your weight differently to big guys. Jed’s next hit knocks the bag back twice as far as his last. He doesn’t wince so much either. In fact, he seems to puff up a little and Roger smiles, actually smiles, at him. Mallory bites her lip.
No, she can’t trust it. She mustn’t.
She decides, then, that she’ll see if Jed wants to go running later. It’s a Thursday, and Thursday isn’t one of their days for running, but he could do with stepping up his training to three times a week, and not just because of his football hopes. She wants him to be able to fight his own corner and maybe Roger can keep it together long enough to help with that – but it sure doesn’t hurt to be able to run away real fast too.
***
I think I’ve found a connection. The words appear in a chat box from The Asker. It’s late that same evening and Mallory’s been checking the message boards again, just like she’d promised she would. Everyone seems to have bought his explanation that Scarlet’s going to be gone for a while because she’s sick in real life – but then, no one does ever question a post from The Asker. I’ve found something that links Scarlet with the other missing hackers, he continues, something that links all of them.
Mallory’s heart quickens a little. It’s not what she wanted to hear. A link makes this all more tangible, less likely to resolve itself or blow over soon. She stretches out her fingers, hands still sore from earlier. The Asker hasn’t spoken to her since two days ago when he’d told her that Scarlet was AWOL and, at that point, he hadn’t had anything linking her to the other still-missing hackers – other than that she was another elite who had vanished from cyber space without any prior warning. She hadn’t logged in for nearly forty-eight hours by the time The Asker had told Mallory, so she’s been gone almost four days. She’d not missed a single one before, in all the four years she’d been a member.
Mallory glances automatically to the bottom right of the screen where the name Queen Scarlet is written in grey. She never thought she’d regret seeing that, but she does now. The imaginary, ugly Scarlet – the one with the crappy dye job – flashes up in her mind and she feels a twinge of guilt.
What is it? she asks. She doesn’t want there to be a link, she doesn’t…
Daedalus, The Asker replies.
Mallory stops. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.
I don’t understand, she writes. How can a two-years-dead hacker link four current ones?
They were all trying to find his last virus, The Asker responds.
She frowns. No, that wasn’t what she’d been expecting. The missing hackers really didn’t fit the profile for the people who bought into that.
Daedalus – real name Jeffrey Mullins Jr – had been a black-hat hacker active until October 2011, when, aged twenty-five, he’d shot himself in the head because the Feds had finally traced him back to his mother’s apartment in the Bronx. Like a lot of people, Mallory had been in awe of his abilities. The guy had been a genius, no question – his viruses were like little coded works of art and it used to seem like he could crack into anything – but that was tempered by the fact that his actions were also often extremely destructive, and he had some serious ego
issues. He posted these annoying little cartoon videos to claim credit for every single thing he did, often leaving online ‘quest trails’ – his words – hidden within them for other hackers to follow to find pieces of code he’d written or clues as to how he’d done some of his biggest hacks. He also happened to have named himself after the greatest master craftsman in Ancient Greek mythology. He was smarter than everyone else – and he’d wanted them to know it. Before he died, he’d released one final video, entitled The Reckoning. In it he claimed he’d left one last ‘super virus’ for other hackers to find, hidden across cyber space in broken up chunks of code. He’d said that if someone could prove themselves ‘worthy’ and figure out how to put it all together, it would ‘change the world’.
Definite ego issues.
Of course, every hacker under the sun has gone looking for it at some point. Even Mallory did, once. A few crappy viruses called The Reckoning have also popped up since, but they weren’t the work of Daedalus unless the guy had had a serious blow to the head first. The reality is that the supposed quest trail he left for it leads nowhere, just dries up. Two years and no one’s even got close? The whole thing’s bull crap – most halfway decent hackers agree that by now – just a pissed off guy’s attempt at some kind of immortality when he realized he’d been made.
Mallory looks down at The Asker’s assertion, though, there on the screen in clear white letters. Scarlet was a lot of things, but she definitely wasn’t stupid.
Why was she going after it again?
How do you know? Mallory responds.
Scarlet had started asking me about it in chats recently, says The Asker. She said she’d been looking into it and thought there was more to the rumors than just rumors. I think – the typing pauses – I think that she wanted to do something to impress me. I think she was jealous of you, Echo.
Mallory blinks. For a moment, Scarlet is that real woman in her head again, and not just a name who likes to piss her off.
When she went offline, The Asker continues, obviously I knew more about her than I had the others who’d disappeared. I tried to match her interests with theirs, see if I could find a connection that way. It turns out Cyber Sneak was also openly after the virus and I’m fairly sure I can link Tower to the search as well. I can’t confirm Weevil’s attachment, but he’s fixated with viruses generally, so it fits that this would be like the grail to him.
Mallory taps the pattern once, frown deepening.
But, I mean, it can’t actually be real, right? she writes.
I think it’s highly unlikely, The Asker replies. I told Scarlet as much, and that I thought she should leave it be, but she must have kept looking anyway.
So, Mallory says, still unsure, do you think the four of them might have grouped up, to look for it together or something?
Maybe, he responds, but Scarlet would have told me if that meant not logging in. Every time before when she was going to deviate from her usual login times, she would tell me, even if it was just going to be a couple of hours different.
And, Mallory thinks, if they were working together, why didn’t they all go off the grid at the same time? And why did they even need to at all? It doesn’t make sense. It makes her uneasy.
There is another possibility, The Asker goes on. While Daedalus was still alive, he had his – for want of a better word – followers. Fans. There were hackers who watched every video he posted, followed every quest, studied every hack and dissected every bit of every virus he ever released. Some of them were obsessive and they didn’t just go away because he did, not with that last video dangling out there. I know Scarlet, and I know she wasn’t one of them – and from what I’ve found out, I don’t think the others missing were either – but if they were looking for what those followers are almost certainly still looking for, asking too many questions in the wrong places, or getting too close to something those people weren’t happy about…
Mallory hesitates, disturbed by his implication.
You think someone might have done something to them?
I don’t know, he replies. My thoughts are probably running away with me, but there is too much about this I don’t know and that is not a situation I like to be in. I am worried, Echo. I’ve known Scarlet a long time, and I’m worried about her.
It’s such a human thing to say, so unlike how Mallory is used to The Asker being, and her unease grows. He always seems so sure, so in control – and so reassuringly separate from any hint of real life. Her insides flutter, like she’s witnessed something personal that she shouldn’t have, like she shouldn’t be looking… It is vulnerable. And he is trusting her with it. A buzz trickles up her spine.
So what do we do? she asks.
I have to find her. If she has chosen to leave us, for whatever reason, then that is her decision and I trust her to keep the Forum secret. But I don’t think she would just go without explanation. In fact, I’m certain she wouldn’t. This place means far more to her than that. There’s a pause. I know the rational thing would be to let it go, he writes, to hope I’m wrong, hope she still turns up, hope they all do, but I find myself unable to do that. I have to know that she is all right. Echo, I know you two didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but she was one of the first to join me here. She risked a lot for me at the beginning, and I can’t just leave this now.
His words stir something inside of Mallory, the way they always do when he talks with such conviction. Unbidden, she imagines the situation switched round, and it being Warden missing, not Scarlet. Her stomach drops and she grips hold of the desk, surprised by the force of it.
How? she asks. How can you find her?
There’s a lead I’m following, he responds. It has certain difficulties, though.
Is there anything I can do to help?
He doesn’t answer for a long time. Mallory taps nervously on the desk, the rhythm continuous now. She doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on and she has the distinct feeling there’s a lot she doesn’t know about this.
The lead isn’t online, he finally replies. There’s a location specific hack I want to do. Another pause. And, yes, I could use your help to do it.
Mallory stares at the words. Like most of this conversation, they weren’t what she was expecting – and they set her pulse racing. He needs help in real life. He wants to meet, in real life; that’s what he’s saying. Her hand is suddenly tapping like crazy.
And her head is saying, No. No, no, no…
Online and real life are two separate worlds and she can deal with one because she has the other. They can’t ever cross. Everything would become blurred and confused and –
Echo?
She has to say something…
She has to…
But we can’t, she answers. She tries to write it out logically, write out a reasoned answer, so he doesn’t see her panic. For starters, we could be on opposite sides of the planet. We don’t know and we shouldn’t –
I’m in New York City, comes the reply, even as she’s typing. She stops. That’s where the hack would be.
He’s near. The thought blocks out all else for the briefest moment. All this time, he’s been so near to me and I didn’t even know… Not like Warden, far away wherever he is on the West Coast. New York City isn’t even two hours’ drive from her house. And it gives her the strangest feeling to know…
But…
No, no, no!
He shouldn’t be saying this. He’s The Asker, and he’s controlled and sensible and he shouldn’t…
I have money, he continues. Wherever you are, I can pay to get you here and back.
No, Mallory types, fingertips smacking against the keys, an antsy, griping energy rattling through her, please stop. You shouldn’t be telling me this, any of it. No locations, no real life, that’s the rule; your rule!
I’m sorry, he replies. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, but I don’t know who to trust. Echo, this may be bigger than I thought. I need your help.
Then it�
��s her turn to not reply for a long time. She just stares at the screen. She’s never refused a request from him before. Never. She doesn’t turn him down. That’s not how it works. It’s not how it works, because she trusts him, because he makes the right decisions, he makes good decisions. He’s a good person and she believes in him, believes in what he believes in and, even now, he’s doing this for someone else…
She wonders, briefly, what the lead could be. Daedalus was from NYC…
Along with eight million other people…
But, no, that’s not what matters. It’s not what the lead is…
It’s a big risk for The Asker, too, what he’s suggesting. His anonymity will be worth just as much to him as hers is to her…
I need your help.
She reads the words over and over…
Over and over…
But she can’t…
She can’t.
There’s Jed and Roger, and staying secret and apart is how she keeps what she does safe. It’s how any of it is safe; any member of the Forum, any of what they do… It’s also what makes Echo Six powerful, what makes her fearless. They can’t meet, ever. Mallory isn’t Echo outside of this room. She doesn’t know how to be. Echo doesn’t exist outside of this room. She tenses up at the very thought of it, at the nakedness of it, and she wraps her arms around her waist, closing her eyes until the feeling subsides a little. She shakes her head.
I’ll do anything else, she writes. And she means it, she would, for him… But not this. It’s the one thing she can’t. Any way I can help you online I’ll do, but we can’t meet. That isn’t how it works. It’s not safe. I’m sorry. I just can’t. I’m sorry, she says again.
She’s letting him down. She’s letting him down and it’s the worst feeling, like she’s falling and reaching, and her whole body is rigid as she waits for his response. And every second feels too long and she wonders what he’s thinking, if maybe she’s just broken something important and…
Echoes (US Edition) Page 7