Crash Into Pieces (The Haylie Black Series Book 2)

by Christopher Kerns

  Suddenly, the screen blinked and went dead, then the hotel logo was quickly replaced by a new picture—a black and white sketch on a stark white background. The boy stood and walked to the other side of the table, grasping both sides of the monitor as he looked at the image staring back at him.

  The sketch showed a bird—a picture of a pigeon, maybe—sitting peacefully on a diagonal wire. The gray and white details highlighted the ripples and valleys of its feathered wing; the single dull, black eye stared off into the distance.

  Underneath the picture was a line of text, a phrase that he repeated in his mind, again and again, as he read the words. The boy ran his finger down the screen, tracing each letter.

  THEY CALL ME

  THE ENDLING.

  SOON EVERYONE

  WILL KNOW

  MY NAME.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Littlefield Hall, University of Texas

  Austin, TX

  October 24th, 9:12AM

  Haylie sat on the windowsill, wiping a single finger across the glass, watching the students passing below on worn dirt paths.

  She looked over her desk, unopened envelopes scattered in a pile. Job offers—hundreds of them—had been flowing in through the good old U.S. Postal Service, the only way that hedge funds and startups could reach her. Tacked to the wall over the desk, was a new poster looking down on her—a print of simple graffiti scrawled across a brick wall. Her expression grew heavy as she read the words, over and over.

  ONLY TRUST

  THE GOVERNMENT

  AS MUCH AS

  THE GOVERNMENT

  TRUSTS YOU.

  A knock at the door broke her concentration, sounding out a familiar pattern. She had been the target of a good amount of pranks since school had started—students trying to get a selfie as part of a scavenger hunt, that kind of thing—and she and Vector had worked out a special knock so she could ignore the rest: three rapid knocks, a one second pause, and then two more.

  Unlocking the deadbolt, she saw Vector in the hallway with a smile on his face. She turned without a word and retreated back to her window, leaving the door open for him to follow.

  He pulled his earbuds out, the black cords dangling in his hand. “So you ready to talk about that seminar yet?” he asked. “Calmed down a bit? Not to worry—you didn’t really miss anything.”

  “Yeah, sure I didn’t,” Haylie said, slouching back into her window seat. “Lying about it just makes it worse.”

  “Right,” he said. “It was actually pretty cool. Some of the models they are building out are fascinating.” Tossing his backpack in the corner, Vector pulled the chair away from the desk and into the center of the room. “But time is ticking away, isn’t it? You’ve only—”

  “Four hundred and seventy-nine more days,” she said without flinching.

  “Well, sure beats jail time,” he said to the window and the sunshine filling the courtyard below. “And this isn’t such a terrible place to wait it out, you know?”

  “I never should have taken this deal,” Haylie said. “You don’t know what it’s like—being offline. It’s worse than jail, it’s torture. You wouldn’t make it through one day. I feel like I just should have gone with Caesar when I had the chance.”

  “Sure, run away with your brother,” Vector said with a chuckle. “Be a fugitive from the law, run around the world with a team of notorious hackers. A bunch of digital Robin Hoods, aren’t they? Yeah, that definitely would have passed the ‘Vector test.’ ”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The ‘Vector Test.’ It’s the question I ask myself anytime I’ve got a big decision to make. I simply ask myself, ‘What would make the better story?’ and go in that direction.”

  Haylie stared back at him and blinked a few times, processing the idiocy of her best friend. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You seriously go through life like that?”

  “How do you think I ended up here? You think I joined you in trying to take down the most powerful people in the world because it was a well-thought-out, rational idea? Not to worry, we’ll get through it.” He pulled his phone out and opened a news app. “Want me to read the headlines to you?”

  Her face scrunched, eyes following the students filing by underneath the window in ones and twos. “Okay.”

  Dragging the desk chair from the center of the room to the window, Vector held the screen in front of his face. “Right, here we go. We’ve got just under three weeks until the presidential election.”

  “Don’t care. Next.”

  “You should care,” he said. “I think it’s fascinating; I’ve been reading up on the election recently. The whole thing takes so long. Superdelegates and debates and something called a ‘swing state.’ And then you’ve got this Senator Hancock guy.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s turning up the volume on securing the nation,” he said. “But he’s saying that hackers are the big new threat. Not sure what got him running with that talk track, but it’s polling through the roof, so we can expect him to keep doing it. He’s neck-and-neck with Ortega at this point. Seems people like you and I aren’t that popular with mainstream America.”

  “Again, don’t care about the election. What else you got?”

  A sharp knock at the door turned both of their heads. Vector looked back to Haylie, who shrugged.

  “Probably another prank,” she whispered, jumping off the window seat. She raised her voice and aimed it at the door. “If I find out there’s some idiot behind this door, I’m going to take control of your phone, your laptop, and your bank account.” She stopped in front of the door. “You’ve got two seconds to get the hell away from my door before I destroy your entire life.”

  Leaning in and pressing her eye against the keyhole, she stood back with a scowl. She turned the doorknob in her hand, peeking through the crack.

  “Oh, hi, Agent Hernandez.”

  “Hello, Haylie,” he said. “May I come in? That is, if you’re not going to threaten a federal agent again?”

  She stepped aside, letting Hernandez into her room. “Sorry about that, but you know kids these days,” she said, “You have to set them on the right track, teach them a lesson.”

  Buttoning his jacket, he nodded. “I know your secret knock, you know. I don’t use it out of respect, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t find different ways to aggravate me every time I—” He stopped when he noticed Vector on the other side of the room.

  “Liam. Good to see you, as always.”

  “General,” Vector said, with a mocking salute.

  Agent Hernandez ignored the insult. “Haylie, I need to talk to you.” Looking back over to Vector, he continued. “Alone.”

  “He’s fine,” Haylie replied, returning to her perch at the window. “He can hear whatever you have to say.”

  “Fine.” Agent Hernandez shrugged and raised his hand, showing folded stack of paperwork. “Haylie Black, your assistance is being requested by an ongoing government investigation. If you choose to assist, the government is willing to offer—”

  “Not interested,” she shot back. “I’m just here to serve my time, not to help you do any of your dirty work.”

  “Yes, I figured you might say that,” Hernandez said. “Because that’s what you’ve said the last five times I came to you with one of these offers. But I really need you to consider this one.”

  “I considered it,” she said. “And I’m not interested.”

  “She’s not interested,” Vector repeated with a smile.

  “This could help you reduce your sentence,” Hernandez said. “The faster you get out of here, the faster I get out of here. Can we just work together on…” His eyes drifted across the room to her desk. “Wait, is that a new poster?” He read the words and his face morphed into a disappointed grimace.

  “It was a gift from me,” Vector said, proudly.

  “Anyway,” Hernandez continued. “What I can tell y
ou in mixed company is that thanks to your superior negotiating tactics of just saying ‘no’ every time, they’ve upped the offer.”

  “How’d you get away with that?” Haylie asked.

  “Turns out the NSA has a bit more pull than I do, and they requested your help on a small project they are working on that—”

  “The NSA?” Haylie asked, a scowl beginning to grow across her face. “You’re not NSA, you’re FBI. Why are you dealing with those clowns?”

  “It seems we’ve traded your services over to the NSA for this project,” Hernandez replied. “This kind of thing happens from time to time…”

  “Traded for what?” Vector asked.

  “A player to be named later. It doesn’t matter—” Hernandez said.

  “It matters,” Haylie interrupted. “My deal was with you, and that has turned out bad enough. Nobody ever said anything about the NSA. Those guys are bad news—wire taps, illegal searches. They’re everything that’s wrong with the government.”

  “Regardless, I have the details here,” Agent Hernandez said, holding out a stack of papers. “This is an internal priority. If you make material progress on this investigation, your remaining house arrest time will be—”

  “I’m not interested,” Haylie said.

  “—will be completely forgiven.”

  Haylie stopped in her tracks, struggling to take a breath. She held out one hand, balancing herself against the desk, replaying the words through her mind.

  Completely? Forgiven?

  “You mean she helps with this case, and then she’s back online?” Vector said, sitting up at attention. “No more house arrest? No ankle bracelets or anything, just like that?”

  Agent Hernandez nodded back.

  “This is huge,” Vector laughed. “This must be a big one, Crash. They must really be desperate.”

  “Please, Liam, stop helping,” Hernandez said, turning back to Haylie. “Haylie—you want to get back online, right? This is your chance to make that happen a hell of a lot sooner than you thought it would.”

  Haylie pivoted back to the window, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she thought. She looked over to Vector with question marks in her eyes.

  Vector pointed at the documents hanging in Agent Hernandez’s hand, silently mouthing the words, “What would make the better story?”

  She snatched the papers out of Hernandez’s hand with a single motion and pulled them towards her.

  She flipped the front page over and began to read.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NSA Texas Cryptologic Center

  San Antonio, TX

  October 25th, 7:42AM

  Layers of clouds hung low overhead as Agent Hernandez rolled his government-issued Ford Taurus down the road. Haylie angled herself towards the window to see the stark black rectangular security cameras pointed down. She leaned back into her seat, closing her eyes.

  It was early—way too early. She didn’t sleep well any more: not since the events in London, and not since she had been taken offline. When school had started, she had stacked her course schedule to have nothing before 11 a.m., trying to get some breathing room in the morning—no classes, no people, just her. Just enough time to shake off the haze of fatigue that was growing with each day. But there would be no time to herself today.

  Peering through the web of black chain-link topped with razor wire, Haylie could make out a series of non-descript buildings: one in the foreground that stood five or six stories tall, another shorter set of structures tucked in behind. A few sedans and SUVs littered the parking lot, but most of the staff hadn’t showed up yet this morning.

  Government hours.

  “Any details you have about this whole thing would be great,” Haylie said, watching through the windshield as they approached the main security checkpoint.

  “I gave you the file,” Agent Hernandez replied. “Everything you need to know is in the file.”

  Haylie shook her head, glancing down to the paperwork that held a few useless pieces of government boilerplate.

  “So, what you’re saying is you don’t know anything more than I do,” she said. “Super helpful.”

  Hernandez gave her a sideways glance before rolling down his window, extending his badge to the officer at the roadside checkpoint. The officer took the credentials in his hand, shot a quick glance through the vehicle at Haylie, and retreated back to his security shack.

  “They’ll tell you everything you need to know inside,” Hernandez said, eyes locked on the gate in front of them, both hands on the wheel.

  The black gates cracked open. Haylie craned her neck to get a better look at the complex, the main building now coming into full view as they rolled forward. She saw a huge, oval-shaped structure carved into the center; it looked like the Hall of Justice from the old Super Friends cartoons she had discovered on YouTube last year.

  After parking, they approached the main entrance, walking through a courtyard of newly planted trees and shrubs framing a single American flag at the center of the circular garden.

  This feels way too much like a country club.

  Agent Hernandez jogged ahead to grab the door. Haylie walked into an atrium filled with white light and glass—a few small tables here and there with muted red and blue chairs alternating in different patterns, planters placed against the wall of glass, slowly curving across the length of the lobby’s polished marble floors. A row of pillars lined the far side, drawing Haylie’s eyes up to the vaulted ceiling, where a series of glass bridges supported a handful of people walking with hurried steps, beginning their mornings.

  “Haylie,” Agent Hernandez said, startling her and pulling her from her daze. “This way.”

  They made their way to a receiving desk with three separate desks side-by-side nestled in neatly behind a wall of glass. Probably bulletproof. Two of the three chairs were manned by security guards, their eyes fixed on screens hidden behind the counter. The guard at the center desk leaned towards a microphone.

  “Agent Hernandez and Ms. Black,” the guard said through the speaker, eyes fixed on the two guests. “The gate called to let me know you were here. I can help you at desk two.”

  There were ID checks for both Hernandez and Haylie, followed by a series of forms to fill out—pens tied to clipboards. Hernandez took care of most of the signatures and information, while Haylie looked up to note at least four cameras pointed at them from various directions.

  “One last thing,” the security guard said through the microphone, reviewing the checklist in front of him. “There are no computers, phones, smart watches, or weapons allowed inside. I’m going to need you to place anything you have—”

  “The computer part won’t be a problem,” Haylie said, eyeing Agent Hernandez. She lifted the leg of her jeans to show off her favorite accessory. “But this might.”

  The guard frowned, standing and sliding the paperwork back through the metal security drawer.

  As they worked their way through another security checkpoint—including a hand-held metal detector and fingerprint checks, Haylie saw a woman in a dark blue business suit waiting for them on the other side. She stood without expression, looking professional and cold, her short hair pulled back tight, lips pursed. She had a single thick manila folder tucked under her arm.

  As they cleared security, Agent Hernandez took the lead, approaching the woman and extending a hand.

  “Head Agent Andrea Wilcox, NSA.” Agent Wilcox’s southern drawl pushed her words together, like a rolling verse out of an old country song. She turned sharply to face Haylie, extending her hand a second time without expression. “Ms. Black.”

  Haylie shook her hand, watching for any sign of life beyond the gray government façade, but received nothing.

  The agents walked side-by-side, speaking in hushed tones, as Haylie followed closely behind. They made their way down a narrow walkway with walls of glass on both sides, a single door at the end of the long stretch. Haylie read the small, blue sign affixed to
the door as Agent Wilcox swiped her keycard.

  TAILORED ACCESS OPERATIONS

  Inside, Haylie saw another stark white hallway lined with rooms every ten feet or so, each door marked with non-descript numbers. Agent Wilcox led them to a room where they each took a seat around a stark white table.

  Haylie sat in silence as Agent Wilcox cracked open her folder and began to read, slowly turning page after page, reading with care. After what seemed like ten minutes, Haylie couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Are we going to get started?” Haylie asked. “I saw there’s a taco place across the road, and I’m starving.”

  Agent Wilcox crossed her legs, leaned back, and kept her eyes on the file. “I’m going to need a few more minutes to catch up on all your greatest hits,” Agent Wilcox responded. “Hacking into the systems at the Super Bowl, the Bohemian Grove, my goodness, pretty much every type of exploit known to man and God above. Not to mention all the business over there in London. And it looks like you have a birthday coming up, isn’t that exciting?”

  “I wanted a bracelet,” Haylie said. “But Hernandez here was nice enough to get me one a few months back. Now I’m a girl who has everything.”

  “Ms. Black,” Agent Wilcox said, staring Haylie in the eyes. “Agent Hernandez was kind enough to bring you here today to offer you a chance at reducing the length of your probation. If you’re not interested—”

  “She’s interested,” Agent Hernandez said, motioning for Haylie to agree. Haylie just shrugged with a defiant smirk.

  “Well, then,” Agent Wilcox said. “That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear. Ms. Black, if you’re interested in helping me out here today, I’d appreciate it if you’d start acting like it.”