Crash Into Pieces (The Haylie Black Series Book 2)

by Christopher Kerns

  “My team can access the systems, but it will cause mass confusion onboard,” Caesar said. “It won’t do you any good.”

  “No, no, that’s the thing,” Moreau pleaded. “These pirates, it’s obvious they’re in way over their heads. You could sail this thing to New York City and they wouldn’t have a clue unless they ran straight into the Statue of Liberty. I want to redirect the ship to a nearby port at night—they won’t know what happened until they wake up the next morning. I’ll arrange for a team on the ground to take care of the rest.”

  Caesar moved away from the railing, turning to face the carousel. Its collection of animals—horses, camels, giant swans, and roosters—zipped by, some with children hanging on to their necks, others bobbing up and down all on their own. Even in the sunlight, the bright lights of the roof above shining down off the mirrored surfaces put him into a trance, making him lose his balance for a moment as he leaned with the flow.

  “I have money,” Moreau said, “if that’s the problem. I can—”

  “We don’t take money,” Caesar replied, gesturing over to a few men in clown outfits, twisting balloons into animal shapes. “I mean, when you’re traveling to exotic locations like this, that’s reward enough.” He laughed but, once again, didn’t get a laugh in return. “Money isn’t the problem. I’m just not sure how I’m going to pull this off. What you need—it’s too fast. We’d have to learn the systems in less that twenty-four hours.” Caesar spun, looking up to the second-floor windows across from the Ferris wheel, seeing if he make out get any sign of Charlotte looking down from her perch. Nothing from this angle.

  “Please,” Moreau said, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re all I’ve got.”

  Feeling the wind of the whirling carousel pushing across his neck, Caesar drew a breath and nodded.

  “All right,” he muttered. “But no promises.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Moreau exclaimed, reaching out with both hands, fumbling as if he suddenly had no idea what to do with them. He drew back, his face flushed red. “When do we begin?”

  “Team, let’s get moving on this,” Caesar said into his earpiece. “I’m going to share the Dropbox location and give this one a green light.”

  Hearing nothing back, Caesar tapped the Bluetooth earpiece a few times.

  “Anyone on the line?” he asked. “I’m not getting a signal here, might be interference.”

  The joints of the Ferris wheel squealed above him, the long afternoon shadows now shining through its braces and shooting a fresh, screaming bolt of sun into his eyes with the turn of each car. He squinted and looked back to Moreau.

  “Give us everything you have about the ship,” Caesar said. He fished in his pocket for the instructions he had written by hand a few hours earlier. “Drop it in this location and we’ll see what we can do. Like I said—no promises.”

  Caesar did a quick check up to second-floor window, seeing nothing, and turned back to face Moreau. “I have to go.”

  He paused for a moment, waiting for Charlotte’s reply.

  That’s the phrase we agreed on. Your turn to chime in, Char.

  Moreau smiled with relief, carefully pulling the paper from Caesar’s hand and sliding it back into his pocket.

  “I have to go,” Caesar repeated, pressing the receiver deeper into his ear. His eyes flicked across the area, checking for any of his team members on the move. He saw only tourists and families, snacking on popcorn and skipping to the organ grinder soundtrack playing in the background.

  “Thank you—thank you so much,” Moreau said, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “I knew this would work. But if we’re in a hurry, let me just write the details down right now. It will only take a minute.”

  Caesar watched Moreau fish in his pockets for something to write with. Caesar’s pulse quickened as the seconds ticked by.

  “It’s here somewhere,” Moreau stammered with an embarrassed grin. “I might have a location, and it can be tricky. The Kenyan coast has a bunch of different hiding places with—”

  “What was that?” Caesar said, turning to face Moreau. “What did you say?”

  He said Somalia before.

  Moreau stared back at Caesar like a deer in headlights. He froze, hands still in his pockets. Before he could say anything, a ring tone chimed through the air. Moreau looked down to his jacket pocket with panic growing in his eyes.

  “We said no phones,” Caesar said, glaring back at Moreau. “What is this?”

  He’s a liar. He’s not who he says he is.

  “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten about the phone,” Moreau said. “Just one more second, I’ve got the information here, I know it. The families—they’re just so worried that something is going to happen.”

  He’s going to get you caught. He’s one of them.

  Caesar stared down Moreau, feeling the rage creep up his spine. He took a step forward, his arms reaching up towards the man’s throat. He stopped himself, horrified. You’re losing control. Just get out of here. Just get out. Caesar winced as the beams of sunlight continued to hit his eyes. He pulled his hand back to block the light, looking up at the Ferris wheel, studying each car. At the top, he saw a man in sunglasses, hanging out of the open window a handheld radio at his lips.

  Goddamnit.

  “I have to get out of here,” Caesar whispered as he backed a few careful steps away. Caesar tapped his Bluetooth earpiece with his palm and whispered. “We’re compromised. Char—get moving.”

  Caesar bolted, sprinting down the boardwalk, sucking in heavy breaths as he darted along the main path. He turned to look over his shoulder between gasps, seeing the man calling himself Moreau about fifty feet behind him.

  She went silent minutes ago. They got her first. I was next.

  He took a sharp left, darting past a maze of iron railings, painted with alternating yellow and red stripes. He could hear the click-clack beats of the roller coaster making its way around the track as he flew into the darkness of an unmarked door.

  He stopped for a moment to get his bearings, letting his eyes adjust as much as they could. He ran straight ahead, turning through a maze of hallways, until he pushed his way through a closed door marked ‘Water Access.’

  Inside, he found a hatch with a ladder wrapping around the side. You’ve got to be kidding me. He flipped the lid open, looking down into the dark abyss of the harbor, and was hit with a gust of saltwater air.

  “Char, can you hear me?” He breathed into his earpiece, checking one last time. “Are you there?”

  They have her. She’s gone. I won’t let them take me. I’ll never let them take me.

  The black waters of Sydney Harbor, splashing off the wooden pylons supporting the pier, lay thirty feet below him. He heard footsteps in the hallway as he shook his head and took a breath.

  He jumped.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Littlefield Hall, University of Texas

  Austin, TX

  October 26th, 7:20PM

  Haylie sat on her window perch, legs curled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tight. The ninety-minute drive back up from San Antonio had felt like days as Agent Hernandez had tried a continuous string of attempts at small talk, none of which found its mark. She looked down to the single piece of paper at her feet: the agreement between her and the NSA and everything that came with it.

  Just do your best. What do I have to lose here? Why wouldn’t I just—

  Haylie was jolted by Vector’s signature knock at the door. Grunting as she jumped up, she tucked the NSA paperwork under a notebook on her desk and cracked the door open.

  Vector stood in the hallway, holding a pizza in his hands. “Would it kill you to come over to my room sometime?” he said. “How come I always have to come over here?”

  “A pizza?” Haylie said with a smile. “It’s a little early for dinner.”

  “It’s Thursday,” he said, walking past her and into the room. “Thursday is pizza night, and I have some stuff we need to tal
k about. Can I come in?”

  She cleared the coffee table, pushing books and a day-old coffee cup aside to make way for their dinner.

  “Oh man,” Vector started in, “did you miss some good stuff in Data Structures today. Professor Farley came in all ready to talk about loops and arrays—kids’ stuff, right?—acting like he had invented them. Then that one guy who always asks questions raises his hand—”

  Haylie took a slow bite of pizza and felt her gaze drifting off to the window, her mind replaying what had happened out in San Antonio earlier that morning. If the Endling was really planning more attacks, how could she find him on the forums? Would he really be dumb enough to—

  “Hey, are you even listening?” Vector shifted over to the chair across from her, waving a hand in front of her face. “Where the hell were you today? Is everything all right?”

  She snapped out of her trance and looked down at the pizza box, studying the angles of each remaining piece. “I’m good. I’m fine. Agent Hernandez just took me on a little field trip this morning, that’s all.”

  “Off saving the world again?” Vector said. “Just like your brother?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she said meekly, curling up on the couch and looking down at the floor. “I can’t talk about it, but it’s nothing. I signed some paperwork, I’m trying to help them with something.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing, right?” Vector replied. He grabbed his pizza slice with two hands and took a bite. “As long as it gets you back online. What kind of work is it?”

  “I said I can’t say,” she shot back.

  Vector stopped his chewing and dropped the pizza down to his napkin. “I was with you in London, if you remember. We’re supposed to be in this together, you and me.” He pointed a finger in the direction of Hernandez’s room. “Agent Hernandez knows that, and I thought you did, too.”

  “I’d tell you,” Haylie said, searching for the right words, “but there are rules that come along with the deal. I don’t know—I’m not even sure I should have signed up for this thing in the first place. I’ve said too much already. Let’s talk about something else.” She reached for her pizza slice and took a large bite as the cheese burned the roof of her mouth. “You said you wanted to talk about something. Whatcha got?”

  Rubbing his hands together, Vector rested his elbows on his knees as his head fell down for a moment. He took his time, his eyes nervously searching around the room, and then looked up with a clap of his hands. “Okay, here goes nothing.”

  Haylie stopped breathing altogether as she slowly chewed.

  Oh no, don’t do this right now.

  “Listen,” Vector began, looking past Haylie’s shoulder, avoiding her line of sight altogether. “I was talking to a few people before class today, and since you weren’t there—well, maybe not because you weren’t there but probably because you weren’t there—one of them kept asking questions about you and me.”

  Oh no. No, no, no.

  Haylie swallowed as Vector paused for a moment. “Asking questions … about … what, exactly?”

  “Well that’s the thing,” Vector said. “I actually hear this all the time from people, but I’ve never brought it up with you before now. I get a lot of questions—every few days—about if we are, like, a couple. You know?”

  An air of silence hung over the room as the two friends formed a standoff of sorts, competing to see who could hold out the longest.

  Haylie cleared her throat and filled the empty space. “So, you said ‘no,’ right?”

  Not giving up ground, Vector continued. “Well, that’s the thing. See—we spend all this time together. Like, every minute of every day. And lately when people have been asking me, I have started wondering if we should … maybe … try something like that out?”

  Biting her lip, Haylie searched for words. She tossed the pizza slice down on the oily cardboard box and rubbed the crumbs from her palms. “I … We should talk about this, but right now really isn’t the time. With all the stuff happening at the moment, I just—I just can’t put anything else in my head, you know?”

  Vector sat motionless. He reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone. He flicked across the screen with his thumb as she leaned in across the table.

  “Listen, Vector,” she said, “it doesn’t mean that it can’t—”

  “No,” he interrupted, sliding the phone back in his pocket with a grimace, “I get it. It’s fine. Brilliant—you’ve got a lot going on, I get it.”

  “I’d love to talk about this, but right now is just a really bad time—”

  “Haylie, there’s not going to be any better time,” Vector said, standing and tossing his pizza back into the box as well. “We’re here at school, together. I spend every waking moment making sure that you’re up to speed on the latest news and class assignments and the cafeteria menu every day. When will there ever be a better—”

  There was a loud knock on the door as Haylie looked Vector in the eyes, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Why did you have to pick today, you big idiot?

  “You’d better get that,” Vector said. “You’ve got a lot going on right now, would hate for you to miss something important.”

  She rolled her eyes and walked to the door, pulling it open violently without even bothering to look through the peephole.

  “Haylie,” Agent Hernandez said, hooking his neck through the door. “Hey, Liam, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were—”

  “It’s fine,” Vector said back.

  “Haylie,” Hernandez said in a low tone, “it’s time for our block of hours tonight. We need to get started.”

  Haylie slunk back to her chair and plopped down to face Vector. He was buried in his phone again, avoiding eye contact. He blindly reached for his backpack and without even looking up, slung it over his shoulder.

  “Enjoy your dinner,” he said as he crept out the door.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Littlefield Hall, University of Texas

  Austin, TX

  October 26th, 7:45PM

  Okay, Endling. What the hell are you up to?

  Haylie took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes with balled fists, trying to snap herself out of the boredom that lay thick over the room. Without access to anything electronic, she wasn’t even able to play music to break the silence—no streaming radio, no MP3s, not even an old CD player. And Agent Hernandez humming some song she’d never heard of wasn’t helping.

  “There’s nothing here,” she said, dully scrolling through a message board with her chin resting on her free hand. “I’m telling you, if you loosen the leash on me, I could probably find something. It could be our secret, just between you and me.”

  “Observe and consult will be fine,” Hernandez said, keeping one eye on her as he scrolled through email on his phone. “Just stick to the plan.”

  “Just because there’s a plan doesn’t mean the plan doesn’t suck.”

  She switched tabs, sorting by new posts as the dated machine pushed its processor, trying to keep up. Searching for keywords: ‘Xasis,’ ‘Endling,’ ‘casino.’ It was useless—there was nothing to find.

  No one leaves a calling card without bragging about it the next day. Which one of you is it going to be?

  “Let’s post a message about Xasis,” Haylie said, perking up at the prospect. “Bait them to answer a question, you know?”

  “Can’t do that,” Hernandez said through a mouthful of coffee. “Against the rules. No posting, just listening. Try that other one.”

  Haylie shook her head and typed in another hacker message board, logging in with her credentials.

  “Nice,” Hernandez whispered as the site loaded. “We’re in.”

  “We’re in?” Haylie shot back. “Did you really just say that? We’re in? What do you mean, we’re in?”

  “You know, we’re on the inside. With the hackers.”

  “Where, exactly is in?” Haylie asked. “In where? Because from where I’m sitting, all
we did was log into a stupid message board.”

  “Alright, fine,” Hernandez said. “Have it your way. Just trying to help.”

  “Stop helping. Just stop.”

  Haylie could feel Hernandez’s stare crawl up the back of her neck as she paged through subject line after subject line. Hackers discussing everything under the sun—zero day exploits, Wi-Fi router vulnerabilities, government leaks. Everything but the one thing she wanted.

  This is worse than just being offline.

  “Do you really need to be here?” Haylie asked, trying to muster up the nicest, most helpful tone she could. “Hovering over my shoulder? There’s software that can track my activity to make sure I’m not running around messing with nuclear reactors or anything like that. That’s pretty common tech.”

  Nodding, Hernandez crossed his arms and leaned back. “I know, I think they’ve got something like that rigged up,” he said. “There’s a thing. It’s … routing … something. For the network. But I need to be here, too. Trust me, neither of us is enjoying ourselves right now.”

  “They’re routing my IP through one of their proxies. Is that what you meant to say?”

  Hernandez looked like a deer in headlights. “Yes?”

  “You don’t know what an IP is, do you?” After staring at him for a few moments of disbelief, Haylie leaned in and took on her best teacher’s tone. “An IP address is like the address for your house, but on the Internet. It’s the only one of its kind, and it lets computers understand who you are and where you are coming from.”

  Nodding, taking another sip from his mug, Hernandez looked like he was genuinely surprised to hear that technology actually existed.

  “How is it that you got this job?” Haylie asked. “Being my shadow? You don’t know a thing about this stuff.”

  “All agents with a heavy technical background are currently assigned to higher priority assignments. And they are at a higher pay grade. Budget cuts.”