Mother said nothing until Kiran and Mr. Hark had left. Then both my mother and father asked me to sit with them at the dining room table. We ate sweet rice and mango, though I could barely get more than two bites down.
I had to know what was going on, and I wished I had had the foresight to have worn my peacoat with the camera button. If only I had filmed the dinner!
My father spoke first. The way he began, I knew it was something that he’d been mulling over during the course of the meal. And it was also probably something I’d heard a million times before. “I know the last few years have been difficult for you, Cai. We’ve moved so many times.…”
I’ll admit, I drifted back to my own thoughts within seconds. I watched my father speak, saw his mouth move, and I could tell it was all very heartfelt and sincere. But I was already lining up my next moves: I had to tell Rex and Tunde about tonight. They wouldn’t believe that Kiran Biswas had been in my house, that we’d had a real conversation. I needed to know what they knew about him and what they knew about the Game. I had to go!
I looked up to see my parents staring at me strangely. I realized that my father was finished speaking and had likely stopped quite a few minutes before.
“Sorry,” I said. “Long night. I’m very tired.”
Mother smiled in understanding, and put her hand on Father’s.
I cleared our plates and then ran to my room and closed the door for the night. I jumped online to send Rex and Tunde an e-mail and get their input on what was going on. But sitting at the top of my in-box was an e-mail with an OndScan address.
It was an invitation to the Game.
It was from Kiran and it opened with congratulations to Painted Wolf on her recent posts and success. I was careful to download the attached letter through a scrambled channel, and then read through the invite twice.
Was it a fluke that Kiran had been sitting across from me only a few hours earlier? It couldn’t have been. He had said nothing. He didn’t shoot me any knowing glances; he didn’t drop hints or make suggestions. By all appearances, it was synchronicity. Coincidence. Chance. My brain told me that was impossible. There was no such thing as synchronicity, no master at the controls of destiny. No, Kiran had to know. That thought terrified me. Was it possible that the whole time he was sitting across from me, he knew? Why wouldn’t he say anything? If he did know, then he also knew that inviting me would be setting me up. It would expose me to the world. The Game would be held at the Boston Collective in the United States two days from now.…
There was no way I could go.
Fly to Boston with almost no notice? What would my parents say? It wasn’t as though Cai Zhang had been invited. It was Painted Wolf, the enemy of success. The parasite Mr. Hark wanted to swat. The blogger Kiran wanted to convert.
If anyone figured out who Painted Wolf really was, my parents’ careers, their very lives, would be in danger. Everyone I’d ever gone after, all the crooked politicians, businessmen, and experts I’d helped take down would come after my family with everything they had.
No, it was out of the question.
Despite whatever Kiran knew, Painted Wolf was an enigma and needed to remain that way. If he was baiting me, he had failed. While the thought of traveling, of meeting Tunde and Rex, was a happy one, it wasn’t strong enough to make me reconsider. I deleted the invitation.
Painted Wolf’s work was more important than getting praise.
Besides, my family took precedence.
Proud of myself, I returned to my in-box and that’s when I finally read the e-mail Tunde had sent earlier. I instantly regretted not opening it sooner.
From: Naija_Boi@lodge_revolution.com
To: Rex_n_effex@lodge_revolution.com, PaintedWolf@lodge_revolution.com
Subject: Help
Friends: Help. General Iyabo has come to my village. He heard about my solar power station and wanted to see it for himself. He saw it and then proceeded to make me an offer that I am not at liberty to refuse. I must build him a complicated GPS jammer. This is a very dangerous situation. I need assistance desperately. The general is no joke. Please contact me as soon as you have the availability. I no wan gbaga but …
My heart sank.
I switched gears immediately, put aside all my concerns about Kiran and my father, and dived into full research mode.
Didn’t take me long to pull up every reference I could find to General Iyabo. What I found put all my worries into perspective. General Iyabo was a monster. One that made Hark, Shifu, and Lu look like bit players. He was incredibly dangerous and very smart. Not only did he command a fighting force but he also ran a notorious hacking cell inside Nigeria, one responsible for the majority of the successful 419 (“Nigerian prince”) e-mails.
Tunde was one hundred percent right, the man was no joke.
And the GPS jammer Tunde had to build was sophisticated tech. Even though anyone could buy or build a small one relatively cheaply, I could imagine that General Iyabo had more in mind than a simple jammer. He likely wanted something on a military scale.
Tunde was in deep on something pretty bad.
We had to help him.
No matter the cost.
4. REX
05 DAYS, 16 HOURS, 42 MINUTES UNTIL ZERO HOUR
Tunde’s e-mail had me seriously worried.
I was certain it had Painted Wolf worried, too.
I tried getting Tunde up via messaging and chat but he wasn’t online.
After dinner, I retreated to my room and called Painted Wolf. She answered pretty quickly considering it was midmorning and I had figured she might sleep in. Of course she didn’t. Painted Wolf emerged from the zeros and ones in glorious digital HD, wearing a fashionable hoodie, ski hat, and designer sunglasses.
We’d video chatted before, but I was a little taken aback by just how covered up she was this time: What was she hiding under all that? Was her face covered in birthmarks?
“Hey, Rex.” Painted Wolf’s voice was distorted by encryption software she was running live. Sounded just like a robot. (There were times when she’d program the software so her voice would sound like that of Martin Luther King Jr., Mike Tyson, Bugs Bunny, or Gandhi.) “You got Tunde’s e-mail?”
“Yeah. Sounds really bad.”
“I know. What do you think we can do?”
“We’ve either got to get him out of there or—”
“We can’t get him out. It’s his home. His family,” she said.
“Then what?”
“We go to him. I mean, it sounds crazy, but maybe we go there and we can do something. We can help him build this thing or talk to the general or … something.”
“I can’t do that. I don’t know how either of us could. Listen, we just need to talk to Tunde and find out what’s going on. We’ll formulate a plan when we have more info.”
As we talked, I noticed her shirt had Chinese characters on it. She’d worn shirts like it before, always with a different set of characters. I assumed they might be name brands, maybe band names.
I snapped a screenshot. I had a dozen others like it filed away.
Painted Wolf, in the flesh
That sounds bad. Really, it was because this is how Painted Wolf and I communicated. We had this thing going. Painted Wolf knew I was always looking for intel. Cracks in her armor, ways to figure out who she was. What she really looked like. Once I looked up the characters printed on a shirt she wore to see what they meant. They weren’t brands or bands.
Turned out, the characters translated to a bunch of gibberish. But typing that nonsense into a search engine led me to an Amazon review page for the book Women Who Run with the Wolves. Wouldn’t you know it, the page had a clever review written two months earlier by a certain “Rex Mundi.” Quite a name. The review was short, sweet, and to the point:
“You like mysteries? I like mysteries. Let’s keep it that way.”
That’s how Painted Wolf told me not to snoop, not to try to get dirt on who she was. Only, it
backfired. She was just so damn clever it made me want to snoop even harder. She, of course, was ready.
Every one of my attempts to read into her the way I’d read into code ended in failure. Well, not failure so much as misdirection. The poster of the cult Hong Kong film All’s Well, Ends Well with a fractal in the corner of it on the wall behind her bed?
Close-up on the fractal
That particular fractal directed me to a music video by a Chinese rapper called MC Dragon Doom with a crypto overlay animation of Painted Wolf waving her finger at me and the looped word: “No, no, no.”
It didn’t take long for the whole thing to become a game of one-upmanship. Her clues got more and more cryptic. My digging got more and more playful. Before long, I realized the truth of the matter: Discovering Painted Wolf’s real name wasn’t important because it wouldn’t tell me anything about her. Everything I needed to know, I already had.
The mystery was the message.
The journey, as they say, was the destination. I liked it that way. The mystery at the heart of our friendship was our bond. And having an enigmatic friend made my life exciting. Secretly, I never wanted to know who she was.
We were already having so much fun.
“I got an invitation,” Painted Wolf said casually, snapping me out of my reverie. “Mine came through last night. If you didn’t get one already, I’m betting it’s soon.”
“Whoa, that’s kind of a big thing not to mention,” I said. “Aren’t you happy?”
“I’m not going,” she said.
“Seriously! Are you crazy?”
“You know what I do, Rex. I can’t take any risks.”
“Yeah, but this is supposedly, I don’t know, transformative. They wouldn’t be so close-lipped about any old competition. Given the fact that there’s a total blackout on information online, I’m guessing Tunde’s right. It’s going to change lives. Whatever the next level is, this is where it starts.”
“If there was more time, I could think of a way to make it happen, but there just isn’t. It’s in two days—that’s crazy. I’d be pushing my luck, I’m certain of it. Besides, I’m sure all the people going will be like Tunde and you. Prodigies with practical skills, math and science people…”
I couldn’t let that slide.
“You know, for the record, you are brilliant,” I said. “You’re one of the best thinkers I’ve ever met. That video you put up yesterday? My translator apps are pretty weak but what I did get was explosive. You nailed those jokers.”
“Thank you, but—”
“No buts. Just take the compliment.”
Painted Wolf smiled slightly. “Guess who was here for dinner tonight?”
“Um, how many guesses do I get?”
“Just guess.”
“Was it your boyfriend?”
Painted Wolf shook her head. “Seriously? You can do better than that.”
“Was it someone I know?”
“Yes, kind of. You know of this person and really respect him.”
“Ah,” I said. “Well, you just gave me a clue. Really respect? It would have to be either Tunde or Whitfield Diffie.”
“Who’s that?”
“Ouch, really? He only invented public-key cryptography.” I laughed.
“It was Kiran Biswas.”
I stopped laughing.
“Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“What did he want? Was he there because of your work or…?”
“He didn’t know it was me,” Painted Wolf said. “He was there to talk to my dad, and to tell you the truth, it really weirded me out. I talked to him, but obviously, he didn’t know I was Painted Wolf.”
“What did he want to talk to your dad about?”
“I don’t know. That’s actually got me kind of worried.…”
Before I could respond, alerts on both of our cells suddenly interrupted.
Tunde was back online.
“Tunde’s on now,” Painted Wolf said.
The screen flickered and the call ended.
Hang on, what just happened?
4.1
I switched over to a dialogue box to find Tunde and Painted Wolf waiting.
Painted Wolf: Are you okay, Tunde? Is your family okay?
Naija Boi: Hello, Wolf. Yes. Everyone is fine. Myself included. Thank you for your reply. This is very serious and I do not know how to escape the situation without actually escaping.…
Naija Boi: But these are serious times. General Iyabo has given me until my return from the Game to have the jammer operational and in his hands.
KingRx: oh man. Talk to me about the jammer.
Naija Boi: It is to be as powerful as possible. This is the only thing I truly know.
Painted Wolf: You’re the best engineer we know, Tunde. Surely you can build it quickly?
Naija Boi: Any other time and I would say you are correct. But this situation is different. I am so conflicted. I do not want to build this man a weapon but I do not have a choice. At the same time, there is great pressure on me to do as well as possible at the Game. Truly, the general has left me very few options.
Painted Wolf: Of course we’ll help you, Tunde.
KingRx: Send us specs and we can make it happen.
Naija Boi: The time is so short and with the Game in only one day, I do not know how to even—
Painted Wolf: That’s it.
Naija Boi: What?
Painted Wolf: The Game. I just got an invitation. This means that Rex will get his in the next two hours. The Game is the key. We can meet you there, Tunde. We can help you build the jammer at Boston Collective, where they have everything you need. At the same time, we can help you win. Or come as close as possible.
KingRx: Hang on, Wolf. I thought you weren’t going.
Naija Boi: When did you say that?
Painted Wolf: I reconsidered. I need to go.
KingRx: But the risks and—
Painted Wolf: Rex, Tunde is family. I have to go.
Naija Boi: Thank you, Wolf. And you are the dearest family I have outside my own. Both of you. You know this, right? Still, I feel terrible to take away from your experience of the competition.
Painted Wolf: We’ll be there. Don’t even worry.
Naija Boi: Let us not forget the program Rex is to run. He can find his brother with the quantum computer. I can help however I am able. We will be a team in person! We will build the jammer, find Teo, and win the Game!
That’s when it happened. That’s when it clicked. At that moment, we believed the Game would truly be the biggest thing to happen to all of us. It would be the defining moment in our lives, that one experience that we would all point to and say, “There. That’s when it all changed.”
Looking back now, I realize just how right I was.
Only how wrong about why.
Painted Wolf: Think of all the stuff we can get done. No rules. No limits. All that tech and hardware at our fingertips. Not to mention all the other people we’ll meet.
Naija Boi: I, for one, am most thrilled to be meeting you both for the first time in the flesh! My power is running low. I will have to say farewell for now, but I will see you all very soon.
KingRx: Talk soon.
Painted Wolf: Have a good night, boys.
Naija Boi: Peace! Tell us as soon as your invite arrives, Rex. I am so excited I will not be sleeping.
KingRx: Of course. Me too.
After the chat windows closed, I took a moment to check my e-mails again. Outside of spam and a thank-you from Mr. Jawanda, my in-box remained empty.
Tunde got his first and then Painted Wolf. Africa, Asia, and then the Americas. I knew my invitation would be coming within hours. It had to be, and yet a nagging voice at the back of my mind got suddenly louder. What it said, I didn’t want to hear.
What if you’re not invited, Rex? You’re not going to go.
A knock on the door startled me. It was Papa.
“Hey, so who’s the girl?�
��
“What girl?”
“Don’t be silly. I heard you talking to a girl earlier. She that one from the camp?“
Dad was talking about a girl I had a crush on when I was six.
“No, Dad. She lives in China. She just likes to disguise her voice. This time she was making it sound like she was a robot.”
Papa thought about that for a few seconds, then screwed up his face and looked at me, a bit worried. “Okay. You know, um … you can always come to me and Ma with any problems, right?”
“Sure. If there’s a problem, I will. Thanks.”
I tried to hide my sarcasm. I knew he meant it, but there was no way he’d understand. Besides, if I told him what was up he’d get worried. Couldn’t have that.
Papa shook his head, but smiled and said, “We’re always here.”
“Love you, too.”
4.2
Just before ten p.m., a wave of congratulatory posts started showing up online.
The Game invitations had arrived on my side of the globe.
South America was first.
Then the Central Americans and then the Mexicans.
It wasn’t until just after eleven that North American competitors started posting their invitations. East Coast first. Some of them I knew. There were pictures of them grinning ear to ear and videos of them jumping up and down with excitement.
I just had to wait and see.
I had to be invited.
My hands were shaking, my heart palpitating.
The Midwest invites went out fifteen minutes later. I watched, eyes wide, as the invites rolled in and competitors popped up with boisterous posts. People in Chicago and St. Louis were cheering and hugging their families. A kid in Omaha, Nebraska, received the last invitation at 11:24 p.m.
One minute later, like clockwork, the first reactions from the mountain states appeared. Fuzzy cell phone videos of people breaking into dance and bursting into tears went up.
It meant that in exactly fifteen minutes the West Coast invites would go out.
I had to be invited.
My gut tightened into knots as one by one the mountain posts racked up and the clock clicked down. My face only inches from the computer monitor, I almost jumped out of my seat when the clock struck 11:45 and the first West Coast invite was posted. It was from a girl in Portland, Oregon. She looked so happy her smile might shatter her face.
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