Two hours of nonstop talking later, she knew nothing more than when she entered Snuffy’s. Alan Nolan’s contribution to the conversation was that he liked baking bread at three o’clock in the morning because he didn’t sleep much. He liked managing the café because it paid well and he met people who were interesting. He did admit taking on private clients from time to time, for a fee, when the situation called for expert computer skills. Not that he was an expert, he’d hastened to add, but he did know his way around cyberspace.
Maggie had cooed and purred in what she thought were all the right places. “You mean like people who don’t know a cable box from the DVD machine?” she asked.
“Something like that,” had been his response.
She’d sucked in her breath then, her bosom jutting forward, a feat that did not go unnoticed by Nolan, and said, “Look, here’s my problem. I moved here from New York to get away from this guy who’s hassling me. I don’t know how he does it but he can get into my e-mail and he’s sending me threatening messages. I’m getting scared. I change servers and passwords and the guy still finds me. I’m thinking about going to the police but I’m not fond of cops, if you know what I mean. So how much would you charge for something like that? Assuming, of course, you had the time to do it and I realize you just met me. Things always happen for a reason,” she babbled on, hoping to spark interest from the man sitting across from her.
Nolan hedged, squirmed in his seat. “Well, I am kind of busy, booked up, you know.”
“Oh, Alan, I would be soooo grateful if you could get this man off my back.” She leaned across the table and batted her eyelashes. “I think he could be dangerous. And to think I almost slept with him. God, I get sick just thinking about it.” She continued to babble, a desperate tone creeping into her voice. “You’re kinda cute when you wrinkle your forehead like that. Okay, okay, I can see you don’t want to help me. Don’t worry about it,” Maggie said, squirming around to get her coat and backpack. She pulled a five-dollar bill out of her pocket and laid it on the table. “See ya tomorrow when I come in for my bagel.”
Maggie was already outside and walking down the block when she heard her name being called. At least it was the name she’d given the cyber geek, Julie Jett. Who would fall for a name like Julie Jett? Alan Nolan, that’s who. He caught up to her and said he could probably help her out on the weekend since he didn’t work in the bakery Saturday or Sunday. They exchanged cell phone numbers before they sauntered off to go their separate ways.
Now, here she was, just hours later, about to break into Nolan’s apartment.
Maggie squared her shoulders and took a last look around before she marched up the four steps that led to the front door of Nolan’s apartment building. She was grateful for the warmth of the lobby. She scanned the area before she headed to the bank of mailboxes. There he was, A. NOLAN. Apartment 202. She headed for the stairs and walked up the two flights. It was warm up here, too, in the hallway. She hadn’t seen a single person. She wondered if she should call Ted. No, that wasn’t a good idea.
Lock pick in hand, Maggie walked on trembling legs down the hall to Apartment 202. At the end of the hall she could hear music. Someone on the floor above was banging on a piano. A dog gave off a squeaky bark as she passed 206 and 208. A small dog by the sound of it. Then she was in front of 202. She pretended to knock as her right hand dug the pick into the keyhole. In the movies it always looked so easy. It wasn’t working. Maybe she was too nervous. Maybe she should call Ted. Maybe she should just calm down and work the pick. She talked to herself the whole time until she heard the tumbler roll over.
Maggie’s heart was beating so fast she grew light-headed. She had to lean down and put her head between her knees until the feeling passed. “I’ll never make a crook,” she muttered.
The apartment wasn’t overly large nor was it small. The perfect size. Maggie wondered how much rent Nolan paid. What really surprised her was how tastefully the apartment was decorated, with deep, comfortable furniture, large-screen TV, colorful Chagall prints on the wall, lots of greenery, nice plush carpeting. Bookshelves with the classics, and rows and rows of computer manuals.
The kitchen was small and compact. A place to heat food, as opposed to cooking it, although everything needed to prepare a meal was in evidence. She suspected Nolan was a take-out kind of guy.
The bathroom was white tile with bright blue towels and area rugs. Nothing here. The bedroom was small, a twin bed with a colorful quilt. There was no greenery, no pictures on the wall. Just a place to sleep. The closet was a surprise. It held a rack of good-looking suits, custom shoes, and then a rack of scruffy clothes and underneath those, seven or eight pairs of sneakers.
The last room had to be a spare bedroom. She opened the door and gasped. The entire room was lined with computers, printers and all manner of high-tech appliances. It was cool in here, the vents in the OFF position. This wasn’t some computer nerd’s lair. This was something else entirely and Maggie knew she was out of her depth. She fished around in her backpack and withdrew her new digital camera. She clicked steadily for a good ten minutes. Ted would have to figure all of this out. When she was finished, she shoved the camera back into her backpack.
This equipment didn’t come from Staples. She took a wild guess—knowing what she’d paid for her last computer—and concluded that she was looking at a quarter-to a half-million dollars in high-tech equipment. There appeared to be miles of cable and countless wires. How did this guy do it? Didn’t he blow the circuit breakers? “Computer nerd, my ass,” Maggie muttered to herself. Nolan was no small-time cyber freak. Nolan was…what, she didn’t know.
There was no way in hell she was going to touch any of the equipment. But, she could look around, peruse anything else she found. She crossed the room to a stack of spiral notebooks and picked one up. Nothing but a jumble of numbers and letters. Codes? She shivered as she whipped out the digital camera a second time. She clicked steadily for several minutes.
Maggie looked down at her watch. Time to leave.
Maggie was shaking like a sapling in a high wind when she exited Alan Nolan’s building. She hailed a taxi and gave the Post’s address. She didn’t draw a calm breath until she was seated in her swivel chair in her cubbyhole at the paper, Ted leaning over her shoulder.
Maggie dug in her backpack. She shoved the camera into his hands. “What does all that,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the camera, “mean?”
“I think it means Nolan isn’t exactly who he says he is. I think I might take a ride up to Aaron Frist’s house to run this by him or else I’ll call him and send him these pictures. The notebook stuff might be codes or it might be just innocent stuff only computer experts can relate to. This is way over my head. You did good, Maggie. Now what?”
“Now I’m going to get some lunch and then I’m going to the cybercafe and chat this guy up some more. He likes to have his ego stroked. Like most men,” Maggie said, a bit of a giggle in her voice.
Ted didn’t miss the giggle. “You need to find out who some of his clients are, particularly the one in Lafayette Park that day we staked out Martin.”
Maggie grimaced. “We know who the client was. We want to know what the client wanted.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant. Find out.”
Disbelief rang in Maggie’s voice. “Just like that, find out!”
Ted’s face turned sour. “I haven’t been able to come up with even one negative where that guy is concerned. He’s just what he appears, a computer nerd. This might or might not blow you away but he has a degree in computer science from M.I.T. Since you know so much about men and, according to you, men like to brag, get him to brag a little. Ask him if he could hack into government files just for the fun of it.”
Maggie looked around the busy newsroom. With all her extracurricular activities, she hadn’t even started on her column that dealt with Beltway gossip. Thank God she was one day ahead. She’d be up all night as she
tried to parcel out the slim gossip to stretch it into a couple of days’ reading. “It’s snowing again. I think I’m catching a cold. I could get pneumonia out there, Ted. This guy is no fool. I just want you to know that.”
Ted looked at Maggie with a dumbfounded look on his face. “And you think this place isn’t riddled with germs! Everyone in this damn office has been coughing and sneezing all morning long. I’m not feeling so hot myself.”
Maggie said something totally inappropriate as she shrugged into her down coat, grabbed her backpack and headed for the cybercafe, where she planned to play with the computer until she found a niche of time to spend with Nolan.
“Are you going to be cooking dinner tonight?” Ted asked hopefully. Maggie shot him a single-digit salute as she headed out of the newsroom.
Maggie’s thoughts whirled and twirled as she hailed a cab to take her to the cybercafe. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. The driver had his radio on low, but she could still hear it. Her eyes snapped open when she heard the announcer’s gleeful voice saying that an Alberta clipper was on the way with an expected snowfall of twelve to twenty-four inches of snow. A groan escaped her lips. Just what she needed, more snow.
Maggie’s thoughts continued to ricochet. Nolan lived in a fairly high-rent district. He had high-quality furniture, expensive prints on the wall. Just how much money did he make in the bakery and the cybercafe? Not enough to buy all that high-end computer equipment, that was for sure. He’d be lucky if his rent was covered with what he earned working both jobs. It was possible he was independently wealthy but she doubted it. The suits in his closet were off the rack but still expensive, as were his shoes. Maybe people like Martin paid him large sums of money.
Who did she know in the banking industry that she could put the squeeze on? No names came to mind. It took her all of two minutes to decide she needed someone just like Alan Nolan to hack into his files. That might be doable if she could come up with someone who would admit to being able to do such a nefarious thing. She didn’t know anyone in that line of work, either.
“That’ll be ten-eighty, lady,” the cab driver said as he pulled to the curb at the corner.
“Why’d you park here? Now I have to walk a whole block. Nine bucks, mister, that’s it. You see that snow falling out there? Did you hear me sniffling? And you’re making me walk a whole block! Eight bucks and a dollar tip. I shouldn’t even give you a tip.”
“Just pay me and get out of my cab,” the driver shot back.
Drivers behind them leaned on their horns as Maggie rummaged in her backpack for the fare. She was in no hurry.
Outside in the blustery snow Maggie realized that being let out on the corner wasn’t such a bad thing. This way Nolan wouldn’t see her getting out of the cab. Why she thought that might be important she didn’t know. She trudged to the café, again walking against the gusting wind, fine snow stinging her cheeks.
A bell tinkled loudly when she entered the café. The place smelled of fresh coffee and cinnamon buns, two of her favorite things in the whole world. Nolan looked up and smiled a greeting. She waved and sat down at the counter. The cyber end of the café was hopping, all the terminals busy. Snow must bring out the cyber bunnies, she thought.
Nolan ambled over as Maggie sneezed twice. He danced backward immediately to avoid any germs. “Just hot tea with lemon,” Maggie said, trying to sound as cheerful as she could. “Maybe a piece of cheesecake while I wait for a free terminal. How are you this morning?”
“Fine. I’d ask how you are but I can see for myself that you aren’t looking so good. You should probably go home. The weather is only going to get worse. By the way, do you work?”
Maggie did her best to look indignant. “Doesn’t everyone work? I work at the Mall. In cosmetics. I love perfume. Part time, though. I take classes at Georgetown. I have one eight o’clock class and another one at seven. I’m going for my master’s. How soon do you think I can get a terminal?”
“At least an hour.”
“That long, huh? Well, we can spend the time talking. Maybe you can help me a little. You know, where that guy is concerned. A man’s perspective. That kind of thing.” Maggie felt pleased with herself when Nolan preened like a peacock.
“Sure, if I can.”
Chapter 11
The hour was beyond late when Myra made her way into the war room to see her beloved Charles sitting at the table with his head in his hands. She knew instantly that something was wrong. Her hands searched for the pearls that were always around her neck but they weren’t there. She was in her nightgown and robe since it was after two in the morning. She sat down at the table and reached for Charles’s hands. “Talk to me, Charles.”
Charles looked up. “Myra!” he said, surprise echoing in his voice. “What brings you down here at this hour? Is something wrong?”
“Of course something’s wrong, my dear. I’ve been waiting for hours for you to come upstairs. The storm is increasing but that’s not what’s bothering me. What is it, Charles? Why aren’t you talking to me about whatever it is that’s troubling you?”
Charles leaned back and closed his eyes as he massaged his temples. The headache he’d had all day was still with him. “It’s so overwhelming. I knew…I think most people know that pornography is out there. You clean up one little section and four more sites, a dozen more groups replace those four. It’s impossible to get a handle on it. In plain-old American terms, my dear, this little caper is kicking my English ass.”
In spite of herself, Myra smiled. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to take on the smut industry but just concentrate on Mr. Lyons and his trafficking in…in his slavery ring.”
“That’s true, but to get to that, I have to wade through all the other filth. I thought I was, for want of a better word, tough, but this perversion is making me ill.” His voice turned fierce. “I want to get my hands on those people and rip their hearts out through their noses. I haven’t been able to compartmentalize the way I should. I don’t think I am the man for this job. There, I said it out loud. I’m failing all of you.”
“My darling Charles, you are the man for this job. You aren’t in this alone. All seven of us are with you. We must persevere and in doing so, we will prevail. I truly believe this. We need to think of this moment as a bump in the road. A rather large bump but we can climb over it. We will, Charles. I don’t want to hear another negative word. You are the man for this job. Now, I am going upstairs to make you something to eat. Do you want coffee or hot chocolate?”
Charles smiled. “Food soothes the savage beast, is that it?”
“Something like that. I’ll make you a hot roast beef sandwich.”
Charles nodded. He was hungry. He was also tired and incredibly sleepy. Food and hot chocolate would either keep him awake or put him sound asleep.
When the secret door leading to the main part of the house closed, Charles felt his shoulders slump. He really did need to shift into the neutral zone or he was going to foul things up.
“Tough day, eh, Charles?”
Charles reared up and looked around. His tongue was so thick in his mouth he could barely get it to work. “Barbara!”
“It’s me, Charles. What can I do to help you?”
“It’s true, then. I can’t believe you’re here talking to me. Barbara…dear child, how good it is to talk to you. I miss you, terribly. We all miss you.”
“I know…Daddy.”
Charles reared up again. Had he just heard the word he’d dreamed of all his life? “You knew?”
“Of course I knew. Only a father could love me the way you loved me. I knew you and Mom had your reasons for not wanting me to know so I simply went along with it. I called you Daddy in my dreams. Even though I called you Charles, I thought of you as Daddy. I regret you never got to hear me call you by that cherished name.”
“It would have been music to my ears. I know this sounds silly but are you all right? I…I don’t know anythin
g about the spirit world.”
“I’m fine. Tell me what’s troubling you, Daddy.”
Charles leaned forward and then looked around again. “Where are you?”
“Right behind you.”
Charles wasn’t sure but he thought he felt gentle hands on his shoulders. The feeling was so warm and comforting, he relaxed immediately. The floodgates opened. “It’s the evil, child. I’ve never had to deal with pure evil before. In my other life when I was in service to Her Majesty, there was nothing like this. It was war and there were rules. I feel like I’m at war with the Devil and I’m losing the battle. I know that if by some miracle we succeed, there will be others just like Lyons waiting to step in his shoes. Right or wrong, if I fail Yoko and the other sisters, I’m going to take it personally. I talked about this at great length with your mother. I had these visions of you and Nikki being ripped away from us by that man or someone like him and his forcing you to do things only the Devil would demand. For some reason I cannot get past that thought.”
“You have to get past it. It didn’t happen. You and Mom would never have allowed that to happen. In Third World countries there are no rules. You can’t police the world, Daddy. You can’t be the world’s 911.”
7. Free Fall Page 9