Virtual Sabotage

by Julie Hyzy

  Mellow Mary, as Kenna had always thought of the computer voice, dispassionately announced: “Challenge number nine complete. Please indicate when ready to continue.”

  Jason shed his shirt; a sheen of perspiration glistened over his torso. “You sure you want to finish?”

  Bent in half, hands on her knees, Kenna breathed deep. “Yeah.”

  “You don’t look so good. We should’ve stopped at eight.”

  She lifted her head to face him. “And have to start from the beginning on our next attempt? No, thanks.”

  Jason ran the back of his hand over his forehead, wiping away sweat. He blinked several times. “You don’t think Stewart would actually make us start all over again, do you? He seems like a pretty easygoing guy.”

  “Yeah, right.” Kenna’s most recent conversation with Stewart had been anything but. When Kenna had arrived at AdventureSome after her appointment with Dr. Baxter, she’d found Stewart agitated. He wanted to know why she hadn’t mentioned the break-in at her apartment. Silently cursing Vanessa’s big mouth, Kenna told the truth: she hadn’t discovered anything missing. “I want to put all the negative behind me.”

  That’s when he’d dropped the bombshell. Dr. Baxter had called Stewart this morning to advise him of Kenna’s tenuous hold on her envoy credentials. “Based on Dr. Baxter’s recommendations, I can’t let you back into VR,” he’d told her. “You can go through the exercises with Jason, but no more individual capsule time for you until you get a clean bill of health.”

  Kenna had argued that Dr. Baxter was out of line. Health privacy laws should have prevented her from talking with Stewart about Kenna’s mental health. A valid point, Stewart had conceded. Except for the fact that Kenna had signed away those rights when she took on the envoy position. A damaged envoy posed real danger to unwary participants.

  Kenna took another deep breath. Had my appointment been only this morning?

  Now, Kenna stood. She rolled her shoulders and closed her eyes for several seconds, centering herself before she answered Jason. She decided that she would make it through this last challenge today. And she’d return to the jungle tonight, too.

  You can’t stop me, Stewart.

  “I don’t care if he would have let us complete one exercise per day and call it done. I’m not about to walk away from it now. Not when we’re this close.”

  “Suit yourself,” Jason said.

  They stood for a long moment, two people in a bright white, empty room. No sights, no sound. Nothing but their uneven breaths, echoing against the shiny blank walls.

  “Any idea what this next one is going to be?” he asked.

  “No clue,” she said. “When I went through exercises with…” She stopped herself. She’d been about to say “with Charlie,” but the words caught in her chest and stuck there.

  Jason arched an eyebrow, his face unreadable. “Oh,” he said, stringing the word out. He nodded, as though confirming something in his mind. “That’s why you keep beating me. You’ve done some of these before.”

  Fury broke through Kenna’s logjam of emotions. “For your information, Mr. Flaxibar,” she said, feeling the rush of hot blood to her face and the lights sparking behind her eyes, signaling an imminent loss of control, “this program changes each go-round. They have like…three hundred thousand different challenges that they can throw at you, and guess what? Not one of the ones we went through is a repeat for me, okay?”

  She spun away from him, striding to the room’s far corner, needing to release some of the pressure that’d built up, yet again. With her hands flat against two walls, she stared into the corner and took several deep breaths before turning to face him again. “What I was about to say,” she continued in a quiet voice that carried across the twenty feet that separated them, “is that subsequent exercises are always based on how well you did up until now.”

  He maintained a blank expression. “How well I did?”

  “How well we did. As a team.”

  “And how well, in your estimation, have we done?”

  Kenna considered that. “We’ve done well,” she finally admitted.

  “As well as you did last time?”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. The look he shot her was back-to-business, and she returned to his side of the room.

  “I’m ready anytime you are,” she said.

  He nodded. “Program,” he called out, “begin.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Patrick felt a peculiar sense of déjà vu as he strode into the shabby hotel room. “The timetable’s been changed,” he said as he glanced around. “Where’s Aaron?”

  “On his way,” Maya said. “He said something about scouting new territory.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Patrick waved a hand in front of his face. “Forget it. I’ll deal with him later.”

  They were perched in almost the same positions they’d occupied last time. But now the heavy aroma of half-eaten food and too many people in one room hung in the air. Patrick kept his back to the hotel dresser. Once again he had bad news to share.

  “We’re switching upgrade implants tonight.”

  “Tonight?” all three chorused.

  “Now, as a matter of fact.”

  “But—” Maya said.

  “No time to explain. Just know that our suspicions will become reality if we don’t get this done today.” Patrick handed each of them a burner phone. “I’ve programmed all our numbers in. These are good to go. We’re going to run this just like we discussed, except we’re doing it now. Edgar, you get in touch with Aaron. Have him meet the three of you at the truck and give him his phone. As soon as you’re all in position, call me. I’ll handle security.”

  “Wait a minute. What happened?”

  “Too much.” Patrick was already headed back out the door. He glanced at his watch, then up at Maya, who’d asked the question. “Be ready to move in fifteen minutes. Or less. Once we get this done, I promise I’ll explain everything.”

  ◊

  Patrick pushed back his rain-soaked hood as he stared through the warehouse security office’s glass door. Leaning back in his chair, Ben rested his feet on the desk and his arms drooped limp at his sides. The man’s eyes were closed, his jaw slack.

  Three live screens played out views of the front door, the street downstairs, and the interior of the adjacent warehouse. Patrick held his breath as Ben’s chin quivered. “C’mon,” he whispered to himself.

  As if in response, his group’s white panel semitrailer lumbered across the middle screen. A moment later another truck cab followed.

  Patrick gave a sigh of relief. He rapped on the glass door, letting himself in before the security guard had a chance to react. The small office smelled of strong coffee, greasy food, and stale sweat. “How’s it going, Ben?”

  “Mr. Danaher!” Ben wiped spittle from his lip. “What brings you out here, Mr. Danaher? No problem, I hope?”

  Patrick pushed his damp hair back with a big hand. “Well, I’m afraid there is. Remember when I was here yesterday to check on the inventory?”

  Ben nodded and blinked.

  “I didn’t want to say anything at the time. Not until I was sure…”

  “What is it?” Ben asked, fully alert now.

  “The shipment’s been tampered with.”

  “No,” Ben said in a low whisper. Then: “It didn’t happen on my shift, did it?”

  It’s about to happen on your shift.

  “No way to tell. I just talked with Trutenko. He’s flying back from DC and will need to take a look for himself when he gets in.”

  Ben’s wrinkled brow deepened. “What do you mean by ‘tampered with’?”

  Patrick dissembled. “The supply we have here is a bunch of fakes.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved two 2.0s. Hold
ing them up, he said. “I just ran some security checks on these.” He handed them over as he sidled next to the observation desk and slipped Ben’s cell phone into a frequency-blocking sleeve in his pocket. This baby needed to stay silent until it could be disposed of.

  “Fakes?” Ben said, examining the devices as though he’d be able to determine their validity by simply looking at them. “You and Trutenko were here when they came in. Didn’t you check them?”

  In his other pants’ pocket Patrick’s phone vibrated, letting him know the team was in position. He connected the call so that they could listen in and track his and Ben’s movements. “Of course we did. Tuesday. But we think the switch occurred on Wednesday. When the hauler came for the defective 2.0s.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “They took the Sixes instead.”

  “No way.” Ben scratched his neck. “I was here for that. They took the right ones.”

  Patrick shrugged. “You sure? Because the ones I checked yesterday were Twos.”

  Turning his head from side to side, Ben concentrated. “Not possible.”

  “Come on,” Patrick said. “Let’s go down to the warehouse and have a look.”

  Ben turned back toward the desk.

  Patrick started for the doorway. “You coming?”

  “Yeah,” Ben said slowly. “I want to grab my phone, though.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I can’t find it.” He made a complete turn as he scanned the room. “It’s got to be here somewhere.”

  Patrick pantomimed helping him look.

  “Ah, screw it,” Ben said. “I’ll get it later.”

  The two men stepped out of the office into the small vestibule. A metal door to their immediate left led to stairs to the warehouse. Thunder rattled the walls around them.

  “That’s some storm we’re having,” Ben said.

  “You should try driving in it,” Patrick said. He pulled the door to the office shut behind him, giving it a good slam.

  “Whoa,” Ben said, startled. “Easy there, cowboy.”

  Patrick shrugged. “Sorry,” he said, hoping the team heard it.

  Ben led the way to the entry control box next to the door. He fumbled for his ID card, finally pulling it up from a chain around his neck.

  Patrick waited for the sensor to recognize Ben’s clearance. Two seconds later, the warehouse door unlocked with a metallic clunk. Patrick opened the door, then said, “Hang on. I just thought of something.”

  Ben stopped. “What?”

  Patrick scratched at his temple. “We should probably watch the video of the transaction first. Maybe that will shed some light on how they were switched.”

  “You’re right,” Ben said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Knowing that the records of the entire last year had been recently purged, Patrick patted Ben on the back. “We’ll get whoever did this.”

  That’s when the power went out.

  “Holy geez.” Ben loped past Patrick to get back into the security office. There was enough ambient light to see the guy fumble for his keys as he made his way back into the booth and all its dark monitors.

  Still standing in the doorway, Patrick said, “The backup generators will kick in. Just hold on.”

  The two men waited in the darkness.

  Finally Patrick asked, “Shouldn’t they?”

  Ben stood in the center of the small room with his arms akimbo. “Yeah, they should,” he said, his shadowed face revealing confusion and dismay. “How could the generators be out, too?”

  “I’m telling you, it’s a helluva storm out there. Lightning must have fried everything.” Patrick held on to the open door with one hand, wedging his body between it and the jamb. “Let me go down there, see what’s up with the generators.”

  “I should do that.” Ben reached for the telephone. “I gotta call this in to corporate security.” Ben started to dial but held up the phone and shook his head. “Damn landline,” he said, clicking the flash button over and over. “Where the hell is my phone?” He dug around his desk again, searching for it in the dark.

  “When it rains, it pours,” Patrick said insipidly. “You stay here. Look for your phone. I’ll go to the warehouse.”

  “Hang on.” Ben searched his desk until he found a flashlight. He snapped it on, then checked its glow by pointing it at the desk, giving himself one more shot at finding his phone. Reluctantly he handed the flashlight over. “You’ll need this.”

  “Thanks.” Patrick started through the doorway, then thought of something. “Wait,” he said.

  “What?”

  Patrick hesitated. “You carrying?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me have it.” He sensed rather than saw Ben’s puzzlement.

  “What do you need it for?”

  “What if there’s more going on down there than we realize?” Patrick asked. “I’ll be by myself, working in the dark.” And the last thing I need is to have you stumble on my team with a loaded gun.

  “Sure, yeah.” Ben hustled to close the distance between them, drawing his firearm from his belt. “You know how to use one of these?”

  Patrick took the semiautomatic from the guard’s hands and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Yeah. Thanks, buddy.”

  “You be careful.”

  Patrick pulled the heavy door shut behind him.

  His team would be outside the easternmost section of the structure, waiting. He double-timed it down the dozen or so metal stairs, the flashlight’s pale beam leading him to the cement floor, where he broke into a careful trot. Overhead skylights allowed barely enough illumination to avoid running into walls or equipment.

  It was possible for Ben to figure out that they’d intentionally knocked out the power and were controlling the phones and cameras. Ben might even find some way to reinitiate the generators. If the team had been able to pick Aaron up along the way, Patrick would feel better about the logistics. The kid was a master at thwarting security.

  He let himself into section D and made his way past a tandem trailer to a massive overhead door. Opening the side compartment next to it, Patrick reached in and yanked a lever, switching the door’s mechanism from electric to manual. He moved to the door’s center, grasped the metal handle, and twisted it open. He then bent his knees and braced against the floor.

  “Ho!” he grunted, levering his weight to raise the door. Three sets of hands appeared at the bottom and the strain melted away.

  The hollow metal squeaked as it scraped upward. Seconds later, he faced Maya, Sabra, and Edgar. All soaking wet; all wearing night-vision goggles and exhilarated expressions. Behind them, two truck cabs. One with a tandem trailer attached.

  “Where’s Aaron?” Patrick asked.

  Edgar gestured toward the side of the building. “Monitoring the power.” He handed Patrick an extra set of goggles.

  “Excellent. Let’s move.” The moment he donned the goggles, Patrick twisted his face away from the flashlight’s beam. Too bright, too sudden. He clicked off and pocketed it.

  Edgar hooked up the empty cab tractor to the tandem trailer parked inside the warehouse. The moment he was clear of the structure, Sabra backed the team’s truck into the large cavern exactly where the first trailer had been. Identical in size and color, the team’s trailer was wet from the rain. Maya slung a screwdriver out from her back pocket and began switching license plates while the rest of them dried the sides and top of the trailer as much as possible. The team operated in spectral pools of luminescent green, working like efficient ghosts.

  If all went according to plan, in a few short minutes the defective 2.0s would be left here and the team would take off with their cab hooked up to the trailer filled with Celia’s 6.0s. Virtu-Tech’s entire Midwest supply.

  Patrick pulled out his set of keys. He
held them up high, examining them slowly through his thick lenses. As he removed the numbered locks from the first truck and switched them onto the second, he checked his watch. They’d been at this for eight minutes. Only about halfway done. If Ben decided to walk the perimeter and found the overhead door open, they’d be screwed. With any luck, the thunderstorm would keep the guy inside.

  When Aaron grabbed Patrick by the shoulder, he jumped, startled. His jacket swung out, whacking Aaron’s arm with a heavy thunk.

  Aaron grabbed the fabric and held tight. “What’s this?”

  “Aaron,” Patrick said, surprised. “Good job with the power outage.”

  “I asked you a question.”

  Patrick tried to turn, but Aaron held him in place.

  “It’s exactly what you think it is,” Patrick said. “A gun.”

  “Yeah.” Aaron’s eyes glittered. “Why do you have it?”

  All movement around them stopped. “Keep going,” Patrick said over his shoulder. “We can’t slow down. We can’t get caught.”

  “So why do you get to have a gun?” Aaron asked, more quietly this time.

  Maya and Sabra began moving again, much slower now, their eyes on the scene playing out before them. Edgar moved closer to the two men. “What’s the problem?”

  Aaron answered Edgar but didn’t take his eyes or hands away from Patrick. “I just don’t want to get a bullet in the back of the head from some corporate spy.”

  Patrick didn’t need this kind of delay and especially didn’t appreciate being restrained. “If I were a corporate spy, would I be here right now?” His words came out fast and furious as he tried shrugging Aaron’s hands off. “The guard gave it to me. In case I ran into trouble down here. Okay?”

  Aaron nodded—but didn’t move away. “So why did plans change?” he asked. “I thought we were supposed to make this switch sometime next week.”

  “Everything hit the fan at corporate. If you’d made the meeting I called just before this, you’d know that.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, man.”

  “You think I’m bullshitting you?” Even though Patrick knew Ben wouldn’t be able to hear them from his security office, he still harbored fear that the guy would exercise some initiative and take that perimeter walk. “Then get your sorry ass out of here. I don’t have time for this. We’ve got work to do.”