It dawns on me: Spencer knows. He knows about me, which is why Zeke introduced me as, well, me. I’m not the only one he knows about, either. It’s pretty clear that he knows Zeke is Tracker, and he knows, too, about the bank job.
‘Come on, Tina,’ Zeke says softly, suddenly next to me, his breath tickling my ear.
‘I want to stay. Don’t you? He’s almost in.’
Zeke and Spencer exchange a look.
‘No, he’s not.’
‘Why not?’
Spencer shakes his head. ‘It goes in circles.’
‘What does?’
‘Just when I think I’m in, I get kicked out. Whoever did this is a fuckin’ genius.’ He levels his gaze at me, and it strikes me: he thinks I did it.
‘I don’t know anything about this. I only transferred the money into the account. I sent the code to the back door to Tracker.’ I don’t even bother censoring myself.
‘What back door?’ Zeke asks.
He actually sounds as though he doesn’t know. ‘The back door that I set up in the code. Just in case.’ Just in case someone locked the account. I wanted Tracker to have the money. I wanted him to pay everyone who helped. I narrow my gaze at Spencer. Did he help? Zeke says no, no one helped; it was only him.
‘I never got any message about any back door,’ Zeke says. He isn’t even trying to pretend he isn’t Tracker, confirming my suspicion that Spencer knows everything. He’s still talking. ‘Someone must have intercepted it. Maybe the same person who’s sending us in circles now.’ He pauses. ‘Did you know the feds would freeze the account?’ Zeke is staring at me so intently that it makes me uncomfortable, not to mention that he is ‘the feds’, so this is a loaded question.
I shift from one foot to the other and back again. ‘No. But I was worried that someone else might get in there and the money wouldn’t get to who it needed to get to. So I put in the back door and sent you the code so you’d know how to get in there without anyone knowing you were there. You could take the money out—’
‘And leave the account empty.’ He finishes my sentence for me, and I know he’s right: someone else found the back door, intercepted the message I’d sent.
‘You’re not going to find the money,’ I tell Spencer. ‘You’ll find the account, but it will be empty. That money’s long gone.’
‘I’m not so sure about that.’
Zeke and I both look at him at the same time. ‘What do you mean?’ Zeke asks.
But he doesn’t answer. He’s seated now, in front of the screens, his fingers on the keyboard. Zeke and I lean over Spencer’s shoulder, watching the code scroll across the screen. He was right. I did do it. By creating the back door, I allowed whoever got in to write code that would send any hacker in circles. I wish I could take credit for that bit of magic, but it was completely inadvertent and unexpected.
‘Who did this?’ Zeke asks no one in particular.
‘A fuckin’ genius,’ Spencer mutters. He hits a few more keys, and then: ‘What the hell is that?’
We see it at the same time. In the middle of the beautiful code is a sloppy line, and it reminds me of something. It reminds Zeke of the same thing. We look at each other.
‘The picture of Adriana,’ we say at the same time.
‘What picture?’ Spencer has no idea.
‘Move over.’ Zeke gives him a nudge, and Spencer slips out of his seat as Zeke takes it. Spencer and I watch as Zeke – no, definitely Tracker now – works. I find myself concentrating on Zeke’s face rather than the screen. If I had any doubts that he’s truly Tracker, I don’t have them anymore.
The screen changes suddenly, and a chill runs up my spine.
It’s the ransom note that my shadow sent me last summer in Quebec.
Zeke stares at me. ‘It’s your shadow.’
My shadow is not just some hacker working for Tony DeMarco. He’s the one who took the money out of the bank account sixteen years ago.
‘That’s how he knew,’ I whisper. ‘How he knew about the account that no one found. Because he found it.’ My head is reeling. But then I have another thought. ‘There is no way that network can be the same as it was sixteen years ago. They must have updated it.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Spencer says. ‘But it’s a piss-poor network to start with and they’ve got shitty security. Their IT guys must be middle school dropouts who are so cheap it’s the only way they got their jobs.’ He jabs his finger at the screen. ‘Look at that fucked-up code.’
It’s not the code for the picture of Adriana. That had been too easy to find, as though whoever put it there knew we’d come poking around eventually. This is something else, but I can’t pinpoint it. Not exactly.
‘What do you see, Tiny?’ Zeke’s voice sounds as if it’s a million miles away. He slides off the seat, and I sit, scanning the source code on the screen. It’s there, I know it’s there, but why can’t I see it? Where is it hiding?
I am vaguely aware of Zeke and Spencer talking behind me, but I’m in a tunnel; I tune it all out. I make an empty promise to myself that if I find it, I’ll never hack again, I’ll earn that coin and do my steps and disappear again, forget about Tony DeMarco.
And then there it is. It’s right out in the open, which is possibly why I didn’t see it before. Hiding in plain sight, just like me.
Two million dollars.
THIRTY-TWO
I have the sudden thought that ‘Tracker’ is waiting for me to find the money, and once I do, he’ll take it and then he’ll kill me. I have not said anything yet; I haven’t given any indication that I’ve found anything at all. It would take only a second for me to change the code and the money will disappear so no one can ever get it.
But if I do that, it will be lost to me, too, and I might never know who my shadow was, who did this. And I realize in this second that I have to know, that I need to know who has set me up. I need to know if it’s Ian or not.
Zeke and Spencer are still talking behind me. That gun is still in Zeke’s waistband, and I fixate on it for a second, remembering being in the car and almost getting run off the road. That could have ended so differently; why didn’t it? I’m back to the fact that whoever is after me – us – still wants this money first.
I like to think that I make this decision carefully, but I would be lying to myself. It’s rash, but without bringing any attention to myself, I change the code only slightly and the account disappears. I am pretty sure I’ll be able to find it again.
Zeke’s voice in my ear startles me.
‘What did you do?’
I force myself to keep a neutral expression. ‘I don’t know how to get in,’ I say, surprised that my voice is steady. I don’t sound as if I’m lying. I get up out of the seat. ‘Maybe Spencer needs to keep working on it. He’s gotten farther than any of us.’
Zeke frowns, as though he knows I’m up to something, but he finally nods at Spencer. ‘OK, man, we’ll let you get back to it. Come on, Tina.’
I remember something now. He called me Tiny. Is that why Spencer’s looking at me with that expression?
‘Who are you?’ I ask him. ‘I mean, are you in the chat room? What’s your screen name?’
Spencer looks at Zeke, who gives a short nod, then back at me. ‘You might know me as Angel.’
Every muscle in my body tenses. He is Angel? Before this completely sinks in, Zeke says, ‘Spencer’s been trying to trace the other Tracker, find his IP address, but he hasn’t been able to yet.’
‘He’s a slippery bastard,’ Spencer says. ‘But he trusts me.’ He chuckles. ‘Asshole. I’ll get him. Don’t worry.’ He gives me a sympathetic smile, and I believe him. Zeke had been vague when I asked him about Angel; now I know it was because he’s known who Angel is all along.
‘Let’s leave him to his work,’ Zeke says, then waves something. It’s a wireless router. That’s right. That’s why we came here in the first place. Zeke said he knew where he could get one, and I am not surprised that Spe
ncer would have one just lying around the house. ‘All set.’ He starts for the door, but I hesitate, the screens drawing me back, and I am suddenly doubtful that I will ever find that account again.
‘Come on,’ Zeke says, his tone firm, and I follow him through the kitchen and to the back door where we came in. Spencer holds it open for us, gives Zeke a fist bump and nods at me. ‘Nice to finally meet you.’ There is a hint of respect in his voice, which surprises me. ‘Come back sometime.’
‘Sure,’ I say, and follow Zeke out. When we are almost to the car, I finally speak. ‘He’s got a lot of equipment there. We’ve got one laptop. Maybe we should come back after we plant the router.’
‘No.’
‘He knows who you are.’
‘Yes.’ He gives me a look that tells me he may regret bringing me here.
‘You told me no one knows.’
‘He knows who both of us are. He knows everything.’ He pauses. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you about that, but we can trust him. Spencer and I go way back. Anyway, he’s got a lot more to hide than we do. He’s part of something. It’s like Anonymous. They call themselves Incognito.’
I’ve heard of them. They’re an offshoot of Anonymous. They’ve got access to things that I can’t even imagine; they’ve hacked high-profile sites all over the world. If Spencer is part of Incognito, it’s not surprising he got into the bank like he did. What is surprising is that he couldn’t find the account. As I think about it, it suddenly seems too easy. I want to turn around and go back, confront him, but in case it wasn’t a set-up, I can’t risk it. Maybe later, when I’m by myself – granted, if Zeke leaves me alone – I can try to get back inside.
‘You upset? I mean, about Spencer knowing?’ Zeke asks after we get into the car. ‘You don’t have to worry. Really.’
‘You said no one but me knew about you.’
‘He’s the only one.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Sure about that?’
‘Yes.’ There’s something behind that ‘yes,’ though, that tells me there’s more to this. But it’s pretty clear I’m not going to find out what it is – at least not now.
So I change the subject. ‘Do you only have him working on finding the bank account, or is he looking for Tony’s site, too?’
‘He’s not part of the team.’ Zeke seems relieved that I’m not going to press the issue of Spencer knowing who I am – or who he is. ‘If the agency finds out I’ve got any contact with him at all, I’ll lose everything.’
I consider what he’s telling me, and decide to leave it alone for now. Instead, I ask, ‘So how come he can work alone and I can’t?’
The corners of Zeke’s mouth twitch, as if he wants to smile, but he doesn’t say anything.
We’re back in the car and heading toward Key Biscayne. Zeke is quiet, biting the corner of his lip. I find myself constantly looking in the side-view mirror, on the alert for that car.
‘Don’t worry,’ Zeke says, noticing.
‘Why not? Maybe we shouldn’t have come back here.’
‘We have to plant the router. It’s a good way in.’
‘But it’s not like we’re traveling under the radar. They already know our car.’
He doesn’t say anything to that. Probably because he can’t, because I’m right.
As we approach Tony DeMarco’s house, every muscle in my body gets tighter. I’m not going to relax until we’re far away from here. Zeke pulls over and hands me the router. I open the door and, without getting out of the car, hunch down, tucking it into the bushes where the other one had sat only hours ago. As soon as the door is closed, the car shoots off.
We travel in silence, my thoughts drifting back to Spencer. There was something oddly familiar about him, even though I’d never met him before tonight – and it’s not the fact that I’ve seen him online. Maybe it’s because I know that if I hadn’t run, if I hadn’t disappeared, I could have been him. I could have been the one who found myself holed up in a small house with a bank of computer screens as my only company. Right now, the idea of that is incredibly appealing.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t worry.’
But I do worry. That’s my favorite pastime.
THIRTY-THREE
We leave Key Biscayne and go toward the city on the Rickenbacker Causeway. Although I doubt we’ll end up at the South Miami apartment, I am still surprised when he pulls up to a high-rise hotel on Brickell Avenue. It’s a little out of my price range, but he doesn’t seem daunted by it.
‘I’ll get us a room,’ he says casually, parking in front and getting out of the car.
I am uncomfortable here alone and find myself constantly looking in the rear-view mirror and out the driver’s side window, just in case someone decides to come up from behind.
Zeke jogs back to the car and climbs in. We head into a covered garage and park. I grab my backpack as we get out and go to the hotel entrance. The hotel lobby is elegant, with a sleek white marble tile floor, a green wall of lush plants, and a bank of plush sofas. It’s definitely a few steps above the Palm Court Resort. I give Zeke a sidelong glance, but he doesn’t seem fazed by its luxury. I follow him into the elevator.
‘You can afford this?’ I ask when we reach our floor.
He grins and indicates I should go ahead of him.
The room is luxurious as well, with a large king-sized bed and dark mahogany furniture. Glass doors lead to a balcony overlooking the bay. The lights from the city bounce off the glass, and Zeke goes over to study the view.
I notice the handgun is back in his waistband.
‘Isn’t that dangerous? Don’t you have a holster or something?’ I ask. He hadn’t answered me when I asked him that at Spencer’s house.
‘It’s at the apartment. It bothers you?’
My gaze is fixated on the gun. He notices and pulls it out, the gun now hanging loosely from his fingertips. When I don’t say anything, he holds it out to me, and I frown.
‘Take it,’ he says firmly.
I don’t want it. I shake my head, but he isn’t taking no for an answer. He grabs my hand with his free one and presses the gun into my palm, as he did with his FBI shield earlier. I have no choice. I look him in the eyes, and he’s watching me, waiting for something, I’m not exactly sure. I don’t know what I’m going to do; we stand there for a few minutes without speaking. Finally, he takes it from me, and I take a deep breath.
He chuckles. ‘I think it’s a testament to how much I trust you,’ he says, clearly referring to the fact that I shot him in Paris.
I roll my eyes at him. He opens the sliding door and steps out on to the balcony.
‘I’m going to take a shower,’ I tell him, but I can’t be sure that he’s even heard me.
I head into the bathroom and strip off my shorts and T-shirt, stepping into the hot shower. I stand under the stream of water for a lot longer than I need to, washing away everything that’s happened in the last few days. When I get out, putting on a clean oversized T-shirt from my backpack, Zeke is still on the balcony. But now he’s seated at the small table, the laptop open in front of him. He doesn’t even look up.
For the first time since this whole thing started, I have no curiosity about what he’s doing online. I need a break from it; I need to clear my head. I towel-dry my hair and crawl into the bed, turning on the TV.
I fall asleep to the sounds of a night-time drama.
A sliver of sunshine splashes across the bed. It’s morning; oddly, I am refreshed, despite having dreams where I’m inside source codes and I can’t find my way out. I have no idea what time it is. The TV is off; I don’t remember doing that, so Zeke must have. My stomach growls, reminding me that it’s been hours since I ate anything.
He is still on the balcony. He’s closed the door, and I slide it open, the heat clashing with the air conditioning. He glances up, dark circles under his eyes, but he doesn’t look tired.
‘Tina, check this out
.’ He indicates the laptop screen.
‘Have you been out here all night?’ I ask.
He reaches around and rummages around in the backpack, producing a power cord. ‘It’s almost out of juice.’ He picks up the laptop and the cord and brushes past me, as though I’m barely there.
Although I’m curious about what he’s been up to, I need some caffeine. ‘I’m going out for coffee,’ I say, following him in. He barely registers that I’ve picked up one of the room key cards off the desk and let myself out. I go down to the lobby and am told there is a coffee shop adjacent to the hotel. I go outside, the sun’s glare making me squint, and around the corner to the shop. I order two coffees and a couple of bagels with cream cheese. I don’t really know what Zeke likes for breakfast. Did we ever have breakfast together? Again it bothers me that I know next to nothing about him, about his life. Does he have an apartment somewhere – not one that he shares with a team of hackers, but one that he calls his own? Does he have a cat, a dog? A girlfriend? The last makes me pause.
I shrug the thought aside, balance the bag of bagels and coffee, and make my way back to the room, letting myself in with the card key.
Zeke is sitting cross-legged on the bed now, the laptop in front of him, completely engrossed.
I hand him one of the coffees and he takes it, sips, but it’s not too hot so he chugs it down and sticks the empty cup on the bedside table. He looks up at me, his eyes bright with exhaustion, his five o’clock shadow pronounced, his hair tousled.
‘You’re a mess,’ I say.
‘And you, my dear, look refreshed.’
I make a face at him, but before I can ask him what he’s doing, he volunteers. ‘I’ve been watching the hacker all night through the router.’
‘He’s there?’ I put my own cup down, forget about the bagels, and squeeze next to him, pulling the laptop toward me so I can see the screen better. ‘Who is it?’
‘I still don’t know. The IP address jumps all over the place, so I can’t pinpoint him, but he’s definitely not at DeMarco’s.’
The screen is dark, and I look up at him, frowning. ‘Nothing’s going on.’
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