The Ghost Network (book 1)

by I. I Davidson

  Shutting her eyes tight, Akane swore at herself. Of course there would have been a trip wire programmed into the files. Of course they’d know if a hacker intruded. She’d been so eager, so hungry for information, that she hadn’t bothered to watch out for booby traps and disable them, or even to cover her digital tracks on the way out. She hadn’t thought about blocking the inversion pathways.

  You idiot! she berated herself. What kind of trouble had she attracted? Hacking medical records, legal files . . . but now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

  Above her head there was a sturdy, smooth branch; Akane sprang up silently to grab it and hoisted herself into the tree. Peering out between the leaves, she could see them: two dark-suited men, with slick hair and cold eyes. One of them had a phone to his ear; the other idly scanned the gardens as he waited.

  They didn’t look like police.

  Several long moments passed as Akane crouched rigidly among the branches. She came in here, the one with the cellphone had said. There was no one else close by, so they had to be talking about Akane. Besides, her instincts were bristling, and she always trusted those. What did those men want with her?

  “This is a tricky one,” said the man with the phone, pocketing it. “We need to do it quietly. They don’t want a fuss.”

  Do it quietly? thought Akane. Her stomach lurched.

  His colleague slipped a pair of mirrored sunglasses over his eyes. “What about her parents? The grandmother?”

  “We can get her out of the country quickly. The important thing is to get her to the Center. They’ll handle it from there. There’s nothing the family can do if they don’t know where she is.”

  Akane could barely breathe. Get her out of the country? Without her parents’ consent? Sure, she’d hacked the correspondence, the medical records, and that awful contract. But this . . . it seemed extreme . . .

  Procedure is entirely property of WD, therefore subjects also . . .

  A hideous memory flashed in her brain: it was one she’d filed in the back because she’d been so preoccupied with the medical procedure and the legal contract. But she thought of it now.

  It was the file named Defense Applications.

  Akane’s mind whirled, racing. If the Center owned her and John and Jake, there had to be a reason. Who owned the rights to something they couldn’t use?

  Defense Applications.

  Akane hadn’t asked herself before, but she did now: What are we for?

  What are we actually for?

  And what do I know that I shouldn’t?

  Would these men kill her? No, that was ridiculous. Why take her all the way to Alaska just to dispose of a body? And, anyway, Akane thought with a fearful shiver of disgust, she was a valuable piece of property.

  But if they got her to the Wolf’s Den, she could easily vanish: just another missing person. Her parents would search, but they wouldn’t find her. I’d be completely under the control of my . . . owners. Akane shuddered again and had to grab a branch to keep her balance. This one was slender: it bounced, and the leaves shook and rustled loudly.

  Both men glanced up. The one with the sunglasses stepped forward.

  “Maezono-san?”

  Akane cursed herself. There was no more time to think. She leaped to the ground, landed with a grunt, and ran.

  “Maezono-san! Akane! We only want to talk!” She ignored their shouts. Bolting through the trees, her backpack jolting against her spine, she tried to think. They know where I live. They’ll follow. They’ll find me.

  So in that case, why had they bothered to follow her to Gotokuji? Because they want to do this quietly. Just take me. They won’t take me from my house. She knew it with a sudden, powerful surge of hope: it would be too risky for them, too overt. If I can just get back to the apartment—!

  Gotokuji was a quiet place, secluded, shaded by so many trees. It was peaceful, and when she’d come here, she’d done exactly what they wanted; they probably couldn’t believe their luck. Home might be safe. But to get home, she still had to get out of here . . .

  A bolt of fear shot through Akane’s gut. Panting, she darted and dodged through the trees and sprinted down another walkway. If she’d had any doubts, any vague hope that she was imagining things and being overly dramatic, they’d vanished; she could hear the men’s swift running footsteps behind her, their leather soles scraping the stone pathway.

  The setting sun was dazzling, peeking through the branches and dappling the mossy ground, half blinding her and making it hard to orient herself. But Akane kept running, racing in a wide circle through the trees. Her pursuers were fast, she realized with a surge of panic, and they weren’t tiring.

  Ahead and to her left she caught sight of the tall wooden pagoda, and she sprinted toward it; then, darting suddenly to the right, she plunged in among the memorial stones and statues of the cemetery.

  Ducking behind a thick pillar of stone, she halted, panting. Despair filled her chest. This is useless. Even if I get out of here, they’ll find me somewhere, somehow.

  No. I won’t just give up! If she could just get home, it would give her breathing space. Enough time to make her own plan . . .

  If I can just lose them here!

  Akane stiffened, holding her breath. Quiet footsteps were treading along the stones and methodically covering the ground. They might take a little while to find her hiding place, but eventually, they would.

  Gripping her pack straps, taking a deep breath, Akane leaped to her feet.

  Sunglasses was to her left, six rows away; Cellphone was right ahead of her, just one line along. Their heads spun toward her, and Cellphone gave a shout of triumph. They must have split up to cover more ground. Just as well, then, that she loved parkour . . .

  The stones were tall, all straight-sided pillars and obelisks, but a lot of them had flat tops. Springing up onto the nearest one, Akane leaped lightly to the next and then to the next. Cellphone rushed for her and grabbed at her ankle, his fingers brushing the hem of her jeans. But he missed and swore, and she leaped on in nimble strides.

  They were after her again, fast and intent, but she didn’t glance back. She kept jumping and leaping, praying she wouldn’t fall, inwardly begging forgiveness from the dead as she ran in great bounding steps across their stones and back toward the temple.

  As she jumped down from the last pillar and bolted back into the gardens, Sunglasses gave a shout of frustration and dodged clumsily around a statue after her. I’m ahead, I’m ahead . . .

  Her heart lurched in panic. Cellphone was nowhere in sight. Where is he?

  Akane tried to swivel her head as she ran, searching desperately for a second running shadow. As she pounded gasping through the trees and toward the temple, she at last caught sight of him; the two of them had split up again, trying another two-pronged attack. Cellphone had circled the trees, and now he was running toward her, from the other side of the temple.

  Akane skidded to a halt on the grass, and for a horrible moment she hesitated, agonizingly torn. The men were closing in on her. She swung toward one, then the other. There was nowhere to go but the temple itself, and if she ran there, she’d be trapped—

  Clenching her teeth, Akane darted through the temple gateway.

  “Got her!” she heard Sunglasses yell.

  Ignoring him, she sprinted through the small courtyard. Grabbing one of the wooden pillars at the temple’s corners, she yanked herself up and scrambled hand over hand onto the roof. At its edge she crouched, staring back down at the men.

  Cellphone halted, glaring up at her. Then he swore, grabbed a pillar, and began to climb. He wasn’t as agile as she was, but he looked strong. He was going to be up where she was at any moment—and Sunglasses was following his example, moving rapidly up another pillar.

  Turning, Akane ran again, up the low slanting roof and down toward its far edge.
Over the clanging of her feet, she could still hear the men’s shouts, but she didn’t hesitate. She drew a deep breath—

  For the second time in her life, Akane took a flying leap from the roof of the Gotokuji Temple. But she was not four this time, and she didn’t have time to be afraid. The ground rushed up to meet her, and air rushed into her lungs, making her give a high-pitched gasp. Pain jolted through her as she landed on her feet with a grunt. Then she sprang up and bolted along the walkway to the main gate. As she stumbled out of the gardens, she gave a cry of triumph and terror.

  Beyond the entranceway, the narrow streets were lined with shops; Akane had never been so glad to see real, live pedestrians. She hurtled between them, dodging bags and elbows, and she did not stop running till she was lost in the crowds at Miyanozaka Station. When she finally dared to look over her shoulder, there was no sign of Sunglasses and Cellphone. Sucking in deep breaths, she tried to calm her trembling limbs and whispered a quick prayer of gratitude to the temple cats.

  Thank you, maneki-neko. You brought me luck.

  Now I just have to build on it . . .

  <<>>

  What was it she’d told herself, as she stared at the temple cats and agonized about getting her information to John? I can’t just get on a plane . . .

  The temporary safety of the apartment felt like a blissful haven; all the way home, Akane kept glancing over her shoulder, terrified that Cellphone and Sunglasses would loom out of the crowds. Her parents and Obaasan must have thought she was crazy: she rarely gave them such fierce, desperate hugs as she did when she rushed through the front door.

  But she was still in danger, Akane knew. And so were they. She’d bought a temporary reprieve, and Cellphone and Sunglasses wouldn’t launch an attack on her home—not yet, at least. But when would their employers run out of patience?

  Quietly, firmly, Akane closed the door of her study, dumped her backpack in the corner, and flipped open her laptop. Her limbs were still trembling, and her fingers felt numb. From the kitchen her mother was calling out to her, but supper could wait.

  Akane swallowed hard. Minimizing the window that held the Wolf’s Den files, she opened her browser.

  “What are you looking for, Akane?”

  Her heart tripped and thudded. Drat that thing. She’d forgotten she’d personalized that robotic voice. With a glance toward the door, she muted the volume and tapped out her request the old-fashioned way into the search box.

  “Get me to Alaska.”

  Obaasan had stopped going to the market altogether in the mornings. Instead, Mrs. Hagashi had taken to popping over more often to gossip. Which meant there were now two pairs of beady old eyes watching her.

  Akane was desperate for Mrs. Hagashi to leave, but there was no rushing her grandmother’s morning news broadcast. She’d have to wait, that was all, and pass the time by going over and over her own medical files, and John’s, and Slack’s.

  She’d thought she’d found the vital information, but that was before she’d started delving into the detailed biological records. How could something so terrifying be so fascinating?

  Biology wasn’t her specialty, but with focus and diligence, Akane could almost see how it had worked. How it still worked.

  And once she had a grasp of what Mikael had done, and how he had done it, she began to see why it had succeeded. It was genius, she had to admit. And if biology wasn’t her forte, the other aspects of this procedure certainly were. Akane furrowed her brow as she read intently. There were so many links to follow, so many pathways to investigate. Every way she turned, she found another intriguing diversion into the cellular process and how it kept her alive.

  By intriguing she really meant frightening. But then, Akane reminded herself, she’d never been scared too easily. With a grin she glanced back at her chute, and at just that moment, she heard Mrs. Hagashi’s cheery “Mata ne!” and the door of the apartment clicked shut.

  Akane sprang to her feet. Now or never . . . Obaasan was puttering in the kitchen area, rinsing porcelain cups and reorganizing her enormous collection of herbal teas. Akane tiptoed up behind her and squeezed the old woman’s waist.

  “Akane!” She turned and smiled. “I thought you were busy with your computer?”

  “I was, but I’ve got something to tell you, Obaasan.” Akane gave her grandmother her most innocent, wide-eyed smile. “How does a vacation sound?”

  “A vacation?” The old woman’s eyes creased.

  “You know you like to travel,” said Akane. “You loved Singapore and L.A.”

  “Yes, yes, I did.” Obaasan drew back a little and frowned at her. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Akane took a deep breath and whipped a printout from her pocket. “We’re going to Alaska!”

  “We’re going where?”

  “Alaska,” said Akane. She pushed the paper into her grandmother’s tiny hands.

  Frowning, Obaasan reached for her glasses and peered at the printout. Her eyes flickered as she read the words over, slowly and carefully. “A competition?”

  “Yes!”

  “You won this trip?”

  “Yes.” There was no need for the old woman to know that she’d hacked her way into the winning draw at japanlovealaska.com. It had been so easy that Akane was almost embarrassed. But it’s for a good cause.

  “Alaska,” said Obaasan faintly. “Akane-chan, you know why I liked Singapore and Los Angeles, don’t you? I like cities. I like shopping and coffee bars and theaters and—”

  “Alaska is beautiful,” Akane told her firmly. “Come and look at my computer and I’ll show you photos.”

  “Alaska is cold,” pointed out her grandmother. “And bleak.”

  “It’s not bleak at all,” said Akane. “Anchorage! Fairbanks! They’re cities! And you can see the aurora borealis. And reindeer. Polar bears!”

  There was a wistful light in Obaasan’s eyes as she bit her lip. “I’ve never seen the northern lights . . . ”

  “No, and they’re supposed to be amazing!”

  Obaasan peered again at the piece of paper. “And you really won this?”

  “I really did. And the trip is for two people!”

  “It would have to be,” said Obaasan dryly. “Your parents would forbid you to go alone. In fact, I’m not even sure—”

  “If you talk to them, Obaasan, they’ll let me go,” pleaded Akane. “Please? I’ve always wanted to see Alaska!”

  The lie went unnoticed, thank goodness, and the old woman nodded slowly. “Let me think about it, Akane-chan . . . ”

  “That’s the thing.” Akane bit her lip hard. “There’s not really that much time to think. The flights are, uh . . . soon.”

  “How soon?” Obaasan narrowed her old eyes.

  “Like, in a couple of days?” Akane put on her most winsome expression. It’s not like I could leave it till next month. And besides, the website might catch on to my hack in less than a week . . . “Oh, please, Obaasan? Okaa-chan and Otou-chan won’t be able to get time off work. You’re my only hope.”

  The old woman gave a great, defeated sigh. “Well, if you promise not to go jumping off any mountains, I’ll ask them.” Her grandmother took her hands and gazed solemnly into her eyes. “None of this case-jumping thing.”

  “BASE jumping. And there’s not a single skyscraper in Fairbanks,” Akane said evasively, “as far as I can see on Google Maps.”

  “All right. All right, I’m willing to ask your parents if you’re sure you’ll be good.”

  Akane nodded eagerly. It wasn’t as if she’d told her grandmother any huge lies.

  After all, Obaasan hadn’t asked straight out if she was going to head for an island in the wilderness, seek out John Laine, and investigate the murky dealings of a sinister cyber-organization . . .

  Akane felt the way she did when
she stood on the edge of a high building, her toes inching out over the abyss. There was a thrill of adrenalin in her bloodstream, a mounting excitement churning in her gut. She was on the verge of a leap into the unknown, with a singing awareness and understanding waiting for her out there—if she dared to make the plunge.

  All I have to do is jump.

  John was on the verge of something; he could feel it. All I have to do is—

  No. He didn’t know what he had to do.

  With a muttered curse, he flopped back against the chair and stared at his laptop screen. He had settled himself in one of the small study rooms on the lower floor of the west wing; it was a little cramped, but unlike his own room, it was completely free of distractions like that tempting 3-D gaming console. There was nothing here but a desk, a swivel chair, the hum of the air-conditioning, and his own laptop.

  But even that single screen was maddening. Lines of code flickered and scrolled across it, mocking him. This malware shouldn’t be so hard to combat. It wasn’t that hard; he knew it in his bones—if he could only find the hidden gate he knew was there, that elusive little tunnel of code that would take him to the digital heart of that stupid, stupid velociraptor. He wanted very badly to stab it right in the chest.

  John shook himself. His violent dreams were more than enough to cope with, and they’d been getting increasingly worse. He certainly didn’t need to feed that thrill by fantasizing about killing things while he was awake—especially since he tried to be awake more and more of the time. His dreams while he was asleep were way too disturbing.

  Apart from anything else, his father would disapprove—even of the imaginary killing of a pixelated dinosaur. John gritted his teeth and pulled the laptop back toward him. But he knew how to fight this malware. He shouldn’t be this frustrated in the first place. What would Dad tell me to do right now?

  Closing his eyes, he pictured Mikael’s face in his mind. It had been getting harder to do that, but now he forced himself to focus. Akane would know how to do this. Clear your thoughts, she’d say. Empty your mind. Concentrate on one thing only.