She opened the message. 'Well, it looks like the team is already on the job.' She put the attached pictures from the e-mail up on the large screen.
'Broadcast to all operatives on task. This is the subject we are looking for. Last seen in the vicinity of Wyvil Road, London, and is most likely attempting to leave the country. First Team, give me an identity report on her immediately. All other operatives, track her current location ASAP.'
Kate switched off her channel and turned back to the other director. 'I think this team may surprise you.'
'Perhaps. I just pray the surprise isn't more of what they did last night. Let's hope we can pick up her trail before that other team does. I'll keep you informed of any progress on my end.'
'Thank you, as will I,' Kate said.
Samantha's avatar winked out, leaving Kate to pause for a moment and watch the renewed activity around her, now reenergized with the new evidence they had to work with. For all her defense of the Midnight Team, Kate knew she was taking a chance sticking with them. Just don't let me down, boys and girls — in this game, you're lucky to get a second chance, and there are no third chances.
9
The insistent clamor of her computer's alarm clock jolted Marlene's eyes open, and she yawned and stretched under the thin blanket in her small but acceptable hotel room, luxuriating in the threadbare cotton sheets for a moment before reality crashed down upon her, sweeping away her grogginess in a rush of stark memories. Ray falling down the staircase, blood blooming on the front of his shirt…the black-clad assassin standing over him, firing twice more…the terrifying journey down the clothes chute…the flight through the disgusting sewer darkness, her shoulder blades itching, expecting to feel a bullet punch through them at any moment…staring at the white-sheeted forms being carried out on the emergency carts…
It was anything but a dream. After seeing the deadly proof of the slaughter with her own eyes, Marlene had spent the rest of the night skulking through the London streets. While she had done her best to remain inconspicuous, it was almost impossible when every slammed door made her flinch, every raised voice jerked her head around to make sure the speaker wasn't coming after her. When she was absolutely sure that no one was following her, she had found a tiny hotel a few blocks away from her ultimate destination, her way out of London, and crashed after picking up a few more necessities in a twenty-four-hour supermarket.
Ray is dead…he's really dead, she thought. There wasn't any coming back this time, not like the blown hack in Philadelphia, when their hotel room had been raided and she squeezed through the tiny bathroom window and ran, dead certain the FBI had nabbed him, only to awaken and see him sitting in that ridiculous hardbacked chair at their safe hotel fifty miles away, covered in mud from the cattle truck he'd hitched a ride on. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. She'd gotten up and tackled him to the floor in a bear hug.
I'll never wake up to see his face smiling down at me again. Drawing her legs up to her chest, Marlene wrapped her arms around them and sat very still, head bowed, tears streaming down her face.
After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes and made her way to the bathroom, sniffling with each step. She had paid extra for the privilege of a bathroom so small she was barely able to fit inside it along with a rust-streaked sink, toilet and minuscule shower, all crammed practically on top of one another. But she had things to do before she could go out in public again, and grimly, she set to them.
Forty-five minutes later, showered and dressed, her dark tresses and eyebrows had been transformed to platinum blond, and she had cut her hair even shorter, in case she had to hide it under a wig or scarf. Her clothes she couldn't do as much with, as she had to save her cash for the rest of her trip.
She paced the length of the tiny room. Two strides brought her right up to the musty, fading wallpaper, the pattern of linked roses long since faded to pale shadows of their former color. Marlene's gaze strayed to her laptop in the corner. She knew she needed to clear a path, to get out of the country and meet up with friends, but even with her skills, she knew who might be watching in cyberspace and how they might track her down. Still, it was the best way to go. She'd just have to be careful; that was all. As careful as Ray? her inner voice chided. Shaking her head, she grabbed the case and got moving, heading down the steps and out the back way to Midland Road, right next to the train station.
A couple of blocks away, on the main thoroughfare of Euston Road, she spotted a small cafe with the wireless symbol she was looking for. Slipping inside, she ordered a large black coffee and a sweet roll that she choked down, hardly tasting it but knowing she should eat. Sitting in a back corner, she unzipped her laptop case and got out her mobile home, office and just about everything in between, a customized laptop that could run rings around anything off the shelf, and even give some other hackers' platforms a run for their money.
Between gulps of steaming, weak coffee, she logged on and navigated to a very secure, very private chat room for folks who dabbled in her kind of work, some still for kicks, some for very serious five-and six-figure business. She pulled down a guest avatar, a plain-John-looking man to hide behind, and strolled around the main room, an endless, bare-bones hall with scattered groups conversing or people winking in and out in a flash.
Marlene kept panning back and forth, watching the conversation bubbles above people's heads. He's got to be here, he's always here. Two things about Aragorn — the man never leaves, and he never shuts up, she told herself.
She finally found the person she was looking for, surrounded by neophyte hackers, all enthralled by a story he was telling that she had heard at least three times. Out of respect, she waited until he had finished — she needed his help, and antagonizing him by interrupting wouldn't help anything.
'…so I wait until the right moment, then send the program. Every telephone in the Pentagon rang at once, and when they picked up, they heard that old McDonald's jingle. They were talking about it for months afterward, and investigating the phone company, and any other phreakers they could get their hands on. Me, I was long gone by then. Course, this was all waaaay back in the day, when geeks like me broke into phone companies with my trusty Commodore 64 and a 1200-baud modem. Times change, boys and girls, times do change.'
The sycophants muttered excitedly among themselves. Marlene took the opportunity to send a private message to the tall blond man dressed in a fantasy ranger's outfit, complete with two swords and a long leather coat, holding court at the center of the group.
'Gorn, it's me, Katt.'
The avatar's eyes lit up at seeing the guest avatar, but his expression quickly turned suspicious. 'You sure you got the right guy, newbie?'
'If I got the guy who went to juvie for eighteen months because of that Pentagon prank, then yeah, I got the right guy.'
The handsome blond head snorted. 'Lots of people know that story. How do I know it's really you?'
Marlene tamped down on her anger, knowing that the situation was making her edgy. In his place, she'd do the exact same thing. 'Because when we both got drunk one night, you showed my your tattoo, and made me promise never to tell about Betty B…'
'All right, all right, I believe you — no need to be spreading those vicious lies. That really you, Katt? What are you doing running a clone?'
'I'm incognito at the moment. I need your help. Can we continue this somewhere else?'
'Well, that's certainly intriguing. Your wish is my command.' Marlene tried not to roll her eyes at his inane chivalry, but simply followed him through what looked like a blank stone wall. Remember, like him all you want, but don't trust him, she told herself. For all his lofty airs and patronizing demeanor toward the newbies, she knew Aragorn trusted one thing above just about anything else — cold, hard cash. Now that Ray was gone, he was the only one Marlene could turn to.
The encrypted entrance led into a lush sitting room decorated in some kind of strange mishmash of Victorian and baroque style, with cut-glass lamps and heavy, ornate, overstuffed, claw-footed furniture everywhere.
Aragorn shrugged out of his coat and slung himself onto a crimson-and-mahogany chaise longue, his appearance totally at odds with the room. He noticed her stare. 'Oh, this. Just a moment…' His avatar flickered for a second, and just like that he was dressed in an elegant suit, complete with a dove-gray, cutaway coat with tails and matching trousers, a top hat on the seat beside him, and a raven-headed silver cane in his silk-gloved hand. 'Is that better?'
