'You had me a little worried this morning, Mooo-neeer.'
'What? What do you mean?'
'When you left. Thought you might have been sneaking off to meet someone.'
He must be watching me.
'I did not!'
He'd left the apartment for food and newspapers. But he had no appetite and hadn't been able to concentrate long enough to make sense of a single paragraph in the paper. He'd spent his time wandering from room to room, waiting to hear from the monster, wondering what his next demand would be. And all the while his promise of sending proof that Barbara and Robby were still alive gnawed at him. The way he'd said it… even the voice distorter couldn't obscure the obscene glee slithering through his tone.
'I know that. But it got me to thinking how you might be talking about your situation through email. That's a no-no.'
'I swear I have not!'
'So you say, but I don't trust you. So I sent you an email. You will open it on both your home computer and your laptop.'
'I don't understand.'
'The email contains a rootkit that will allow me to monitor your activity.'
A rootkit would allow the monster more than that-it would take over his computers.
Without thinking, Munir blurted, 'I can't!'
'You what?'
'Wait-wait-wait. I didn't mean that. It's just that the laptop has proprietary data belonging to my company.'
'Are you refusing?'
Panic squeezed his throat. 'No, I don't care about the company. I-'
'Have you any idea of the consequences?'
He jumped from his chair and started for his home office.
'I-I-I'm going to the computer right now. I'll open your email immediately.'
'You've really crossed the line now, you Arab twinkie. You know that proof you wanted about your whore and brat being alive? It's on the way.'
He hung up.
Munir repressed a scream. He wanted to smash the phone into a thousand pieces but repressed that as well.
Jack's idea about it being a Saud employee, past or present, ran through his head. A rootkit would allow the monster to take control of his computer and use his passcodes to hack into the company's system. Why would he want to do that unless he was connected to the company? Jack's theory was looking better and better.
He reached his home computer and checked his mail. There… 911avenger… that had to be him. Munir clicked it open and found a message.
Leave them running. If anything is encrypted, send the decryption key now.
With shaking fingers, he complied immediately. Maybe if he showed no hesitation the monster would show mercy. Munir had a terrible feeling about the 'proof' that was on the way.
3
Claude Fournier met him across the street from the Order's Lodge in Lower Manhattan.
Eddie had arrived early and had been dismayed by the number of scurvy types dawdling on or about the front steps, smoking in the chill air. Over the years he'd attended a number of meetings in that venerable, granite-block building. Now it looked like some sort of halfway house.
'What is going on here?' he said as Fournier stopped next to him.
The man removed the cigarette that had been dangling from his lips and gazed across the street. He didn't look happy at what he saw.
'Kickers. Didn't you know?'
'I'd heard talk, but…'
Fournier was nodding. 'Yes. I know. A scruffy bunch.'
Outsiders in one of the Lodges. It wasn't supposed to happen. And yet, here they were.
'Whose idea was this?'
'Word came from the High Council last year to give them the run of the place. The High Council would not make that decision lightly. It must see them as useful in some way.'
'Useful how?'
He gave a typically Gallic shrug. 'They have not yet deigned to inform me.'
Eddie was surprised at how offended he felt. And chagrined at how deeply he'd bought into being a brother in the Order.
'We're not meeting with one of them, are we?'
'Hardly. An Actuator maintains an office there. It's him we are meeting.' He gestured across the street. 'Shall we?'
Actuator? Eddie thought as he followed Fournier. Why does that sound familiar?
They crossed the street and headed up the stone steps. The lounging Kickers gave them curious stares but no one challenged them until they stepped through the heavy front doors into the large open foyer.
'Can I help you guys?' said a bearded heavyset fellow who looked like a biker.
'We have a meeting.'
'Who with?'
Appalled by the spectacle of brothers of the Order explaining their presence in a Lodge to an outsider, Eddie wandered deeper into the foyer and stared at the bas relief sigil on the rear wall.
As a kid, whenever he'd seen it over the door of the Lodge in his hometown, he'd found the pattern vaguely confusing, like an optical illusion. Now he was so used to it-hell, it was seared into the skin on his back-that he found the Mobius-strip quality almost comforting… a promise of eternity… or infinity.
He noticed a dark smudge or smear on the edge at about seven o'clock. It looked like something had been wiped off. He wondered what.
Fournier appeared at his shoulder. 'The Actuator is in a meeting that is running late. He will see you as soon as he is free. Come with me.'
He led Eddie to a small room furnished with a couple of chairs and nothing else. Their footsteps echoed on the bare hardwood floor.
'Wait here. It won't be long.'
Eddie walked to the window as Fournier left. He stared out at the street for a moment. Nothing interesting there, so he sat in one of the chairs and tilted it back against the wall. He began rehearsing what he'd planned to say when he noticed a murmur of voices. He looked around and saw the door was closed. So where-?
A ventilation grille was set in the wall just above the baseboard a few feet away. He leaned closer. That was the source. But where from? Curious, and with nothing else to do, he dropped to a knee and tried to listen.
4
Nelson Ferron's grin shone through his thick white beard as he turned off the network broadcast he'd recorded. The attack on the data center was all over the news.
'Hear that? My babies worked like a charm.'
Hank nodded and decided the fat Dormentalist deserved some props.
