Logan looked at his watch again. Eight-oh-seven. He shifted anxiously in his seat.
Come on, guys. Let’s get this party started.
Logan didn’t know the hacker’s name. Just as the hacker didn’t know Logan was sitting in the food court of the Albright Mall at that moment. All he knew was that, last night, he had received the phone call he’d been hoping wouldn’t come. Whatever Aden was planning, it couldn’t be good. While there were some people who deserved to die—deserved to suffer—he knew enough about Aden’s philosophy to know he was likely targeting people who did not.
But, the hacker reminded himself, it was the deal he had made.
At seven-thirty p.m., he started a fresh pot of coffee and turned on his computer. The whole thing should be quick. He would just hop through the back door he had left, enter a couple of commands, and sign off.
However, as soon as he attempted to access the system he had hacked into the other day, he realized his back door was no longer there. It seemed the company’s security team had found and closed it.
Shit.
If he didn’t come through, Aden would think he had dropped the ball on purpose. Tonight’s plan had been a long time in the making. Aden wouldn’t tolerate failure. He would send someone after the hacker to—he didn’t want to think about it. He had to get back into that system. Fast.
Like last time, he drank his first cup of coffee in one long swallow, and sat down at the computer with a second. It had taken him five hours to get in the first time. This time, he had only twenty-two minutes. Twenty-one.
Shit!
The coffee had lit his throat on fire and the stress had done the same to his brain. His fingers flew across the keyboard, retracing the same steps he had taken last time.
He hoped to be able to follow the routine that had gotten him in before, and at first that plan looked promising. But then he hit a wall—the company’s security team hadn’t just removed his back door, they had sealed shut his way in. He cursed a third time, now out loud.
He wished he had somebody to call, to warn them about the delay, but he didn’t. Part of Aden’s grand design had been to compartmentalize the people involved. He wanted to be sure that if anybody got cold feet, went to the police, got arrested, they would be unable to take down the entire group.
The hacker told himself to stay calm. There was almost always another open door. It was just a matter of finding it.
Logan picked his way through his food until he had finished, then slowly sipped his Coke. Eight-thirteen. He was growing anxious. He should have been done by now. How long could he sit here like this, doing nothing, without drawing attention?
He looked at the two boys sitting at the table in front of the theater. They were still there, also doing nothing—not even eating, not even pretending to eat—and no one seemed to notice. Then he glanced at the people around him. Nobody seemed to be looking at him, either.
It was just his nerves. These people were occupied with their own lives—their food, their friends, their shopping. If Logan was here for any other reason, he wouldn’t think twice about lingering at a table in the food court.
He needed to be patient.
Aden had said it was important they wait for the cue, follow the plan. He said it would have more impact that way. Logan knew he was right.
CHAPTER 39
A collection of people surged out of the AMC. A movie must have let out. Connor watched the crowd closely. “That’s her,” he said, nodding toward a girl in an oversized black tee and a pair of jeans, hair pulled back with bobby pins. She seemed to be with a boy about her age.
“Is she on a date?” Olin said.
“Doesn’t matter.” Connor got up and started to move. Olin fell in behind him.
Dylan and her friend were headed toward an escalator, Connor noticed. He pushed through the crowd, trying to catch up to them. When he thought he might be within earshot, he shouted, “Hey! TruthSeekers!”
Several people looked at him, clearly confused. But Dylan also turned around to look, and she didn’t look confused. She looked worried.
“I need to talk—”
Dylan took hold of the boy’s hand and started moving faster.
Connor caught up to her right before she got on the escalator. He grabbed her arm. “Listen—”
Dylan whipped around. “Let go of me or I’ll scream.”
That likewise got the attention of the shoppers around them, but no one moved to intervene. Everyone who looked at them seemed to immediately look away when Connor made eye contact with them. They were curious, but didn’t want to get involved.
That might change, though, if Dylan really did scream.
Connor let go. “I need to talk to you.”
“What’s going on?” the boy said. He had a thin sheen of stubble on his chin and was wearing a Yankees baseball cap turned backward. For some reason, he looked to Connor like he was trying too hard to be cool. It was an image the boy had no doubt spent most of his teenage years cultivating.
“It’s nothing you need to be worried about,” Connor said. He noticed Olin was standing about two feet behind him, saying nothing. “Your friend here hosts a website—”
“Okay!” Dylan turned to the boy. “Just . . . wait for me.” She sounded flustered.
Dylan led Connor and Olin over to a hallway perhaps twenty feet from the escalator. A sign directing people toward the bathrooms hung above it.
The boy likewise stepped out of the flow of traffic, backing up to the nearest table and taking a seat, his eyes still on them.
“What are you doing hosting a website like that?” Connor said.
“What do you care? It’s just for fun. And how did you . . .” She trailed off. The wheels were turning. “You’re the guy who hacked into my site,” she said slowly,
