Brainrush 05 - Everlast 02: Ephemeral Page 6

  Mind-boggling.

  It took him a moment to realize the beta team was filtering into the room, along with a crowd of spectators. He paused the tutorial as Dolphin walked by holding two frosty cans of soda. Each was already open with a straw protruding from its mouth, the top half of the straws still covered by wrappers. The kid deposited one into the drink holder in his own pod, and then returned and offered the second one to Marshall. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

  “Thanks,” Marshall said, reaching for the can. Dolphin held the soda for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before releasing it into Marshall’s grip, and that’s when he noticed the slight narrowing of the kid’s eyes, followed by a subtle shake of his head. Marshall placed the can in his drink holder without taking a sip. As he did, he sensed Dolphin’s relief.

  “I’m glad they decided to let us back in to practice!” Dolphin said. He shifted his position so that his back was to the front wall screen and then held his hands together in front of him. He twisted his wrist and a smartphone slid from under his sleeve into his palm. He aimed the screen at Marshall, continuing to talk. “I’ll bet I know why you had so much trouble in the first game. It had to be the headset!” He tapped the phone screen and a message appeared.

  don’t drink the soda. it’s drugged. keep the phone in your lap so the cameras won’t see it.

  “You didn’t bring your own headset with you,” Dolphin continued without missing a beat, “so it must’ve been a tuning issue or something.” He leaned over and placed his hands on the edge of Marshall’s pod, dropping the phone into Marshall’s lap as he did so. A card-trick magician couldn’t have done it more smoothly. Dolphin looked up at the big screen, where the paused tutorial mission was projected in one of the perimeter windows. “It looks like you were doing okay just now. But I’m still going to try to kick your butt!” He held his palm up for a high five.

  Marshall slapped it. “Good luck with that, kid. You may have the edge for a game or two while I’m getting my headset, uh, tuned up. But after that, you’re toast!”

  Dolphin stood tall and smiled. “We’ll see, dude!” The kid strode away and slid into his own pod. He donned his Spider, settled in, and dropped his hands to his lap. A moment later, the phone in Marshall’s lap vibrated with a text message. He was grateful the kid didn’t use shorthand text-speak.

  will explain between games. keep the phone low and out of sight. no texting during game or THEY will know. phone only works for internal messaging. no Internet.

  Marshall texted back: what the hell is going on?

  Shamer’s automated voice sounded from the game. “The game will begin in thirty seconds.”

  Dolphin texted back: something is up

  what?

  unsure. shamer is digging

  about me?

  no. but something bad. gotta wait for shamer. there’s more. about your wife

  Marshall nearly dropped the phone. He texted back: what about her?

  Shamer’s voice counted down.“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

  Marshall’s phone didn’t vibrate, so he texted again: what about my wife?!!!

  But there was no reply. The game had begun and Dolphin had warned not to text while playing. But Marshall wasn’t about to wait. He pocketed the phone, rose to his feet, and reached up to remove his headset. Movement behind him stayed his hand. Both of the guards started toward him, Chang gripping the remote clipped to his belt. Marshall glanced over at Dolphin. The kid gawked at him, his face white.

  Marshall forced himself to calm down. He faked a yawn, stretched his arms over his head, and twisted his torso from side to side.

  The guards relaxed, Dolphin blew out a breath, and Marshall plopped back into his chair in time to see his unmoving avatar blown off its feet by an RPG—rocket propelled grenade. His mind raced as he waited the seven seconds it would take to respawn. What does the kid know about Lacey? Is she okay? Does he know where she is? And what is Shamer investigating?

  His avatar respawned and he dove into the game with a vengeance, his thoughts shooting, blasting, and shredding anyone in sight.

  The sooner the game was over, the sooner he’d get answers.

  ***

  In the control room, Jiaolong sat back in his Captain Kirk chair and watched the action on the primary wall screen. Lin stood beside him while Zhin and Min watched from his other side. Pak and his engineers were at their consoles.

  “He’s doing much better,” Pak said.

  “But nothing close to what he’s done in the past,” Zhin added. “He hasn’t earned the robotic swarm perk once.”

  Jiaolong scratched his chin. After a moment he turned to Pak and said, “You’re certain there’s no root-level activity?”

  Pak studied the data streaming on several open windows on his monitor, then glanced toward the engineers seated on either side of him. They shook their heads. Pak turned toward Jiaolong. “Still no breach.”

  What was different now? Jiaolong wondered. In every previous instance that TurboHacker had been engaged in the game, Pak’s team had encountered evidence of his incursions. The occurrences had been seemingly random, and none had resulted in any apparent damage to the program. But that had only served to magnify Jiaolong’s concern. What was Marshall up to? More importantly, how was he doing it? Despite the world-class expertise in this room, every effort to discover TurboHacker’s back door had turned up nothing. Plus, the game’s subliminal inquiry program, which had performed beyond Jiaolong’s expectations with every other player, had failed to yield a single result with the American’s game play from home. They hadn’t even learned his first pet’s name, much less the passwords to the top-secret networks he was contracted to protect as part of his consulting business. So the programmers had created a more aggressive program, designed to work with the modified headset TurboHacker now wore. It would not only glean his secrets, it would also track the origin of any incursion attempts. They hadn’t activated those features yet. They planned to wait until tonight’s tournament, when the American’s consciousness would be distracted by his high-level opponents.

  But the man’s poor performance in the practice sessions angered Jiaolong. Even in the face of threats toward the man’s wife, TurboHacker continued to toy with him.

  He pounded the armrest with his fists.

  Lin lay her hand over his, brushing it gently. He exhaled. She’s right. Frustration is a waste of energy. One way or another, we’ll get the truth out of the American. If not now, then certainly when they returned to the village. Marshall wouldn’t last long under Min’s interrogation.

  On the screen, Marshall’s avatar died in an ambush between two other players. Jiaolong shook his head. The ambush had been poorly staged. The TurboHacker he’d played against in the past would’ve seen right through it. He turned toward a screen with a close-up view of Marshall’s pod. The man appeared fully engaged by the game. Why, then, was his performance so poor? It was as if he was...

  An entirely different person?

  The muscles at the back of his neck tightened and he sat straighter in his chair.

  “Activate the inquiry routine.”

  Chapter 10

  Hong Kong

  THE GAME WAS NEARLY OVER when Marshall felt a tickle at the back of his scalp. The new sensation interrupted his immersion in the action, reminding him of the technological leap Jiaolong’s people had perfected to make the brain-to-machine interface so seamless. It was truly astounding. But the secrecy? The abductions? This was about far more than the game. But what? Thought control? Could that work two ways? Was there such a thing as a computer virus or worm that could be planted in a human brain? Was that what this was all about—some sort of brainwashing? He didn’t think so. No, it had to be something simpler than that, something Alex had apparently threatened when he’d hooked into the system. He felt the tickle again, and imagined the software waiting for his next command. Or was it doing something else? What possible reason could there be to get
into my mind? Then he thought back to the tournament leader board he’d seen earlier, with the names of the gatekeepers to some of the world’s most secure—

  “Holy crap.”

  ***

  “We’re getting something,” Pak said.

  He swept his hand across the monitor’s touch screen and the image flew onto the main wall screen. A blur of five-digit numbers scrolled beneath the phrase Office Zip Code, the first digit a 9, and the subsequent digits scrolling and dropping into place one after another until the number 90503 filled the space. Jiaolong knew they had TurboHacker. The number flashed and slid into an Office Zip Code slot on the left side of the screen, under the name Marshall Erickson. In the same instant, the title Office Street Address appeared on the center of the screen, and a list of street names taken from a database of all streets within the 90503 zip code scrolled beneath it, slowly at first, and then so fast the words blurred together. The list stopped abruptly on the name Marshall’s subconscious brain reacted to—Hawthorne Blvd. Then an escalating series of numbers scrolled in front of it, stopping quickly at 25515. The address slid to its corresponding slot under Marshall’s name and a new window appeared: Alarm Code.

  Jiaolong smiled. The entire process had taken only a few seconds, and TurboHacker had no clue what his subconscious mind had given up. With another day or two of game time, the man’s entire life—public and private—would be laid bare.

  “Brilliant,” Lin whispered.

  Yes, Jiaolong thought, it was brilliant. But why was the inquiry routine working now? Why hadn’t it functioned properly when TurboHacker had played from home? Was it because of the modified headset and new software, or something else?

  “Sir,” a tech shouted from the other side of the room. “There’s something happening on the street!”

  “On the screen,” Jiaolong ordered.

  A gun battle was being waged in front of their building. It appeared as though two rival gangs were going at it. Bodies fell and the crowd fled in all directions. Adrenaline surged through Jiaolong’s limbs as he gritted his teeth. “Nice try, Mr. Bronson. But I’m not so easily fooled.” He turned to Zhin. “Notify the teams that it is time.”

  “Already done,” she said, adjusting her headset. Two armed guards rushed in and took up positions inside the door. Jiaolong saw another stationed in the hall.

  He nodded and returned his attention to the gun battle down below. “Alright, let’s find him.”

  ***

  Marshall ripped off his headset just as the phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, careful to keep it low on his lap.

  just heard from shamer. yellows are agitated. showing signs of getting ready to leave. exit door codes changed. darkmatter and team locked upstairs.

  Marshall glanced toward the back of the room. A couple of the older residents were huddled in conversation but the two guards were steadfast. He texted back: gotta get outta here. can u help?

  yes. shamer gave me the code for your cuffs

  His heart skipped at the news.

  gotta find my wife

  There was a long pause, so he added:

  do you know where she is?

  I will tell you, but you MUST remain calm. your life and mine are at stake. okay?

  Marshall’s hands trembled.

  okay

  ***

  An eager tension quickened the pulse in Jiaolong’s temples. His prize was at hand. Capturing Bronson wasn’t key to his plans for Passcode, but his deep-seated desire to make it happen never wavered. Not only was Bronson the only hope for his dying grandfather, but Jiaolong wanted to witness the horror in the American’s eyes when he pressed the button that would unleash his vengeance. Jiaolong studied the checkerboard of closed-circuit camera views that had been swept onto the main screen. The lobby, elevators, stairwells, rooftop, and sidewalks surrounding the building were all displayed. The lobby and lower stairwells were crowded with scrambling tenants and passersby eager to distance themselves from the gun battle outside. A score of his men mingled among them, disguised to blend in, their weapons hidden, eyes searching.

  “No sign of him yet,” Zhin reported.

  “Patience,” Jiaolong said. “He’s coming. Remind the teams to give him space so he can follow the breadcrumbs.”

  Min stepped forward, her hands caressing the bobbles in her braid. “I still don’t see the need for the deception. Why not simply take him once he’s spotted?”

  He held her gaze, sensed her excitement. “One doesn’t capture a tiger with a headlong rush, sister. Better to lure him into a camouflaged pit, yes?

  A brief shadow crossed her features, then vanished in the same instant.

  Was that defiance?

  His eyes narrowed. The triplets had always been free to voice their concerns. In fact, he found their advice invaluable. But they always spoke with a respect honed from generations of tradition, even Min, who stood apart from her sisters because of her tendencies toward a more aggressive approach to matters. He shrugged off what he saw as a product of the moment’s excitement. He pointed at the camera view of his lone man stationed within the CCTV security room—the goat tied to the stake. “This is where Bronson will strike first. He’s here for his family and friends and that room represents the only sure route to identifying where they are located. The man is clever and I will not underestimate him. He obviously has resources at his disposal. How else could he have eluded our teams at the airport? So be it by bribe or blueprints or dumb luck, make no mistake—he will have identified that room as his target. And then I will have him!”

  Zhin said, “The teams are well-briefed and positioned throughout the lower levels. They’ll hold back and follow the American at a discreet distance, cutting off any chance of escape. And don’t worry, Bronson—and whoever is with him—won’t get past unseen, despite the distraction outside. There are only five entrances to the building and everyone of them is cov—”

  “Rooftop!” Pak blurted out. “The door sensor has been activated!”

  Jiaolong snapped a glare at Zhin. He rose to his feet and the room stilled. Zhin met his gaze, nostrils flaring. They shared the blame for the oversight and they both knew it.

  The moment stretched, until finally she motioned toward a small wall safe beside the row of computer servers. They exchanged grim nods.

  We planned for this possibility, too, didn’t we?

  He approached the safe and pressed his eye against its embedded retinal scanner. There was a click and a red armed light switched off. With the internal explosive device now deactivated, he removed a gold chain from around his neck and used the suspended key fob to unlock the safe. He pulled out an external computer drive, unplugged its connectors, and handed it to Zhin. She secured it in a leather shoulder bag.

  The true brilliance of the Passcode program lay in its ability to deposit an undetectable rogue code within a network after it makes its first incursion with a stolen password. It provided Jiaolong’s team with a back door that could be used in the event the primary password was changed by the user. Each breached network was then assigned an encrypted key that could be used to access the buried code. The individual keys were stored on the drive Zhin now held.

  Jiaolong’s eyes went flat. “Send a team to secure the garage exit. Order the remaining men to get upstairs immediately. I want Bronson alive!” He ushered Lin toward Zhin. “You’ll be safe with Zhin, my dear. She and Pak and the engineers will escort you to the cars.” He turned to the two inside guards. “Stay with them. On your lives!” They nodded, their assault rifles braced across their chests.

  “Min,” Jiaolong said, “you and the guard outside are with me. We’ll grab TurboHacker and meet your sisters at the cars. It seems you will finally have your way with him.” Jiaolong turned to Pak and the other engineers.

  Pak’s face paled. “There’s not enough time to wipe all the local drives.”

  Jiaolong nodded. “You know what to do. Transmit the evacuation code. And activate the cha
rges.”

  ***

  Marshall stared at the vibrating phone.

  remember, stay calm. sending video now...

  He tapped the download icon and a YouTube video loaded. It was two days old. He held his breath and hit the Play button.

  A news reporter was saying:

  “Actress Lacey Hunter was critically injured today during the filming of her latest action movie in Rome, Italy. The actress was performing her own stunt when...”

  The world seemed to collapse as the words and the accompanying video jackhammered into his consciousness—the car crashing into the building, the explosion, the burst of flames, Lacey dragged from the burning wreckage, her face and hair aflame...

  “Noooo.”

  “Doctors reported that Miss Hunter was near death when her body mysteriously vanished during a police operation at the hospital...”

  “NOOOOO!”

  “The circumstances surrounding the incident have yet to be...”

  Marshall jumped to his feet. “Lacey! LACEY!” He spun around to face the guards at the back of the room. Chang sneered and unclipped the remote control. His partner pulled his sidearm. They started toward him, spectators scattering from their path.

  “Come and get me, you sons of bitches!” Marshall screamed. “I’m gonna tear you limb from—”

  Dolphin grabbed Marshall’s arm. “Please, they’ll kill you!”

  “Exactly!” Marshall spat. He ripped his arm free and shoved the boy so hard he fell to the floor. But when he turned back to the guards, they were no longer coming for him. They were rushing toward the exit. A few of the spectators grabbed their wrists and charged through the crowd to follow them. Marshall recognized two of them as the yellows he’d seen earlier.

  “Oh, no,” Dolphin said, back on his feet. “It’s happening!” He moved around to block Marshall’s path, his words tumbling out. “Please wait. I’m so sorry about your wife. But you needed to know.”