Back in the Jeep, Frankie perked up as he sipped his flavored coffee, and he became downright chatty after they crossed the border and headed for home.
Chapter 44
Chandra found the press conference to be a total waste of time. Hackett’s aunt denied all knowledge or explanation of Bob’s activities that could have made him a target for K.A.R.M.A.
“My husband was a good man . . . a dedicated salesman, loving father and proud coach . . .”
The grieving widow angle — all tears and running makeup — made the morning television crews happy, but there was no substance for those viewers who wanted real information. Instead, all they received was the ubiquitous sound bite:
“These rumors are cruel and vicious lies. My husband was not looking for sex in that filthy, disgusting place.”
As soon as it was over, Chandra cornered Jake Murphy before he could pull one of his infamous disappearing acts. She expertly guided him away from the media scrum and into a quiet alcove.
“What’s happening in New York?” she asked.
“I shouldn’t be talking to you,” Murphy said. His eyes darted anxiously from side to side, and his voice sounded older and more weary than the day before.
Chandra didn’t buy it.
His shirt was fresh and he had found time to shave. He was trying to con her into thinking the pressure was getting to him so she would take it easy.
Fat chance.
“Come on, Murph,” Chandra pressed. She moved in close, too close, and rested her hand on his arm. “It’s still in your blood. You want to piece this story together as much as I do. What’s happening in New York?”
“Off the record?” Murphy asked.
Chandra laughed. “I can’t believe you asked that, Murph. You know the game — nothing is ever off the record, but I won’t use your name unless I have to.”
“Was I as big an asshole as you are?” Murphy asked.
“You were the biggest, Murph.”
Chandra flashed him her widest smile.
Murphy grinned in response.
“Yeah,” he said with a tinge of nostalgia, “I was, wasn’t I?”
“New York?” Chandra pressed again.
Murphy relented. “Your piece about K.A.R.M.A. made the rounds and an officer in New York reported finding a white business card on the scene of a murder down there. He didn’t think anything about it at the time, but ... well, the card matches one we found at the scene of the Collins’ murder.”
“Who was killed?” Chandra asked excitedly.
“Some low-life drug dealer with a sheet as long as your legs. A Class-B nobody.”
“Any sex angle involving kids?”
Murphy shrugged. “The creep worked the streets. He was probably involved in everything. You know the type. He could have been trading drugs for sex, pimping out girls, anything’s possible.”
“What’s the department thinking now?” Chandra asked.
“Truth?” Murphy asked.
Chandra nodded.
“I think it’s out of our hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve got three murders that, at the moment, seem to be connected. Vancouver, here and one in New York. This isn’t just Seattle’s problem anymore.”
Chandra winced. “You’re calling in the feds?”
“You don’t call the F.B.I,” said Murphy in all seriousness. “They call you.”
Chapter 45
The bitch was lying.
Cypher could see it in her face as she squirmed under the hot lights. Her tears were fake; the runny makeup a deliberate plea for false sympathy; her lying words stuck in her throat as she struggled to appease the press.
Her husband was a nice man, a gentle man.
No, he wouldn’t hurt a soul.
No, she didn’t know why K.A.R.M.A. had targeted him.
No, he had never been in trouble with the police.
No, she didn’t know why he was in Volunteer Park on the day he was murdered.
No, he was not homosexual.
No, he was not looking for sex in that filthy, disgusting place.
Lies, lies, fucking lies.
Cypher wanted to grab her by the hair and scream in her face.
Until this exact moment, Cypher hadn’t been sure if Gloria knew what her husband was up to in the middle of the night after she took her sleeping pills and drifted off into dreamless sleep.
But her body language told the whole story now.
She knew everything.
And she had done nothing.
Chapter 46
Eric shuffled into Java Jerks, the weight on his shoulders greater than at any other time in his life. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, his face felt drained of blood, and anyone noticing him would have guessed he was years older than he had been only the day before.
After ordering a double-shot moccachino, Eric sat at one of the computer tables in the corner and logged onto his mail account. He was relieved to find an email from Cypher that directed him to the family’s chatroom.
He waited until his drink arrived and he had taken two large swallows before clicking on the link. The chocolate-caffeine jolt helped take the edge off the weariness he felt deep in his young bones.
He logged in.
FARMR: I’ve missed you all
CYPHER: Welcome home, Eric. We’re all proud of you
NEEDLE: Props farm boy. What a rush, huh?
GHIRL: Needle is my hero, Eric, but U R the world’s
FARMR: Thanks. I don’t know what to do now
CYPHER: Go home
FARMR: Is the Other gone?
CYPHER: Not yet. Something’s come up
FARMR: What?
CYPHER: Bob’s widow has spoken out against us. She knows of her husband’s crimes
FARMR: But she’s not the guilty one. Bob was punished. It’s over. I can’t go home until the Other is gone
NEEDLE: Farm boy’s right, boss. I want my bastard dad took care of 2. MayB we can trade
CYPHER: Thanks for your input, Reddy, but we can’t afford to have anyone crossing the border at the moment. We must plan our strikes carefully
GHIRL: Don’t worry, Needle. A plan is in motion
CYPHER: Quiet, Theresa
NEEDLE: Will U come C me, Theresa?
CYPHER: She will not! None of us can meet. Remember the rules
NEEDLE: :-P
GHIRL: LOL
FARMR: You promised, Cypher. I did what you asked and you promised
CYPHER: You did well and we’re proud of you, Eric. You have thrown us directly into the spotlight and sent the scum scurrying with fear. But I also made a promise that everyone connected with these crimes would be punished
FARMR: Dammit! We’re supposed to be helping each other. We’re supposed to be making a difference for us. Punishing Bob made a difference, but punishing his wife accomplishes nothing. She isn’t one of them
CYPHER: By keeping silent, by doing nothing, she’s as guilty as her husband
FARMR: You’re making this personal. The whole point of the group is to help each other. Punishing this woman helps no one
CYPHER: Murder has made you grow balls, Eric, but I am the leader. Don’t fuck with me
FARMR: You made a promise, Cypher. A promise to all of us. You said you would help us. We’re a family, damn you!
GHIRL: Help him, Cypher
CYPHER: Stay out of this. The decision is made. Eric will have to wait
FARMR: No! You’re no different-
Eric found himself staring at a blank screen. With the touch of a key, Cypher had logged him off and locked him out.
Eric buried his face in his hands. Tears streamed down his cheeks, burning white tracks in the thin layer of red dust that still covered his flesh. He felt more alone now than the dark, endless days before he discovered K.A.R.M.A.
It had become his family, his savior, and now it had abandoned him — just like everyone else.
How could
he have been so stupid as to think someone else would take care of his problems? He had been willing to go to jail for the murder of a stranger, but fate had allowed him to remain free. There could only be one reason for that.
Eric wiped his face on his T-shirt and left the café.
It was time to go home.
Chapter 47
After dropping Frankie at home and fighting traffic all the way across town, Hackett kicked off his sandals, tickled the Buddha and flopped on the couch with a joint between his lips.
He inhaled deeply, holding the acrid smoke until his lungs burned and his thoughts began to blur. An image of all the money he had earned for one day’s work floated in front of his eyes, and he started to giggle.
When the giggles subsided, Hackett noticed the blonde in the trenchcoat was flashing You’ve Got Mail. But when he tried to rise off the couch, he discovered he didn’t have the energy. With a contented sigh, Hackett rolled over on his side, closed his eyes and drifted away.
TWO HOURS LATER, Hackett awoke to the sound of his own voice mixed with Chandra’s. With a groan, he cancelled his security alert and opened the door.
With a mischievous grin lighting her face, Chandra leapt into Hackett’s arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. She began to kiss him passionately as Hackett’s hands slid under her sweater and caressed the smooth flesh of her back. When they collapsed on the couch, Hackett’s hands moved to her breasts and his breath became shallower.
Suddenly, Chandra pushed him away.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Now that I’m famous, I’m not sure I should allow some commoner to paw me like this.”
Hackett stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “But I’m famous, too.”
“True,” agreed Chandra. “But you’re famous behind the scenes, while I’m on television.”
“I can turn on the camera,” Hackett said, arching his eyebrows devilishly. “And you’ll be even more famous on the Internet.”
“I want people to love me for my mind,” she said. “Not my body.”
“OK,” agreed Hackett. “You talk to the camera, and leave your body to me.”
Chandra squealed as Hackett grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her towards him. The cushions of the couch made her sweater ride up to expose her muscular stomach. Hackett removed the rest of her clothes in a flurry and soon their mouths were too busy for any more talk.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Chandra pushed her back against Hackett’s chest and felt his groin stir against her rump.
“So,” she murmured, “how was your day?”
Hackett laughed and nibbled at her ear, spooning his body tight against hers.
“It started out unpleasantly,” he said, remembering his rude awakening.
“But you’re better now?” Chandra teased.
“Mmmmm,” Hackett murmured. “I’m better now. How was your day?”
“It started out unpleasantly,” she said, “with a call from my boss, but then got much better as I delivered the dirt on a third murder linked to K.A.R.M.A.”
Hackett raised himself onto his elbows. “Where was this?”
“New York.”
“Anyone important?”
“Nope. Some scumbag drug dealer got caught messing with the wrong people. But get this, they stabbed him 26 times. The murder weapon was left at the scene. An ice pick.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?” Chandra spun around to face him.
“I’ve been wondering how Vancouver fits in with Seattle, but now with New York it changes things.”
“How?”
“Seattle and Vancouver are close enough that the group could easily be based in either city. But adding New York means they’re either a larger organization or they’re based on the Net.”
“The Net?”
Hackett nodded. “Just like the friends you tease me about. SXYLADY and RotNHell live in different parts of the country. Hell, HardMan lives in Scotland, but we meet in chatrooms and newsgroups because we have a common interest. K.A.R.M.A. must be the same.”
“Are you saying K.A.R.M.A. could have planned murders in other countries?” Chandra asked.
“Sure. It would be worth checking. K.A.R.M.A. could have members anywhere. Their leader, who calls himself Cypher by the way, might not even be based in the U.S. Although I think he’s here, in Seattle.”
“Why?”
“He’s keeping too close an eye on me to be observing from a distance. But that’s not the scary part.”
“Oh?”
“I think the group’s description of itself is accurate,” Hackett said. “These really are just kids, teenagers at least, who have gotten involved in some kind of cyber cult that preaches revenge against people who abuse children. I didn’t believe it at first — they seemed too organized, but the one who assassinated Hudson was definitely just a boy.”
“So there’s a group of teenage vigilante hitmen running around who get their orders off the Internet?”
Hackett nodded again.
“Fascinating theory, but there’s no proof.”
“True,” Hackett agreed. “You would need to talk to the kid who killed Hudson.”
“Now that,” she said excitedly, “is a story that could win me a suppertime anchor spot.”
AFTER CHANDRA LEFT for her regular Muay Thai class, Hackett slumped into his office chair, propped his feet on top of the printer and checked his email.
The first three messages were all from Fats and they all contained the same message: Urgent! Contact me.
With a frown, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and saw the battery had died.
Hackett shoved his phone into its quick-charge cradle, returned to the computer and clicked over to the newsgroups. Fats was logged onto the fishing chat as usual.
HACK: What’s up?
FATS: Where have you been?
HACK: Long story involving wanton women
FATS: I need you to come over ASAP
HACK: Sounds intriguing — any hints?
FATS: Can’t talk online
HACK: OK. C U in 20
Before Hackett walked away from his computer, he glanced at the rest of his mail. One message had all the earmarks of spam, with its generic title of Congratulations.
Hackett hesitated, but decided to open it. It read:
Congratulations.
You outdid yourself.
You earn a reprieve.
- CYPHER
Hackett forwarded the email to Fats before grabbing his camera, phone and coat and heading out to the Beast. As he started the engine and plugged his phone into its travel charger, the nagging question in his mind was: A reprieve from what?
Chapter 48
“Got him.”
Fats’ nasal-flat pitch was unable to hide the excitement that shone from his eyes.
Hackett’s index finger flicked twice across his mouth, signing the word ‘Who?’
Instead of answering, Fats beckoned Hackett to follow him up the carpeted stairs to his electronic sanctuary. As his friend walked away, Hackett noticed the matte black handle of a handgun peeking from a snug holster on his hip.
He also noticed the original security panel by the front door had been replaced by a menacingly large black box. On the front of the box was a traveling red eye that reminded him of a Cylon warrior, the bad guys in the kitschy ’70s-version of Battlestar Galactica. The box looked as if it could contain a mini tactical nuke and Hackett didn’t want to think of what might happen to the next thug who tried to break into Fats’ refitted fortress.
Hackett caught up to Fats on the stairs and signed: ‘New security system?’
Fats stopped on the stairs. ‘The intruders got in easy last time by cutting the phone line before they killed the power. That disabled my security system. This one has a cellular backup, plus a few extra toys that are activated as soon as it registers the phone or power lines going down. Anyone tries to get in now and they’ll get a nasty surprise.’
�
��Don’t you think you’re taking this stuff a bit far?” Hackett asked.
Fats shook his head and his hands practically snarled as they jabbed out the words, ‘I don’t ever want to go through that hell again.’
In the loft, Hackett rolled a chair beside Fats and watched his friend’s fingers fly over the keyboard of a home-built computer. Fats had hand-coded his own UNIX programs to utilize every one of the Frankensteinian machine’s 48-core system, a power hungry process that needed its own water-cooling unit. The external unit hummed on the floor beside the computer like a mini bar fridge.
Hackett tapped Fats on the shoulder and signed: ‘What are we looking at?’
Fats grinned. ‘Watch.’
Hackett returned to the monitor as it flashed through websites at blinding speed, graphics and text blurring into a kaleidoscope of broken imagery. When it stopped, Hackett recognized the splash screen for K.A.R.M.A. and then they were inside the chatroom.
“Holy shit!” he gasped. “You found it.”
Fats looked at his friend and grinned wider. “Better,” he said.
“What could be better than this?” asked Hackett.
Fats took his hands off the keyboard and began to sign. ‘I’ve bugged him. The one called Cypher. Everywhere he goes online, I can track him. He doesn’t know I’m there. I’m a ghost.’
“Yes!” Hackett punched the air with his fist. “Now the spying prick can get a taste of his own medicine.” He signed: ‘Do you know where he lives?’
‘Not yet,’ Fats signed. ‘He doesn’t know I’m tracking him, but he acts as though it wouldn’t surprise him if someone did. He’s very cautious about keeping his offline identity protected. I’m sure he’ll slip up eventually, but so far he’s keeping me guessing. But when I find him—’
Fats didn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning showed clearly on his face.
“It’s strange,” Hackett signed as he talked. “I’m totally pissed at the guy for invading my life, but he’s also made me a lot of money.”
Karma Page 13
