The bouncer was an eight-foot alien covered in gray and green scales, with the head of a fish and four arms that ended in menacing-looking claws. The thing’s round eyes blinked down as the two women approached, following them from opposite sides of its head.
“Username and password?” the fish croaked.
Bonnie and Rogue flashed their badges, and the alien examined them for a nanosecond before nodding them through.
“We’ve got some friends coming,” Bonnie said, holding out two more badges.
The thing took them in one pincer, twisting and tucking them into a pocket without looking.
The club was dimly lit, except for the three dozen stages spaced around the enormous interior where women and men danced or performed more lewd acts. Catwalks crisscrossed the second level, connecting smaller platforms.
Customers were clustered around tables and in private rooms, where at least one person stood, demonstrating a skill or technique such as how to avoid anti-viruses, bug a smartphone, or launch a denial of service attack. Most of the rooms only had a handful of people, and several were completely empty.
“Bonnie?”
She turned and a tall man in a skin-tight black suit with a matching black hood, though it could probably be more accurately described as a skull cap, approached. A tube ran over his shoulder to a breather that covered his nostrils, and his eyes had no white, only a deep, dark blue.
Her own eyes went wide as she recognized him.
“Letonidus?” she said. “I thought you retired.”
“I thought you did too,” he said. “But I can see the rumors are never true.”
“I tried,” Bonnie said. “But things don’t always work out.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say, if you’re looking for work, I can’t help you.”
Bonnie nodded and made a sweeping gesture.
“I noticed you downsized.”
Letonidus sighed.
“Ice Queen nearly shut me down,” he said. “She agreed to let me stay up as long as I kept things educational in nature.”
Bonnie glanced at the dancers meaningfully.
“I have to make a living somehow,” he said. “And besides, you never know what you may learn from such talented individuals.”
“Uh-huh . . .” Bonnie glanced at one of the performers and had to admit that it must take a fair amount of skill to be draped around a man like that.
“Who’s your friend?” Letonidus asked, nodding at Rogue.
“Spammer and carder,” Bonnie said. “Does a lot of social engineering.”
“A pleasure,” Letonidus said with another nod. “Well, as much as I’d like to stay and chat, I do have to ask you to leave. I’m still recovering from the Queen, and I know you’re not here to learn. You’ll have to conduct your business elsewhere.”
He raised his hand, and a sinister curved knife appeared.
“Actually, we’re meeting a few noobs that do need help,” Bonnie said. She rechecked her watch. “We’re just getting them started, and then we’ll be out of your hair while they get going.”
Letonidus lowered the knife but still raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
“You should know she can monitor any chats,” he said. “So you start talking about buying or selling anything, and I will yank you.”
“Understood,” Bonnie said. “Here are our contacts now.”
She turned as two men walked through the doors. She recognized Josef’s face, but he was more muscular and wearing a set of hunter-green armor and a blocky assault rifle held in front of him. A matching helmet with a gold visor hung from a clip at his belt.
Miguel was also more in shape and his face from free of wrinkles and sunspots. His armor was a series of overlapping plates that left his six-pack bare, but with a pair of gauntlets that glistened with twin razor-sharp blades protruding from each wrist.
He also walked like he had a severe wedgie.
Letonidus eyed them both with distrust.
“You are?”
“Stryker,” the one with Josef’s face said.
“Mig, um, J3fe.”
Letonidus looked at Bonnie again.
“He looks like enough of a noob that I may believe you,” he said. “Same rules as before, though. You want to try anything, you go outside first.”
Bonnie nodded, and Letonidus gave the newcomers one more scowl before he walked off.
Bonnie watched him go, then turned to the other two.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “This is Rogue, one of my partners. Let’s go somewhere more private.”
She led them down the stairs and toward one of the smaller stages on the side of the club.
“Act like you’ve seen a pair of tits before,” Jefe growled from behind her, followed by the sound of a hand smacking the back of Stryker’s head.
They continued down until they arrived at a red velvet curtain with “Phracking” embroidered across the front in gold letters. Bonnie pushed it aside and let the others inside.
There was only one other person in the room. He was older, with a grandfatherly face and an old rotary phone on the table in front of him. He looked up in surprise as they walked in, his face lighting up as they took their seats.
Before he could say anything, Bonnie held up a hand, and he froze in place.
“You should know that everything we say in here can be monitored.”
Jefe and Stryker looked at one another in alarm, and Jefe started forming words, but Stryker was quicker.
“You brought us where the cops could monitor us?”
“Not the cops,” Bonnie said. “The man you met upstairs is a bit of an odd case, in that he still runs this place even though someone else took over his turf.”
Jefe blinked several times before speaking.
“Another gang let him stray? I mean, stay. Damn computer.”
“You could say that,” Rogue said. “The person who took over didn’t require this particular site but recognized that it would just pop up elsewhere where she didn’t know what was going on. The devil you know, I guess.”
“But why are we here then?” Stryker said. “If we can’t discuss anything, what’s the point?”
“We can’t discuss business,” Bonnie said. “But I’m not interested in business today. I’m interested in making sure that you two know what you’re getting into.”
She waved at the man in front of the phone, and he jumped back to life.
“Hello! So good of you to join my session. Haven’t had many guests lately, but just like riding a bike, yes?”
The man looked around the room expectantly, and they all nodded politely.
“Excellent,” he said. “I am M3tn3k. And we’re going to be talking about the exciting world of phone hacking, or Phracking.”
Stryker grinned. “Always wanted to hack my brother’s iPhone.”
“What’s an iPhone?” Metnek asked in confusion.
“We’re starting with the very basics,” Bonnie said. “Old school.”
“That’s a waste of time,” Stryker said. “We need to get to the cool stuff.”
“Believe it or not, this will help. Think of it as the 101 course.”
Stryker frowned and leaned back, but didn’t protest further. Jefe watched the exchange, tapping his chin as he listened.
Metnek talked for about forty-five minutes, walking them through the basics of telephone networks, and how to get free long-distance calls.
They stood when he was done, and Bonnie guided them to the next room. And then another, and another. They spent several hours walking from lesson to lesson, each getting more complicated and technical. By the second, she could see the Jefe was out of his depth, and by the third, he was the one acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits.
He grabbed Bonnie’s arm as they left a lesson on creating a botnet.
“Why am I here?” he asked.
“I need you to understand what it is I do.”
“I’m never going to understand wh
at you do,” he said. “I’m a grunt. I don’t need to know the specifics of the helicopter; I just need to know it’s going to get me where I need to go. And since I know you wouldn’t waste my time, I know you have something else in mind.”
Bonnie bit her lip but nodded.
“I figured you wouldn’t care about the details too much,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure about him.”
She inclined her head toward Stryker’s back.
“He seems to be picking it all up pretty quick.”
“Boy’s smart,” Jefe said. “Probably smarter than either of us.”
“I want his help.”
“I thought you could do this on your own.”
“Many hands make for light work,” she said.
“And you want my . . . blessing?” Jefe snorted. “Boy can make up his own damn mind.” He held up a finger. “But just so we’re clear, anything happens to him, and I will personally gut you and then deliver whatever bits I leave to the Volkags.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said. “But you’re more likely to get him killed on the streets than I am behind a computer.”
Jefe’s eyes tightened, and for a moment Bonnie was glad she wasn’t in the room with him.
Then he nodded reluctantly.
“You’re probably right,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”
“I’ll teach him how to be careful,” she promised. “It’s not the streets, but it still pays to be street smart. He’ll be OK.”
“He better be,” Jefe said. “Now I’m going to get back to what I do understand. I’m going to need him in a few hours so just make sure you’re done with him by eight.”
He pulled out a business card and handed it to her.
“You and your boy can stay in this safe house,” he said. “If Josef is serious about learning all this, he’ll join you as well.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded, then tapped the display on his wrist and faded away.
Chapter Eighteen
The Flying Pig was fairly dead for a Wednesday. Only three of the dozen pool tables were in use, and Bradley had plenty of elbow room at the bar.
He was halfway through his Bulleit when Gettis flopped down next to him and adjusted his jacket to allow room for his gut to protrude.
“Bud Light,” he said to the bartender.
“You’re really hitting it hard,” Bradley said.
“Jennie keeps telling me to lose weight,” Gettis said. “Which I hear may be an issue for you soon. Who’s this mystery girl?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
Gettis shrugged.
“Captain’s ear,” he said. “You hear strange things when you call one of your men in the middle of the night. When do I get to meet her?”
“I’ll let you know,” Bradley said into his glass. “What’d you want to talk about that we couldn’t discuss in the station?”
“I got a tip that the Russians have a new hacker friend,” Gettis said. “Someone calling herself Lucy.”
Bradley couldn’t keep the surprise from his face.
“You know her?” Gettis asked.
“I wouldn’t say I know her, but she sent me a message about where to find Haley.”
This time it was Gettis’s eyes that went wide.
“You found her?”
“I found where she’d been,” Bradley said. “A roach nest motel in the industrial district. According to one of the witnesses I talked to, they saw Haley leaving the morning before I got there. You think Lucy is working for the Volkags?”
“I did until twenty seconds ago,” Gettis said.
“She would have just told them where Haley was . . .” Bradley mused. “Who is she?”
Gettis shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me,” he said. “You and the other nerds have all the fancy toys to find these things out.”
He downed the rest of his beer.
“You overestimate our budget,” Bradley said.
“You can always come back to Organized Crime,” Gettis said.
“Craven cleared that?”
“Not yet,” Gettis admitted. “But I could probably bring him around if you wanted your old job back.”
“Tempting,” Bradley said.
He stood and grabbed his jacket from the bar.
“Let me think on it. Thanks for the drink.”
“Whoa, when did I agree to pay?”
“Perks of being the ranking officer,” Bradley said with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked out.
He drove home in the twilight, lost in thought. Traffic had died down a bit, but it was never completely gone. He walked up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door.
Dana was already on the couch wearing a headset plugged into her laptop on the coffee table. She looked up and smiled at him, then held up a finger to her lips.
“Yeah, I know,” she said. “I just don’t like it.”
Someone said something from the other side and Dana shook her head.
Bradley went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses before returning to the living room.
“I just don’t know if I trust them. And yes, I know we don’t have many options. Alright, well just let me know when you get there. Tell munchkin I love him. See ya’.”
She tapped a key and took the headset off.
He held out one of the glasses to her.
“Am I allowed to ask?” he said quietly.
She gave him a look that told him it was a stupid question.
“I’m just trying to help,” he muttered.
“I know, but if you bring her in, the Volkags will know where she is within days, if not hours.”
“I’d like to believe that DC’s finest could keep information like that secret a bit longer . . .”
“You know what I mean.”
“The Marshal’s would protect her,” Bradley said.
Dana sighed and took a sip of wine.
“That’s not the point,” she said. “You don’t know Haley like I do. She’s not worried that you won’t be able to protect her. She terrified of the idea that she won’t be the one in charge of protecting Jacob.”
Bradley looked into his wine glass and took another sip to buy himself time to think.
“You don’t think I should keep looking for her?”
Dana took his hand and smiled at him, then shook her head.
“I can’t just close the case,” he said. “Craven still has a warrant out for her arrest. I’ll have to arrest her.”
“Don’t you have other cases?” Dana asked. “I’m not saying you should drop this completely, but maybe just prioritize other things for now. You never know what you may be able to find if you look into something else for a bit.”
Bradley arched an eyebrow at her suspiciously.
“Why do I have a feeling that you’re about to send me on a personal errand?”
Dana rocked back, taking her hand from his and putting it over her heart in mock indignation.
“Why, sir! You wound me with these accusations that I would have any ulterior motive besides helping the people see justice done.”
Bradley rolled his eyes but grinned.
“What is it that I should be focusing on?”
Dana set her wine glass down and clicked through a few screens on her laptop before spinning it to face him.
“This is the Tailor,” she said. “He was supposed to help Haley and Jacob disappear, but instead, he double-crossed them and helped the Vlad nearly catch her.”
“I’m not doing your dirty work to get revenge,” Bradley said his throat tightening.
“Listen to what I just said,” Dana snapped. “This guy had direct contact with Vlad . . . after he escaped.”
“You think he knows where he is now?”
Dana shrugged.
“If he doesn’t, he at least has to have a way to contact him. Or enough other Volkags to get a message to him. And even i
f he doesn’t, you close down one of the Darkweb’s most prolific forgers.”
Bradley nodded.
“How do I find him?”
“I can make an introduction,” Dana said. Then a mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “But that would mean that you’d have to be in bed with a hacker.”
Bradley let out a heavy sigh, then took a long drink of wine. He set the glass down, then nodded to himself.
“I don’t know if I could be in bed with a hacker,” he said. “But a couch?”
Dana punched his arm, but he caught her wrist and pulled her close, their lips meeting.
Chapter Nineteen
The safe house wasn’t what Haley had expected in the slightest.
She’d envisioned something like what Miguel had lived in: a squat bungalow with a run-down yard.
Instead, she pulled up to a bed and breakfast.
The approach was a three-mile, pothole-ridden dirt road that weaved through the northern Virginia woods until it ended in a small gravel driveway. Arrayed around the driveway were three buildings: a Cape Cod–style house, a large barn with flaking white paint, and a more modest cottage. There was even also a small tool shed a bit farther back in the property, it’s gray shingles slowly turning black as a light drizzle started.
Haley parked the car and started to unbuckle Jacob when she heard a voice call out behind her in a heavily accented voice.
“Ms. Haley?”
Haley picked Jacob up and turned to see a stubby woman old enough to be her grandmother.
“Mrs. Rodriguez?”
“Francesca,” the woman said as she waddled down the steps, gripping the handrail and favoring her right leg as she walked. She smiled at Haley as she got to the bottom step and then waved at Jacob. “And that must be Jacob?”
Jacob hid his face in Haley’s shoulder and squeezed tighter.
“He’s a bit shy,” Haley said.
“So was Miguel,” Francesca said. Then she laughed. “Not that he’d admit to it now.”
“You’re his . . . ?”
“I may as well have been,” she said. “Miguel was always at my house, playing with my boys. And when she died . . .”
Francesca’s face grew distant for a moment. Haley started to say something, but a raindrop hit the woman on the head, startling her out of her daze.
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