"Wouldn't be surprised. They're okay, I guess, if you don't mind people standing up and moving about in front of the movie."
Eddie pointed to a display of Spade, Vuitton, Gucci, and Prada accessories.
"Bootleg too?"
"Not just bootlegs-bootlegs of bootlegs."
Ernie took pride in never selling anything but knock-offs.
The man himself waited by the rear counter, whippet thin with thick, longish black hair and a nervous tongue that flicked in and out between Sten-gun sentences. His eyes lit when he saw Jack wasn't alone. He knew that often meant a payday.
"Hey, Jacko. How y'doin, how y'doin?"
"Good, good. Ernie, meet Eddie, Eddie, meet Ernie. You alone?"
"Just me and my dreams of winning Powerball. The pot's up to seventy mil. Need some tickets?"
"No." He'd probably printed them in the back this morning. "But Eddie needs to disappear and reappear."
Ernie didn't hesitate. "Not a problem. We can help."
He'd supplied all of Jack's many identities through the years. And he knew anyone Jack brought in would be stand-up.
He hurried to the front of the store where he flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED.
When he returned he said, "We'll take some pics and pick out a nice new name. I don't know if Jack's told you, but I recommend keeping the first letter of your first name. Saves awkward moments when you sign something. May I suggest Ernest?"
"He also needs to be in two places at once."
Eddie looked at him. "What?"
"You'll see."
Ernie glanced at Jack. "Money in the accounts?"
"Some."
"Good, good."
"What are we talking about here?" Eddie said.
"Ernie's going to clone your card and give it to someone-where this time, Ern?"
"Got someone in Tennessee."
"Perfect."
"I don't get it," Eddie said.
"He's going to give all the info off your debit card, plus your PIN to someone in Tennessee who is going to make a new card."
"What?"
"Then they'll use that new card all over the state to buy whatever they want till the money runs out."
The light dawned in Eddie's eyes and he smiled. "I get it. Whoever's tracking me will think I've run to Tennessee."
"Exactly."
"Works beautiful," Ernie said, neglecting to mention that he'd be collecting a fee on both ends.
"He did the same for Weezy last year. Where was that?"
Ernie thought a moment. "Wyoming, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, I think so. But hang on to this till Monday, okay?"
"Not a problem. Come on into the back so I can steal your soul."
Eddie gave Jack a bewildered look.
"Photos, Eddie. He's going to take your picture."
As they disappeared behind a curtained doorway, Jack wandered to the front and stared through the glass door at the traffic on Tenth Avenue.
Should he have waited? If the Jihad virus worked and brought down the Net this would be an empty exercise.
Nah. Wrong mind-set. Play it like victory was a sure thing, otherwise you've already lost.
But wasn't that the case?
10
"Who's that?" Jack said as a new tune started thumping from Weezy's iPod. He liked it.
"Moby." She began swaying to the beat. "From The Bourne Identity."
"Moby's awesome," Dawn said.
Weezy had invited her over. She seemed channeled into mother mode with the teen.
Eddie had opted out. He'd been fragged. He hadn't slept well the past few nights so they let him crash and returned to Weezy's.
Weezy opened her refrigerator door and checked out the shelves within.
"Hungry."
He knew from his own inspection a few minutes ago that they were bare. He glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall.
"Almost eight. We forgot to eat."
Almost eight… that meant Gia and Vicky were on their way. She'd called from O'Hare to say they were in safe and their flight to LaGuardia was on time.
Almost home free… almost.
"And I didn't have lunch," she said.
"You only eat veggies anyway."
Though Jack had to admit her diet was working.
"I'm feeling decadent tonight," she said. "Like Chinese takeout."
"My treat," Dawn said.
Weezy smiled. "Not necessary."
"I have money," she said. "And I need to contribute something here. You've both been so good to me."
Jack glanced at Weezy. How could they tell her what they knew about her baby? They'd discussed it earlier and decided it was better to leave some things unsaid.
"No, I totally insist," Dawn said, misinterpreting the look. She turned to Jack. "I mean, you went over there and checked out his place."
Jack shrugged. "No biggie."
He was glad he did. It had been a revelation.
"I still can't believe they're gone… just up and left. You think Mister Osala has the baby?"
He shrugged again. "Who can say? But you've got to admit, the timing is suspicious. He keeps you there until you have the baby, then the baby disappears and so does he."
"But Mack told you he never saw a baby."
"No. But I'm going to talk to him again and get the name of that moving company. This Osala guy has got to be somewhere."
"See?" Dawn said, tearing up a little. "That's what I mean. You're going to all this effort for me."
Not just for you, Jack thought. For me.
He hadn't thought to ask Mack for the name of the moving company yesterday-realizing Osala's true identity had blown everything else out of his mind-but he'd remedy that tomorrow. He wanted to know where Rasalom was setting up shop next. He'd promised Veilleur to keep his distance, but as far as Jack was concerned, that promise was voided if the Lady went down.
Then it was war… all-out war.
But right now, a change of subject was in order.
"Like I said: No biggie. But we can talk about this later. Right now we've got food to order. Shrimp egg foo yung for me, and maybe-"
"That's not a real Chinese dish, you know," Weezy said.
"If it's served in Chinese restaurants, that's Chinese enough for me."
"It's served in Chinese-American restaurants, but you can't get it in a real Chinese restaurant-i.e., those in China-because they've never heard of it. In Shanghai they have fuyung egg slices, but it's not the same dish."
Where did she dig this stuff up?
"Fascinating, Weez. Absolutely fascinating. But I still want egg foo yung-shrimp egg foo yung, if you don't mind-and an egg roll. Or are you going to tell me egg rolls were invented in Peoria?"
"Were you two ever married?" Dawn said.
"No!" they replied in unison, perhaps a tad too loudly.
"Oh, because-"
"We go back a long way," Jack said. "A real long-"
"Wait," Weezy said, holding up a hand. "Do you hear something?"
Jack listened and heard a voice coming from the spare bedroom. Sounded like a woman.
He looked at Weezy. "Someone here?"
She looked baffled, and a little worried. "No way."
Jack stepped up to the darkened doorway and peered within. The computer was running, with a black-and-white film playing on the monitor. It looked familiar.
Weezy came up behind him and peered over his shoulder.
"What the…?" She squeezed past and flicked on the light. "I turned that off before I left to go to Eddie's place. And what's playing?"
"Dark Victory."
"You think?"
He pointed to the actress speaking. "She's got Bette Davis eyes."
Weezy looked at him. "But I don't have any movies on my-" Her hand shot to her mouth. "Oh no!"
Jack's gut clenched as Munir's theory flashed through his brain.
"Video… it's downloading a video. It's started."
Dawn joined them. "What's
started?"
"The Jihad virus," Weezy said as she leaped to her keyboard and began tapping madly. "I can't stop it. And it won't shut down." She leaned over and pressed the power button on the tower. The screen went blank. "There-" The screen came to life again. "It turned itself on!"
"Just unplug it," Jack said.
Instead she hit the lighted off switch on her power strip. As the screen went dark again, she looked at him with wide eyes.
"If this is happening all over the world…"
Jack said, "But it'll happen in a wave, right? As all the computer clocks hit the trigger time?"
"Not necessarily. Not if the virus is set to Greenwich Mean Time. If it was set for three P.M. GMT, then computers on the U.S. East Coast would trigger at eight local time. In the Central Time Zone they'd go at seven local, and in the Pacific Zone at five local."
"So they'd all start at once?"
She nodded. "That's the way I'd do it. That's the way to get the most bang out of the virus. Don't give anyone a chance to mount a defense. Hit them with an all-out frontal assault."
Jack envisioned a billion-plus computers across the globe turning themselves on and beginning to download video from the Internet. And as the data is recorded onto the hard drive, the computer begins to upload it to other computers in the botnet which in turn upload video back to it, back and forth and back and forth until their bandwidth is maxed out. All the computers in empty offices in every country, unattended but busily enslaved to Jihad4/20, trading video throughout their networks and beyond. Servers and routers all over the world crashing with the overload.
Gia… Vicky.
"How long…" His mouth had gone dry. "How long do you think it will take?"
She shrugged. "I'm no expert, not even close, but I imagine it depends on the size of the Jihad botnet. If it's as extensive as they say, could be just a matter of minutes, certainly no more than a few hours."
Jack pulled his phone from a pocket and speed dialed Gia. Her voice mail came up almost immediately. That meant she had her cell turned off. Of course she would. The airlines made you turn them off.
What flight had she said-346, right?
He dialed 411, got the number, and called American Airlines. After navigating a voice tree and punching in the flight number, a robotic female voice told him flight 346 had taken off on time and was due in at 10:50.
"Well," he said, turning to Weezy and Dawn, "at least that computer is still working."
Weezy said, "They're in the air?"
She kept her expression neutral but he could tell from her eyes that she didn't like that idea.
"They'll make it."
Dawn was shaking her head, her expression baffled. "What's happening? I've heard about the virus on the news, but what's that got to do with computer video and planes?"
As Weezy began to explain, Jack wandered back into the front room. His hands balled into fists. He jammed them into his pockets and squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to control the frustration boiling within.
Everywhere he turned lately he found himself facing situations he couldn't control, couldn't do anything about. Rasalom, the Jihad virus, and now Gia and Vicky in the air, in possible danger, and he could do nothing to bring them down safely. Had to depend on someone else… always someone else…
He needed to break something, hurt someone.
But he wouldn't. Instead he'd do the thing he hated, but the only thing he could do.
He'd wait.
11
"… again, if you're just tuning in, the message from the Department of Homeland Security is to unplug your computer and disconnect it from the Internet. In other words, if you have dial-up service, unplug the phone connector; if you have high-speed cable, disconnect from the cable; if you have Wi-Fi, disconnect and power off your router. Do this even if you have an uninfected computer. Where the Internet is working at all, transmission has slowed to a crawl. Many servers and routers are down and the ones still working are jammed."
Dawn hugged herself as she leaned forward on the couch and stared at the TV.
"This is totally scary."
Weezy sat beside her. Jack hung back at the dining area table, listening with growing alarm as news heads from the local stations kept breaking into the regular programming with bulletins from the city and the feds.
The botnet had been active for only an hour or so but was already sending seismic shock waves through cyberspace.
"This just in from the mayor's office: Unless it is absolutely necessary to be elsewhere, please stay in your homes. Traffic signals have malfunctioned and traffic is snarled. We have the mother of all traffic jams out there, folks."
"Oh, hell."
Jack jumped up and stepped to the window. Saturday night traffic on the Upper West Side was always snarled, but what he could see below wasn't moving at all.
"What's wrong?" Weezy said.
"I've got to head for the airport."
"But it's only nine-thirty. They're not due in till eleven."
Right. Less than a ten-mile trip. New York City traffic could be a hassle any time, especially on a Saturday night. But this was New York City traffic on a Saturday night in the middle of a cyber meltdown.
"From the way things look, it could take me that long."
She came up beside him and stared down at the traffic.
"I see what you mean." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Be careful out there. And stay in touch, okay?"
"Will do. You stay put."
She shook her head. "I'm going over to sit with the Lady. She may need some company."
The Lady-in his worries about Gia and Vicky he'd forgotten about her.
"Think she's feeling the effects?"
Concern tightened her features. "I don't know. Nobody's ever been here before. She could have a slow weakening, or might not feel a thing till the whole Net crashes."
He looked past her at where Dawn stared at the TV screen. "What about her?"
"I'll have to leave her."
"Yeah. The truth might be hard to explain."
"Too hard."
Jack smiled. "Momma Weezy."
"She needs someone, Jack. She's all alone in the world."
Jack hadn't realized how true that was. Parents dead, baby stolen, cut off from whatever friends she'd had… the kid had no one.
"Going to leave her here?"
She shook her head. "She'll be safe in her place."
"Okay. Give the Lady my best. I'll stay in touch as best I can."
He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. He took the stairs down and hit the sidewalk at a trot, heading west toward where he garaged the Crown Vic. Traffic on the side street was stopped dead. As he loped past a taxi he saw a young couple get out and start to walk, leaving behind an angry-looking driver.
"It's cold," the girl said, tightening her coat around her neck.
The guy laid a protective arm over her shoulders. "Yeah, but at least we'll get there before it's over."
When Jack reached Amsterdam, he stopped. Always a jam here, but at least with some sense of movement, even if only inches at a time. Right now-nothing.
He looked up and saw why: The traffic lights were blinking yellow in both directions. In this city a yellow caution light translated as Hit the gas. Yellow both ways meant everybody had the right of way. Yielding was for pussies. No surprise at the ironclad gridlock.
A traffic cop might have helped-if one could get here-but as Jack fought his way uptown along the crammed Broadway sidewalk, he doubted it. Every intersection was the same. This called for a cop on every corner and even that wouldn't work. There didn't seem anywhere left to go. It looked like every car in the five boroughs had been plunked down on the streets. The only solution Jack could see was to pave them over and start anew.
He passed an angry crowd outside the Beacon Theater, complaining about the inability to buy tickets for the Allman Brothers because the theater's computers were down. A waiter was taping a CASH ONLY sign to the
window of a bistro. The subtitle read: "Can't run credit cards."
The faces around him showed a mixture of anger, frustration, bemusement, and bewilderment. At least no one looked bored.
It dawned on him that his car was useless.
Okay, he'd go subway. Catch a train down to Times Square and switch to the 7 out to Queens. It would drop him off with a good walk to the airport, but maybe he could grab a cab out there. Traffic couldn't be as bad as here.
He found a subway entrance and was halfway down the stairs when a haggard-looking suit coming up said, "Don't bother."
Jack stopped. He'd had a niggling worry about this.
"Not running?"
He shook his head. "Got a 1 just sitting in the station with its doors open. Conductor says he doesn't know what's up. They got the word to sit tight. Something about switching or signal problems, he thinks."
Yeah, that made sense. They were controlled by computers, right?
Jack slammed a fist against the railing.
"I know how you feel," the guy said. "Well, there's always a cab."
"Not always."
Jack turned and followed him back up to the surface.
"Christ!" the guy said, stopping short as he saw the traffic. "What the fuck?"
Jack slipped past him and headed for Julio's.
12
"Where's the remote?" Weezy said.
The Lady sat at the big table and pointed to the empty shelves built into the wall of the front room of her apartment. "Up there."
She didn't look so hot. Not as pale and frail as she'd been after the Fhinntmanchca assault, but not as good as she'd looked just yesterday. Weezy was worried about her.
But at least she was still here.
She found the remote where the Lady had indicated-and also found a thick coating of dust on it. She blew it off and coughed.
"I take it you don't watch much TV."
"I don't watch any."
"Not even news?"
"Of human events, the state of the world? I know whatever I wish to know."
Of course she did. Stupid questions. She was the product of the collective human consciousness.
"And the rest?"
She shrugged. "The fictions-the dramas, the comedies, the commentaries hold no interest for me."
Fatal Error rj-13 Page 27
