To Trick a Hacker: Women of Purgatory 3

by India Kells

  Owen nodded and opened the door, leading the way as they went inside, gun raised. The outside lights barely pierced through the filthy glass panes. Nothing so far, apart from empty rooms and dust. And silence.

  When they approached what seemed to be in the warehouse, Owen turned to her and signaled to stay put. As if she would do that! Pulling out her tactical baton, she stepped beside him, and as she suspected he clenched his jaw so tight it must have given him pain down to his neck.

  Now that it was settled, he opened the main steel panel. The sound of screaming metal bounced off the walls, announcing their presence loud and clear. Again, dim lighting in the vast, empty warehouse. Not that empty. There was something. A shadow in the middle of the space. Dylan looked around, and there was nobody in sight.

  Carefully, they made their way in, checking for any possible trap. The flat concrete floor and opened layout was quite trap-proof. Two more steps, and Dylan’s heart constricted in her chest. A feeling of despair settled deep in her belly, certain and definite. The sitting shadowy form a few steps away was Dee. Silent and obviously very dead. Ignoring Owen’s protest, she jogged the remaining distance and forced herself to look. Dee was still, eyes wide, frightened and glassy, half propped up, half-bound upright on the chair. Dylan started to reach for her when she saw pieces of paper stapled all over her friend’s body.

  Owen crouched beside her, taking his flashlight out. She wore the same outfit she had on yesterday when she was abducted. At first glance, Dylan saw a few bloody carvings through the tears in her white shirt indicating she had been cut by the copycat, but there was no blood on the floor. When she leaned closer, the scent of lavender and citrus clung to her lifeless body. Dylan started examining the pictures and recognized herself in many of them. Clenching her teeth, she fought against panic rising like a tidal wave.

  “It’s you. All the pictures, they’re of you.” Owen’s voice was so low it was barely above a whisper; his tone was of astonishment and anger. When the light beam went lower to the legs, there were larger pieces of papers. Unable to take them off just yet, she got to her hands and knees to read them as Owen held the light. Dylan recognized police reports, older ones. And when her eyes fell on a list of printed names, it finally sank in, and she was glad to already be on the floor.

  “That’s impossible. Shit.”

  “What?”

  He crouched to see what she was looking at when a dim ring sounded. Owen looked at her, but she shook her head. She wasn’t stupid enough to leave her cell phone opened. If it wasn’t him or her, where was that ring tone coming from?

  “It’s Dee’s. She’s sitting on it.”

  Dylan blinked at Owen’s words, until she realized who he was talking about. She looked at him as he gently moved Dee’s body to reach for the phone. It kept ringing, and the caller ID was blocked.

  One glance between them, and they agreed without words that there was no choice but to answer. Owen put the call on speaker phone.

  “As expected, you have risen to my expectation, Detective Harris. Once again, I’m so very proud of you. This compensates for the failure sitting before you.” The voice was electronically disguised, sounding amused despite the robotic sound.

  Dylan caught Owen’s wrist holding the phone and brought it closer. “You’re a fraud. You’re stealing the identity of someone who’s dead.”

  “The work of William Knudson shall continue even beyond the grave. And now I know, as I have found you again, thriving, that you are his rightful heir, his greatest accomplishment. You’re a born-again woman, one who will prove his lifetime work.”

  “Torturing people, killing them is no work.”

  The robotic voice laughed. “It’s because you fail to see what is so obvious yet. You haven’t shed all the necessary layers like you should. Only then will you see. And let me assure you, it’s the most beautiful sight in the universe.”

  “You’re mad, just like Knudson was.”

  “Lucid, I prefer. And as William is no longer here to help you, it’s my duty to bring you to the light. As you know too well, all the outer layers of yourself, both your body and soul, must be open, shed, to step into your true role. You will need to detach yourself from your friends at Purgatory, from that man beside you. But first, your past shall be totally exposed, so no more secrets can dim your power. My dear Dylan, I’m certain you know what I’m talking about. I had left an excerpt for you to see.”

  Dylan sensed Owen’s gaze on her, but she was unable to look at him. As she was about to reply to the person on the phone, police sirens sounded from a distance.

  “Yes, I’ve called them, and as a bonus, I’ve sent everything to Director Morton who seemed to be your greatest fan. It took me some time to gather all the information on you. And now, it’s all in the open … well, most of it. Once there won’t be any more places to hide, any false friends to lean on, I will offer you safe harbor. I will be there for you.”

  And the call was disconnected.

  “We need to go, now!” She said the words but was unable to move.

  Owen’s face was riddled with questions, but this wasn’t the time or place. They’d been played by a madman; questions would need to be answered later. As she was still kneeling in front of Dee, Owen started to quickly yank off the pictures and papers off the corpse. Safely folded and stashed in his pockets, he pulled Dylan up and away from her friend.

  “Let’s go, there is nothing we can do for her. The police will be here any minute, and we won’t be able to explain our presence.”

  Dylan remained in place, swallowed reflexively, and took a moment to close her friend’s eyes, before following Owen.

  He didn’t retrace their steps, and instead went as far away from the main entrance as possible. Even if the police were surely parking in front of the warehouse, sirens blazing, they didn’t have time yet to cordon off the area, to check all possible exits.

  “Put on your hoodie.” And as he said so, he pulled his beanie even lower over his head before yanking up his coat, hiding his face as much as possible.

  Dylan did as he instructed, reminding herself to mess with the nearby security recording as soon as she had the chance.

  “We will need to find a car quickly. And there is no way we can go back to your apartment. Cops must be all over the place. Is your equipment passcoded and secured?”

  “Yeah, but that won’t be a problem. There is a fail-safe; as soon as they unplug the material, it will fry. A little trick of mine.”

  Owen nodded and pulled at her arm before pointing at a car left in a nearby parking area. As he was about to jog there, she caught his hand.

  “Wait a sec.” She pulled her tablet out and started searching for local security cams. As expected, the parking area was under surveillance. It took her a moment to make a loop out of the recording, and let it roll. That way, it would take more time for the authorities to determine the time when the car was stolen.

  After nodding at Owen, they jogged to the car. He only lost one minute on the door, and even less on the starter as she slid on the passenger seat. Manoeuvering the car to avoid drawing attention, they put as much distance between the warehouse and cops as they could. As he was driving, Dylan started deleting the security feeds from nearby companies, those that may have caught them sneaking into the building.

  Once completed, she took her cell phone out, but stopped herself. If the copycat had information on her, the police had it by now, including her cell. She quickly deleted all the information on it, and threw it out the window.

  She turned to Owen, his eyes glued on the road. “I think you now hold the only secure cell phone around here. Mind if I call Beatrice?”

  Owen took a moment before answering her question. “Care to tell me what was that all about?”

  Closing her eyes, Dylan let her head fall on the headrest. While the whole tragedy with Knudson was not her fault, what followed was entirely on her. And now, it was coming back at her full force; probably dragging
good people down with her.

  “The less you know, the better it will be.”

  “Let me remind you that it’s not Beatrice Dante, your boss and savior, you’re sitting beside of in this car. She may know everything there is about your life and what happened—”

  “She doesn’t know about that part. And it will be better if you don’t either.”

  How could she find the words to explain what she did at one time when she felt disconnected from this world, when pain made her retaliate against everything, the good and then bad?

  When she blinked, looking at the speeding landscape, her mind was set—she had to disappear, once and for all. Because she hesitated a long time ago, because she owed so much to Beatrice, she had endangered them all. Where Purgatory was a way for Beatrice to offer redemption, she may have very well endangered that, too.

  Without another word, Owen took a turn to access the highway. As he left the ramp and accelerated, Dylan heard him lock the doors.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Making sure you won’t jump out of the car while we sort everything out.”

  She didn’t know if she had to grin or wince at his declaration. Especially since she had indeed thought about jumping out of the car. And it may still be on the table when the man beside her, and even Beatrice, learned what she had done. Hell, they would be the ones pushing her out.

  As she was still debating if she could survive opening the door and rolling away from the car, Owen got his cell out. It wasn’t difficult to guess who he was calling.

  Chapter 9

  The overcast sky made the fleeting forms of trees and rocks very dull, forcing grim thoughts to seep through Dylan’s mind. Bear and Dee. Dee and Bear. Knudson.

  Dylan was glad the cellular connection was sketchy, because it allowed her to have more time to think before Owen called Beatrice. And gratefully, the SEAL remained stubbornly silent beside her. Not stubborn. She couldn’t pick up a negative vibe from the man. Even in her past life, men tended to find her difficult to live with, or to understand how she reacted or thought. Now, she knew some of her worst traits were amplified by her kidnapping and torturing. Hell, she didn’t even understand her reactions sometimes, especially around him. How could she stand being so close or even willingly touch him? Another weird reaction she didn’t want to analyze right now.

  His words came to mind again, replacing the sad faces of lost people. Was her real intention to run again? How long since she had started to run? It began just before she was claimed fit for duty again. A duty she didn’t want anymore. She was so angry at the world, pain blinded her in such a way, therapy and common sense didn’t even crack her wall of loathing, mourning, and pain. And that’s when she started to attack. She felt cornered by life; there weren’t other solutions in her brain but to lash out, make everyone else pay.

  That blinding grief about who she was and couldn’t be anymore, about that helpless anger churning every cell of her body, were not what they used to. She had changed, she had evolved despite what happened to her and because of what she had done. For the sake of the woman who was emerging through the dirt and ashes, she had to face the consequences of her actions, put the nightmares to rest.

  “Do you have a signal now?”

  It was strange hearing a sound other than the hum of the engine after so long. She was glad the car made so much noise—it drowned anything else, and acted as a white-noise machine on her, soothing her.

  Checking his cell phone, Owen nodded. “Yes, the signal is picking up, becoming stronger.”

  “Good. Call Beatrice.”

  It was fleeting, but she saw surprise on his face at her request. However, instead of saying anything, he speed-dialed Beatrice and put her on speaker phone.

  “What the hell is going on? I leave you two for one moment and now all I hear about are police reports.”

  “Beatrice, I’m with Owen in a stolen car. This situation is even worse than you think. In more ways than you can imagine.”

  Beatrice remained silent for a moment, so long in fact that Dylan thought she had hung up. When she spoke again, she was all business, her crisp British accent even sharper than usual.

  “I just gained your coordinates. In exactly thirty minutes, if you continue at the same speed, you will see a gas station. Go behind the garage and wait. A new vehicle will be there for you.”

  And she was gone. Owen pocketed his phone without another word.

  As the minutes ticked by, they left the wilderness to enter civilization again. And on the dot, thirty minutes after the call with Beatrice, an old gas station came into view. As ordered, Owen drove behind the main building, and there were two men leaning against a car. Dylan had to admire Beatrice’s connections and promptness.

  Owen muttered something under his breath as they approached, but as he didn’t reach for his weapon, which must have been a good sign.

  “You know them?” At that moment, she regretted not committing the filed pictures of all Purgatory operatives to mind.

  Owen parked and opened the door, leaving the keys in the ignition. “Yeah, one of them.”

  After grabbing her backpack, Dylan followed. One of the agents was as ordinary as they came—average build, average brown hair, average face. She suspected that he was exactly what was needed to be forgotten, to blend into the masses and never be found again. The other, on the contrary, was a tall, blond, way-too-handsome-to-blend-in agent. With the way his body moved, how he walked, Dylan suspected he was special forces. He reminded her of Owen on so many levels. In maybe too many of them.

  It was still dark, but she could see the smile blooming on the blond angel’s face, quickly followed by Owen’s ridiculously handsome grin. When both men embraced, information clicked in her mind.

  “Well, Owen, I should have known that the only person Beatrice would send to protect the mighty Dogberry would be you.”

  Owen grinned. “It’s only because I’m the responsible one.”

  “And what makes me?”

  “A flight risk?”

  “Fuck you.” The blond man punched Owen on the shoulder, laughing.

  The other agent stepped forward. “Are the keys in the ignition?”

  Owen’s smile dimmed considerably as he assessed the man. “Yeah.”

  “Good. Good night, gentlemen. Ma’am.”

  Dylan nodded as the man smiled at her before getting in and driving away.

  Strange events drew stranger crowds.

  As their stolen car departed, Owen turned to her.

  “Dylan, meet my brother, Lance. Lance, meet the almighty Dogberry … or Dylan if you want.”

  The wattage of his smile increased as one of Purgatory’s well-known consultants came forward and offered his hand. “Very glad to meet you, finally. At Purgatory, we had a pool on if you were a man or woman. Someone even suggested that you were an alien.”

  Dylan arched an eyebrow and smiled. “So? Did you win or lose?”

  “I always win.” That certainty and confidence was part of the Sorenson genes. “So, I advise we jump in the car. Beatrice is waiting and patience is not a strong quality in the lady.”

  Dylan let the men take the two front seats and indulged in the very comfortable backseat all by herself. Not only would she be able to stretch her legs, but leaving the two siblings together would certainly give her a wealth of information on her closed-mouthed protector.

  “How come you were the one to pick us up? I thought you were back on the Admiral’s payroll.”

  Lance chuckled. “I’m always on the Admiral’s payroll! That’s one of the reasons Beatrice Dante is pulling me into Purgatory so often, no salary to pay. I’m a bargain. Plus, Admiral Feander can’t say no to his wife.”

  “I don’t think anybody can’t say no to her. No offense.”

  Lance shook his head. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was surprised to learn you were stateside, brother.”

  Owen leaned back on his seat, and for the first time,
Dylan heard deep fatigue in his voice. “Yeah, that last mission was a long one. And it’s becoming difficult staying deep when I learn the trouble you or Wes get into while I’m gone. I swear, I may be the youngest, but I seem the only one with half a brain.”

  “Excuse me, but who is fleeing a horde of cops after being set up?”

  Dylan snorted, unable to help herself. “He has a point.”

  Lance beamed. “See! I knew that Dogberry would be on my side.”

  “Careful, Lance, if the wind shifts, she has the power to marry and divorce you to strangers three times and make you the proud owner of a minivan. All with a single click of the mouse.”