To Trick a Hacker: Women of Purgatory 3

by India Kells

  “It’s battery operated.” She realized he was talking to himself. He was detailing the characteristics of the machine, the tripping mechanisms, the wiring. Dylan knew about the brain of machines, but he understood the body of it, the heart and pumping blood of it. He had told her about having a talent with bombs; she was glad it extended to wicked lying machines.

  “Okay, I think I’ve disabled the electrical … shit, there is a backup. Small battery.”

  He crouched in front of the table, completely focused on what he saw. Dylan stayed immobile, not wanting to distract him in any way, and instead, tried to analyze their surroundings. Even with the blackened windows, it was easy to see the sun was up. There were sunrays filtering through the cracks around the window panes. It wasn’t much, but enough to have a better view of the inside. The warehouse was quite bare, but something caught her eye. What was that? A blinking red light. No. Not one. At every six feet, there was a blinking light. It surrounded them.

  “I think I have found the true power source.”

  “Owen, before you do anything else, I need you to see something.”

  “What?” He got up, and turned slowly, avoiding twisting their wires.

  “Twenty feet from us, blinking lights. Six feet apart.”

  Owen frowned and did the same turn around himself. “It’s a laser security system. From this angle, they’re all connected to form a wide circle around us.”

  “And if we breach the circle?”

  “I can think of a couple of options. None of them are very optimistic.”

  “That means that if we don’t die electrocuted, we croak anyway, in an unknown form? Great!”

  “Hey!” Owen took her arm, pulling her closer. “We’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”

  “Don’t—”

  He silenced her, his thumb gently stroking her lips. “You have survived the impossible. I did, too. There is no reason why this wouldn’t be the case once again.”

  Dylan couldn’t help smiling. “Statistically speaking?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “No. Because you told me you love me. And now, I won’t ever let you go.”

  Dylan shook her head. “I never knew the Sorenson boys were romantics.”

  “I love you. That is a fact. And I believe in you. Just that had me hooked, my computer warrior.” What could she say to that?

  “Okay, first thing first.” Owen turned back to the polygraph and started to carefully disconnect one wire after the other, in an order only he seemed to comprehend. Time stood still, and Dylan tried her best not to fidget. She wasn’t used to waiting without doing anything, and she realized it was worse now that Owen’s life was at stake.

  It’s only when he breathed deeply and sighed that she finally knew he had successfully disconnected the polygraph.

  Owen took one last look at it before facing her, rubbing his forehead. “Only one way to find out if we’re free from this damn machine.” He gripped the bunch of wires sticking out from his chest, and Dylan did the same with hers.

  “At one?”

  “At one. Three, two, one.” Dylan pulled hard, tearing everything away.

  For a moment, they stood facing each other, breathing hard, as if waiting for a shock that would never come.

  A smile bloomed on her face. “You’re good, Sorenson.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Harris. Now that problem number one is taken care of, let’s take care of problem number two.”

  “How wide can we move without triggering whatever those lasers would trigger?”

  Owen checked the laser lights again. “I would say twelve by twelve. Not much more than that.” He looked at where Miranda was lying. “I think our little psycho friend had fallen to the limit.”

  Reluctantly, Dylan looked at Miranda, wide-eyed and dead a few feet away.

  “When she had us where she wanted, she had to turn the system on. And once she would have me on her side, she had to turn it off. There must be some sort of remote she used. We need to find it.”

  “It can only be on her.”

  They started to pat down the cooling body of Miranda.

  “Nothing.” Owen shook his head. “No phone, no remote.”

  Dylan leaned back on her heels, and started to scan the body. She was dressed all in black. Black T-shirt and jeans. Dark sneakers. If she had seen her on the street, she would have appeared so normal and youthful. Harmless. It was her inside that made her troubled, twisted, and dangerous. No jewel on her. Nothing distinctive. Only a wrist band. Black. No, not a wrist band.

  “She has an electronic watch. That must be it.”

  She took it off the lifeless body. It wasn’t a model she had seen before, a bit more evolved. As she checked more closely, a small screen flashed on. Camera feed. Probably from the outside of the warehouse. It looked a lot like the surroundings of the initial warehouse she had sent Owen to.

  “We’re at the same location. Just the warehouse beside the initial one.”

  Dylan nodded as Owen looked at the screen. “Clever of her. She’s small, it would have been too complicated to drag you and me on a long distance all by herself without raising suspicions.”

  Playing with the watch, Dylan found a couple of other applications, and one that looked homemade. When she took a closer look, it appeared to be the one.

  “So, the verdict?”

  Dylan wasn’t sure of what she saw. And the more she dug, the less she liked it.

  “The verdict? The wearer of this watch will walk out free and alive.”

  “What?”

  Dylan showed him. “The watch acts like a beamer, creating a sort of electronic halo around the watch. Whatever is supposed to happen, if you wear the watch, you won’t trigger it.”

  The watch buzzed and the screen changed from the app to the camera feed again. Another camera, the one pointing at the road leading to the warehouse complex. Two police cars came into view.

  “How come they knew about us?” Owen gritted his teeth.

  Thoughts flashed in Dylan’s head.

  “Owen, you need to get out. Now.”

  “I’m not leaving you here.”

  “I’ll leave, just listen. When they find us, they will try to come in. You need to disarm whatever bomb is threatening us. And then you have to find Bea. I’m a suspect; you will be one with me. But Purgatory will be able to help me.”

  Owen seemed to hesitate. Dylan wanted him out, quickly.

  “Are you trying to protect me again, Dylan?”

  She had to admit, Dylan loved an intelligent man. She grabbed his torn shirt to pull him close and poured every emotion she had to that man into a single, intense kiss. His arms came around her, and she did the same with him. In her arms, she held the most incredible, honorable man she had ever met. A man who desired her and made her feel grounded for the first time in so long, it almost erased every bad memory ingrained in her cells. And she had a new purpose in life; she would save him, and keep him safe.

  Dylan broke the kiss to look into his eyes. “Take the watch, disconnect the electrical power, and go find Beatrice.”

  “I don’t want to leave you here.”

  “I love you, Owen. But now it’s your time to save my ass. Go.”

  Owen took the watch and put it on. With one last searing look, he winked at her. “I’ll be back.” Then, he didn’t hesitate and sprinted out of the warehouse. Nothing happened and Dylan let out a breath.

  One minute passed, and another; she remained in place, waiting. Silence was replaced with sirens and the sound of tires screeching. Her only focus was on the little dotted lights. And as the door opened, police coming in running, the red lights blinked off.

  Dylan’s shoulder sagged in relief. Owen succeeded.

  In front of her, five men in uniform assessed the scene, unsuspecting of what had happened. They saw one person standing, and one person dead. Guns raised, all pointing at Dylan. Through the echoing screams, she knew the drill to put her hands behi
nd her head and fall on her knees. She winced at the impact, her bruised knee waking up with a vengeance.

  Her face against the cold concrete, her mind blank. It was only a matter of time until they discovered who she was. And a deep void was before her. Owen’s face came to mind. She loved him, but now, there was no future for them. She wouldn’t allow him to be dragged in the mud, but have his name tainted alongside hers. She would love him. Forever. And keep him as far away from her as she could.

  Chapter 39

  Was she imagining it, or was the Counterterrorism Team jail more comfortable than the precinct’s? Or it must be the thickness of the mattress that made all the difference.

  The blinding light above her head were constantly turned on. Her head against the wall, Dylan closed her eyes for an instant. She’d spent hours at the precinct, and as she expected, as soon as she had been identified, the CT picked her up so quickly, her head buzzed.

  After being interrogated by cops, she had been interrogated by agents. Countless agents. So far, she had kept mum, but she couldn’t stonewall them forever. And then Director Morton came into the interrogation room, making her day a long, endless nightmare. He didn’t touch her, and she didn’t react to any of his taunts or threats. She had been a cop; she knew the drill too well. Unfortunately, it didn’t make her interrogations easier, or her nights any less lonely. Bombarded from every corner, attacked on every front by Morton who was too happy to be her personal tormentor, Dylan only had to remember Knudson to put everything into perspective. Morton was rainbows and candies compared to the real devil who once walked this earth.

  No news from Beatrice or Purgatory. No news from Owen. No surprise there. They wouldn’t be allowed contact with a national security threat. Even a suspected one. All she hoped was for him to be safe. For all of them to be safe. And she would forgive every one of them for staying away.

  Footsteps approached. The same footsteps she heard several times a day since she was transported and locked in this cell. And as every time, her captor stopped by her cell, looking inside. That made her smile imagining the man, trying to terrorize her through the bars. As if there was anything he could do to bring back the fear she had experience at Knudson’s hands.

  “Miss Harris.”

  “Agent Smith.” She knew the name was not Smith, but he looked too much like that guy from the Matrix, and she knew it irritated him to no end. The main lackey of Morton, in other words.

  “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor yet.”

  “I didn’t know it was time for my next interrogation session, Agent Smith.”

  “Stand up and follow me, Miss Harris. Director Morton would like a word with you.”

  And as usual, Dylan got up, the tall skinny man unlocking her door and opening it for her. And as usual, she walked the long white corridor to the intersection.

  While she followed, she expected him to turn right, but instead, he went left.

  “Have you lost your way, Agent Smith? The interrogation rooms are on the right.”

  The man didn’t answer her and continued walking. Pushing a double door, the decor changed. She had probably entered the office section of the complex where she was detained. It looked more and more like a normal office decor. After a moment, Agent Smith stopped before what looked like a conference room and turned the knob.

  Bracing for a new trick, she followed. She was glad to have put her poker face firmly in place, because seeing the familiar faces at the end of a long conference table shook her like nothing before in her life. Beatrice, James Feander, Gabrielle, and Owen all comfortably seated, all eyes on her. Dylan forced her eyes back on Agent Smith, and another man, Director Aaron Morton, the one personally in charge of her interrogation, gloating at her from the other end of the table. She forced herself to look into nothingness, not to give him any vulnerable bit for him to gnaw on.

  Agent Smith made her sit two chairs from the director, and remained standing behind her.

  “Miss Harris. I guess you already know the people in this room.”

  Slowly, her eyes went to the director and frowned, lips still sealed. Undeterred, the director smiled. “I agree that you’re expecting a trick, but that’s not what it is. But I’ll play the game for your sake. May I present you Mrs. Beatrice Dante, founder of Purgatory, and Gabrielle Thorne, the current director of the organization. You may recognize Admiral James Feander, one of the most decorated men in our country, and one of his men, Owen Sorenson, a decorated Navy SEAL. Everybody, this is Dylan Harris, suspected hacker, threat to our nation, and mute extraordinaire.”

  Threat to our nation? And only because she had a list. One she never intended to divulge. On the contrary; the more time passed, the more it had become a heavy burden to carry. The foolishness of her youth was hers to carry, and hers alone.

  “Director Morton, we all know why we’re here.” Beatrice’s voice was stern and clipped.

  “Do we? I must admit that I’m lost. I have been brought a woman suspected of being the hacker named Dogberry, same hacker who stole a list of agents from our government. A terrorist attack. And now, I have in front of me, people supposedly not related to the fact, who want to make a deal with me, to free her. Please remind me, Mrs. Dante, why would you do that? Unless you do know Miss Harris, here? Miss Harris?”

  Dylan looked up at the man and arched a brow.

  “Miss Harris? Do you know the people sitting at the end of this conference table?”

  Gathering all her cold resolve, she let her eyes scan her dearest friends, and the man she loved, before looking back at Morton and shaking her head.

  “A pretty clear answer in my humble opinion, Mrs. Dante. So why are you interested in defending her?”

  “I recognize talent. And my organization is known to find unique talents. If this woman was capable of infiltrating and stealing sensitive data from the US government and avoiding any leak afterwards, I have to say, I’m impressed. Aren’t you, Director?”

  The man smiled and leaned back on his chair, gloating. “As we’re speculating, I can’t pronounce myself. And you seem to know more than I do.”

  “Mr. Morton, let me remind you that Miss Harris here is kept prisoner only because of suspicions.” Admiral Feander’s usually warm voice sounded like burning steel.

  “Suspicion of terrorist crimes against this country, Admiral. I thought that a man like you would understand that more than anybody else.”

  “I do, and I’m not asking you to free her completely, but to release her under our responsibility. Purgatory has worked in collaboration with our government for many years, and has the skills and installations to take care of a person such as Miss Harris. We’re in too dire need of people of her talent to let her rot in an undisclosed cell for the rest of her life.”

  “I agree, and I have to admit that the NSA and CIA are highly interested in Miss Harris’s skills as well. Why would I give her to you instead of them? So, you can have that list?”

  Beatrice scoffed. “I already have access to a lot of sensitive material through my work and collaborations. If I’d needed that list, I would have found it. Again, are you certain that Dylan Harris here is the thief you’re assuming? What is your proof?”

  “The information sent by Miranda Harold prior to her death and found in her computers. She details how Dylan Harris might have the skills to accomplish such a feat. Making interesting suppositions.”

  Gabrielle shifted in her seat, tossing her blond hair over her shoulders. “And you would believe a psychopath? One known to have twisted reality, pursued Miss Harris here, playing with a trauma she had suffered at the hands of her brother? A girl who was so talented, but so mentally deranged that she could have been the one planting those seeds of suspicions you’re so certain of? If I were you, I would check my sources, because Miranda Harold is not the one I would trust with my life.”

  Again, Director Morton’s face remained impassible, but from her angle, Dylan saw him play with his watch. A sign that Gabri
elle had destabilized him, or that he was up to something.

  Morton nodded to Agent Smith who put a USB key in front of director. The man took it and twirled it in his hand, a nasty smile blossoming on his thin lips.

  “I’ll cut through the chase. Miss Harris here is not the only one with talents. And when you people—the most influent, powerful, and secretive in your respecting fields—suddenly wanted to talk to me, I saw strange connections appearing before my eyes. You see, I’ve been working here for a long time, and I despise outsiders such as Purgatory, who pretend to know the answers, who play with people’s lives.”