After coming to a logical break in her studies, she stored all her research for the day in her private file, encrypted it and recited her magic incantation, "My eyes alone or turn to stone." It was a silly thing she had picked up from a cheap novel, and it embarrassed her to say it, but it had become a habit, and a superstition. Besides that, invoking the cosmic forces against evildoers was the signal to her mind and body that crunch time was over and bed time near.
On the way back to her dorm she checked her in box, having, as usual, turned off her message indicator while she was working. Everything seemed pro forma except one anonymous message from a public terminal, which grabbed her attention.
From Public Terminal 21352, it read. Congratulations. You've figured out the technological side of the conspiracy. But at what price? Do you think Dr. Berry gave you one of the regular implants, or maybe a special one? Is the conspiracy so dumb that they let communications hole specialists find out their secrets, or do they want something from you in return? Are you going to join them when they make you an offer you can't refuse? You'd better hope they don't catch you.
She had once told Jeremy simply to shut his eyes and ignore the ghostly images of the net spies. Now she realized how hard that would be, and how much harder it was to realize that someone might be watching her, and she had no way to know it.
* * *
One of the conditions of Jeremy's employment with Peter was his agreement to spend at least five hours a day in the training center, which was a restricted address on the hole that contained a series of workbooks and interactive films. His scores on the first few lessons were impressive. They covered secrecy, surveillance techniques and, of course, procedure. Every once in a while Jeremy peeked into the intermediate lessons, which provided an introduction to martial arts and weapons training, but he was still a long way from graduating to those.
The number of rules in Peter's organization simply astonished him, and he had to have them all memorized within a week.
It seemed that every conceivable contingency had been anticipated and bludgeoned to death by lawyers. The underlying principle of it all seemed fairly simple -- learn how to break the law without getting caught, and, more importantly, without implicating the agency. The agency's operations were sanctioned at the highest levels of government, they said, but the government retained plausible deniability if an agent was caught in a transgression. But they couldn't say it that way. Sometimes it seemed incomprehensibly vague, while at other times the procedures were mind-numbingly restrictive and precise.
It was while he was trying to memorize one of these that his hovercar came to a stop and the door hissed open.
"Mr. Mitchell," a voice said. A man in a smart uniform, almost like a hotel concierge's, was waiting outside the door. "Peter told us to expect you. Can I get you anything?"
This benefit of agency life was worth getting used to. The staff treated him like a first-class guest at an expensive hotel, with 24-hour service. Peter was very demanding of his workers, but he also provided some phenomenal perks. Jeremy had left the main office with nothing but his clothes, and he didn't even need them. With a word he could have gotten a replacement.
"Some coffee, I suppose," he said as he stepped out of the hovercar into the reception area of a very nice office complex. He looked around, curious how the hovercar made it in. There didn't appear to be a door large enough.
"This way, please," the man said, pointing Jeremy down a hallway.
"How did the car ..." Jeremy began, but the man corrected him.
"'To take full advantage of useful memory, focus your attention on things that relate to the mission,'" the man recited. Jeremy remembered it as one of the rules he was supposed to memorize, shrugged, and followed down the hall.
Chapter 13
"Shut up," Hanna yelled at the alarm clock the next morning. At first she didn't understand why the bed felt so strange, then she remembered her guest and, somewhat reluctantly, dragged herself out of bed and walked down the hall to get two cups of coffee. MacKenzie, frightened by the anonymous message the day before, stayed the night with Hanna for moral support. The idea that someone invisible was watching her -- someone who wasn't even there -- seemed at least tolerable in the company of her best friend.
Hanna sympathized with her feelings, even though she thought they were somewhat irrational. Why would anyone want to spy on her while she slept? And if they did, they would probably know enough about her to check Hanna's room, too. She didn't let any of this on to MacKenzie when she showed up last night, looking as if she'd seen a ghost. But under the morning sun they'd have to talk it through -- a little more objectively.
MacKenzie offered to sleep in the chair again, or on the floor, but Hanna insisted they share the bed. Now she wasn't sure that was the right choice. Her neck had a nasty kink and her body was stiff.
Hanna enjoyed the opportunity to watch MacKenzie's conditioned response to the smell of coffee. Years of waking up to her aromatic alarm clock had far more impact on her than the caffeine ever could. Hanna entered with two steaming cups and watched as they quickly did their work. MacKenzie immediately sat up, took her cup, and yawned through several slurps.
Hanna sat on the chair, sipping thoughtfully as the morning light shone through her window onto the deep blue carpet. Dorm rooms at the Capitol University were small, consisting of a bed, a desk, a bathroom and the usual appliances, but they were very nice, and the cleaning robots kept them spotless.
MacKenzie sat up on the bed, looking embarrassed.
"Sorry," she said, somewhat sheepishly.
"For what?" Hanna asked. "Don't be silly. You were scared."
MacKenzie smiled. "It just seems so stupid now."
Hanna shrugged. "Life's been strange recently. Sometimes it gets to you."
They sat in silence, sipping their coffee and feeling refreshed by the sunshine. Invisible spies seemed far-fetched in the peaceful room.
MacKenzie adjusted the ventilator to let some fresh air in. After a few minutes, Hanna got up to take a shower. "Conference time in ten minutes, okay? We've got to go through this thing and figure out what to do."
"Okay," MacKenzie said. "I need to go turn off my coffee pot. I'll take a shower and meet you back here."
Hanna shook her head. "Meet me in the lobby. Let's take a walk."
* * *
"Whoever sent that message wanted to make it sound like he's not part of the conspiracy," Hanna said as they made their third trip around the block. "Read it to me again," she said. MacKenzie did.
"So he's saying there's a conspiracy," Hanna said, breaking it down into discreet parts, "that it's pretty deep, that you've uncovered part of it -- the technological part -- that he's not part of it, and that they're a dangerous bunch. That's what it says. It also implies, or at least hints, at a few things; that Dr. Berry gave you a doctored implant -- that she wanted you to find this stuff out -- and that she's part of the conspiracy and will make you an offer at some point."
"Also," MacKenzie said, "the very fact that he sent the message implies that somebody was spying on my work. Somebody knows what I'm doing, and the only people who fit the bill right now are Jeremy, Duncan and Dr. Berry."
Hanna slowed her pace and stared absently at the sidewalk, then abruptly decided to change course and head across the street to one of the many small parks in the District of Columbia.
"We can't discount the people who kidnapped me, either," she said as they made it to an unoccupied bench. "If they got everything they could out of me, they would know that you've been on to something."
"Yeah," MacKenzie said. "But they could just be working for, or with, any of the three people I mentioned. You know," she continued, "I don't have any reason for it, but I've always assumed that those goons who captured you were connected with Duncan somehow. I don't know who else to suspect."
"Yes you do," Hanna replied, looking at her seriously.
"Dr. Berry?" she suggested, but Hanna's expression s
aid no. "Jeremy?" MacKenzie asked, incredulous.
"We know he's connected to these 'net spies,' but we don't know how. He knows you have some ideas about how they operate -- or at least how they work. And it's pretty obvious that he's in way over his head in some kind of cloak and dagger thing. It's very possible that somebody is using him."
MacKenzie knew that Hanna liked Jeremy, so she was somewhat surprised that Hanna could make such an objective assessment of him. A thought suddenly occurred to her.
"Wait a minute," she said. "Duncan knows who Jeremy is, right? Remember what he said at the Chocolate Bar? 'Is he here,' as if he were afraid of him. So maybe Duncan and Jeremy are on opposite sides." She paused to think about that for a second. "So let's just assume that one of them is in on this conspiracy and the other one is a good guy. In that case, which one is more likely to be the good guy?"
Hanna's eyes raced back and forth, assembling a mental list of pros and cons for each position. MacKenzie could compose programs as easily as falling out of bed, but Hanna had the same facility with arguments.
"Okay," she said. "Let's assume the images are on the wrong side. Jeremy was plagued by them, which implies he is on the good side, in addition to everything else we know about him. Duncan was asking about your methods, which could imply that he was on the good side -- trying to find out what the bad guys were doing -- or on the bad side -- trying to cover his tracks.
"However," she continued, "we haven't heard much from Jeremy since he's been in this little club of his." She said it with a little sarcasm. "It could be that he's been recruited by the conspiracy. Maybe they've convinced him of their goals, or maybe he's been bought out, or just plain duped. He is a little naïve about how things work in Society, and besides, we really don't know much about his character, after all," she said it with a frown, and MacKenzie knew Hanna had been wondering about that for some time. "So we shouldn't assume that Jeremy is on the right side."
"But we also have to consider the message," Hanna continued. "Who would be more likely to send it, Jeremy or Duncan?"
"I guess Duncan. I don't know why Jeremy would want to spook me," MacKenzie said.
"I agree. It seems to me that only the good guys would want to contact you. The bad guys might want to kill you," she blurted this out before she had a chance to think about it, and then regretted it, "but I can't see why they'd want to arouse your interest."
MacKenzie tried to ignore the comment about getting killed, but it stuck with her.
"Unless, as the message implies, they're going to try to recruit me," she said. "Still, it would be an odd way to approach it." She thought about that for a minute. "So what you're telling me, bottom line, is that we just don't know anything." MacKenzie finally said, exasperated.
Hanna grinned. That wasn't her conclusion, but she didn't want to say anything more until she had thought it out further. "No, what I'm saying is that I think we need to meet Duncan again. Let's ask him what he's up to."
"But what ..." MacKenzie began, and then changed her mind. She looked down at the pavement and frowned. "I guess it doesn't really matter. It's not as if we can hide from the net spies." But then something else occurred to her. "But what about Duncan's connection with Dr. Berry?"
"I've wondered about that, too. We'll just have to ask him."
* * *
It was the eye again, twitching nervously. Jeremy hated that eye. He wanted to carve it out with the hunting knife in his right hand, but the images changed too quickly, just as they always did. His mind flashed back and forth from Amy's dead body, to the eye, to the bloody knife, to the Community council, to the tears of his mother as he bid her a final farewell, to the knife, to the eye, and on and on. These same events continued to haunt his sleep. Sometimes other images would be added -- Dr. Berry warning him of implant psychosis, Hanna smiling at him, Dr. Elizah telling him that there was no name written on Amy's arm, his father, his face torn between anger and admiration for his son's rash actions, the path he and Amy liked to walk on Sunday afternoons, but which led to the field where she was murdered. But the knife, the eye, the body, the council; they were always there.
He awoke with a start, sweaty and wide-eyed, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked around the room to get his bearings, and then remembered. He reached for the pad of paper he had left on the table next to the couch in his office and tried to write something about the dream, but nothing came out. The images faded before his conscious mind was clear of the animal fear that filled him during his haunted sleep. All he managed to write was "bloody knife, eye, body, council."
* * *
It struck Hanna as uncomfortably coincidental that the only reason they were able to contact Duncan was that Dr. Berry had given his full name to MacKenzie. She didn't believe in coincidences, so she decided there were two options: Providence was guiding them to Duncan, or they were being led by the nose into a trap. "Either way, I'm game," she said with a fatalistic smile. "I can't stand just waiting around while those invisible things might be spying on us."
Hanna wondered if Dr. Berry wanted to find Duncan, and she was using MacKenzie to lead her to him. That led her into a series of ideas about who's on which side, and what everyone is trying to do, but she realized it was still all speculation. She needed more facts.
MacKenzie sent Duncan a message with a copy to Hanna.
To Duncan Douglas. Hanna and I would like to meet with you. Alone, this time – for both of us. We suspect we might be followed, so take precautions.
"After what you pulled last time," Hanna said, not in an accusing voice, "he might not want to see us at all."
* * *
Jeremy wasn't at all sure what his mission was in the new office. Under Peter's orders he had spent 15 of the last 30 hours in the training center. Not that he minded. In fact, it was fun. But his schedule was so tight he didn't have any extended time alone, and he was beginning to miss it. In the Community, company was something you craved. If you met someone along the road, you talked for a while because you'd been busy with your own thoughts for the last few hours. His life in the agency was the polar opposite. He'd never experienced such an overload of activity, and it was starting to wear on him.
He was frequently interrupted in his training sessions and taken to meet someone, to be tested on his studies, or to get a hands-on lesson with some new gadget. It seemed that every time he went anywhere, his guide would take him on a long, winding trip through the facility, making frequent stops in side offices or computer rooms. He began to wonder if all the "training" wasn't just a farce and the only reason they wanted him there was to keep an eye open for net spies.
* * *
Hanna and MacKenzie headed to the top floor of the Graham Memorial Library on the Capitol University campus. Duncan had agreed to meet them in one of the private study rooms. It seemed like a safe location, but Hanna wasn't convinced they were going to be able to get a room.
"They're almost always packed this time of day," she said as they stepped off the elevator, and sure enough, every room had the 'occupied' light on. As they looked at each other, not knowing what to do, a young woman approached them. The pupil of her left eye looked odd -- slightly large, and off center -- and it gave her a sinister look.
"Are you looking for Duncan?" she asked. They nodded, and she pointed them to one of the rooms. "Go in there. He'll be with you shortly."
They opened the door to the study room and saw three people sitting around the central desk. A chalk board on the wall had a series of equations and a few drawings scribbled all over it. They looked up at Hanna and MacKenzie, who suddenly had an awkward feeling. Each of them had the same odd left eye, just like the woman. When they saw Hanna and MacKenzie, they immediately wrapped up their conversation and left. One of them intentionally left a large paper envelope on the desk. It seemed that Duncan had arranged for someone to reserve this room to ensure that it would be available at the proper time. MacKenzie thought the secrecy was a little overdone, but conside
ring what she suspected was going on, she couldn't complain.
Hanna opened the envelope, which contained two black eye patches and a note that instructed them to put them on their left eyes. Hanna looked quizzically at MacKenzie, but nodded knowingly and immediately put the patch on. Hanna followed her example. They sat in silence until Duncan showed up. Duncan's left pupil had the same, eerie look.
"I take it you understand what this is about," he said, pointing to his left eye. MacKenzie nodded, but Hanna didn't respond, so he explained.
"As your friend here has discovered, our implants feed what we see onto the net," he said. "They're not supposed to -- or, at least it's not supposed to be known that they do. But they do. If we wear these," he said, and Hanna realized the enlarged pupils were just dark contact lenses, "it blocks the transmission -- what we see doesn't get onto the net, so nobody can spy on us."
"Unless they bugged the room," Hanna suggested.
"I had it scanned," Duncan said nonchalantly, "and I have people stationed around us watching for any kind of surveillance. We are completely secure. Getting out might be a problem," he said with a wry grin.
Duncan sat quietly for a moment, allowing the seriousness of the situation to impress itself upon Hanna and MacKenzie. This wasn't a college prank, or a neat computer project, but they already knew that. Hanna's kidnapping had already raised the stakes beyond the mundane, and as she considered the danger and seriousness of the situation, she wondered why she was here at all. MacKenzie was the computer genius. Hanna's only involvement was that she knew Jeremy and MacKenzie. It was somewhat unsettling that that was enough.
"So what did you want to talk about?" Duncan asked.
"The conspiracy," MacKenzie said, intentionally using the word from the anonymous message. Duncan just stared at her for a moment, trying to read her face.
"And what do you want to know about the conspiracy?" he asked, nodding his head slightly as if to say "yes, it was me."
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