Dark Web (DARC Ops Book 2)

by Jamie Garrett

  The hallway outside of her room was, fortunately, well-lit. She followed it to the end and found a heavy metal door that opened up into the spiral stairwell. There, she could be thankful about something else—handrails. She used them as a guide, firmly grasping the rail with each ascending step. She was also thankful that the operations level was just a few floors above. Moving was making the pounding in her head start up again, and the idea of climbing up as many stairs as they’d traveled down last night was distinctly unappealing. After climbing the stairs slowly, Carly opened the door and took a few careful steps into a room full of . . . things. Hackers and computers. Glowing screens. Her eyes were still fuzzy, but the whir of a hundred cooling fans filled her ears and a slight burnt-plastic smell filled the air. As she took a few furtive steps into the room, blurry heads swiveled toward her. The fuzzy shape of a man approached her from the side—Tansy. He hugged her hello and then introduced her to “the guys,” which started off a series of awkward, half-blind introductions. She had always been terrible at remembering names, matching names to faces. This time the vision problem was a blessing in disguise; everyone’s name was matched to the same type of blur.

  “Do you think you can make contact for us?” Tansy asked after the two of them found a quiet work station in the corner of the room. “Are you ready?”

  Carly nodded quickly, jerking her head back when the motion threatened to start the head pounding again. She stilled, almost sitting on her hands to stop herself from fidgeting. She was never really going to be ready to talk to the militia contact. Something about his voice. . . . She had spoken with him in the past only out of necessity, just long enough to get the bare minimum of information on how to receive their data packet so she wouldn’t have to talk with him any longer. He’d given her the serious creeps, and that had been before someone had hit her over the head in a parking lot. But now there was a new necessity. Or at least according to Tansy, who insisted as much even after Carly explained she’d always called on a burner phone hooked up through a proxy server. A double mask.

  “There’s always a way to find someone,” Tansy said, helping her into a chair. “Proxy or not. Plus, I want to hear what he says.”

  “Will you be recording it?”

  “Is that okay? We might need it later.”

  “So your job is to build the case for the prosecution?”

  “Maybe. Our job is very . . . fluid.”

  “Fluid?”

  “It’s always changing.”

  “So in that case, can it skirt around the issue of my involvement?” She watched him as carefully as she could with defective eyes. How was he going to handle the question? Tansy turned to face her directly and he spoke low, picking up one of her hands in his.

  “Carly . . . I’ll . . . we’ll protect you. No matter what.”

  She wanted so badly to believe it. It was easy to, really, especially since he’d done such a good job of it already. But it was also the way he said it, the way his hand reached out through the blurriness and held on to her.

  “Okay,” Carly took in a deep breath. “So what do you need? What do you want me to say?”

  “Say you finished your task.”

  “But I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have,” he said, squeezing her hand before letting go and turning back to the keyboard. “We made up a bullshit file with the tax info. Now I want to see how he’d like it delivered. If he slips up with his own security, then we can sneak in and infect his whole operation. Then, we hope, we’ll track him down that way.”

  “What about the other assignment he talked about?”

  “Ask him about it. Ask him what it’s for.”

  “I usually don’t ask about the jobs like that.”

  “Carly, don’t worry so much. Just talk to him.”

  Okay, she could do that. It sounded simple enough. If she didn’t freeze up and stutter like an idiot first.

  “So I’ll reach out and prompt him to call me? Right now?”

  “Yeah. Make him call you. Right now.”

  Five minutes later, she was talking with the youthful if not bratty head of the militia’s cyber warfare division.

  “I thought you didn’t want to know who you were hacking,” he said, his tone sounding even more like a twelve-year-old than during their last conversation. “Wasn’t that what you said all along?”

  “Well, now that I’m finished, I’d like to know.” Carly focused on the blur of Tansy’s face. She could almost make out the expression on his face—his head was lowered, brow furrowed, and jaw tight. “Is that a problem with you?”

  “Don’t be so curious. It might get you in trouble.”

  Carly huffed. “Is that some kind of threat?”

  “Then again, you’re no stranger to trouble, are you? None of this is a threat, by the way. Just the facts. You past is, shall we say, questionable. That’s why we wanted you.”

  She had to fight every urge in her body to not end the call. Or to not drop the phone and stomp it into oblivion.

  “Hello? You there?” The juvenile voice kept prodding her.

  “Yeah.” Carly bit the inside of her cheek, trying to force her voice to stay level, unaffected. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about. You wanna run that by me again?”

  “Your past. It’s dirty.”

  It felt like acid was dripping down her spine, a slow, tingling burn, slowly incapacitating her entire body.

  “That’s why we picked you,” he said, snickering.

  “What?” Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper.

  “So we can blackmail you if you decided not to cooperate.”

  Carly squeezed her eyes shut as her heart raced, pounding in her chest. In the haziness of her peripheral vision, she could see Tansy’s chair rolling close to hers, as if he was preparing to catch her when she keeled over.

  “We’ve got dirt on you, Carly.”

  Toughen up. He’s just a kid.

  “So you watch the news.” She forced a choked laugh. “Good for you. You’re an informed citizen.”

  “Would an informed citizen know about your hard drive? Would they know how it proves that you helped him destroy evidence and cover up your boss’ dirty work?”

  Carly’s hand jerked so hard she nearly dropped the phone as panic flooded her mind. She bit down hard on her lip, the pain forcing her focus back to the present as Tansy shifted again beside her and his hand moved to rest lightly on her back.

  “I didn’t think so. That seems like some pretty specific stuff, huh? Someone with intimate knowledge. I wonder who would be interested in that kind of knowledge. Can you think of anyone?”

  No.

  A flash of anger paralyzed her voice. She was so fucking sick of her past coming back to haunt her. So sick of Bryce Johnson and the fucking cover-up. Sick of being a hacker again.

  “Maybe I could tell the Feds? Maybe even deliver a package?”

  Her hand gripped the phone hard, her knuckles turning white. No one else had known what she’d done for Bryce Johnson, not even Tansy when he’d unwittingly helped her. Or so she’d thought. She hadn’t even fully known what she was doing at the time, what she’d done in the supposed name of love. Bryce had kept that from her until it was too late. The secret she’d kept, held back from Tansy all these years, the reason why she’d let him go that night a decade ago, it was all out in the open with one careless comment. Carly was glad she couldn’t see Tansy’s face clearly right now. She couldn’t bear to even look at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, Tansy rolling his chair back in front of his own desk. He hunched over a glowing screen and began working, his fingers tapping furiously over the keys. She was relieved to see that, at least. He wasn’t going to let her drown.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Maybe she could anger him, trick him into skipping any further humiliation and just get to the point.

  “I want to turn you into our most valuable asset.”

  “Fuck that.”


  “No, no. Don’t make it hard on yourself. All we want you to do is finish the job.”

  “What’s the job?”

  “You really want to know? You want to break your own rule and know all the details of what—”

  “What is it?”

  “We just need you to disable a few security systems. Just like your test. That’s all. Help us out and you’ll get your hard drive, and then everyone can go home happy.”

  Could she really do it? Would Tansy—let alone his boss—let her continue to work long enough to appease the militia? Maybe this could work. Carly felt her death grip on the phone loosen and the fear strangling her heart draw back minutely . . . until she thought about the building that the test had focused on. It was government. And then Tansy’s recounting of the siege he’d almost been a part of out in the desert. They’d had something wired with heavy explosives out there. Then the gun pointing right in her face.

  No. The militia wasn’t going to let her—let anyone—calmly walk away from this. What were they gearing up to? It had to be something huge. Her mind jumped to news clips of Oklahoma City, the half-standing Federal Building. The children in the second-floor daycare center. Mangled tricycles and burnt teddy bears. Her hand flew around her stomach as she bent over, trying not to gag.

  “You have two days,” the voice said. “Then we’ll meet for the exchange.” He ended the call before Carly could respond. She had nothing to say.

  Tansy swung around in his chair to face her. “I think we need to talk.”

  Tansy guided her up to the main level, the ranch house. He was silent the entire way, not saying a single world until they reached the outside. Carly stepped out onto the back deck. The midday heat was deadly strong, but there was at least the faint pleasure of fresh air on her face. It was probably the only pleasure she’d get out here, or anywhere.

  “Okay,” Tansy was pacing slow circles around the deck. “Carly, I’m confused.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” He stopped pacing momentarily.

  “Yes.”

  “So can you explain it for me?”

  “It was why I broke contact with you. I was—”

  “Wait, wait. . . . What was why you broke contact with me?” He started pacing again. His voice held an edge, an anger ready to boil over. “What and why. Tell me the truth. Now.”

  “The cover-up,” Carly stared down at two barely recognizable blobs that were her feet. “When I asked for your help in destroying my tracks. Remember that? The server?”

  “How could I forget.” His voice was cold. “It was the last thing we worked on together before you disappeared.”

  Carly sat down in a shaded section of the porch, her fingers picking at the dry, splintering wood. She tried thinking of the right words, a way to explain it aside from simple selfishness. But it had been hard to convince even herself that it hadn’t been selfishness. She’d thought of it endlessly throughout the years, going back and forth depending on the amount of self-loathing she had that particular day. But she’d never once wavered on that. It was her fault. She was sure of it.

  “I was trying to help you, to save you from any . . . repercussions.”

  “You could have helped me by not inviting me into such bullshit. Or at least not lying to me when I asked about how illegal it was.” He stopped pacing and leaned up against the house. “Where was that same concern when you invited me into the shit storm? Were you trying to help me then?”

  “I had no idea things would turn out like this.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I know, Carly. But that’s not good enough.”

  “Well, what is? What do you want me to do?”

  “I’m no stranger to walking the gray-hat line. You know that. We’ve done our fair share of some pretty questionable shit. But at least I always knew the risks going in. And I’d prepare for them. Were you so desperate for help that you would totally abandon any concern for my well-being?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Was it that dire that you had to?”

  She thought back to her desperate scramble to help Bryce and to hide their relationship. From her sober, unemotional vantage point, away of the poison of his love, it had definitely not been worth it. It was even hard to believe that she’d stoop that low to begin with.

  “I’m sorry.” In the Nevada heat, she could feel a single cool tear rolling down the side of her nose. She wasn’t even aware that she had been crying. Maybe it was blood.

  “Are my eyes bleeding?”

  “What?” He seemed confused by the question. “No, you’re crying.”

  It didn’t feel like she was crying. She felt numb. And tired. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “Thank you for being sorry. But I’m just not sure . . . not sure where to go from here. You really hurt me, Carly.”

  “I know, and I regretted it the next day. It keeps me up at night.”

  “Me, too.”

  “How can I make it right, Tansy?”

  He sighed. “We’re just gonna have to put it behind us, move on. What else can we do?”

  It worried her a little bit, how it sounded, his detached uttering of the words. She’d hoped he would be understanding, but to be that understanding was almost frightening.

  “You can be mad at me. I understand. I deserve it.”

  “Trust me, I don’t need your permission for that.” He almost spat the words.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Carly. . . .”

  She drew her hands off the deck and brought them to her face, swiping her fingers across her wet cheeks before rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

  “Hey,” Tansy said sharply, his hands suddenly on hers, drawing them down. “Don’t rub your eyes like that. Jasper said to take it easy.”

  She dropped her hands away, and the world was a little clearer, refreshed. Tansy was standing right in front of her, his eyebrows set together but his expression softening.

  “You want to know how you can make it right?” he asked. “How you can get us both out of trouble?”

  “How?”

  He squeezed her shoulders lightly, before dropping his hands awkwardly. “Get to work and nail this fucker.”

  19

  Tansy

  They’d been working all day, trudging along the trail set by Carly’s militia contact, falling deeper into the rabbit hole of proxy servers masked by yet more proxy servers. The phone call had gone through a dozen different cell towers and ISPs across the country, bouncing from San Antonio to Rochester, to Stockton, to Minneapolis. . . .

  And that was just the beginning.

  The trail ran cold after that. But it was still early, and Tansy had given the team plenty of incentive to find the original location—a night off in Vegas. Although anywhere but The Silo would have probably been just as appealing.

  But while his team was itching to leave the dungeon-like compound, Tansy was content with hunkering down with his work. He’d done enough traveling. He’d seen enough of the desert in his lifetime, and the novelty of it, just like that of Vegas, had faded. But this time it had disappeared under layers of worry. Even the memories of combat days, the desert’s comfort and nostalgia—if it could ever be called that—had worn off dramatically and been replaced with the all-too-familiar feeling of stale drudgery. That was what the desert really meant—misery.

  Death.

  “Tansy, you don’t sound too happy,” Jackson’s voice sounded down the phone line. “Don’t tell me you’ve got cabin fever already.”

  “I got out,” Tansy said, stretching out over the sofa in the lounge room. “There’s been some outside developments.”

  “One of them being, you’ve identified the freelancer?”

  “She’s here.”

  “Carly?”

  “We got in late last night,” Tansy chose to skip over the details of her abduction and beating, and the police evasion. Better not to r
uffle Jackson’s feathers too much. Best skip over the blackmail part, too. Since Tansy himself was unsure how he’d get out of this latest predicament, the less said, the better.

  “Is she cooperating?” Jackson asked.

  “Of course she is.” Tansy laughed at his own inside joke. “You think I threw her in the trunk and drove her out here?”

  “You know what I meant. Can you two work together?”

  “We’re on it,” Tansy wondered what Carly was up to at that moment. He’d walked her down to her room. She said she had some calls to make, some thinking to do. It was probably for the best that they had some time apart.

  Some space.

  The revelation that he’d helped her with Bryce Johnson with an illegal cover-up wasn’t exactly a shock to Tansy. Sure, he hadn’t known the exact details, but he’d known Carly—at least, he’d thought he had—and he wasn’t a complete idiot. She’d needed help, and he would be there for her. It was that simple. He hadn’t worried about it much back then, and he still would think nothing of it, if not for the surprise blackmail.

  Thoughts of Carly clouded the conversation, so much so that he barely heard Jackson’s news about new evidence. Something about wanting Tansy to take a look at security footage of the militia hackers disabling a security system at a bank. “Maybe you can glean something off it,” Jackson said. “From how they work. Methods, techniques . . . Tansy?”