Panic

by Jeff Abbott

  Or, he thought, he had to create the illusion that he had the data.

  The laptop. He didn’t need the data, he just needed the laptop itself to barter for his father. It might hold the exact same files his mother had stolen. At the least it was a negotiating point: he could always threaten to turn over the laptop to the CIA unless his father was released. Jargo couldn’t know with certainty that the files were, or weren’t, on Khan’s machine. Even if this didn’t hold the client list, it might hold enough data – financial, logistical, personal – to destroy the Deeps.

  His mother might have stolen the files from this very laptop. He tried to imagine how she had done it. She’d snapped pictures in Dover, stolen the military data. Delivered the goods to Khan. But probably not here, not in his safe spot. She’d probably handed him the stolen data and photos on a CD, in a park, in a theater, in a cafe. But maybe she follows Khan here after they part ways. Then… what? Khan loads the data she stole on the computer to send to Jargo. He leaves. She breaks into the house, finds the laptop. She must have software to bypass the passwords – a necessity if she routinely stole information.

  If she did it – it could be done. He could steal the same files.

  He tried the laptop once more. Entered BAST. Nothing.

  OHIO, because of the orphanage. No.

  GOINSVILLE. Refused.

  He found Khan’s car keys on the kitchen counter, put the laptop and the money in the car’s trunk. He went back inside and put Khan’s PDA, gun, and phone into his jacket pocket. He wanted to sleep, and he wanted to believe that Khan’s hiding place could be his hiding place. But it wasn’t safe to stay here.

  Fort Lauderdale. His mother’s mention of Florida to Gabriel. It was his best bet.

  He got into the borrowed Jaguar. Realized he had never driven a car designed for the left side of the road and, for the first time in days, really laughed. This would be an adventure.

  Nerves on edge, Evan drove into the darkness. A cold rain began to fall. He had to concentrate entirely on retraining his driving reflexes. He headed slowly, like a rookie driver, back toward London and found a decent hotel in Lewisham. He treated himself to a real meal of steak and fries in a small pub, drank down a pint of ale, watched a couple and their grown son laugh over lagers. He paid and went back to the hotel, lay down on the bed.

  He turned Thomas Khan’s cell phone back on and it chimed that there was a message. He didn’t know Khan’s voice-mail password. But he found a call log, listing a recently missed number.

  He opened Khan’s PDA and activated the Voice Memo application. Then he dialed the number on the new call log.

  He could not negotiate if they all thought he was dead.

  It was answered on the first ring. ‘Yes?’ He knew the voice, his soft psychotic purr. Dezz.

  ‘Let me speak to Jargo.’ Evan held the PDA close enough to record every word.

  ‘No one here by that name.’

  ‘Shut up, Dezz. Let me talk to Jargo. Now.’

  Three beats of silence. ‘Put ourselves back together, have we?’

  ‘Tell your father I have all of Mr. Khan’s files relating to the Deeps. All of them. I’d like to negotiate a trade for my father.’

  ‘How’s Carrie? Blown to bits? I’m sorry I wasn’t in London to help you pick up the pieces.’ He stifled a giggle.

  ‘You say another word to me, freak, and I e-mail the client list to the CIA, to the FBI, to Scotland Yard. You’re not calling the shots. I am.’

  Silence for a long moment, and Dezz said with icy politeness, ‘Hold, please.’

  He imagined Dezz and Jargo, seeing Khan’s number on a cell phone screen, knowing now about the explosion and weighing if Evan was telling the truth.

  ‘Yes? Evan? You’re well?’ Jargo. Sounding concerned.

  ‘I’m fine. I have a proposal for you.’

  ‘Your father is worried sick about you. Where are you?’

  ‘Deep in the rabbit hole. And I have Thomas Khan’s laptop. From his hiding place in Bromley. With all his files.’

  A long pause. ‘Congratulations. I for one find spreadsheets boring.’

  ‘Give me back my father, and I’ll give you your laptop, and then we’re walking away from each other.’

  ‘But files can be duplicated. I don’t know that I can trust you.’

  ‘You have no room to question my integrity, Mr. Jargo. None. I know about Goinsville, I know about Alexander Bast, I know he set up the original Deep network.’ All bluff; he wasn’t sure how any of this fit together, but he had to pretend that he knew. ‘I have Khan’s laptop and I’m giving it to you. Not to the police. Not to the press. All I want is my dad. You either take the deal or you don’t. I can tear the Deeps apart in five minutes with what I’ve got.’

  ‘May I speak to Mr. Khan?’ Jargo asked.

  ‘No, you may not.’

  ‘Is he alive?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well. Did you kill him or did the CIA?’

  ‘I’m not playing twenty questions with you. Do we have a deal or do I go to the CIA?’

  ‘Evan. I understand you’re upset. But I didn’t want Khan dead. I didn’t want you dead.’ A pause. ‘If you’ve got Internet access, I’d like to show you a tape. To prove my point.’

  ‘A tape.’

  ‘Khan had a digital camera in his business. Did a constant feed to a remote server. We take a lot of precautions in our line of work, you understand. I just accessed the server. I can prove to you it was a known CIA operative who set off the blast. His name was Marcus Pettigrew. I suspect the CIA saw a way to get rid of you and Khan all at once, nice and neat.’

  Evan remembered seeing a set of small cameras mounted in the corners near the bookstore’s ceiling. He said what he thought Jargo would expect him to say, ‘So what? So I can’t trust the CIA. It doesn’t mean that I can trust you.’

  ‘Watch the tape,’ Jargo said, ‘before you make up your mind.’

  ‘Hold on.’ Staying on the phone, Evan walked down the stairs from his room to the hotel’s business center. It was empty. He fired up a gleaming new PC, set up a new e-mail account at Yahoo! under an invented name, and gave Jargo the new e-mail account’s address. After a minute the attached film clip appeared in the in-box. Evan clicked it. Saw himself, from above and to the left, come in and talk to Khan. Khan and then Evan went offscreen, and here came Pettigrew. Flipping the CLOSED sign. Murdering two people. Leaning down to touch his briefcase. Then nothing.

  ‘I’m not really into eviscerating my own network,’ Jargo said. ‘The CIA would be, however.’

  ‘You could have doctored that tape.’

  ‘Evan. Please. First Gabriel, now Pettigrew. Your friend Bricklayer sent you right into that death trap. Kill two birds with one stone, you and Khan. I’m not your enemy, Evan. Far from it. You’ve fallen in with the wrong crowd, to put it mildly, and I’ve been trying to save your ass.’

  Bricklayer… he knows Bedford’s code name. He hated the oily concern that failed to hide the arrogance in Jargo’s voice.

  ‘That tape doesn’t lie. Now who do you believe?’ Jargo asked.

  ‘I want to talk to my dad.’ Evan put a calculated quaver of doubt in his voice.

  ‘That’s an excellent idea, Evan.’

  Silence. And then his father’s voice: ‘Evan?’ He sounded tired, weak. Beaten.

  Alive. His father was truly alive. ‘Dad. Oh, Jesus, Dad, are you okay?’

  ‘Yes. I’m all right. I love you, Evan.’

  ‘I love you, too.’

  ‘Evan… I’m sorry. Your mother. You. I never meant for you to get dragged into this mess. It was always my worst nightmare.’ Mitchell’s voice sounded near tears. ‘You don’t understand the whole story.’

  He knew Jargo was listening. Pretend you believe him. It’s the only way Jargo will give you Dad. But not too fast, or Jargo won’t buy it. He had to play his own father. He tried hard to keep his voice steady. ‘No, Dad, I sure as hell don’t under
stand.’

  ‘What counts is that I can keep you safe, Evan. I need you to trust Jargo.’

  ‘Dad, even if Jargo didn’t kill Mom, he kidnapped you. How can I trust this guy?’

  ‘Evan. Listen carefully to me. Your mother went to the CIA, and the CIA killed her. I don’t know why she did it, but she did, thinking they would hide her, hide you. But they killed her,’ his voice broke, then steadied, ‘and now they’ve used you to try to draw me and Jargo out.’

  ‘Dad…’

  ‘Jargo and Dezz weren’t at our house. It was the CIA. Anything else you’ve been told is a lie. Believe your eyes. That CIA agent in London tried to kill you. There’s no plainer evidence. I want you to do what Jargo says. Please.’

  ‘I don’t think I can do that, Dad. He killed Mom. Do you understand that? He killed her!’ He gave his father an abbreviated account of his arrival at home.

  ‘But you never saw their faces.’

  ‘No… I never saw their faces.’ He let three seconds tick by, thought, Make Jargo think you want to believe Dad, you want to believe worse than anything, so this horror will all be over. ‘I saw Mom, and then I freaked, and they put a bag over my head.’

  Mitchell’s voice was patient. ‘I can tell you it was not Dezz and Jargo, it wasn’t.’

  ‘How can you be sure, Dad?’

  ‘I am. I am absolutely sure they didn’t kill your mom.’

  Start acting dumb. ‘I just heard voices.’

  ‘In the most horrifying moment of your life, you might make a mistake, Evan. Jargo might threaten you to get cooperation, but it’s easier than explaining to you. But he really wouldn’t hurt you. They shot at Carrie at the zoo. Not you.’

  Not true, but Jargo had fed his father a matched set of lies. He didn’t argue the point. Now for confusion. ‘But Carrie said-’

  ‘Carrie betrayed your trust. She played you, son. I’m sorry.’

  He let the silence build before he spoke. ‘You’re right.’ Forgive me, Carrie, he thought. ‘She wasn’t honest with me, Dad. Not from day one.’

  Mitchell cleared his throat. ‘Never mind her. All that matters is getting you here with me. Are you safe from the CIA right now?’

  ‘To them, I’m dead.’

  ‘Then bring Jargo the files. We’ll be together. Jargo will let you and me talk, work out what happens next.’

  Evan lowered his voice. ‘Say nothing. I have the laptop, but I can’t get past its password. I’ve never seen these files Jargo wants. I’m not a threat to him.’ He knew Jargo was drinking in every word.

  ‘It’ll all be fine as soon as we’re together.’

  ‘Dad… is it all true? What I found out about you and Mom, about the Deeps? Because I don’t understand…’

  ‘You have been very sheltered, Evan, and you are about to do more harm, ever, than good if you expose us. Do what Jargo says. We’ll have lots of time, and I can make you understand.’

  ‘Why aren’t you Arthur Smithson anymore?’

  A pause. ‘You don’t know what your mother and I did for you. You have no conception of the sacrifices we made. You’ve never made a difficult choice. You have no idea.’ Then Mitchell’s words came in a rush, as though his time ran short: ‘You remember when I gave you all the Graham Greene novels, and I told you the most important line in all of them was “if one loved, one feared”? It’s true, one hundred percent true. I was afraid you wouldn’t have a good life, and I wanted a good life for you. The best life. You are everything to me. I love you, Evan.’

  ‘I remember. Dad, I love you, too.’ No matter what he had done. Evan remembered his father giving him a bunch of Greene novels his senior year in high school for Christmas, but he didn’t understand the quote. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Dad was alive and he was getting him back.

  ‘Listen closely.’ His father’s voice was gone, replaced by Dezz’s. ‘I’m in charge of you, now. Where are you?’

  ‘Just tell me where I’m supposed to be to exchange Khan’s computer for my father.’

  ‘Miami. Tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I can’t get to Miami that fast. Tomorrow night.’

  ‘We’ll arrange tickets for you,’ Dezz said. ‘We don’t want the CIA scooping you back up.’

  ‘I’ll handle my own travel. I’ll call you from Miami. I’m picking the time and place for our exchange.’

  ‘All right.’ Dezz gave a giggle. ‘Don’t run away from me this time. Now that we’ll all be like family.’ And he hung up.

  Like family. Evan didn’t like the dig in Dezz’s tone, and he thought of the faded pictures of the two boys in Goinsville, their similar smiles and squints. Seeing now what he didn’t want to see then, the possibility that the connection between his father – a man he loved and admired – and Jargo, a brutal and vicious killer, could be a thread of blood.

  Evan had decided to play dumb, to let Jargo think he would blindly rush to save his father, but now he felt dense. Graham Greene quotes that had burned up the precious time talking with his father. Digs from Dezz. It didn’t make sense.

  Evan erased the downloaded movie from the PC and walked back to his room. He sprawled on his bed and stared at Khan’s laptop, still hiding its secrets like a willful child.

  If he walked this laptop back to Jargo for his father, he’d get his dad back, he hoped, but Jargo would not be stopped. No. Unacceptable. So he had to do both. Get his father back and bring Jargo down, with no room for error.

  He sat and considered the tools at his disposal, the ways tomorrow might play out.

  It was a matter, he decided, of simply being the best storyteller. He needed to outdo a veritable king of lies. His first prop was this uncooperative laptop. It was time for sleight of hand.

  36

  S he picked up the phone on the third ring. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, Kathleen.’

  A moment of stunned silence. ‘Evan?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s me.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes. I saw you talking about me on CNN last weekend. I appreciate the kind words.’

  ‘Evan, where are you, what happened? My God, I’ve been worried sick about you.’

  He wanted to believe it was true, his former girlfriend fretting over him, and he knew his request would put her to the test.

  ‘I can’t tell you what’s happened or where I am. I need your help. I may be putting you in danger by asking. If you hang up now, I won’t blame you.’

  Silence. Then she said, ‘What kind of danger?’

  ‘Not so much to you, but to whomever you can get to help me.’

  ‘Spit it out, Evan.’ She always had a brutal directness.

  ‘A dangerous group of people want me dead. They killed my mom, kidnapped my dad, they’re looking for me. I have one of their computers and I need access to it. But it’s encrypted.’

  ‘This is a joke, right?’

  ‘My mom’s dead, do you think I’m joking?’

  Four beats of silence. Her voice lowered. ‘No, I don’t think you are.’

  ‘Help me, Kath.’

  ‘My God, Evan, listen, go to the police.’

  ‘They’ll kill my dad if I do. Please, Kathleen.’

  ‘How could I help you?’

  ‘Because you produced Hackerama with Bill.’ Bill was the guy she’d left Evan for, a film-maker from New York Evan actually thought was a cool guy. He’d beaten Evan out for the Oscar with his film about the culture of computer hackers.

  ‘Yes,’ she said after a moment’s hesitation.

  ‘I need a contact in England. Smart and discreet, who won’t go straight to the police, and is an encryption expert. I can pay them well. You, too.’

  She let a beat pass. ‘Evan. I’m not taking your money and I can’t help you commit a crime.’

  ‘It’s to save my dad, to save myself.’

  He heard Kathleen fidget.

  ‘If you’ve been watching the news, you might have heard about a bombing in London today. T
hat was this group, trying to kill me.’

  ‘You sound crazy right now, to be honest.’

  ‘I’ve been on the run for days. Hiding. My life is literally in your hands, Kathleen. I need help. I can’t stop these people, I can’t expose them in any way that the police will believe, without this evidence.’

  ‘Assuming that you’re telling the truth, you’re asking me to call a friend and put him or her in great danger.’

  ‘Yes. That’s true. You should warn them. Be honest with them so they know what they’re facing. But I’m paying. These guys always need money, right?’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like a good idea,’ she said, ‘for anyone but you.’

  Dead end. He couldn’t blame her. ‘I understand. I wouldn’t want an innocent hurt either. Thanks for being willing to talk to me. And thanks for defending me on CNN. It meant a lot to me.’

  ‘Evan.’

  He waited.

  Finally she said, ‘I’ll find someone to help you. How can I reach you?’

  ‘It’s better for you if I just call you back. The less you know, the better.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about your mom. She was a terrific woman. And your dad…’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Call me back in an hour.’

  ‘Okay.’ He hung up. He wondered if she would call the police straightaway. He called Kathleen Torrance back in precisely an hour, using the hotel phone. Khan’s cell phone was strictly for talking with Jargo.

  ‘Evan. A hacker gave me the name of a friend of his in London. I called the friend. His hacker name is Razur. He doesn’t want you to know his real name. He said he’d meet you tonight at this cafe. You got a pen?’ She gave him an address in Soho.

  ‘Thank you, Kathleen. God bless you.’

  ‘I beg you. Let the police handle this.’

  ‘I would if I could. It’s complicated.’

  ‘Will you call me back? Let me know you’re all right?’

  ‘When I can. Be well, Kathleen. Thanks.’ He hung up.

  He went downstairs, asked the desk clerk for directions to the cafe Razur had suggested. He got back in Khan’s car, steeled himself for driving on the opposite side of the road, and headed out into the chilling, cutting rain.