The shower in the ensuite started up—Tyler was taking a break from the song he was currently working on. Disappointment stabbed her. He wouldn’t perform the song until he was satisfied with it and she had hoped to hear it tonight, before she had to leave.
She abandoned that thought-thread for now and resumed a previous one revolving around her continued fascination with sibling dynamics. Her visit with the Davidsons had not disappointed in this respect. There had been the usual bickering and banter to analyze, plus the rivalry over who got to do what, and when, with the newest member of the family. Jay’d had no idea that walking a slumbering infant in an overly complex piece of machinery called a “stroller” was considered such a desirable activity. Add an untrained, spoiled puppy to the mix, and she had plenty of data about sibling interactions to replay and analyze.
On the subject of the newest addition to Jay’s household: When she had announced to Tyler that she had chosen a suitable name for the pup, he had asked her not to reveal it to anyone, including himself. He’d claimed would be “amusing as hell to watch Caro turn herself inside out” to extract the pup’s name from Jay.
Jay had agreed, and been duly treated to lengthy bouts of Caro pleading, pouting, wheedling, threatening, and finally resorting to increasingly outrageous attempts at bribery. Inevitably, Caro had given up on Jay and turned her efforts to extracting the information from her brother, who’d predictably taken great delight in informing Caro he hadn’t a clue what name Jay had chosen.
Marissa had not been at all fazed by the carryings on, but Michael hadn’t been so sanguine. He’d taken Jay aside and begged her to come clean for the sake of his sanity.
Jay, taking pity on both Mike and Caro, had announced that “Brum”, a diminutive form of Brummer, was a good strong name for the adult dog the pup would eventually become. However, after enduring seventeen minutes of the pup’s yipping, and its attempts to crawl into her lap and chew the steering wheel during the car trip home, Jay had informed Tyler that she might yet change the pup’s name to Bello, which meant “barker”. Brum must have preferred his original name, for he had subsequently settled down in the backseat and behaved himself the rest of the trip.
Jay glanced toward the second doggie bed she’d bought to encourage Brum to nap somewhere other than her lap while she worked.
Excellent. The pup was still sprawled in his bed, tired out from their walk. Her lips curved at the memory of him careening around the park, startling at anything at everything, until he’d flopped down atop Jay’s feet and crashed into sleep.
Another memory imposed, this one carrying with it the sheer wash of pleasure she’d felt upon unlocking the front door of Number Sixty-Four Parkway. It was illogical to have become so attached to an arrangement of walls, furniture and belongings, but she couldn’t deny the physiological and mental shifts that had resulted in the brownstone coming to represent an elusive human concept labeled “home.” Along with pleasure, ushering Tyler and the pup inside and shutting the door behind them, had provoked the release of tension in smaller muscles, deepened breathing, a slowed pulse rate, and a number of other subtle physiological changes.
Or perhaps it was not the building. Perhaps it was the knowledge that only when she was alone with Tyler, could she truly be herself. Perhaps home was not a place but a person, and for Jay, Tyler had become synonymous with “home”.
A series of soft beeps called her full focus to the program currently running on her laptop. She analyzed the results… and quickly concluded there was no pleasure whatsoever to be extracted from her current lack of progress in locating Sixer.
A similarly thwarted human might have indulged in some filthy swearwords, glared at the laptop monitor like it was to blame, pounded her fists on the desk, or thrown something at the wall. Perhaps all four if the situation had warranted such a tantrum. Because it was not in Jay’s nature to allow frustration over lack of success the upper hand, she adjusted another search parameter… and refused to give credence to a tiny part of her that insisted indulging in a small tantrum might turn out to be somewhat satisfying.
She had other leads to pursue. Tantrums were a waste of energy.
“Any luck?” Tyler padded into the room off the lounge that Jay had turned into a library-cum-office. He rested his palms on her shoulders to lean in and kiss her cheek, and the impulse to turn her head and demand a real kiss buzzed through Jay’s veins. That impulse wasn’t helped by the fact Tyler wore nothing but sweatpants that hung low enough on his hips to hint at the waistband of his boxer shorts.
He looked—
What had been the phrase Caro had once used to describe her boyfriend Matt? Ah, yes. Eminently lickable. And Tyler smelled wonderful, too—of soap and vanilla shampoo and healthy human male.
A shaft of heat swirled low in Jay’s belly and muscles lower down involuntarily clenched. She analyzed these physical reactions, and identified the sensations as desire… which she would not be acting upon at this moment, tempting though the thought might be.
She cleared her throat. “No luck yet.”
“Bummer.”
Jay decided this was as good a time as any to practice one of those shrugs humans used to convey that they weren’t particularly bothered by something. “I would have been surprised if Sixer had made it easy for me to trace his whereabouts.”
“Yeah, I’d have been suspicious as hell if you’d tracked him down quickly. Sixer’s too smart to slip up. He’ll make you work for it.” Tyler perched on the edge of the desk and swung his bare foot. “So, reckon you’ll have better luck with that guy my dad recognized?”
“I believe so. It won’t be too much longer before I have something concrete.”
Jay had obtained a list of Goodkind Electronics employees reported to have sustained fatal injuries during the bombing of the bunker housing Caine’s clandestine cybernetics project. And yesterday, while Tyler had been at classes, Jay had driven back to Snapperton to show the list to Tyler’s father. She trusted her own security precautions one hundred percent, but although Michael Davidson’s skills in that regard were superior to most, transferring the file electronically wasn’t worth the risk—not when Jay could easily drive down and give it to him in person. It wasn’t like driving for hours without a break fatigued or taxed her in any way.
Michael had scanned the list and pointed out a young technician who’d been brought to his attention on two occasions. The first had occurred when Evan Caine had personally requested an in-depth background check on the man before he was shifted to another section—an R and D department Michael’s personal security access insured he could obtain little more than rudimentary information about. The second occasion had been when Michael was obliged to write the man up for a security breach.
Evan Caine hadn’t made a habit of offering people second chances once they’d screwed up. Apparently, the skills one Seth Kyle Williams brought to the table had been deemed too valuable to lose, and he’d escaped termination. Given the way Michael’s expression had blanked as he uttered the word “termination”, Jay understood the more sinister use of the word could well have applied in this instance.
It would be far more efficient to gather data directly from the scene of the bombing but for now, the risks of doing so in person remained unacceptably high, forcing Jay to rely on other sources of information. One such source was the preliminary autopsy report on Frank Sloane, the tech rostered on with Williams.
The report indicated Sloane had been in the main lab at the time of the explosion, and had died instantly, his injuries consistent with being caught in an explosion. What were presumed to be Williams’ remains had also been recovered. Eventually it might be possible to identify the remains, but as Jay well knew, anyone with the right skill set could fake a person’s death.
After illegally accessing all manner of private personal information, and taking stringent measures to thoroughly cover her tracks, Jay had ascertained that an unidentified John Doe matching Williams’ physica
l description had been dropped off at a small, understaffed medical facility two townships over from the bomb site. The John Doe had been unconscious, concussed from a blow to the head. Also noted were a dislocated shoulder, a cracked rib, contusions on his face, back and torso, and a number of other minor, non-life-threatening injuries.
A staff member had recorded the incident as a probable mugging—a logical conclusion given the neighborhood crime statistics. This assumption had not been verified, however, because shortly after the patient had regained consciousness, and before he could be questioned, he’d vanished from his hospital room. Since the costs of his treatment had mysteriously been settled, neither hospital staff nor authorities had been inclined to pursue the matter further, presuming the man had discharged himself and shortly afterward arranged for his bill to be paid.
Jay had confided to Tyler that she believed Sixer had chosen to spare Williams, and had extracted him from the lab prior to the explosion. Too, it appeared highly likely Williams’ injuries had been inflicted by Sixer during the process of convincing the young tech to accompany him.
In Tyler’s opinion, among other things, Sixer needed to work on his powers of persuasion. Jay tended to agree.
If Sixer had been involved in the young man’s disappearance from the hospital, there wouldn’t be much of a trail to trace—Sixer was too careful and methodical for that. But if Williams had walked out on his own, Jay was confident she could locate him. The majority of modern-day humans—even those who had reason to be paranoid about surveillance—were too reliant on technology to completely eschew it. Thanks to data mining algorithms like the one she’d written, one careless act could leave a digital footprint that Jay could trace back to the source.
She checked the second of the two laptops sitting on her desk for new results on Goodkind Electronics employee ID 102212. “Gotcha,” she said, for Tyler’s benefit. “Proof that Seth Williams is indeed alive and well.”
He blinked. “That was quick.”
“Yes.”
Jay analyzed Tyler’s responses—head cocked, brows slightly arched, eyes a little wider than usual, torso angled toward her—and surmised he wished her to elaborate on her methods. And then he confirmed it absolutely by saying, “So? Don’t keep me hanging—I want to know how you did it. Spill.”
Satisfaction curved her lips. She’d correctly interpreted his body language and it felt… good. “Would you like the long explanation or the short one?” she asked.
He gave her what she now recognized as his “Are you freaking kidding me?” eyes.
“The short one, then. Fantasy, food chemical intolerances, whole food stores, inhalers and facial recognition software.”
Tyler blinked slowly and snapped his sagging jaw shut. “Okay, if you don’t want to tell me—”
“That was the short version, Tyler.”
“Then either I’m not fully caffeinated and my brain’s gone to sleep, or my brain cells eked out my ear last night and are currently residing on my pillow. Or—”
“Or I’m being deliberately obtuse.”
He waggled his brows at her. “You said it, not me.”
Jay allowed herself a full-blown smile, liking the way he bantered with her.
Pause current thought-thread.
It was something his twin, Caro, also did. Their father Michael, not so much. There was, Jay believed, too much history between them for Michael to tease her in such a casual fashion. He had shown with words and actions that he cared for her wellbeing, but he was far too aware of the harm she was capable of inflicting to let his guard down completely. And Marissa…. Caro had recently admitted her current relationship with Nessa, her former best friend and Tyler’s ex, was a “work in progress” and Jay believed that an excellent summation of her own relationship with Marissa.
Jay did not possess enough data to make an educated guess how the Davidson’s newest addition would react to her when he was old enough to form opinions. Hopefully the child’s increasing awareness of the world around him would not include the ability to sense her “otherness”, forcing her to resort to pheromones in order to successfully interact with him. Using such methods to soothe a domesticated animal, or as a distraction to deflect a strange human’s suspicions was one thing, but it would be morally reprehensible to manipulate a child in such a way.
Resume.
“Very well,” she said, “the long explanation it is. Seth’s position within Goodkind Electronics required him to delete all social media accounts, save for a professional page overseen and maintained by GE’s media department. That was standard for all employees of a certain level—as was the requirement to use company-issued cell phones, laptops and tablets. Of course, Seth hasn’t used a company cell phone since he went to ground.”
Tyler snorted. “Dude would have to be brain-dead to do that if he’s trying to keep a low profile.”
“Agreed. Consequently, my algorithm could not solely rely on mining data from common sources such as vehicle hire, motel and hotel registrations, and rental properties—although the chances of successfully securing a rental property given his current circumstances are remote. However, I was fortunate that medical records I obtained state one Seth Kyle Williams is an asthmatic who is highly intolerant of sulfites.”
Tyler’s brow crinkled. “Sulfites?”
“Sulfur-based compounds that occur naturally, but are commonly used as preservatives and enhancers in both food and drugs. His medical practitioner recommended he avoid a common sulfite preservative known to be potentially harmful to asthmatics, and which is frequently found in drugs used for the treatment of asthma. My algorithm tracked pharmaceutical companies that had developed preservative-free asthma treatments, and providers and outlets that have made these medications available to the public. It also tracked stores providing sulphite-free foodstuffs and offering a home delivery service.”
Tyler scratched his chin. “Clever. But Seth Williams can’t be the only guy out there who’s allergic to sulfites. And I’m guessing he’s not using his real name, right?”
“Correct. Although Seth obediently deleted his social media accounts, the data posted is still available if you know where to look. He belonged to a number of science fiction and fantasy reader forums, and had contributed frequently to posts advising readers where to source various out of print books in those genres. He is on record as stating so long as he has a good book to read, he can endure anything the world throws at him—a common attitude amongst devout readers. His username on these forums was NewbornDragon.”
“This is getting real interesting.” Tyler made a rolling gesture with his hand to indicate she should continue.
“The algorithm cross-matched the names of all characters in the science fiction and fantasy novels NewbornDragon had listed in his ‘favorites’ lists, with recent online purchases of sulfite-free foodstuffs and sulfite-free aerosol bronchodilators. The name that flagged on all counts was Randall Thor—an unsubtle play on the name of the main protagonist of one of NewbornDragon’s favorite fantasy series. From there, it was a simple matter of ascertaining the delivery address—which happened to be a motel room—and using facial recognition software to verify that Randall Thor is indeed Seth Kyle Williams.”
Tyler frowned. “If I’d gone to ground and was hiding from a rogue cyborg, I doubt I’d be careless enough to get caught on camera.”
“He’s more careful than your average person—he paid online using a generic preloaded debit card—the kind purchased by those who don’t have access to a credit card. In addition, he paid cash to purchase the card. But you might be surprised at how easy it is to be accidentally photographed or videoed. In this case, Randall Thor answered his motel door to sign for a delivery, and unknowingly ended up in the background of a selfie snapped by a couple who happened to be staying at the same motel complex. The female member of the couple uploaded the photo her social media account. My facial recognition software did the rest.”
“Impressive.”
/>
“Yes.” Jay wasn’t a fan of the human habit of being falsely modest.
“So I guess you’re leaving sometime tonight to pay Seth Williams, AKA Randall Thor, a visit.”
“Correct.”
“And you don’t want me to know where you’re going. Or for me to come with.”
“Also correct. I anticipate an absence of three days, and you have already missed too many classes.”
Unsaid was something they both knew: He would only slow her down.
His lips thinned. “I get why,” he said. “Don’t much like it, though.”
“Would it help if I got down on my knees and apologized profusely?”
“Nope. I’ll get over it.” He glanced at the area beneath the window, where Brum’s doggie bed had taken up residence, and chewed his lower lip. “Who’s gonna look after Brum while I’m at classes? He’ll wreck the place if he’s locked up during the day.”
“I entertained the thought of taking him with me.”
Tyler puffed out a sharp breath. “You gotta be kidding me. You’re seriously considering taking along an untrained puppy?”
“I said I entertained the thought, Tyler. I didn’t say I was prepared to act on it. The attention Brum would require far outweighs any benefits of having him accompany me. I have requested a favor from Allen, and he has agreed to watch Brum during the day.” Jay cocked her head, closely observing Tyler’s reactions. “Will it inconvenience you to drop Brum at the studio on your way to classes? I would expect you to take the SUV, of course. If you drive to the campus rather than using public transport, the time saved will mean you won’t have to get up earlier than usual to stop by the studio.”
“You seem to have thought of everything,” he muttered.
“Yes.”
When Tyler didn’t say anything more she added, “And it would be very helpful if you questioned Allen about the letter, and any strangers he might have noticed in the area lately.”
His posture altered, chin lifting, shoulders rolling back, spine straightening. “You trust me to do that?”
Freaks Under Fire Page 9
