by M. H. Bonham
“Famished,” she said.
“Good, I have news about your friend Will Tagura,” he said as they left.
CHAPTER 45
He’s what?” Kira stared at Jim as she settled down with her bowl of chicken and dumplings in a quiet corner of the café. It was well past lunchtime, and most of the patrons were staying in the front part of the café and ordering carry-out, so Kira and Jim had found a seat toward the back where they could talk. “Spaz can’t be dead. I know he’s not.”
“My partner went up to the place where Tagura lived. The family he rented from was murdered and all his equipment was smashed. The Secret Service has been called in and they’re trying to retrieve the data off the hard drives, but whoever did this was good.”
“They wiped the disks?”
“No, they smashed them to bits. All we’ve got are fragments, which makes the chance of piecing everything together virtually nil. And they found some bizarre headsets—smashed, of course.”
Kira fell silent.
“Tagura is dead, Kira. We’re pretty sure of that.”
The words hit her hard. Spaz dead? She couldn’t believe it. No, he couldn’t be. He just couldn’t. Tears formed in her eyes. No, it just couldn’t happen. “Why?” Kira asked, feeling a cold, hard lump settle in her throat. “Did you find his body?”
“The family died from animal bites.”
Kira felt her face drain of blood. “Rogue wolves. They could’ve kidnapped him.”
“There’s no ransom letter or demands. Why would they keep him?” Jim looked at Kira for a response, but she was silent. “We’re doing DNA testing on the bodies now. It won’t be long before forensics pick up some of that weird wolf DNA again.” He paused. “Kira, you’re not being honest with me.”
Kira said nothing. Instead, she poked at her food with a fork. Tears fell from her eyes into the chicken dumplings.
“Do you know what Tagura was up to?”
“Sort of,” Kira said sheepishly. “He told me right before he disappeared.” She paused. “Look, I think you’re wrong. If the wolves had killed him, they would’ve left him.”
“What was Tagura doing before this?”
“He and the other spiders from MIT had created something—a net within the Net. A virtual spider’s dream.”
“What in the hell is a spider, besides something you squish?”
“Spiders are what you might call hackers,” said Kira. “Andrew Burt coined the term—people were using the term hacker wrong, when they meant crackers. The truth is, spider is a much cooler term and pretty much describes what happens. Most spiders don’t do much—they slip through the cracks of the machines they visit. Some just lurk and don’t do anything; others just spin webs and go about their business. You’re not usually aware of them until after they’ve gone and you’re left to clean up after them. Occasionally spiders become disruptive or even downright dangerous.”
“And Tagura created something useful to spiders?” Jim said. “Christ, I’m just getting used to the idea of werewolves.”
“Not funny,” Kira said. “Spaz figured out how to create a second Internet that piggybacks onto the holes on IP.” She saw Jim’s blank expression and shook her head. “No offense, but it’s little wonder the cops are stymied.”
“But you said that spiders usually aren’t dangerous.”
“Not usually, but there are enough of them who are,” Kira sighed. “Which is why you can never really trust their intent and you always have to have a lock-tight network and system. Problem is, you can have someone on the inside who sets the computer up for security holes. I found some of those at Intermountain and started closing them off.”
Jim paused. “You think someone might have found out?”
“Yeah, I thought it might have been Cathal Murphy. After all, he was a network puke and he had access to root of all the machines present.”
“But?”
“But Cathal is a black wolf. The wolf who attacked me was gray.”
Jim frowned. “So how does this all work?’
“It’s really simple—it’s based on the OSI layers.” She paused, seeing his confusing. “Open Systems Interface—there are seven layers.”
“Seven?” Jim said. “Couldn’t they just have one?”
“No,” Kira said. “Of course not. At the basic level is the Physical Level—that’s the hardware where the ones and zeros exist.”
“Okay,” Jim said cautiously.
“The second layer is the link layer—it often occurs in the hardware too but other times in the operating system. It uses datagrams…”
“What?”
“Datagrams—they’re like the postal service,” she said. “They send electronic packages of data, but there’s no delivery confirmation. They simply are addressed and sent. It’s very fast, but it can have errors.”
“Okay,” said Jim, “why is this important?”
“They are the backbone of a network. Those packets are what other protocols are based on—like TCP/IP and UDP.”
“So, they use the link layer to take control?”
“Yes, if they can,” Kira said. “They’ve build their own protocol, and in some places, their own network. Net within the Net. They set up the program to piggyback off IP’s holes. So, machines that have these holes have code within the very drivers, and even in the Ethernet and Fiber Optic drivers. Incredible, really. You’d think that it would take a corporation or a think-tank the equivalent of Bell Labs to come up with this.”
“Who did?”
“Spaz. He is a fucking genius.”
“A dead genius,” Jim reminded her.
The words hit her hard again. “No, Spaz can’t be dead. He just can’t.”
Jim shifted nervously. “Look, Kira, I doubt Tagura acted alone on this. He had to have had help to get into places like Intermountain, wouldn’t he?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Spaz was mostly a device driver geek but he had a lot of network knowledge. Still, he probably would’ve gotten with our group from MIT.”
“What are their names?”
“Danni Jones, Randy Green, Tom Sullivan,” Kira said. “And then there was Susan and myself.”
Jim opened his pad and wrote the names down. “Anyone else?”
Kira shook her head. “Not really. Those were the MIT spiders. But hey, that was ten years ago.”
“Do you have contact information for them?”
Kira shrugged. “Just some old addresses from my address book on my computer. I hadn’t been in contact with them for almost ten years. Only Susan and I stayed in touch because we were both sysadmins, you know?”
“Well, it’ll be a starting point,” Jim said. “You really hadn’t stayed in contact with Tagura?”
“No, he just showed up here in Denver.”
“Don’t you find that odd?”
“Spaz...” She shrugged. “Well, you’d just have to know him. He’d pop out of thin air, you know? Sometimes when you least expect it.”
“Look, Kira, I know how you feel about this, but I’m going to have to report the werewolves and this net within the Net thing.”
“No,” Kira said. “You can’t. You’ll start a race war.”
“Race war? Hell, Kira, they already have.” He frowned. “No matter what you or Alaric want, these werewolves are killing people. Now, I’ve kept this secret because you asked me to and because I figured no one would believe it, but forensics is starting to ask questions. They’ve seen the DNA and they know we’re not dealing with a normal case. Now, why do you think these werewolves are willing to kill over this Net thing?”
Kira glared. “You’ll get nothing from me if you tell anyone.”
Jim shook his head. “I want you to know how serious this is. It’s going to come out sometime—sooner or later.”
“No one will believe you.”
Jim nodded. “It’s doubtful, but then again, I’ve got a real live werewolf in custody.”
“What? Are you arre
sting me?”
“I ought to,” he said. “But other than your screwy DNA, I’ve got nothing other than what you’ve told me. And you’re right, no one’s going to believe in a wolfman.” He paused and met her gaze. “Besides, this is getting personal for me.”
A knot filled Kira’s throat and her mouth went dry as she looked into those dark brown eyes. She understood his meaning all too well. “But I’m one of them.”
“I know, but you didn’t want to be, did you?”
“No,” Kira said. “My life has pretty much been screwed up since last month. I could use a break.”
“I’ve got the perfect place for that. There’s a beautiful place in Montana I could take you—no networks, no nothing. Just forests and mountains and sky. I’d love it if you came with me.”
Kira smiled. “Sounds beautiful; I’d love to.”
Jim grinned. “Really? That was the easiest date I’ve ever made.”
“Yeah, well a geek can’t be choosy; especially when she’s a werewolf.”
She looked up at Jim, but he was looking past her, distracted. Kira glanced around. Two werewolves, obviously Cathal’s thugs, had entered the café.
CHAPTER 46
Kira stiffened. The two men had the typical look of Cathal’s henchmen, wearing dingy black leathers and oil-smudged t-shirts with Lobos Solitarios logos across them. They wore their hair tied back in ponytails that were somewhere between black and gray, but so dirty that she couldn’t guess what color their hair might actually have been. One wore a red paisley bandana to hide his balding pate.
Jim was about to stand up, but Kira laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t,” she whispered. “If they change, you won’t be able to harm them.”
“I need to take you to fancier restaurants,” Jim replied. “They’d have real silverware there.”
“Nice. Is there another way out?” she asked. “They’re looking for me.”
“Just out the back way,” Jim said.
“Great. If anything happens, meet me at my apartment.”
“What are you doing?” He glanced at the two werewolves as they started walking toward the back of the café.
“Hoping I don’t have to transmute,” she said. She got up and started toward the back.
“There she is!” The balding werewolf shouted and sprinted toward Kira. Kira ran but instead of trying to make it to the door, she saw the Ladies room and ducked into it. It had a deadbolt that she snicked closed with some satisfaction.
Just as the werewolf passed the booth, Jim casually stuck out a foot. The man tripped and went down, skittering across the linoleum. The other werewolf stopped short and, seeing Jim’s smirk, wheeled on the cop.
“You think that was funny, Monkey?” He drew himself up to full height.
The werewolf with the bandana tried the door to the Ladies room and found it locked. He pounded on the door hard. “Let me in, Bitch!”
Jim stood up, towering over the werewolf by a good three inches. “Hilarious,” he said. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own species, like Neanderthal?”
The werewolf’s expression turned into a snarl. “I’ll take you down and take you apart. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“Actually, I do, and you’re under arrest.” Jim flashed his badge. “For threatening a police officer.”
The werewolf leapt at Jim, but the cop turned and sent the man face first across the table, sending dirty dishes and tableware scattering everywhere. Jim pounced on top of the man, pulling one arm behind his back and cuffing him. Suddenly, the hands and arms grew smaller and hairy.
A woman screamed from the front of the café.
“Shit!” Jim glanced over at the other werewolf and saw it was changing too. He drew his gun.
A smaller gray wolf exploded out of the Ladies room. Kira went right for the transmuting werewolf and chomped it in the neck. The half-man, half-wolf’s scream turned to a gurgle as she tore away chunks of his throat. His thrashing ceased and the man/wolf’s body went limp.
Kira leapt back, horrified to watch the man’s eyes turn glassy as the life drained out of him. She stepped over the widening pool of blood and snarled at the other werewolf.
Jim slammed the man’s head against the table. “You can either come with me quietly or suffer the same fate as your buddy, okay?”
The werewolf nodded.
Jim called for backup on the radio. When he looked for Kira, she was gone.
CHAPTER 47
Hunger. Hunger burned in the killer once more. He had fed, and yet was not satisfied. He could never be sated—not as long as there were humans to kill.
He licked his lips in anticipation of the hunt tonight. It would be grand. Tonight he would finish the job he had started over a month ago. The girl would die, and with her Tagura’s only chance would die, too.
Monkey blood was sweet to his tastes. Tagura was beginning to break. Soon, he would have what he wanted...
K
Kira felt sick to her stomach as she shimmied into her clothes and exited the café through the back door. A glance back showed her that Jim had handcuffed the other werewolf and was reading him his rights. She wanted to throw up. She had killed a man. What’s more, she had ripped his throat right out. Jim hadn’t handcuffed her yet, but it was only a matter of time. He’d had seen her werewolf side, and now he would know what a terrible creature she had become.
She wanted to cry and throw up all at the same time. There was no way he would help her now that she had murdered a man. She heard sirens and looked around frantically. It wouldn’t be long before he would put out an all-points-bulletin on her and have her arrested for murder.
She walked through the alleyway in a daze. Back on 16th Street, she caught the Mall shuttle. It was crowded, and she stood and looked at each of the faces of the people who stood and sat on the bus. There were a couple of men wearing Sun Microsystems polos. Several white and African-American kids were on their way home from school, sharing the latest tunes on their iPods. A woman was dressed in a three-piece suit; there was a mom with her toddler in tow... How many of them would she kill now that she was a werewolf?
Kira didn’t have the answer. She had never killed anyone— never had the desire to kill anyone. She closed her eyes. She could still taste his blood in her mouth. It was awful. She was afraid she’d never get the taste out.
Suddenly, she was no longer on the bus, but in a Forest. It was green and the scent of pine was overwhelming. Once again, she was the wolf. Once again, she was free.
The wolf gave her the ability to sense the hi-rFreq waves emanating from transmitters from Intermountain Telecom. It gave her the ability to leave this world and go someplace else. Someplace private and safe.
She stared into the dark forest and a whimper escaped her lips. She wanted to leave the real world for good. Here in Spaz’s world, she could be quiet and have peace.
“Market Street.”
The voice pulled her back to the real world long enough for her to exit the bus at Market. She stood for a while, dazed in the sunshine.
The Forest was cool, dark, and seductive. It was like night; her sun was the moon now and the bright orb of day was something that was only tolerated. Kira blinked at the sun. She wanted to flee the sun and run into the eternal night...
“Lady, you okay?”
A voice broke Kira from her reverie and she turned to see a man staring at her, perplexed. He was maybe in his fifties, and wore a work shirt and jeans. Guessing by the tools on his belt, he was an electrician. He had a slight accent—Brooklyn?
“I’m fine, thank you,” Kira said, her voice sounding a bit dreamy. She shook her head, trying to shake the feeling. “I’m fine,” she said again, meeting his gaze. “Just got caught in a thought.”
“Okay,” the guy shrugged and moved on. Kira started down the sidewalk toward her apartment. As she did, she jumped as she felt a light touch on her arm.
It was the old homeless woman. “Be careful, Ligh
t Walker. You were not meant to walk in darkness. The Evil One pursues you—seek help in your animal guides.”
Kira stared at the old woman. She was wearing the same tattered coat and bandana, but this time she had a cart a few feet away. Not a shopping cart, but one of those granny carts she had seen older women use to push their shopping along the sidewalk. She leaned on her cane.
“How do you know about me?”
The woman smiled. Some of her teeth were missing. “Do you have some change for an old woman?”
Kira fished in her pockets. She only had some pennies, a dime and a nickel. “I’m sorry,” she said, holding them out.
“That will do,” the woman said. “Come with me.” The woman leaned heavily on the cane as she tottered over to her cart.
“What is your name?” Kira asked.
The woman looked up sharply. “Why do you wish to know, Light Walker?”
“You know my name,” Kira said. “I’d like to know yours.”
The woman grunted and nodded. She turned and began rummaging in her cart. “I have many names. Many, many names. But you may call me Verdandi.”
“Verdandi,” Kira repeated. “Haven’t I heard that name somewhere?”
Verdandi pulled out her coffee can and set it by her feet. “Put your coins in, Light Walker.”
Kira tossed the coins in with a clink. They rattled against the side. “How can you help me?”
“I can protect you against evil.” She pulled out a piece of wood and held it for Kira to inspect.
Kira looked at the wood. On it was inscribed writing she recognized, but couldn’t read. “Viking runes?”
“Powerful magic,” the woman said. “Powerful magic—they will protect you.”
There were three. “Ansuz, Laguz, and Uruz. Give me your hand.”
Kira held out her hand. Verdandi dropped the wood into her palm and closed her fingers around it. Then she turned Kira’s hand over and rummaged in the tattered coat. She pulled out a marker.
