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The Adversary (A Chris Bruen Novel Book 1)

Page 16

by Reece Hirsch


  “Walk on the other side of the street,” Chris said. “We need to split up. They’re looking for a couple. Let’s meet at the gate of Père Lachaise in a few minutes.”

  Zoey turned a corner to the right and Chris turned left as they took roundabout routes back to Père Lachaise. Chris walked to the cemetery in the rain, trying not to hurry. He knew that he couldn’t continue to jump through every hoop that Enigma presented to him. It wasn’t bringing him any closer to finding Sarah, and it was getting them deeper and deeper into a mess from which they might never extricate themselves.

  There was so much evidence now branding them as terrorists that, even if they could disprove it, they might spend the rest of their lives doing it. Worse yet, Chris knew that terrorism suspects were effectively presumed guilty and often given little opportunity to prove their innocence. More than ever, Chris regretted that he’d gotten Zoey involved. She was someone who had clearly been looking for a direction in life and he had certainly given her one. He would never forgive himself if he was responsible for getting her killed or locked away in prison.

  A police car passed, no doubt headed to join the growing manhunt that was rapidly expanding outward from 33 Boulevard de Ménilmontant. A moment later, he discreetly glanced back.

  It was then that he saw Soma duck into a doorway.

  CHAPTER 29

  Though Soma might be a talented hacker, he was an amateur when it came to surveillance. It wasn’t hard for Chris to spot Soma following him through the streets of Belleville, ducking into storefronts and trying to keep a handful of pedestrians between them.

  Chris considered losing him by disappearing through one of the Chinatown shops selling foo dogs and cheap ceramics, but he settled on a better idea. When he reached the gates of Père Lachaise, Zoey was already there waiting for him.

  Chris walked up to her and said, “I’m going to tell you something, but I don’t want you to react. And don’t look around.”

  “Poker face. Got it.”

  “We’re being watched. From the coffee shop.”

  Zoey drew a breath. “Who?”

  “Soma.”

  “What is that little creep doing following us?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m guessing that he sold us out to Enigma. That would explain how they knew exactly where we were at each point along the way to Paris.”

  “What do you propose that we do about him?”

  “If he’s working with Enigma, then maybe he will lead us to him … and to Sarah.”

  “Okay, but I don’t think he’s going to do that voluntarily.”

  Chris reached into his jacket pocket and removed the flash drive. “I’m going to make a show of giving this to you, but I’m going to palm it and keep it. Then we’ll split up again.”

  “He’s going to have to choose which one of us to follow.”

  “Right. I think he’ll want to go with you if he thinks you have the flash drive. While he’s following you, I’ll be tailing him.”

  “But if he’s working with Enigma, wouldn’t he already have access to the code?”

  “Not necessarily,” Chris said. “He seemed awfully curious about it when we were on the road. And, if you were Enigma, would you trust Soma with that sort of information?”

  “Good point,” Zoey said. “But what if he decides to follow you instead?”

  “Then I’ll lose him and we’ll meet at the Hotel Pleiades. You remember, we passed it earlier. Even if he’s following you, you should go there and check in.”

  In a well-executed bit of theatrical stage blocking, Chris made a show of handing over the flash drive and Zoey made just as big a show of placing the drive in her pocket, with the sight lines just right so that Soma could observe almost everything from the coffee shop across the street. Then Chris and Zoey walked briskly away in opposite directions. While looking back from a crosswalk as if to check for oncoming cars, Chris saw Soma saunter out of the coffee shop and set out after Zoey. Chris walked on and then, as soon as he was out of Soma’s view, he doubled back and began following him.

  Night was falling quickly on the overcast day and the streetlights came on. The wet streets gathered up the garish neon of the shop signs into iridescent pools. Chris wished that it was still raining, which would have made it harder for Soma to detect him. He followed from about a hundred yards back.

  The Hotel Pleiades wasn’t as elegant as its name suggested—it seemed about one worn, uneven step above a youth hostel. Soma watched from a doorway as Zoey checked in. French hotels were required to obtain a passport or ID from guests, which would bring the authorities down upon them in short order. As they had discussed earlier, Zoey came prepared to pay cash and plead a stolen purse and passport. Chris watched the desk clerk’s resolve waiver as Zoey placed note after note on the counter until he handed over the key. Apparently, they had judged correctly that Hotel Pleiades was just seedy enough to flout the law. Chris had to give her credit. Zoey never once glanced through the lobby’s windows to see if Soma was outside.

  Soma watched from the sidewalk as Zoey climbed the stairs to her room, but he didn’t go inside. If he had, then Chris would have had to stop him and there would have been no chance of finding Enigma and Sarah. Instead, Soma bought a cup of coffee and sat on a bench at a bus stop for an hour, watching the front door of the hotel to make sure that Zoey didn’t leave. He spent much of the time talking on his cell phone, most likely to Enigma or one of his crew.

  Chris observed Soma from a café down the street over cups of espresso, forcing himself into a stillness that didn’t match how he felt. He wanted to walk over to Soma, pull him up off the bench, and pound him until he gave up Sarah’s location. Chris had never been in a real fight in his entire life. As a kid he had managed to stay out of the usual childhood scraps because he was both an extreme nerd and about a foot taller than most of his peers. He made a mental note of just how far he had ventured outside his geek comfort zone. Chris resisted the urge to confront Soma only because he doubted that the approach would work. Like Eddie Reiser, Soma would never be as scared of Chris as he was of Enigma.

  Chris’s thoughts turned again to whether he could trust Zoey. The fact that she had brought him to Soma was a definite strike against her. Add to that her history of working with Enigma on phishing schemes and he knew there was really no compelling reason why he should trust her. On the other hand, she had been up front about her connection to Enigma, which wouldn’t have served her interests if she was trying to win his trust. Given the world that Zoey inhabited, Chris should have expected that anyone she knew had the potential to betray him. And when they had approached the Hive, they had no other viable options that would get them across the border into France.

  Soma tossed his coffee cup in a trash can and started walking. Chris rose and left some crumpled notes on the table.

  As he walked, Chris dialed Zoey on her burner phone. She picked up on the first ring. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Zoey said. “Where are you?”

  “Following Soma. You need to check out of that hotel now and move to the other one. Soma could have sent someone there.” They had agreed in advance that, if necessary, she would move to Hotel du Moulin, another dumpy hotel a few blocks away.

  “I will. Come back, okay?”

  “I’ve gotta go. I’m going into a metro station.” He paused before hanging up. “And I will.”

  Soma descended the steps of the Couronnes Métro station. Chris followed and lingered in the stairway. The train entered the tubular, white-tiled station with a whoosh of cool, dank air. Soma stepped across the narrow platform and onto a train headed into the city. Chris quickly boarded the adjoining car. Chris took a seat where he could see into the next car and keep an eye on Soma. They rode the train for a few stops before Soma stood. He was exiting at the Saint-Michel station in the Latin Quarter. He waited until the last possible moment before stepping onto the platform after Soma. Chris followed him up the stairs and under the art
nouveau “Métropolitain” sign onto the bustling sidewalk of Boulevard Saint-Michel.

  They proceeded through Place Saint-Michel, with its baroque fountain crowned with a statue of Saint Michel slaying some sort of demon. Soma hurried along into the teeming, narrow, brick-paved side streets of the Quarter. It wasn’t easy for Chris to stay close enough to track Soma in the throng and remain concealed.

  On Rue Saint-Séverin, gargoyles loomed high overhead from the parapets of the elaborately gothic Saint-Séverin cathedral, which mirrored the architecture of the nearby Notre Dame. The area was commercial and touristy, lined with Greek restaurants, cafés, used-book stores, and souvenir shops. But in the street’s stonework, you could still see evidence of the medieval sewer system. Chris was concentrating so intently on his pursuit that he was momentarily startled at a burst of flame close at hand. To his relief, it was immediately followed by a round of applause for a fire-eater street entertainer.

  Soma eventually turned from Rue Saint-Séverin onto a side street and left the tourists behind. The streets became steadily less crowded as they moved into a low-rent residential district, causing Chris to drop further and further back to avoid detection. He assumed that they must be getting close to the destination, because Soma started looking back with increasing frequency. Chris dodged behind a tree. When he looked out, the sidewalks were empty and Soma was gone.

  When Chris reached the spot on Rue du Sommerard where he had last seen Soma, he found a redbrick walk-up with a small brass plaque beside the doorbell that read, “La Conception Web Perturbatrice,” which he translated as “Disruptive Web Design.” The shop seemed to be open for business. Golden light gleamed from the windows. Slowly climbing the steps, Chris peered in the window next to the door. It was a townhouse that had been converted into office space. What was once the foyer was now the lobby of the web design business. The reception area was empty except for a young girl with short black hair and blue highlights who was resolutely focused on the monitor at her desk, fingers tapping. There was something unusual about the girl’s motions, an extra flutter in the movement of her hands.

  Then Chris saw it. The girl was hobbled in her typing because there was a bandage on the stubby little finger of her left hand. There was a spot of blood that had seeped through the gauze, so the injury seemed fresh.

  The receptionist was missing the little finger of her left hand.

  CHAPTER 30

  Chris was relieved that the finger in the photo had not been Sarah’s, but he didn’t know yet what that meant. Maybe she hadn’t been tortured at all. There were other possibilities, too, but Chris dismissed them for the moment.

  He took up a position on the steps of an apartment building across the street, where he could watch the office. He could see into the brightly lit lobby, but there was a parked car in between that would make it difficult for them to spot him, particularly at night. The view through the front window was so brilliantly lit against the surrounding darkness that Chris felt like he was watching a play, with the stage lights blinding the actors to the audience.

  It was ten o’clock, but there was still a great deal of activity inside. He saw several figures pass through the lobby but was unable to make out any faces. A man in his early twenties in a black windbreaker exited the building and walked off toward the Latin Quarter. Chris considered following him but decided that it would be better to stay put and see who else emerged. There was a chance that Sarah was inside, but he tried to keep his hopes in check.

  A new group entered the lobby, three men and a woman. A tall man in a fleece jacket stepped to one side, allowing him a view of the woman’s face.

  It was Sarah.

  She looked unharmed and was dressed casually in jeans and a blue silk blouse. Chris felt a surge of adrenaline. He wanted to charge across the street and take her out of there. He had a gun, but they were probably armed, too, and he still didn’t know whom he was dealing with or how many were in the office. Sarah was speaking to the group, and she seemed strangely at ease.

  The three men started taking half steps toward the door, preparing to leave. She shook hands with one of the men, clasping his hand in both of hers and saying something. This was not the way a hostage spoke to her captors. At first, Chris thought that maybe his vision was playing tricks on him in the dark. But after a moment to process, he knew that wasn’t the case. The suspicions that he had been pushing to the back of his mind were now impossible to ignore. Everything fell into place so quickly that he felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Sarah had set out to betray him from the start.

  There was no doubt in his mind now that Sarah had applied for the paralegal job at Reynolds Fincher expressly for the purpose of getting close to him. And, in his loneliness and isolation, he had made it awfully easy for her.

  The stages of their brief relationship flashed before him. The sidecar prank that Sarah played on Bill Ober had been a way to draw his attention, and it had worked. The meeting in the bar at the Four Seasons also had not been a coincidence. Sarah had probably followed him before and knew that was the place he went after work to unwind. She had accompanied him to his appointment with his oncologist knowing he was vulnerable and it would seal the deal, winning his trust completely.

  Chris sat in the darkness, waiting for her to leave the office. There would be time enough later to conduct a full inventory of their five-month relationship. Every encounter. Every lie. The more Chris thought about it, the angrier he became. Angry at himself, angry at his need. But what he didn’t understand was why Sarah had done it. He realized that she must have been working with Enigma from the beginning. But why had they gone to such elaborate lengths to lead him across Europe and into this trap?

  Chris turned this question over and over as he crouched in the darkness, waiting for Sarah to appear, but the answer didn’t come. Forty-five minutes later, the door across the street finally opened and Sarah stepped outside. Chris waited until she was nearly a block away from the office. Then he strode up behind Sarah, grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. He felt her jump when he put his hands on her shoulders. And when she saw who it was, she was even more startled.

  “Why don’t you start telling me the truth now?” Chris asked. He took a step back, removed the gun from his bag, and leveled it at her.

  It didn’t take her long to compose herself. “It’s too soon for that. When it’s over, you’ll know.”

  “Who put you up to this? Enigma? Ripley?”

  Sarah gave a grim half smile.

  “You took the job at Reynolds just to get at me.”

  “It was the only way. You don’t have much of a life outside that place.”

  “That’s a lot of trouble to go to. Why me? This is personal somehow, isn’t it?”

  “It’s very personal, but not to me.”

  “Was Enigma the one who decided to go after me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t answer that question just yet. Like I said, you’ll know when it’s over.”

  “After the January 14 attack.”

  “That’s right. After Zero Day.”

  Chris paused. “So this is a Zero Day event?”

  Sarah didn’t respond.

  Zero Day was the term for the first day that a virus was activated to exploit a previously undiscovered vulnerability in a computer program. On Zero Day, a virus can spread like wildfire, causing unchecked damage because there is no security patch or remedy. On Zero Day, computer security experts around the world spring into crisis mode, attempting to identify and fix a vulnerability that they didn’t even know existed the day before.

  “The vulnerability is in BlueCloud’s Aspira system,” Chris said, seeking confirmation.

  “I don’t think I’m really giving anything away by saying that much,” Sarah said. There were millions of lines of code in the operating system, so this didn’t bring him any closer to identifying the specific vulnerability. Ed had found it but hadn’t lived
long enough to tell him what it was.

  “Are you really prepared to be responsible for the loss of hundreds or thousands of lives if New York City goes dark on January 14? You won’t be just watching anonymously from the sidelines like you were when those planes went down in Albuquerque. You’re going to be in federal custody when this happens, and they are going to make you pay.”

  “I knew what I was getting into,” Sarah said, but Chris could see she was anxious.

  He tried another angle. “Who is Enigma? Do I know him? Did I put him in jail when I was at the DOJ?”

  Sarah shrugged.

  “Why are you doing this? If it was for money, there won’t be any of that for you now.”

  “This is not about money. This is about making the government pay for what it’s done. Even if I live the rest of my life in prison, I’ll be remembered in a way that you never will. People are eventually going to understand why I did this, and some are going to agree with it.”

  Chris was struck by how drastically Sarah’s demeanor had changed. There had always been a flintiness to her, but that had made her interesting. Now he saw that the hardness was what was real and the warmth was an act.

  “An ideology that involves killing innocent people isn’t much of an ideology,” he said.

  “Don’t kid yourself. All ideologies worth anything require someone to die for them.”

  Chris could tell that he wasn’t going to get much more out of Sarah. He grabbed her arm. “We’re going back to the office.”

  Chris turned Sarah around so that she faced away from him and ran his hands over her, searching for weapons.

  “I wish I’d brought a gun,” she said. “I didn’t realize that you were so close.”

  He shoved Sarah in front of him along the sidewalk. Returning to the office was worth the risk because, if it was the crew’s headquarters, it was likely to hold some clue to the virus. Sarah had been removed from the equation, but Chris’s mission was no less urgent and the stakes no less great.

 

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