Making sure the blanket was tucked around him, I rose and made a fresh pot of coffee with the last coffee packet. I poured myself a cup, adding sugar and creamer and, holding the cup with both hands, sat in front of Slash’s laptop.
Studying his section of the code, it took me only about two minutes to realize he’d written something extraordinary. My breath caught in my throat. He’d come up with an elegant solution to the problem of cracking into the military network he hadn’t been able to penetrate. Instead of focusing on getting in, he’d set a trap to identify and compile the information coming out. Brilliant. It was only a matter of time before he’d be able to spot and exploit the inevitable weak spots in the code. Once he had compiled enough information, he could turn it around and, boom, he’d be in. It required a bit more time than a straight crack, but I realized excitedly that I had a potential solution that might speed things up a bit on that front.
I read on. He’d already taken all the code I’d written and added it to his, weaving it into his beautiful string of complete and utter devastation. It meshed perfectly—two scripts, one mind.
I had no idea how long I sat there reading the code completely absorbed in the story. I scrolled on and on until I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Well? What do you think so far?”
I jumped in my seat, feeling guilty I’d been caught peeking. I hadn’t seen or heard him rise from the bed.
I shifted in my chair. “Slash, it’s...magnificent.” I looked up at him. “And, if I’m honest, terrifying. How did you even envision this?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Actually I do.”
He was silent for so long I wasn’t sure he’d answer. Finally, he spoke. “My imagination, mostly, coupled with constant analysis and edit. And your coding inspired me to move in a direction I hadn’t considered before. It fit perfectly. You have the most remarkable mind I’ve ever met, cara.”
I felt the same way about him. Right now, though, I didn’t want to dwell on the fact that not only had he dreamed up something as destructive as this code, but I’d helped him do it. More than that, I’d inspired him to go even deeper and darker. It made me more uncomfortable than I expected.
He put a hand on my shoulder. “For someone who has never written code like this, I’d say it was almost intuitive for you.”
A part of me was flattered by his words while another part was appalled. I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself, but he was right. It was one thing to write defensive code while imagining all manner of invasions and penetrations, but it was a different beast entirely to code in a full-attack mode intended to cause widespread destruction and potential death. Yet my attack had felt...intuitive. What did that say about my inner character?
Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—this wasn’t a time for inner reflection. There was work to be done. “I noticed one incongruence here, though.” I tapped the screen. “What on earth are you doing in this spot?”
“Ah, you noticed that. I’m not done yet. I’m creating some special algorithms.”
“It looks more like you’re trying to calculate chaos.”
“I am.”
“You can’t calculate chaos, Slash.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” I narrowed my eyes. “There’s no certainty in chaos.”
He spread his hands. “Just the fact that there is no certainty is a certainty.”
“That’s so not an answer.”
He looked at me with amusement and affection. “I’ve got this. I’ve actually got an idea—let me run with it. I’ll show you when I’m done. Trust me.”
I did trust him. I stood, went over to the coffeepot and poured him a cup, handing it to him black. “It’s not the Italian roast, but it’s all we’ve got. How long did you sleep?”
He scratched at the beard on his chin. “I came to bed right behind you. Mere minutes, actually, but you were out before I could even say good night.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No need to be sorry. It’s been a hell of a few days.”
“Speaking of days, that reminds me, I’ve got to do something about Basia’s bachelorette party. I really need to make a phone call now. Is that okay?”
He looked like he was going to argue, but then he must have remembered his promise to Xavier that our activities wouldn’t interfere with the weekend festivities. Of course, at the time he’d made that promise, he had no idea we’d be on the lam from assassins, the FBI, NSA and police. But one thing I’d come to understand about Slash is that a promise is a promise.
He walked over to one of the plastic bags he’d gotten from shopping yesterday and pulled out a burner phone, handing it to me.
“Who exactly are you calling?” he asked.
“Faylene’s Bachelorette Parties and Supplies.”
“Have you called the store in the past ten days?”
“Yes.”
“Then you get to use this phone only once. More importantly, you’d better keep the conversation short. Short means less than four minutes. The FBI will certainly have her phone tapped.”
“Really?”
“Really. Outsource everything to her and make it quick. Okay?”
“That’s the plan.” I was out of options.
He put on his jacket.
“Where are you going?”
“To buy more coffee packets and some breakfast food. I’ll be right back. You know the drill. Don’t open the door for anyone, no matter who it is.”
“I know.”
He pointed to the gun on the nightstand. “Use it if you have to.”
“I will.” I swallowed hard. “Just hurry back.”
After he left I looked up Faylene’s number on the internet and tried to plan my conversation so it would take less than four minutes. Finally, I took a deep breath and dialed the number.
“Hello, this is Faylene’s Bachelorette Parties and Supplies. We do it all.”
Thank God it was Faylene who answered the phone. I recognized the raspy voice. “Hi, Faylene. This is Lexi Carmichael. I’m sorry, but I’m in a big hurry, so I have to speak fast. I want the full deluxe package—or whatever it is you offer.” I was so nervous all my sentences were all running together. “By that, I mean I want you to do and decide everything in regards to this party. Food, alcohol, entertainment and especially the centerpieces. I’m sure you are far more knowledgeable about these things than me anyway, so I’m putting it entirely in your hands. Just make sure it’s all set up in time.”
“Oh, hi, Lexi.” Her drawl was thick and slow. “Are you sure, honey? Don’t you want any say in the decorations or centerpieces?”
“None whatsoever. Please. Just go all out. Give me every bell and whistle. This has to be perfect. I want Basia to have a totally unforgettable party. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course I can.”
“Great! You’re the best, Faylene.” I gave her the location of the party, my credit card number for the retainer and hung up. After it was done, I felt as if a load had been lifted off my shoulders, even though I felt horribly guilty. I also had no freaking idea how much it would cost me. However, the fact that the party would go on, even if I didn’t, made it totally worth it.
I dropped the burner phone in the trash and resumed coding.
Slash returned shortly with bagels, fresh coffee and fruit. The coffee smelled heavenly.
“How did it go with the party planning?” he asked, handing me a steaming cup.
“Easier than I thought it would. The call took three minutes and fifty-seven seconds and it’s all taken care of. I hope.”
“Excellent.”
While we ate, Slash told me he’d received a message from Elvis. “What did he say?” I asked.
“He want
s me to call him.”
“Are we going to use another burner phone?”
“Yes, but we can use this one again. They’ll be secure.”
Slash dialed the number. After four rings Elvis picked up. Slash put the phone on speaker so I could hear.
“Hey, Elvis, it’s me. Are we clean?”
“We’re clean. No one can trace this call.”
“Good. What have you got?”
“First things first.” He paused. “Are you guys okay? How’s Lexi?”
I leaned over closer to the phone. “I’m fine, Elvis. How are you and Xavier?”
“Good. We’ve been working hard. We’re coding the hell out of the security shell for the dark code. I’m done with my part and Xavier is finishing up. Thanks to your earlier work and data, Lexi, I’ve been evaluating the two hacks into the NSA. I analyzed the style, methods and signature and cross-referenced them with the materials you provided, Slash, on the guys in your shop at IAD. I’ve come up with a plausible suspect for your mole.”
“Bottom line?” Slash asked. He tensed, so I reached out to take his hand. I wanted him to know he wasn’t going through this alone. It was hard for him, for all of us. When a hacker goes rogue, or worse, turns into an insider threat, it’s a sick kind of betrayal, even if it isn’t always personal. In this case, however, the mole’s information had directly led to the deaths of several good people, caused serious injuries to others and had put us in the cross fire, as well. So, yeah, this time around it was personal.
Elvis exhaled. “You need to take a hard look at your vulnerability guy, Sam Nelson. His style matches the closest to those I’ve examined. He was careful, but I got an 87.6 percent probability. That’s significantly higher than anyone else on your team I looked at.”
“Sam?” Slash’s fury was palpable. “Damn it. That can’t be right.”
“It doesn’t look good, especially since that’s not all I’ve got on him. Not surprisingly, everyone on your team, including you, Slash, has been under heavy surveillance since the hack. OSI is on to him, too. They have a surveillance photo of him with a time stamp that shows him in his home office talking on the phone about thirty-six hours ago. Problem is when they cross-referenced the home and cell phones of him and everyone in his family, there is no record of a call going out at that time. I double-checked them and it’s good. No record whatsoever.”
“He was using an unregistered phone,” Slash murmured.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t make him guilty,” I pointed out.
“No, it doesn’t, but Elvis is right.” Slash’s voice was tight, cold. “It’s still suspicious. Where did you get the time-stamped photo, Elvis?”
“I hacked into the OSI database, of course.”
OMG. Lines between light and dark were blurring all over the place. I was standing on shifting sand.
Slash stood, kicking the side of the bed. “They’ve got to be blackmailing him with something. I know Sam. This isn’t political.”
“It’s always something,” Elvis warned. “Whatever it is—watch him, Slash. That’s all I’m saying.”
I felt sick. My stomach churned from nerves, bad coffee and too much sitting around. “Did you have a chance to check out my analysis on the return path, Elvis?”
“I did. It led back to our Chinese friends, no surprise. I’ve determined a 99.4 percent certainty that whatever material was stolen from the NSA went back to the Red Guest. They are the guilty party here, no question.”
“The final nail.” The chill in Slash’s voice made me shudder. “Good work, Elvis.”
“The only thing is, Slash, I’m not sure it was sanctioned. It was shielded in a way that was not similar to other hacks in this style. I think they are keeping this private, even from the government bigwigs.”
That was interesting. “That’s pretty bold for Jiang Shi,” I said.
“Well, technically we’re doing something along the same lines,” Elvis pointed out. “A black ops cyber mission. Although ours is officially unofficially sanctioned. Maybe it’s the same on their end.”
Slash shook his head. “Maybe, but I don’t get that feel at all. The Chinese would certainly approve of such a hack, but not the end game. Not murder. This is a revenge quest.”
Revenge. It was going to start a war between two countries with neither government having any control over it. Such were the times.
“Have you been able to tag Jiang Shi?” Slash asked Elvis. “What’s he doing while he’s here? Where’s he going? Who is he talking to?”
I heard a whirring noise in the background at the twins’ house—a printer probably. “Shi is being careful. From what I’ve been able to dig up, he’s being watched by the FBI, but not to the extent you might expect. You’ve got to remember that following diplomats around is a sensitive business these days. Jiang Shi is on their radar, but they’re not tight on him. They can’t be tight on him.”
“Well, we’ve got to know whose strings he is pulling.” Slash rolled his shoulders. “He’s the mastermind behind this, so we’ve got to believe he can lead us to Feng Mei.”
“I’m in full agreement with you on that,” Elvis said. “Which brings me to my next point. How do you guys feel about going to a party tonight?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Party?” I echoed. “What party?”
“The Partnership for Cybersecurity Peace is having a black-tie affair tonight at the Chinese Embassy.” Elvis shifted some papers around. “Here’s your chance for a face-to-face with Quon.”
“Are you nuts?” I jumped to my feet, shouting at the phone. “The Chinese are trying to kill us and you want us to waltz right into their embassy?”
I glanced at Slash for his support, but he remained silent. Apparently the opportunity didn’t seem as completely insane to him as it did to me.
“Think about it, Lexi,” Elvis said. “They can’t do anything to you in the middle of a party. They’ll be the last to want to cause an international incident during a cyber peace conference. We have the advantage here. We know what Jiang Shi looks like, but he won’t recognize you if you are in disguise. You can use this opportunity in two ways. The truth is right now Shi and Slash are the generals in this battle. It’s time they met face-to-face to determine how far this is going to go. Maybe if Shi knows what’s in store, he’ll back off. It’s worth a shot before we release the dark code.”
Elvis had a point. A very good one.
“Even if we wanted to, how would we get in there?” My resistance started to weaken. “We can’t just muscle our way past a bunch of Chinese security guards to see Shi.”
“You don’t have to,” Elvis replied. “I’ve got an invitation for you guys. Your cover is Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”
“Smith?” I repeated. “That’s not cliché at all.”
“It’s actually legit. There really is a Mr. Ronald Smith who is an executive for the National Initiative for Cybersecurity Education, better known as NICE. You, Lexi, get to be Ronald’s lovely wife, Emma.”
“What about the real Smiths?”
“The real Smiths are temporarily out of the country in Sicily. Lucky them.”
“No kidding. What if we run into any other NICE executives at this party?”
“I’ll handle the conversation,” Slash said speaking up for the first time. “We’ll do it. I see where you’re going with this, Elvis. Can you shoot the invitations my way?”
“You got access to a printer?”
“I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”
“My pleasure. It’s coming your way shortly. Talk to you guys later. Be careful.”
Slash hung up and looked over at me. “What are you staring at Mrs. Smith?”
“You do know there is a popular movie called Mr. and Mrs. Smith.” I studied
him. “It’s about a husband and wife team who are spies.”
“Really?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t say?”
He was enjoying the irony. In spite of myself, I smiled, too. “So, are we going to have to wear fancy outfits to this party?”
“I would say so. This is a black-tie event.”
“Where are we going to get said outfits?” I did not see how we would be able to go shopping for such outfits given our current situation.
As usual, Slash had it all figured out. “Ah, you’d be amazed at what you can find in a thrift store. I’ll do all the shopping, no worries.”
At least there was that. A silver lining in a sky of dark clouds. “This is all very James Bond-like. Tuxedos, gowns and an embassy party. I guess, as the guy, it means you get to be James Bond.”
“Then you can be the delectable Honey Ryder.”
“No way. I want to be Q.”
Slash chuckled. “I’m afraid neither of us will be nearly as glamorous as either James or Honey. We’re going in disguise. Remember? I’m going to be a middle-aged man and you are my middle-aged arm candy.”
“Figures. I’m still going to be Q in my fantasy.”
“We can work on that fantasy later if you want. I’ll even let you try out your inventions on me.”
A smile spread across my face. “Really?”
“Really.” He swatted my bottom. “Come on, Q. Leave the fantasy for later. We’ve got a lot of work to do before tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, peering closer at the crow’s-feet Slash had created at the corner of my eyes. “Wow, will I really have this many wrinkles by middle age?” It was a fascinating experience to see myself age thirty years in a matter of a few hours. I wore a black, draped evening gown and some fake bling around my neck. The gown smelled, probably the scent of the previous owner. Seeing as how I had no washing machine and no time to drop it off at the dry cleaners, I did my best to ignore it.
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