Blank Slate

by Snow, Tiffany

  The look of trust in her eyes made guilt hit him hard as he tried, and failed, to convince himself that he wanted her memory to return too.

  * * *

  It was just before nine p.m. when they rolled into Natchez. The coordinates Killall had given them were next to the river. Langston parked the SUV a couple of blocks away in a shadowy lot. Clarissa stood by the vehicle, taking in the quiet streets as she waited for Langston.

  “I’ll be with you, just out of sight,” he said, emerging from where he’d been rummaging in the backseat. He shoved a newly loaded clip into his gun and racked the slide. “If he sees you with someone, it might scare him off.”

  “I got it,” Clarissa said, rolling her eyes.

  “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Langston sounded affronted.

  “Of course not,” Clarissa lied. “I admire the way you state the obvious.”

  She’d hoped to make him smile, but his expression remained serious.

  “Here, take this.” He tucked the gun in the back of his jeans and shrugged out of his jacket, then held it for her to put on.

  The gesture, chivalrous and protective, was unexpected. Clarissa pushed her arms into the sleeves. Langston lifted her hair from under the collar and Clarissa shivered when his fingers brushed the skin on the back of her neck. The jacket smelled of him, which was surprisingly comforting.

  “Be careful,” Langston said, pulling the lapels of the jacket closed.

  Clarissa looked up at him. Their eyes caught, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her again. His eyes dropped to her mouth, but she flashed him a quick smile and stepped away.

  “See you soon,” she said, then turned and began heading toward the river. An empty park, dimly lit by lonely streetlamps, was her destination.

  She felt nervous, exposed. The name Killall didn’t exactly provoke thoughts of bunnies and rainbows. Clarissa reminded herself that Langston was nearby. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Though she disliked the idea of her safety being in someone else’s hands, she trusted him.

  Burying her hands deeper in the pockets of Langston’s jacket, she headed for the trees that lined the park. She could hear the sound of the river below the banks. It was peaceful, and if she hadn’t been so keyed up, she might have enjoyed the walk.

  There was a bench nearby, and Clarissa walked toward it. The cold of the metal soaked through her jeans when she sat down, and she huddled deeper inside Langston’s jacket. She felt as though she were being watched, and didn’t know if it was because of Langston or if Killall had arrived.

  “Don’t turn around.”

  The words came from behind Clarissa just as she felt something hard press against her back. A gun. She froze.

  “I have it,” the man said. “But tell your boss I want double what he paid me before I hand it over.”

  Nice. Another criminal out to screw her over. She really needed to find better friends.

  “You expect me to pay you without knowing if you have the goods?” she asked without turning. “How do I even know you’re really who you say you are?”

  That seemed to stump him for a moment. “Who else would I be?” he said. “And I said I have it, so you just have to trust me that I have it. Call your boss.”

  “You’re holding me at gunpoint,” Clarissa said frostily. “Trusting you isn’t gonna fly.” Where was Langston?

  “One move and it’ll be your last.”

  It was Langston. Clarissa breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  “Hey, man, don’t shoot!”

  “Give me the gun,” Langston said.

  “It’s not a real gun, I was faking,” the guy blustered.

  Clarissa stood up at that and turned around. Her assailant wasn’t quite what she’d pictured.

  Killall was short and stocky, about her height, and young, maybe only nineteen or twenty. He had a mop of unkempt curly brown hair, wore glasses, and sported a Batman T-shirt under a well-worn jacket.

  “What do you mean you were faking?” she asked, irritated to have been even momentarily afraid of this clown.

  “It’s just a banana. Here, take it.” He shoved his hand into his pocket.

  “Freeze!” Langston barked.

  Killall obeyed, his eyes glued to Langston’s gun. He gulped.

  “Now take your hand out, nice and slow,” Langston ordered.

  Sure enough, the idiot had an honest-to-God banana in his pocket.

  Clarissa grabbed the front of his T-shirt and got in his face. “Did you really just threaten me with a goddamn banana?” she hissed furiously.

  “Hey, I’m sorry!” he spluttered.

  “You’re gonna be sorry—”

  “Take it easy,” Langston said, sliding an arm around her waist and tugging. Clarissa was forced to release the guy, and she glared at him as Langston pulled her back.

  “Are you Calamity?” Killall asked Langston, shifting nervously from one foot to another as he warily eyed Clarissa.

  “I’m Calamity, asshole,” Clarissa retorted.

  Killall looked taken aback. “But…but you’re a—”

  “Say it and you’ll be one too,” Clarissa threatened. Langston’s arm tightened around her and she heard what sounded suspiciously like a laugh before he stifled it.

  “I’m so glad this amuses you,” she sneered, jerking out of his grasp. She turned back to Killall. “Give it to me.”

  Clarissa held her hand out expectantly. When Killall didn’t immediately respond, her eyes narrowed. “Now,” she demanded, snapping her fingers.

  “Okay, okay,” he groused, digging in his jacket pocket before handing over a tiny flash drive.

  “What’s on it?” Clarissa asked.

  “I don’t know, man,” he whined. “I just downloaded the data like I was told. That’s all.”

  “Bullshit,” she snapped. “What’s on it?”

  “I’d answer her,” Langston said. “She’s still pretty pissed off about the banana.”

  When Killall still hesitated, Clarissa took a step toward him. She was looking forward to inducing some pain in the little twerp.

  “Wait, I’ll tell you,” he said quickly. Clarissa paused. “It’s transactions, okay? Thousands of them. But I don’t know where they were coming from or where they were going to.”

  “Well guess what?” Langston said. “You’re going to help us figure it out.”

  “What? No way, dude. That wasn’t the deal.”

  Langston flashed his FBI badge. “It is now.”

  “Aw, man!” Killall whined again. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken this job. Listen, I didn’t do anything illegal—”

  “I’m not arresting you,” Langston said. “But that’ll change if you don’t help us.”

  Killall looked defeated. “Fine. But we’ll have to go back to my place.”

  “Let’s go.” Langston led the way to the SUV.

  Twenty minutes later, they were driving through a ramshackle trailer park.

  “Twister bait,” Erik mused. Tornadoes always seemed to go for trailer parks. They were like magnets.

  “It’s the last one on the left.” Killall pointed.

  Erik parked the SUV, then he followed O’Connell and Killall inside.

  If the outside looked unimpressive, the inside wasn’t any better. A sofa that had seen better days took up the living room space, facing an unexpectedly expensive-looking flat-screen television on the wall. Gaming equipment littered the battered coffee table along with dirty dishes and a pizza box.

  Killall and O’Connell headed to the back and Erik took a quick detour around to the kitchen area before following. If they weren’t alone, he’d rather know sooner as opposed to later.

  When he reached the back room, Killall and O’Connell were sitting in front of a computer. There were three monitors, but one seemed to be displaying a game of some sort.

  The room was dimly lit with just one lamp. More dirty dishes and computer equipment littered the space. The wall was covere
d with posters of comic-book characters, none of which Erik recognized. The one poster he did recognize was a vintage Star Wars movie print.

  “So you’re Calamity,” Killall said as he plugged in the flash drive. He shot O’Connell a sideways look. “You know, you’re kind of a legend around here. I mean…not here here, but you know, with the guys I know on the Net.”

  The reverence in his voice made Erik’s eyebrows climb. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the boy seemed almost smitten, even after O’Connell had threatened him.

  “Really,” O’Connell said, sounding wholly uninterested. “If I’m such a legend, then why did you try to scam me for more money?”

  Killall flushed, looking abashed. “It’s just business. Nothing personal,” he muttered.

  O’Connell raised an eyebrow, staring him down until he turned back to the computer.

  Files opened up and Killall began typing. “It’ll take a few minutes to start tracking them down,” he said.

  “That’s fine,” Erik said.

  “So, Killall. What’s your real name?” O’Connell asked.

  Killall turned puppy eyes to her. “It’s Andy,” he said. “My name is Andy.”

  “Why Killall then?”

  Andy frowned. “Uh…it’s kinda obvious, right?”

  O’Connell stared blankly at him. “Because you’re a real badass?”

  “Yeah, I mean, no.” He shook his head. “You know…Unix. Killall.”

  She caught on at the same time Erik did. This was something she should know as a hacker.

  “Oh yeah, right,” she said quickly, waving her hand. “Killall. Clever.” She held something up, a black rectangle about five inches long. “So if you had a stun gun, why did you use a banana?”

  Erik frowned. Andy had a stun gun? If he’d used it on O’Connell, Erik would have kicked his ass.

  “Uh, yeah.” Andy’s pasty skin flushed. “It’s…um…broken.”

  “You stunned yourself, didn’t you,” O’Connell said.

  Erik knew she was right as Andy turned an even brighter red. He couldn’t hide a grin.

  “Listen, you want something to eat? Or drink?” Andy jumped to his feet. “I’ve got some leftover pizza in the fridge—”

  “That’s okay. We’re good,” Erik said. The idea of eating anything out of this kid’s refrigerator was enough to put him off food for a week.

  “Oh. Okay.” Andy seemed somewhat crestfallen as he resumed his seat. Erik thought he probably should find Andy’s infatuation with O’Connell amusing instead of irritating. Did the kid have to sit so close to her? He was practically crowding her.

  “Hey, it’s coming through now,” Andy said excitedly, distracting Erik. “Let’s take a look.”

  The kid typed some more, pushing his glasses up his nose as he examined the screen.

  “Um, wow,” he said, sitting back in his chair.

  “What?” said both Erik and O’Connell.

  Andy glanced at O’Connell, newfound respect shining in his eyes. “These are banking transactions.”

  “They are?” Erik asked, coming closer to peer at the screen, which was a useless exercise. Nothing on there made a bit of sense to him. “For what? And to whom?”

  Andy squinted as he studied the screen. “Here,” he said, pointing to a section of lines that looked very similar. “From what I can see, they’re all transferring a small amount of money from one account, but the money’s going into lots of different accounts, and there are thousands of transactions.”

  “How much money total?” O’Connell asked.

  “Um, I don’t know. Gimme a minute.”

  More keystrokes. Erik waited, his nerves on edge.

  “It looks like…wow…like about a hundred million.” Andy slumped back in his chair. “Whoa. Dude. That’s a lot of money.”

  O’Connell looked up at Erik. Her face had gone white.

  “I mean, you did an awesome job scattering it,” Andy said, squinting again at the screen. “It’s in hundreds of accounts. It would take a team of hackers months to follow those trails, if they could even tie them together, which is doubtful,” he scoffed.

  “Oh my God,” O’Connell breathed. “Why would I do that?”

  Erik had no answer for her. But now they knew why Solomon was after her. He wasn’t going to let one hundred million just disappear without a fight. And someone would probably die in the end.

  “Can you send it back?” O’Connell asked Andy.

  He shook his head. “No way. Not without the original program that sent all these transactions.” He squinted at the screen. “And maybe not even then.”

  “Why? What is it?” Erik asked, his voice grim. Surely it couldn’t get any worse?

  “The way you did this,” Andy said, glancing at O’Connell. “I think…I think you hacked into SWIFT.” Now his voice bordered on awe.

  “I did what?” O’Connell asked.

  “What’s swift? What are you talking about?” Erik chimed in. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it could get worse.

  “SWIFT,” Andy explained. “It’s an acronym. It stands for the Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunication.”

  Erik’s heart sank. It had just gotten worse.

  “It’s a secure, supposedly hack-proof network that banks use to send transactions to each other. I’ve never heard of someone who even got close to hacking it, though lots have tried.” Andy jerked his head toward the screen. “Just look. There’s no mistaking the header on those packets. It can only be SWIFT.

  “Oh, man! That’s so sweet!” He chortled. “High-five, Calamity!” He held his hand up expectantly.

  O’Connell ignored him, her panicked eyes on Erik’s. Andy awkwardly lowered his hand.

  “Langston—”

  “I’m on it,” he interrupted, hurrying from the room. He was back in minutes, carrying her laptop.

  “Here,” he said, handing it to her. She booted it and logged in.

  “Can you look at that and see if it’s the program?” O’Connell asked, turning the laptop so it faced Andy.

  Andy rolled his chair away from O’Connell, his eyes narrow with suspicion. “You’re not Calamity, are you? Who are you?”

  “Of course I am,” O’Connell said in disgust. “I’m just…having some issues remembering things.”

  Andy didn’t seem fazed. He just crossed his arms over his chest.

  O’Connell sighed. “Listen, I really need your help.” She seemed to brace herself before forcing out, “Please, Andy. You’re the only one who can help me.”

  Erik rolled his eyes. She was really laying it on thick. Her eyes were wide pools of green in her pale face as she gazed at the kid. He didn’t stand a chance.

  Andy’s expression softened at her plea. He cleared his throat and studied the screen with its lines of code for a few minutes. Erik watched him, hoping he’d have good news. He should have known better.

  Finally, Andy shook his head. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t it.”

  O’Connell’s hand shook slightly as she closed the laptop lid. After a moment, Andy spoke.

  “You know,” he said hesitantly, “this really wasn’t part of the deal. I mean, it’s awesome that you hacked into SWIFT, but dude, it could bring some serious shit down, you know?” He glanced uneasily at Erik. “So, like, maybe you guys have what you want and can leave now?”

  “Sure, Andy. We’ll leave,” Erik said, pulling his gaze from O’Connell’s. “Just as soon as you tell us what you know about where Calamity lives.” If the program wasn’t on her laptop, maybe she’d done it from home.

  Andy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “What are you talkin’ about, man? I don’t know anything like that. Why would you want to know something like that?”

  “Do I look stupid to you?” O’Connell snapped, her ploy at helpless female evaporating. “You expect us to believe you’d take a job like this without knowing anything about me?”

  “Just tell us what you know and we’ll
get out of here,” Erik coaxed, playing good cop to O’Connell’s bad.

  Andy’s panicked gaze swiveled from O’Connell to Erik and back before he finally answered. “Okay, listen, all I know is that Calamity was given my name by someone in New Orleans. There’s this chick there, and if you let her know what you can do, she’ll hook you up. That’s how I got this job. If you find her, she’ll know more about Calamity.”

  “Who is she?” Erik asked.

  Andy shrugged. “Beats me. All I know is her handle — Raven.”

  “How do we find her?”

  Andy turned away and started searching through a stack of papers before finally pulling out a single sheet. He handed it to O’Connell.

  “There’s this club, in the French Quarter somewhere. I’ve heard she hangs out there.” He lowered his voice. “And dude, it’s a lesbian club. Word is that Raven is…you know.”

  O’Connell was already on her feet.

  “Hey.” Andy jumped up. O’Connell glanced back. “Sorry about the banana,” he said with a sheepish shrug.

  “Be careful who you do that to,” she replied. “Someone else might just shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “It’s too late to get there tonight,” Erik said once they were in the car. He headed back along the dirt road out of the trailer park. “We won’t be able to get inside that club until tomorrow.” Shit. Another night in a motel with O’Connell.

  He could really use a drink.

  O’Connell didn’t say anything.

  “O’Connell? Did you hear me? We’ll need to find somewhere for tonight, get some sleep—”

  “Stop the car,” she interrupted.

  “What?”

  “I said stop the car! Stop the car! Stop the car!”

  Her frantic demand had Erik swerving to the side of the gravel road. He hadn’t even come to a full stop before O’Connell was out of the car and running.

  “What the—”

  Throwing the SUV into park, Erik jumped out and tore after her.

  It was pitch-dark, and the ground was uneven beneath his feet. He stumbled but caught himself. Muttering a few choice words, he resumed his pursuit.

  “O’Connell!” he yelled. “Come back!” What the hell was she doing?