No Room for Error: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Seven

by Julie Moffett

  Zico flipped through them.

  “Five thousand more to follow as soon as we get into Lae and I get to a phone,” Finn said.

  “I understand. Come on then.”

  We followed him onto the boat and down a narrow set of stairs.

  “How long will take us to get to Lae?” I asked him.

  “About eight hours, depending on the weather. We have to travel through the Vitiaz Straight and into the Houn Gulf.”

  “When we get to port will you take us to a phone?”

  “Of course.”

  We walked down a tight corridor before stopping at the door of a cabin.

  “It’s small, but it should serve you for the trip,” Zico said opening the door. “I’ll bring you food and water shortly and let you know when you may come above for some fresh air. The loo is at the end of the corridor.”

  “Do you think you can get me a razor?” Finn scratched his beard. “I’d really appreciate it.”

  Zico nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Zico ushered us into the tiny cabin. It had one bunk bed, a wooden wardrobe and a chair. There was no porthole of any kind. It was a tight fit with the three of us, but after where we’d just slept for the past few days, we weren’t complaining.

  After Zico left, Basia darted out of the cabin. “First dibs on the bathroom,” she called over her shoulder.

  I took off the bag with the briefcase and put it on the floor next to me, sinking down onto the chair.

  Finn pounded a fist into the mattress of the lower bunk. His fist sunk into it. “There are only two beds, if you can call them that.”

  “No worries. Basia and I can share.

  “Fine.” He stretched back on the bed, putting an arm over his eyes.

  After several minutes Basia came back. She’d washed her face and neck the best she could with one arm. Her face had been mostly covered with mud for the past few days, so it seemed odd to see pink skin.

  Finn and I each took turns in the bathroom, as well, washing ourselves in the sink until we felt quasi-human again. It was the first time since the plane crash I saw myself in a mirror. I was barely recognizable, even with the mud removed. I still had two shiners and my nose was crooked and dotted with purple and red bruises. The knot on the right side of my forehead had turned a yellowish green.

  Jeez.

  Finn looked significantly better, having shaved with the razor Zico had provided. He’d nicked himself in a couple of places, but at least we could see his face.

  I heard noises in the corridor outside our door and on the deck above. I assumed the passengers were boarding. Minutes later the whine of the motor started and the boat swayed as we pushed off.

  I began to feel nauseated. “I think I might have liked the canoe better. It’s claustrophobic down here.”

  “Zico said he’d bring us food soon, so maybe we can ask him when we can go on deck,” Basia said.

  She couldn’t get up to the top bunk with her injured arm, so she scooted next to Finn on the bed and the two of them napped. I didn’t feel like climbing to the top bunk either so I dozed off, sleeping in the chair.

  A soft knock woke us up and Finn rose, opening the door. Zico stood there with a bag of food and some water bottles.

  Finn took the offering gratefully. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “You may come up one at a time for some air if you’d like.” He pointed at me. “You first.”

  I figured out of the three of us, I looked like I needed it the most.

  I followed him out of the cabin and climbed the steps behind him. When we got to the upper deck, I squinted in the morning sun and took a moment to breathe the fresh air. A glance at our surroundings indicated we were on the open sea. After travelling so long by pole, being on a boat with an actual engine made it seem as if we were flying across the water at warp speed.

  Zico moved toward the front of the boat. I saw a table with benches on either side. A solitary man sat at one of the tables his back to me. To my surprise, Zico waved me forward.

  I hesitated, but he motioned to me again.

  “Come sit, please,” he insisted.

  “I thought you didn’t want us to mingle with your passengers.”

  Zico smiled. “I changed my mind.”

  I approached the table slowly. As I reached the table, the man turned his head to me.

  “Hello, Lexi Carmichael. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

  Chapter Fifty

  I backed up so fast I nearly fell overboard. The man was Asian, with short dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

  Zico sold us out!

  I glared across the boat at Zico. The man sitting on the bench seemed amused by my alarm.

  “I suggest you sit down,” the man said. “There’s no place for you to go anyway. We might as well talk.”

  I looked out at the water and watched as the hull cut through the waves. My mind sorted through options until I realized I didn’t have any. Turning around, I slid onto the bench, facing him. He had a plate of food in front of him. My stomach growled.

  “Okay, apparently, I’m at a disadvantage.” I leaned back on the bench. “You know my name. What’s yours?”

  “You may call me Quon.”

  I studied him. My guess was that this was Jiang Quon, the younger brother of Jiang Shi, leader of the hacking group Red Guest. Apparently they’d been up to their neck in whatever was going down for some time.

  “You’re a long way from China,” I said. “You came all this way just to see me?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. When I heard you’d been spotted just north of Wasu, it was logical to assume you’d head to the town and seek passage to Lae. I wanted to make sure I was the first to greet you. I’d originally hoped to make your acquaintance under much more civilized conditions in Port Moresby. But after the unfortunate incidence on the plane, we had a change of plans.”

  “That unfortunate incident killed several people.”

  “A pity. Lucky for me, it didn’t kill you.”

  “You bribed Captain Zico.”

  “Of course. Whatever you offered to pay him, we paid him three times more.”

  Quon picked up a knife and spread a white sauce on a piece of bread. He took a bite. I kept my gaze averted from the food for fear I’d leap across the table and snatch it from his mouth.

  I needed to focus and figure out what to do. In order for that to occur, I needed more information. No better time than the present to ask. “So, Quon, how do I know you are who you say you are?”

  He chuckled. “You may not know me by face, Miss Carmichael, but you would know me if you came across my code.”

  “Prove it. Where have you been?”

  “The American Embassy in Belgrade, two years ago—the virus called Strangelove. Eighteen months ago, the Department of Homeland Security in the Cybersecurity Division—a worm called Uptempo. Six weeks ago, in the NSA, Operation Discord. I could name a lot more, but I’m afraid some operations are still in progress.”

  “Okay, at the very least I believe you’re a member of Red Guest.”

  “Not a member. The leader.”

  “You sure Shi would agree with you?”

  He frowned. “What do you know of my brother?”

  “Enough to say that if I told him you were posing as the leader, he might be pretty pissed off.”

  I saw an angry flash in his eyes and then he smiled. “Ah, very good. You pass the first test.”

  “Oh, you’re testing me now?”

  “Yes.” Quon lifted a napkin to his lips, dabbing at his mouth. “The captain is bringing you a plate. Please, I hope you’ll join me in a drink while we wait for your food.”

  “It’s morning.�
�

  “Ah, but as you Americans say, it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  As if on cue, a young man appeared holding two glasses. He placed one in front of me and one in front of Quon. The glasses were cold. Despite myself, I licked my lips.

  “Mimosas,” Quon said. “Drink up, please.”

  I resisted with supreme effort. “Sorry, it’s a personal policy of mine not to drink with people who are trying to kill me.”

  “You couldn’t be more misguided. I have no intention of harming you. I need you.”

  Quon took a long drink of his mimosa. I didn’t touch mine.

  As if testing my resolve, the young man who had just brought my drink retuned again, this time carrying a plate of food. It was some kind of fish, sweet potatoes with a brown glaze, and what appeared to be a thick, delicious-looking pudding. It was the most food I’d seen in days. It took all my willpower not to attack it face first.

  “Please eat,” Quon said, clearly amused. “I insist.”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  He shrugged and took another bite of his bread. “You know, I admit I’m quite surprised by your resourcefulness. You’ve been very lucky, Miss Carmichael. It took us much longer than expected to find you. In fact, I expected to find you dead. Who knew a computer hacker could survive so long in the jungle?”

  “I’m not just a computer hacker.”

  “Indeed, I see you are much more. I should have known better after you outwitted Johannes Broodryk. Luck favors you, Lexi Carmichael, which we Chinese consider quite a meaningful omen.”

  “I don’t believe in luck. I just happen to choose my friends very carefully.”

  Quon set his glass down and leaned back in his chair. He picked up a silver coin about the size of a half dollar and held it between his fingers. While I watched in fascination, he started rolling it back and forth with perfect execution over his knuckles. I was intrigued in spite of myself.

  “How do you do that?” I asked.

  “Practice.” He paused, rolling the coin into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Have you ever been to China?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll like it.”

  “Maybe. But if you’re the intended guide, I won’t.”

  “China has a lot to offer someone like you.” He picked up his fork and knife and cut a piece of his food. “Everything you could ever want or imagine. It’s a beautiful country with some of the world’s most exotic and breathtaking locations. Our people are friendly and welcoming.”

  “A lot like you?” I pursed my lips.

  “I can be very friendly once you get to know me.”

  “No thanks, and I’ll pass on a trip to China this time around.”

  He laughed. “You know, I like you.”

  “And I like being an American.”

  He tossed the coin, catching it in his palm. “I think I can change your mind about that, which—by the way—is why we’ve kept your two friends alive this long.”

  I paused, considered. “That’s a pretty ugly statement.”

  “Not ugly. Truthful. I sense you are not one for games.”

  “Not this kind.”

  “Then at last we agree on something.” He began rolling the coin again. Despite my best effort, I couldn’t stop watching.

  He snapped his fingers and the coin disappeared between his knuckles. “I will be the first to say I admire your artistry at the keyboard. You would be a worthy addition to the Red Guest.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to rethink your recruiting pitch.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, we’re not so different, you know. We’re both pioneers and innovators in our field.”

  I pushed my plate aside. “Let me see, Quon. You’re a cracker who orchestrated a hijacking that killed several people. Now you’re threatening my friends and me and trying to steal someone else’s invention. In my opinion, that makes you little more than a boastful bully and a murderous thief. You lost me on the pioneer and innovator part.”

  He didn’t seem offended by my assessment. He pressed his fingers together in a steeple. “Therein lies the flaws of Americans. A narrow-minded focus. It’s the end goal that matters, not the method.”

  “Now you sound like Karl Marx or, should I say, Mao Zedong.” I made a sound of disgust. “Spare me the propaganda. What do you want? I’m not going to help you. Despite your fancy promises, you’ll never let us go. We’re all dead anyway.”

  He banged his fist on the table, startling me. “Wrong. All three of you can live very long and successful lives in China. You will be well pampered beyond your wildest dreams.”

  “This is a complete waste of time.” I pushed to my feet. “I don’t know the code to the briefcase. The twins didn’t tell me. They decided to wait until I arrived in Jakarta as an extra security measure. You can torture me or my friends to kingdom come and it won’t get you the code.”

  He folded his hands on the table and the silver coin seemed to magically appear on his knuckles. “Sit down, Miss Carmichael. Why do I care about some stupid code? It doesn’t matter what it is. We’ll break it eventually. What’s of more interest to the Red Guest and me is that we have some very important and specific cyber questions we’d like to ask. Starting with the NSA.”

  I watched the coin roll back and forth across his hand and shook my head. “You didn’t do your homework very well. I don’t work for the NSA anymore. Besides, I was just a junior techhead there. Trust me, I wouldn’t know anything of value to you anyway.”

  “True. You may not. But your boyfriend would.”

  I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Fear—cold, dark tendrils of it—snaked through my heart.

  I sat down.

  His eyes assessed me coldly. “Ah, now you’re getting it.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to compose myself. “This isn’t about me, is it? It’s not even about the Zimmermans’ invention.”

  Quon’s expression was hard. “I won’t lie to you. Those are bonuses beyond our wildest dreams. But, no. This isn’t about you or the microchip. It never was. We have bigger needs at the moment.”

  I felt as if I were drowning. Panic like I’d never known before welled inside me.

  Slash.

  They wanted Slash.

  The hijacking, the men chasing us outside my apartment, the reason the Chinese hadn’t shot me outright... It had never been about the microchip, the design, or me. They took the microchip because it was theirs for the taking, but it was Slash they were after all along. Once they had me, they knew he’d come to them. And then they had a way to make him cooperate.

  Me.

  They would use me to get Slash and get inside his head. I felt like throwing up, but I was frozen to my chair.

  Quon leaned forward. “Now, Miss Carmichael, you will do exactly as I say.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  I knew it was coming—it was only a matter of when. I wouldn’t get a warning.

  There was a reason they’d put me below deck in a totally dark room. Deprivation of sight would heighten all the other senses, including touch and hearing. Quon didn’t want me to know when he would strike, which I presumed was his plan for keeping me off-balance and scared. He didn’t have to go to all the trouble. I was already a quivering wreck.

  It felt like he’d been asking me questions for hours, but the logical part of my brain told me it was certainly far less than that. Despite the dark room, I could still see the glint of his eyes and an occasional gleam of teeth when he spoke or smiled. He was enjoying himself and that alone made me sicker than his twisted techniques and repeated questions.

  My face was in agony. He’d studied me when we’d been talking above board. I now understood why. Quon knew just where to hit and press to maximize the
pain. Still, I wasn’t going to tell him anything he didn’t already know about Slash. Not that I knew all that much anyway. The irony of the situation was that no matter how much I loved Slash, and despite what I would do to protect him, I didn’t really know him. He had yet to truly let me all the way into his life and permit me know him for who he was, not just the mysterious persona he showed to everyone else.

  Quon’s thumb pressing into my injured cheek jerked me back to reality. I couldn’t help it, I screamed like a girl.

  “Since we don’t seem to be getting anywhere, let’s start over,” he said calmly. “What’s his real name?”

  I gasped for breath. I was one of the few who knew Slash’s real name, which ironically enough was Romeo. And boy, oh, boy, did I need my Romeo right now.

  I rolled my tongue inside my mouth, feeling the swell of my upper lip. I steeled myself for the lie. “I already told you, Quon, I don’t know. He’s known as Slash to me and all of our acquaintances. He keeps his real identity secret even from me.”

  “What’s his exact position at the NSA?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He pressed harder with his thumb. Tears leaked from my eyes.

  “Try again, Miss Carmichael. You worked there together.”

  I tried to pull away, but Quon and his henchmen had tied me to a chair and one of them stood behind me, holding my head. It didn’t escape my notice that with one well-placed twist it would all be over.

  “Yes we did, but we’re supercompartmentalized at the NSA. All I know is that he didn’t work directly in my department—cybersecurity.”

  “What is his official title?”

  “I have no idea. We aren’t allowed to talk about our work outside of the office.”

  He dug his thumb in my cheek again. Stars of pain flashed in the corner of my vision as I whimpered in agony.

  “I urge you to think harder.”

  He was taking it easy on me for the time being, but all bets would be off when they had Slash. They would do worse—a heck of a lot worse—to me in order to get him to cooperate.