BlackFlag hushed her. “We are well treated.”
Under different circumstances, Marshall thought he might have enjoyed an invitation to meet the man known as DarkMatter. But to be abducted on the lame excuse that some mysterious outfit was targeting him and Lacey was a load of crap. He was in trouble and so was Lacey, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could contain his anger in this charade. He needed answers, and it was apparent that the kids seated around him could provide only some of them. But if I can get my hands around the throat of the man in charge...
“Can’t wait to meet him.”
“After the practice round,” Shamer said.
“Practice round?”
“Sure,” Dolphin said. “To make sure everything’s running smooth for the big tournament tonight. You have a reserved spot and we’re all rooting for you. That’s why you’re here, right? Master Jiaolong is going to monitor the practice session from upstairs but he’ll be down afterwards to debrief. So, you’ve got to play,” he said, standing up as if to lead the way.
Burying his confusion, Marshall rose from the table and nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Two minutes later he stepped into a room that took his breath away. The darkened walls, dim lighting, and huge wall screen gave it the feel of a private movie theater. But instead of rows of seating, the carpeted floor was occupied by sixteen luxury game pods, each with a leather recliner enclosed by rounded privacy walls. The interior front wall of each pod was embedded with a curved video screen.
Gaming paradise.
The huge screen at the front of the room featured a large central display surrounded by sixteen smaller displays. With no active game in session, the center screen streamed highlights of previous battles, and Marshall saw that the game was a first-person shooter with open-world technology. The genre was the current big thing in multi-player online gaming. He’d heard several new ones were in development. In fact, he’d been invited to participate in the beta trials for one of them, but his travel schedule over the past several weeks had made it impossible to—
“This way,” Dolphin said. He escorted him toward the front of the room.
Four tiers of bleacher seats stretched along the back wall and every space was occupied. A hush fell over the crowd when everyone noticed Marshall, adding fuel to his growing sense of apprehension. As he walked down the aisle, Shamer and the others peeled off toward their own pods. The two yellows appeared, along with several others who seemed to be cut from the same cloth. They occupied all but two of the remaining chairs. As each player got situated, the perimeter screens on the front wall lit up with static images of the opening battle environment, superimposed with each player’s handle. Once game play commenced, he assumed the perimeter screens would be slaved to the individual pod screens so that onlookers could watch from their favorite player’s viewpoint.
“This one’s yours,” Dolphin said, motioning toward a pod in the front row. “I’m right next to you.”
Marshall settled into the chair and the interior screen lit up automatically to display the battle scene. It was like being in the cockpit of an advanced aircraft—except when he glanced around he noticed there were no controls. He turned toward Dolphin and frowned.
The boy hovered beside him. “Wait for it,” he said with a wide grin.
A sultry female voice sounded from an embedded speaker. “State your name and handle, please.”
The familiar voice brought a smile to Marshall’s face. He whispered to Dolphin, “Is that Shamer?”
Dolphin nodded. “Programmer’s prerogative,” he whispered. “Pretty hot, huh?”
Marshall gave him a thumbs-up, then spoke toward the screen. “Marshall Erickson. TurboHacker.”
A panel beneath the screen flipped open and a robotic arm telescoped outward holding a high-tech headset. He recognized the eight-fingered skullcap immediately and his breath caught in his throat. It was a twin to the thought-control Spider headset he’d received in the mail several weeks back—and loaned to Jake’s son.
Scattered pieces of the puzzle tumbled into place, and he realized the events over the past couple of days weren’t about him, or Lacey, or maybe even Jake.
It’s all about Alex.
Chapter 7
Hong Kong
MARSHALL REELED as the shotgun blast blew him off his feet.
Killed again.
The game timer ticked down. Thirty seconds to go. Like each of the other games he’d played over the past hour, the free-for-all game had been a slaughter, at least from his point of view. While he’d stumbled this way and that trying to teach his brain to control his movements, the other players’ avatars dodged and weaved with a swiftness that was double what he was used to from the games he’d mastered with a hand controller. They shot, knifed, and clobbered him time after time, and when any of the other players earned a twelve-point kill streak—unlocking the robotic swarm perk—forget about it. They repeatedly dropped him with ease, and he started to feel like one of those pop-up targets that SWAT used during hostage rescue training.
Die. Respawn. Get nailed again.
Even though he’d improved somewhat throughout the matches, the kills he’d scored had been more luck than anything else. His frustration mounted at each failed attempt, not because of his humiliating performance but because of the barrage of questions he knew he’d face later. He had to keep Alex’s involvement a secret.
At all costs.
He died again, and the game ended before his avatar respawned.
“Game over,” Shamer’s sultry voice said through his headset. “You placed sixteenth.”
No kidding, he thought. He had only four kills, while everyone else had racked up twenty or more during the extended game. As soon as he removed his headset, he noticed the buzz of conversation that had been present in the room before the first match had vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable silence. The audience’s hero, TurboHacker, had a solid lock on last place.
“Clear the room,” a stern voice ordered over the intercom. “TurboHacker, please remain seated.”
The spectators in the bleachers rose quickly and made their way toward the exit. The other players stepped out of their pods and followed. No one spoke. Dolphin was the last to go. He cast a worried glance in Marshall’s direction as he walked past. The crowd’s cowered obedience to the evacuation order pissed Marshall off. It was how he’d expect abused children to respond, not a group of brilliant programmers. It spoke to the strict indoctrination to which they’d been subjected.
The voice had ordered him to remain seated. Screw you, he thought, climbing out of his pod. He faced the door and crossed his arms, bracing himself for what was to come. Before most of the attendees had exited, a man and woman slid through the crowd, followed loosely by a trio of hard-faced men with holstered sidearms. The couple appeared to be in their thirties. She was a svelte package, a classic Asian beauty in a navy pantsuit, with pulled-back hair that flowed to her waist. She carried a tablet in one hand. The man appeared to be Eurasian, black-haired and clean-shaven, with dark eyes that narrowed as he approached. He walked with purpose. She glided beside him with the economy of a tigress.
“Welcome, Mr. Erickson,” the man said, extending a hand. “My name is Jiaolong. But you may know me as DarkMatter.”
“DarkMatter, huh?” Marshall said, ignoring the man’s hand. “You mean the substance that makes up five-sixths of the cosmos but is still so nebulous that scientists have yet to isolate a single molecule of the stuff? You must think you’re pretty damn special. Does that mean you’re the man in charge?”
Jiaolong’s expression hardened. He lowered his hand. “Yes. I am most definitely the man in—”
Marshall slugged him across the jaw so hard that Jiaolong spun a three sixty and fell to one knee. The woman stepped aside, her mouth agape, and Marshall heard gasps from the lingering spectators at the back.
“What have you done with my wife?” he shouted. “Where is she? If you’ve harmed a
single hair on her head, I will bring your entire world to its knees!”
The three guards rushed forward and Marshall readied himself for their assault. But Jiaolong held up a hand and they stopped short. The man rose, massaging his jaw. The entire left side of his face was red.
Jiaolong snorted. “Is that the best you’ve got...TurboHacker? Trying to cover up for your phony antics in the game? Come on, you can do better than that. Hit me again.”
Marshall glanced at the guards.
“Don’t worry about them,” Jiaolong said. “They won’t interfere. Hit me.”
Marshall wanted nothing more than to oblige, despite the fact his knuckles were throbbing. But he sensed a setup.
“Come on, coward,” Jiaolong taunted. He jutted his jaw to offer an easy target. “Hit. Me.”
Marshall coiled his muscles, his eyes darting left and right.
“You’re worried about your precious wife?” Jiaolong yelled, spittle flying. “Either hit me or watch my men cut her.”
“Where is she?” Marshall shouted.
“Hit me!” Jiaolong demanded.
Marshall released his fury in an uppercut toward Jiaolong’s chin. His fist was halfway there when the bracelets vibrated, sending white-hot pain to every nerve ending in his body. His muscles seized and he collapsed to the floor on his back, jerking and twisting.
Jiaolong hovered over him, a small device in one hand, his thumb depressing a button. “Had enough?”
Marshall’s vision jumped and shook. He tried to answer but all he could manage was a gurgle. Jiaolong grinned. Finally, the man released the button and the pain stopped as abruptly as it had started. Marshall melted into the floor, gasping as his mind worked to convince his system the attack was over. Sweat dripped from his brow. Blinking several times, he tried to focus his jumbled thoughts and emotions. The woman moved into view, her compassionless gaze boring into him. For a brief moment he thought he recognized her. The memory was vague, as if from a dream, but a part of him was alerted to its importance—another reminder that nothing was as it seemed. She asked questions about Jake. The recollection began to fade, but he forced his consciousness to latch on to it.
“Get him up,” Jiaolong said.
Two of the guards helped him to his feet. As Marshall rose, he noticed the third guard ushering the last of the residents from the room. One of them was Dolphin. He’d witnessed it all, and though it appeared as if his eyes were moist, the expression on his face was one of absolute determination. The guard closed the door and Marshall turned his attention to the couple, glancing from Jiaolong to the woman and back again. He wondered at the depth of their deception and the lengths they’d gone to in order to bring him here. He still didn’t know what was going on but at least he’d identified friend versus foe.
Jiaolong’s thumb lingered over one of two buttons on the remote, the second of which was shielded by a plastic cover. His smile was sinister. “Are you ready to behave?”
Marshall buried his anger behind a clenched jaw, his imagination spinning over what the other button might do.
Jiaolong followed his gaze. “Oh, are you wondering about this?” He flipped up the plastic cover and caressed the button.
Marshall sensed a surge of tension from the guards, their focus on his wrists. The one closest to him edged backward. The woman held her ground but frowned at her boss.
Jiaolong ignored their reactions. “Plastic explosive embedded inside the bands,” he said. “Just enough to sever both hands. You won’t be much good on a keyboard after that, right... TurboHacker?”
Marshall stopped breathing. He held his arms out and stared at the bracelets. His hands quivered.
“Ah, I see that I’m getting through to you,” Jiaolong said. He flipped the cover closed and handed the device to one of the guards, who clipped it to his belt. He stood a head taller than the other two guards, wearing a blue security uniform. He had broad shoulders and a shaved head. Jiaolong added, “This is Chang. He shall remain at your side to ensure your continued cooperation. Do not test him, understood?”
Marshall looked back at the bracelets. He realized he had little choice but to do what this fool demanded. At least for now. “What’s the carrot?” he asked.
“The carrot?”
He held up his wrists. “You’ve shown me the stick. So what’s the carrot?”
“That’s simple. Win the tournament tonight and you’ll save your hands. Answer a few questions after that and you’ll save your wife.”
“I want to see her.”
“In due time. As I explained before, she’s en route.”
“But—”
“No buts. No more questions. No more games,” Jiaolong said. He pointed to the wall screen, where a static battle image was overlaid with a leader board. A countdown timer indicated the tournament would begin at eight p.m. “Well, except for that game, of course. I suggest you use the time between now and then to practice.” He turned and headed for the exit. The woman and one of the guards followed, leaving Chang and the remaining guard behind.
Marshall locked eyes with Chang, who gave him a thin smile and patted the remote attached to his belt, as if daring him to try something. When Marshall didn’t react to the taunt, the man clicked his tongue and shared an amused look with his partner. The second guard was smaller than Chang but every bit as tough-looking. His knuckles were covered in calluses.
Marshall watched the door as it swung closed behind Jiaolong and the others. Then he looked at Chang and raised an eyebrow. Chang grinned, placing his index finger over the remote.
“No!” Marshall said.
Chang gave the button a tap and a current shot up Marshall’s arms. His shoulders flinched from the excruciating sensation. It was over in an instant, though the pain lingered. The guards laughed.
Marshall blew out several breaths. “Assholes,” he muttered, turning his back on them, waiting for the next jolt. But it didn’t come. Instead, the guards chuckled and took up positions at the back of the room. They’d made their point.
I owe you one.
Marshall stared at the big screen, and that’s when he realized that he recognized most of the player handles in the tournament. There were fifty-four in all, ranked in order of their overall standings since the beta headsets were sent out. TurboHacker—Alex, in this case—was in the number one position. His kill-to-death ratio was double that of the closest competitor, and Marshall once again marveled at the kid’s gifts.
Like father, like son.
But it was the names of the other competitors that ratcheted his concern. He knew most of them, if not personally then at least by reputation. He’d worked with several of them on joint security projects and had gotten to know many of the others during various cyber conferences, workshops, and other gatherings. One of them was a geek friend from high school. The guy had earned himself some serious jail time for one of his hacks, but he’d gotten an early release when he accepted recruitment into the NSA. Three others had served with Marshall on a top-secret advisory panel for the FBI’s Cyber Crime division. But the American handles represented less than a third of the entire list. Marshall recognized others from major countries across the globe, including several from China. These weren’t your average gamers. These were the world’s elite cyber warriors, whose combined expertise protected some of the most secure facilities on the planet. The fact that they’d been gathered together, even if only in a virtual space, raised alarm bells.
For the first time since his abduction, Marshall had a nugget of a clue to focus on. He set his emotions aside and allowed his analytical mind to take over.
Like programmers, hackers, and computer geeks around the world, the players on the board shared a common love for video games, a weakness that would’ve been easy to exploit. They’d probably been lured into the beta testing in the same way he had—with a gold invitation that included a very-cool-looking Spider headset, with personalized log-on credentials and a thought-responsive system that was level
s beyond anything on the market. What geek in his right mind could pass that up? Hell, he remembered his own excitement when he’d first opened the package. He would’ve been all over it if he hadn’t needed to leave that afternoon for a six-week project and then fly to Rome to meet up with Lacey.
So when Jake and his son had driven him to the airport, he’d passed it on to Alex.
And made the kid a target.
But a target for what? He glanced toward his pod. The Spider was still on the chair.
Time to find out.
***
Back in the control room, Jiaolong paced anxiously, trying to keep his anger in check. Having Jake Bronson loose in Hong Kong was one thing, but getting struck in the jaw by TurboHacker—after being played for a fool by the man as he’d pretended to be new to the Spider game—was about to send him over the edge. He watched TurboHacker’s avatar maneuver clumsily across the screen.
“Why is he going through the tutorials?” Lin asked.
“Because the damn fool is still playing games with us,” Jiaolong said. He’d hoped that the threat of the bracelets and the fear for his wife’s safety would entice TurboHacker to strike back with the only weapon at his disposal—hacking into the system again through the Spider.
Sister Zhin said, “Unless it’s within the tutorial that he discovered the program’s vulnerability?”
“Perhaps,” he said, watching the avatar pick up a grenade and throw it. The projectile didn’t come close to the target. “But the man is a master coder. He knows we’re watching. Trust me, he’s playing us, biding his time for an opportunity to turn the tables.”
“I can fix that,” Min said with a gleam in her eye, caressing the bobbles dangling from the end of her long braid.
“And perhaps you’ll have to when we return with him to the village after tonight’s tournament...” His voice trailed off as he watched the avatar pitch a second grenade, and then a third, each one landing closer to the target. The fourth one blew it apart and he heard a whoop through the system’s loudspeaker. Jiaolong turned to Pak. “Anything?”
Brainrush 05 - Everlast 02: Ephemeral Page 4
