Dangerous Code

by Stella Marie Alden

  Thusly attired, I’m pretty sure I’ll avoid detection as I shuffle down Myrtle Ave. Then I turn down Gates Avenue, only five minutes from freedom.

  At the front desk, Sandy looks up. She’s been with me since getting emancipated from her parents at sixteen. Her eyes widen in recognition but I quiet her with a quick shake of my head.

  I grab the guest book, turn it around, and write, ‘Get Grace.’

  She writes back, ‘She’s not here.’ Then her eyes dart to the side. Too late I see that she’s trying to warn me.

  When Drew speaks, all the hairs on the back of my neck raise. “Doctor Jones. Welcome home.”

  He stands inside the small foyer along with four other guys in dark suits, dark ties, and headsets.

  “Hey. I was going to call you as soon as I reprogrammed Jason.” I know I’m screwed but smile as if I always wander around like a crazy woman dressed in huge boots and an army blanket.

  Maybe I’m paranoid, here, but isn’t Drew the one who dropped you off in Los Alamos when you were a teenager?

  For God’s sake, the President of the United States trusts him.

  But you never have. He swore he knew nothing about Mahmoud’s tendencies. And now, here he is. C’mon, Jones. Think!

  My inner argument comes to an abrupt halt when he gives me a warm hug and kisses my cheek. “I’m so glad you decided to come back. And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll clear up everything. Are you hungry?”

  He throws a glance at one of his goons but I’ll be damned if I know what it means. Then, just like that, I’m being driven back into Manhattan.

  For once, my inner debate goes quiet as we drive through the tunnel.

  “What happened out there? With O’Brien?” Drew scrutinizes me like he always does when he interrogates me.

  “Why?” I wonder how much he’s able to see in my facial expressions and try to maintain a mask. I’ve never liked Drew. He makes my skin crawl. Today even more so.

  He tucks a finger under my chin. “Your boyfriend said you escaped from his cabin in the woods. He was supposed to take you to the safe house in Suffern. Did he tell you that?”

  I shake my head hard, releasing his hand. I’ve got an awful feeling deep in my gut. Something in Drew’s voice is off. He must be really tense because I normally can’t tell.

  Even his smile is weird. “O’Brien is suspended. Probably will lose his job, if we’re lucky.”

  I smile back, just in case that matters but I don’t really want Colin to lose his job. In fact I wish he was here instead of Drew.

  I must’ve given the proper response because Drew gives up the inquest and slides his palms together, as if warming them. “Okee-dokee. I’m just going to bring you to the office, fill out some paperwork, and then get you back to work. Are you thirsty?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I’m depleted, mind, body and soul. And I can’t believe I just got Colin fired. Maybe I can fix things up with a little help from Jason when I get back to my office.

  “Here ya go.” Drew hands me a bottle of lemon flavored seltzer and I chug. Within seconds the interior of the car spins and I get chills, like I’ve got the flu.

  “Are you feeling all right, my dear?”

  “No.” I’m seeing double, the car is lurching, and I’m about to puke. That’s definitely not okay.

  “Good. This time I’m not taking any chances.” When his cell phone rings, he uses a gruff tone that I’ve never heard him use before. “Yeah, I got her. I’ll be right out.”

  He pats my head, exits the vehicle and says syrupy sweet, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” That’s the phrase people use when just the opposite is true.

  For God’s sake, Jenna, wake up. You’re in a questionable low-rent district not in front of the FBI building uptown. He’s up to something.

  I tap the driver on the shoulder. “Where are we?”

  He goes all secret-service-like, face blank in the rearview mirror.

  Are you kidding me? I’m being kidnapped? Again?

  Because every precious second counts, I pull off his headset and scream into it. “Jason, 911. Save me! Now!”

  The man in the front seat backhands me with a furious growl. My nose throbs and I wonder how much it’s going to cost to fix it again.

  Even though I’m groggy, I’m quite sure that a fire alarm sounds from within the warehouse and people start running into the street. Then suddenly there’s this sickening crunch of metal and I’m forced back, wondering if I have whiplash.

  In the cracked front windshield, a truck sits on top of our car’s hood, motor racing, tires spinning.

  If I get out of this alive, I really need to teach Jason the right and wrong ways to save me.

  I slide out of the oversized boots, my sorry ass goes out the door while the driver in the front seat struggles, trapped by the airbag. I’m half expecting Drew to come out of the warehouse and drag me by the scruff of the neck when a loud buzzing sounds overhead.

  Wow. A toy-sized airplane shoots, shards of cement fly, and I glance down at my arm. From the blood pouring out, I should have some pain, but don’t. Obviously, I’m higher than a kite.

  And that’s a drone.

  Sirens sound in the distance. I’ve got just seconds to make my getaway. Men in black shoot back at the drone, eyes off me. That’s when I crawl into the narrow alley beside the warehouse and collapse under a dumpster.

  Not a great plan, Jones.

  Gah. The rat that scurries off is the size of a small dog and everything smells like urine. With the last of my strength, I roll up into the fetal position inside my partial blanket.

  Moments later I’m found and dragged out by my feet. No doubt I’ll wake up halfway to Saudi Arabia.

  When I regain consciousness, it’s dark and musty but at least the boat isn’t rocking. The last time I took a cruise, I got really seasick. A door above me cracks open, there’s footsteps on metal, and I help myself to stand, surprised my feet and wrists aren’t bound.

  “You’re going to pay for this,” I shout into the dark.

  To hell with Mahmoud Teherizad. I’m not seventeen anymore.

  “Whoa. I don’t want any trouble.” An unfamiliar male tenor sounds from the top of the stairs and a bare bulb clicks on.

  After blinking a couple times, I’m able to see a room full of boxes. There’s alcohol, purses, and a whole lot of other assorted stuff, all probably stolen.

  At the top of the stairs stands a tall man with a long dark beard and a man-bun. It’s not a great look on him.

  He says, “Before I let you go, can you prove to me you’re not a terrorist? I need the money real bad, but I need to know what kind of shit you’re into.”

  My mouth feels full of cotton, my brain refuses to function, and I have no idea what to say. And I’m still not sure I’m not in the middle of the Atlantic somewhere but it seems less likely.

  “I’m not a terrorist.”

  “Hey, aren’t you that bus woman on the news?” He inches down a couple steps and peers at me. “They’re saying you’re in on it.” He thumbs his phone frantic-like.

  “Huh? Yeah. Wait! No. I’m not. The FBI wants my software. When I refused to give it to them, they strong-armed me but I escaped. That’s when you found me.”

  “Some weird guy on my phone promised me ten thousand dollars if I’d hide you. How much you worth?” He’s quiet now and his fingers stop texting.

  I give him the phone number for Jason. “Call it. Start with ‘Hello Jason.’ Ask him anything you want. I swear to God, I am not a terrorist. I collect Wonder Woman dolls, for God’s sake.”

  He shuts the door and I pace. The cellar is old with no windows and no chance of escape. If Jason doesn’t convince him, I’m not sure what I’ll do.

  Suddenly, he rushes down the stairs, puts a sandwich and a warm cardboard cup with a lid in my hands. “Okay. You need to go. Now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you and thank Jason for me. The money will come in re
al handy.”

  Chapter 20

  Colin takes Manhattan

  Me and Joe slow down in front of the warehouse district on the lower East Side. Joe is driving his just-retrieved car from that dealer upstate. I’m in the passenger side as I try to count all of the emergency vehicles. Then I notice the yellow crime-scene tape, the Navy drone in the middle of the street, and a truck sitting on top of… Wait, that’s my Nova!

  Megan is here. Somewhere.

  I turn on Joe’s radio. Police are responding to a fire alarm, a car accident, a gas leak, and a runaway drone. It’s pretty obvious that this is her work. Hers and Jason’s.

  When Drew approaches, I roll down the window and ask, “Where is she?”

  “I had her but she ran. She’s crazy. She must be off her meds. She’s using her application to help her escape. It’s responsible for all of this.” He spreads his arms wide, sweating as his gaze flickers.

  It’s not enough that most would notice but as I’ve said before, I’m really good at what I do. He’s lying through his teeth.

  He relaxes onto his elbows and leans in. “She called me to ask for my help when she got back into town. Said she doesn’t trust you.”

  “Guess she doesn’t trust you either, friend. Why didn’t you call it in? Update Sansone. He’s been looking for her. We got a little problem with about a dozen bombers.”

  He shrugs.

  “Tell me. How did you lose her?”

  “Look around. Fire department, drone attack, police? And an anonymous person called in a gas leak. But no worries. We got this covered. Go back to whatever you were doing. I’ll find her.”

  I pick up my phone and report in to Mike who demands to speak to Drew and then requests our presence back at HQ.

  Joe picks up on my concern about leaving the scene. “Drew won’t be able to pull anything, not with all these witnesses and he’s right about one thing. We can do more good at HQ.”

  I pick up my phone and press my least favorite application. “Hello Jason. Keep me abreast of Drew.”

  “I do not understand that phrase in this context.”

  Sometimes I swear that application is purposefully trying to annoy me. “Let me know where he goes, who he calls, and especially if he finds Doctor Jones.”

  “Understood.”

  I figure my favorite analyst must have something for us by now so I call.

  Georgio answers and speaks as if he can’t get his words out fast enough. “Glad you called. I’ve been working with Jones’ employees. They’re certain Jason is about to crash.”

  “How long do we have?” I nod at Joe, he switches on the siren, and pulls a quick U-turn toward HQ.

  I hear something unintelligible in the background and then Georgio says, “Sorry. I can’t be certain, maybe twenty-four hours, maybe a little less. We’ve added more memory but it just keeps eating it all up. We’re stumped.”

  “Okay. Keep it running at all costs, as long as you can. Joe and I want to talk with a couple suspects. Have you been able to figure out why all these good citizens are hell-bent on blowing up New York?”

  “We’re making some progress but it’s slow, like trying to track a ghost. We see something here and there but it cleans up, leaving just a shadow.”

  I hang up, discouraged. We need Megan. It’s just a matter of time before they find her. But will it be too late?

  The JTTF office in Chelsea is buzzing as we pass through security and I nod at a few of my coworkers in the war room. I can’t help but note that the red dots are more plentiful than they were an hour ago. If we don’t shut Jason off soon, it’s pretty clear that we’re going to have hundreds, perhaps thousands of injuries.

  Shit.

  Joe opens his computer and picks out a picture of a young woman covered in tattoos and piercings. “Her. She doesn’t fit the profile. Get Georgio to listen in as well. ”

  As I head toward interrogation, my boss pulls me into his office. “I got more bad news. Grace Kelly is missing.”

  I can’t believe this. I had requested someone to get her, by force if necessary.

  Mike shakes his head reading my face. “By the time we sent someone to her house, she was gone.”

  “Was there a struggle?”

  “Yeah.”

  A cold chill runs down the center of my back but I nod and clear my throat. “Uh, Mike.”

  His eyebrows raise, waiting.

  “Georgio is beginning to think Jones’ application may be aiding the terrorists. Actually finding them, training them.”

  “Proof?”

  “None yet. We want to talk to a few of the suspects.”

  “I want an update every hour.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Not stopping for coffee, I rush to the green room and nod at Georgio. He’s sitting behind a two-way mirror, watching Joe sit across from a tattooed woman. A monitor nearby will bleep if it thinks she’s lying.

  Joe’s pretending to look at a pile of papers in a manila folder. On the other side of the table, dark brown eyes lined with thick black makeup eye him. Metal rings hang in her ears, her eyebrows and her lower lip.

  Joe uses a friendly tone as he starts, “Hello Nan. What’s that for? Nancy?”

  “Nope, Nanobyte.” She crosses her arms and looks directly into the camera with eyebrows raised.

  Georgio stands, his chair topples, and he shouts excitedly into his headset. “Joe, if that’s really Nanobyte, she’s legendary. Uh, the Houdini of hacking. Keep her talking.”

  I want to ask a lot more questions but hold onto them for now. Not my show.

  Joe glances out the mirror, giving the slightest nod that he got the message. “Do you know what’s happening in New York, Nan?”

  “Yeah. More importantly, do you, dude?” Her tone is filled with arrogance as she juts out her chin.

  By the slight lift of Joe’s right eyebrow, I can tell he’s amused. “Tell me what you think you know.”

  “You idiots need to shut it down. It’s getting worse.” The little ring hooked to the side of a nostril wiggles when she shoots him a fierce frown.

  My partner leans over the table, trying for a bit of intimidation. “Are you in on it?”

  “Get me out of here and I’ll show you. Hurry. It took you morons hours to find me and then they locked me up. Jesus H. Christ. Let me help you.”

  Joe leans back as if he has all the time in the world.

  “Dude, do I have to draw you a map? My name is Nanobyte. Get the analysts behind the cameras to look me up. Are you mentally challenged or something? We’re running out of time. Go and come right back. Like there’s no danger I’m going to walk out, right?”

  Joe sits and waits for our input. Meanwhile, next to me, Georgio is typing madly into his computer. “Ostie de marde! She is the legendary Nanobyte!”

  He explains to the question mark on my face. “Among online hackers, she may be up there with Dr. Jones but with a specialization in network forensics. Let me talk to her?”

  This is a first. Georgio never wants to interrogate anyone if he doesn’t have to.

  I say into my headset, “Joe, it’s your call.”

  “Be my guest.” Joe walks over and opens the door for our personal geek.

  Awe-struck, like she’s some kind of movie star, Georgio sticks out his hand. “X Navy dash 999.”

  She laughs, “Nanobyte. It’s nice to in-person meet you. Thank God, they’ve got someone with brains here.”

  After a bit of chit chat, Georgio stands up, stretches and then commands, “Okay. Time to download. We’re recording.”

  I’m so proud of the way my analyst handles himself as the young woman drops the attitude, paces, and rattles off in short clips. “I know there’s a predatory program targeting New York City. ‘K? I live here. It pisses me off. Right? First I set up a profile. I target Arab-American males. Ones that are disenchanted, despondent, and unemployed. So then I target millions of web sites. I set up a camcorder. I record everything. I catch it.” />
  Georgio may be getting all this but I’m sure not.

  She stands. “Dude! I got the whole enchilada on my laptop. Some program is hypnotizing people online! I recorded it. My laptop’s in your lockup! Which you better not have screwed with because if you do, you’ll be left with a wiped drive and all the evidence goes down the shitter.”

  “Get someone to retrieve her laptop.” Georgio’s face is flushed, as is hers.

  This is our first big break. I call the IT guys and let them know.

  She nods and sits, a bit calmer. “Anyhow, whatever. I follow the trail. Whoever is running this program wants it hidden. The thing disappeared off the internet. Untraceable.”

  The young analyst’s eyes go wide. “When did you find out?”

  “A couple days ago. Right after the first attack. I tried to email you guys. To call you. Nothing! Finally I purchase everything needed to duplicate one of their walking bombs on my credit card. Got myself arrested so you brain surgeons would listen to me. So! Do you want to see what I have or not?”

  As long as she’s not hooked up to the internet, there’s not much chance she can do any damage. I’m still not sure if I’m buying what she’s selling but it sounds plausible.

  Joe and I introduce ourselves and a few moments later her computer is brought into the room and set in front of her.

  “Before I start this, I need immunity from anything you may see that might be considered illegal.”

  “Within reason.” Who knows what she’s been doing.

  She looks at Georgio. When he nods, that seems to be the only okay she needs. Besides, I can tell by the admiration in Georgio’s face that she’s not the enemy. I also know she hasn’t lied.

  We all walk her down to the war room where a team is working.

  “Cool.” Nan sits down with Megan’s programmers. I assume Georgio drove them here after Joe and I left Brooklyn.

  Joe moves in a little closer and touches her hand. “Nan, you need anything to eat?”