Dangerous Code

by Stella Marie Alden

  “Only if it’s real.” She flashes him the first smile we’ve seen. “I think better when I’m not hungry. Thanks. But I only eat real food. Y’know? Meat, fruit and vegetables?”

  “Sit here. Georgio will set you up with whatever you need.” He pulls out a chair like she’s the queen of England. Well, well. My partner is smitten. His voice is gentle and his smile wide. Who would’ve guessed?

  She opens her laptop and puts her thumb on the small security square. “Hope your guys didn’t try anything stupid. She plugs it in, powers it up, and instantly connects to the wireless in the room.”

  “You do realize I didn’t give her the password, right?” Georgio whispers, mouth gaping.

  She looks up and shrugs. “Your security sucks. Like big time.”

  A couple of Megan’s programmers smirk. Apparently they agree.

  Then there’s a small pause as she types and her shoulders relax. “Excellent. Nothing is gone.”

  Her fingers play the keyboard like a virtuoso until she points to the main screen in the room.

  Everyone stops what they’re doing to look when she says, “Here’s the program that is hypnotizing people.”

  “Stop. We’ve got a room full of people, here.” Jeesh. I don’t need a room full of zombies. She’s a loose cannon.

  “Chill out. I doubt that anyone here is susceptible, but I’ll keep the volume down to make sure.”

  She stops on a frame of a close-up of a well-dressed young Arab man speaking earnestly in Arabic with English subtitles

  “It’s not real. Look.” She put a dotted square around the eyes and zooms in. “See the iris? Not real. Same with the voice. I haven’t figured out why it can hypnotize people. Personally, it didn’t make me want to blow up New Yorkers but that’s not my area of expertise. What I can do is help you trace where this is coming from.”

  Everyone gathers around her computer while she explains. “So you see, although it looks like it’s originating from here.” She points to a list of IP’s that map to other IP’s. “It’s actually being controlled by someone with an IP here in New York. From Jones’ company.”

  While the geeks trace the signal with new vigor, I update my boss and ask him to send a copy of the video to a team of psychologists. Then I ask if Drew found Jones and Mike says no.

  That just doesn’t make sense. She couldn’t have gone far. I wonder how hard he tried. Maybe they’re working together?

  Chapter 21

  Megan and Bun-head

  I have no idea what time it is but it must be late because no one’s around. Bun-head pushes me out the door, leaving me with nothing but a stale sandwich and a lukewarm cup of coffee. The least he could’ve done is call me an Uber.

  What with being dressed as a homeless person and all, I’m probably not much of a target. But still, I am alone in a sketchy warehouse district where metal gates are locked down with thick padlocks.

  What else can I do? I have a general idea where I am so I start walking, wishing I hadn’t left Colin’s boots in the car.

  As if on cue, something sharp cuts into my heel. Cursing, I balance on my good foot and pull out a huge friggin’ piece of glass. At this rate, I won’t get far.

  But I can’t give up. Mahmoud is no doubt in the city by now. He must realize he can’t control Jason without me. No one can. Dammit. If I hadn’t taken Jason out for a trial run, none of this would have come to pass.

  And a bunch of nice commuter’s would be dead, including you.

  I limp down the middle of the desolate street, watching for any more signs of glass which is difficult with all the streetlights out. Occasionally, a hustler, prostitute, or maybe drug dealer flit in and out of the shadows.

  On a positive note, dressed as I am, at least I won’t get recognized by one of the city’s many cameras.

  Finally, I find Seventh Avenue South and my hope soars. That is until I hear footsteps behind me.

  “Damn you, Jacob, this time you die.” A dark man with emotionless eyes lunges toward me gripping a knife, blade close. Track marks run up and down his arm.

  “Hey. I’m not Jacob.” I pull the blanket away from my face so he can see me but he’s lost in a world of his own making.

  “I told you to stay away.” He jabs and catches my inner forearm with the razor sharp edge of his blade.

  He may be crazy but he’s good. Too good.

  Focus Jones, or you die right here and now.

  I outstretch my arms, palms up, and attempt to back away. “I’m just a software programmer. Please.”

  Quick for a guy stoned out on drugs, he circles me from behind and puts an arm around my neck, the knife’s edge cutting into my skin.

  My self-defense training kicks in on auto pilot. I stomp on his instep and use the few inches it gains me to bang the back of my head into his nose. As he shouts, I thrust my elbow back and something cracks. He staggers, wheezing, with both hands to his neck, eyes wide.

  Then I stand on my bad foot and swing a roundhouse kick to the side of his head.

  He won’t be getting up any time soon but just to be sure, I kick once more, grab his knife, and rush down the street. Then I jog in the dark, ignoring the pain. After a while, my feet go numb.

  When I finally arrive at my building, Jason buzzes me in, and I take the elevator.

  Safe.

  “Hello Megan.” Oh shit. Not safe at all.

  Chapter 22

  Colin

  “Thank God.” I jump up, hug her tight, wondering if I’m dreaming.

  She smells like a dumpster but it’s the best thing ever. Holding her like this, I know I’m screwed because I care way too much. First and foremost, I’m a good cop and she may be a terrorist.

  I open my mouth to put her under arrest but she makes a stop signal with her hand. “I’ll explain everything in a second. First, can I please use my bathroom?”

  I let her go but follow.

  Covered in grime, head held high, she walks on the outsides of her soles toward her apartment door. Dark footprints mark her wood floor and suddenly it dawns on me that her feet are a bloody mess.

  I rush around her conference room table, the one I made love with her on, and scoop her up. Then I kick open her door, duck into her apartment, and set her down on her john.

  “Where are your shoes? Never mind. Can you manage?”

  She nods.

  “Call me when you’re finished. I’ll be right outside the door.”

  This is not how I had envisioned our reunion. In my head she would come back full of apologies, clear her name, and promise to love me forever. It’s annoying but underneath the cop’s exterior lives a romantic. It can’t be helped.

  I text my partner and hope he understands what I’m trying to say. At this point, all communication is suspect. Jason is listening.

  Me: Meet me at Barnaby’s. Bring the kids.

  Joe: Love you, honey. <3

  Joe and I went to this bar near my house a couple years ago that served the worst watered down drinks. We got shit-faced. Hopefully he knows I want him to meet me at my apartment along with the programmers.

  While her clawfoot tub fills with warm water, I undress down to my boxers and then tap on her door. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” Dark circles line sad green eyes that gaze up at me.

  Her white tile floor is splattered with drops of blood, her bare feet are caked with dirt, and hair matted. She wrapped some kind of material around her arm which too, is soaked with blood.

  All I want to do is gather her in my arms and make this nightmare stop. Instead I inspect her arm.

  “You need stitches.”

  There’s a six inch gash but it doesn’t seem too deep. Not wanting to pull her t-shirt over her head and as I tear it away I realize it’s mine, the one I gave her in the cabin. It’s sobering and serves to remind me of my failure to protect her as well as the city.

  “Don’t.” Her arms cross over her chest.

  “C’mon now, babe. This isn�
�t sex. Can you stand?

  She nods.

  “Good girl. Put your good arm around my neck and let’s get you cleaned up.

  I pull her jeans gently over her ass and work them over her damaged feet. I figure she’ll be more comfortable if I leave her underwear on. Then I pick her up, place her in the tub, and slip behind her, fully dressed.

  I know I should take her to the emergency room but if I do, I won’t get the intel the city so desperately needs. Time is slipping away. Tick-tock. Each hour, there are more hypnotized terrorists, more chances of missing one, more chances of people getting killed.

  “Where else are you hurt?”

  She rests a foot, yoga style, upon her opposite thigh. Grimacing, I wash it with a soft cloth while she stares stoically at the bloody mess.

  “Now the other.”

  She shakes her head, no.

  “I’ll take care of you.” My lips caress the back of her neck despite all my promises. Curse my soul, I want her and wish she wasn’t involved in any of this.

  I massage her hair with shampoo, scrub her back, and check for any other wounds. Meanwhile she’s too quiet, too docile. Probably in shock. I need her back, fast.

  Finished soaping her, I pull the plug by the chain and help her to stand. With one arm wrapped around her waist, I tug the shower curtain in place and rinse. When the suds are gone, I lift her out of the tub and rub her dry with a soft white towel.

  She moans and leans back into me, coming back to life. I place her down on the futon, needing some space between us.

  “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  “Yeah, in the office. On the back wall.”

  Returning, I bandage up her feet and arm in silence. That will suffice until I can get her a doctor. But until she starts talking, we’re not going anywhere.

  “Meggie-” I try to keep the anger out of my voice.

  “-I know. I shouldn’t have run. But Mahmoud is out there. I was afraid he would hurt you. You don’t understand how powerful he is.” Wide guileless eyes stare up at me. She really believes this guy lives.

  I squat beside her and take her chin in my hand. “You don’t need to protect me.”

  Meggie starts to sob so I curse and walk away to make a cup of coffee, partially for the caffeine but more to get control of my temper. I know she’s exhausted but I can’t let her lose it, not now.

  “Shut down the faucet, Doctor Jones. You’ve made a real mess of things and you need to clean it up.” My timeout apparently wasn’t long enough, my fuse too short, and I haven’t slept for days.

  “I want my lawyer.” I almost wish she’s lying but she’s not. She’s sick. Hearing voices. Seeing things. Mahmoud is dead. There’s absolutely no evidence to the contrary.

  I snort. “Right after you tell me what happened in my cabin.”

  “Simple. I got in your car and drove to Brooklyn. I wanted to get my ID. Then, when I got into the city, Drew was waiting for me, outside Gracie’s Place.

  “Go on.”

  “He drugged me. I swear he’s working with Mahmoud.”

  Again with this guy Mahmoud. She really is delusional. What a waste. “What did Mahmoud say?”

  “Not Mahmoud. Drew. He said something like ‘This time I’m not taking any chances.’”

  “That’s it? That’s your proof he’s working with some imaginary nemesis?”

  “Imaginary? My God. You weren’t there. His tone… it wasn’t nice.”

  “Not nice?” Yeah, I’m yelling, now. Of all the ridiculous things. “Of course he wasn’t nice. He thinks you’re a terrorist. Enough. So how’d you injure your arm?”

  “Some guy on the street attacked me. I left him unconscious. We should make sure he’s okay. He wasn’t moving when I left. I might have killed him. Maybe you should call for an ambulance?”

  While I call in, she frowns at the cotton gauze on her arm. “He caught me off guard. I’m really much better than that. I’ve kept up with my studies. I shouldn’t’ve gotten hurt.”

  There’s so much I don’t know about this woman. Just because I knew her as a kid, doesn’t mean she hasn’t turned into a monster. “And your shoes?”

  “You mean your boots? Sorry I stole them. I left them in Drew’s car. They looked nice.”

  “I don’t give a damn about my God dammed boots.” I want to tell her how much I’m hurting, instead I handcuff her. “We should go.”

  I scoot my arms under her, lift her up, and place her in my car. I don’t want anyone getting ahold of her until I can sort things out. Maybe, if I get her checked by a psychiatrist, I can get her tested and committed before I have to arrest her. That should help her case.

  Me? My heart is breaking in two. I could be in love with a psychotic terrorist.

  “You’re arresting me?” Her lips turn down and eyes glisten.

  “No. Not yet.” I still can’t fathom that underneath that naïve and innocent face lies a criminal mastermind.

  Chapter 23

  Megan, a psychotic terrorist?

  “Why are you doing this?” I can’t believe Colin’s shackled me.

  “Simple. There’s something out there on the internet and it’s convincing people to make bombs. You know what I think? I think Jason is behind all of it and you, my love, are Jason.”

  “How? How are people being hypnotized?” Oh cripes. I am so screwed.

  “Why?” When he pins me with a stare, I know I’m about to get locked up forever.

  “I studied gaming for a while. Maybe I can help.” I’m pretty sure I sound nonchalant yet my insides churn. What if they find out I wrote a program? One that can hypnotize people. I wrote it years ago and tossed it away but under the circumstances, my goose is toast.

  Colin thankfully gets distracted by a taxi cutting him off while exiting the Brooklyn Bridge and then rush hour comes to a halt.

  He turns and says with his interrogation tone, “A young hacker used a camera to record the hypnosis program. Our psychiatrists are trying to figure out how it works. Our top analysts say the program works like a virus and can erase itself.”

  “But Jason catches them, right?” I wonder if Colin can hear how hard my heart is thumping.

  “Uh huh. Each and every one. What does that tell you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “There is no Mahmoud. Only you. And you need to shut it down.” He pulls into a driveway in front of a turn of the century warehouse.

  “Wow. That’s what you think?” Here I thought we were friends. Actually I thought we were a whole lot more, but obviously I was wrong.

  He pulls the keys out of the ignition and stashes a small cardboard shield in the window. “What happened to you, Megan? Why do you want all these people dead? Is it about religion?”

  “Huh? No! I’m Catholic. Remember? I go to church almost every Sunday. I don’t want anyone dead. You must know I’m telling the truth.”

  “Yeah. So what is it? Do you hear voices?” His brows crease like he’s in pain.

  “No. Sometimes I argue with myself, but I don’t hear anything. What’re you getting at?” I’m really confused where he’s going with this conversation.

  “Mahmoud died years ago.”

  “He didn’t, dammit! He could erase himself. I swear, Colin. I’m not a terrorist. I want to help.” My heart is breaking. Not only does he not care for me anymore, now he thinks I’m some kind of sick nutcase.

  “You made love with me.” I hate how whiny I sound.

  “Don’t worry. That won’t happen again.”

  I always cry when I get pissed off and that just makes everything worse. So yeah, right about now, I’m bawling and sniffing when I’d rather wrap these cuffs around his thick neck.

  He opens my passenger door, and tries to lift me out. I forget my heel is bandaged as I kick at him viciously. “Put me down. I can walk.”

  “You broke open your heel, you little idiot.” He ties my ankles together with his cell phone cable, throws me over a shoulder, and that’s h
ow I enter this warehouse.

  The elevator cage goes up one flight into a huge room with a loft. Where am I? A martial arts school? The place has pristine wooden floors with mats along the wall. There’s swords, an iron fan, and other assorted weapons decorating the walls, interspersed with delicate Chinese watercolors.

  In the middle of the room, completely out of place, sits a folding table covered with monitors and laptops.

  When I hear my programmers squeal, my spirits soar. They jump out of their chairs, dash across the room, and group hug me, upside down. Because they talk all at once, I can’t make out exactly what it is they’re saying but it has to do with Jason, terrorists, and hypnotizing.

  “Hold on. Hold on. Go back and sit down. I’ll bring her over.” After kicking off his shoes, Colin drops me in a seat next to an extremely handsome young man wearing a Star Wars t-shirt.

  “Doctor Jones? Meet Georgio, my best analyst.” The twenty-something year old has the longest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man. They surround brown soulful eyes that stare at me for a moment before a small smirk forms on his lips.

  “Ciao, bella.” The Adonis stands and kisses my hand.

  Colin grumbles something unintelligible and pulls my hand out of his grasp. “Enough. Have you guys made any progress at all?”

  “We will now.” A girl covered in tattoos to my right stops typing and shoots out a blue hand. “Hi. I’m Nan. Nanobyte, actually.”

  As far as I know, no one has ever met this legendary recluse in person. In awe, I forget my wrists are cuffed and try to shake. “So nice to meet you.”

  “Ditto.” Laughing, she takes both of my hands and pumps up and down.

  I recognize Joe, legs crossed under a short Japanese-style table in front of a wall of stainless steel appliances. He rises, walks across the floor in bare feet, and slaps Colin on the back. “You said to shoot you if I ever suggested Barnaby’s so I figured you meant here. Glad I guessed right.”

  He nods in my direction. “Is she okay?”

  Colin lifts my arm and points to my bloody foot. “She needs a couple of stitches. She says she ran into a crazy man with a knife.”