Betrayed

by Karen E. Olson

  He’s already seen it. ‘Hold on,’ he says, and we are going faster.

  Suddenly, I hear a popping noise. I sit up straight in my seat. ‘What’s that?’

  I can barely get the words out as the car skids to the side of the road. Zeke is struggling with the wheel. More pops.

  ‘Get down,’ he orders, his hand on the back of my neck, shoving my head to my knees. He’s hunched over, too. I thought we were going to stop, but the car is still moving. I can feel the blown tire in the back, hear the scrape of metal against the pavement.

  This is different than the last time we were chased. They’re shooting this time. It’s Tony’s hit on us. Someone’s actually trying to kill us.

  I wonder where Spencer is, if he’s witnessing this from behind. I desperately want him to call the police, but somehow I think the last call Spencer would make is to the police.

  I peer up over the dashboard and then into the side-view mirror. We are zigzagging along the road, but I see Spencer’s car coming up fast next to the BMW, which has gained ground. Spencer passes it, and I hear a screech of brakes. The BMW spins and lurches into the median. It doesn’t matter that we’re driving on metal; Zeke speeds up. Blue and red flashing lights come up behind the BMW, and we leave it behind us.

  ‘You OK, Tina?’ Zeke’s voice is tinged with concern.

  I take a couple of deep breaths. ‘Yeah, I think so. What just happened?’

  Zeke chuckles. ‘If I’m not mistaken, that BMW just ran over a couple of Spencer’s hard drives.’

  ‘That’s one way to destroy them, I guess,’ I say. ‘Do you think that was Ian?’

  ‘I don’t know. Could have been Tony’s guys.’ He pulls into the parking lot of a small strip mall. Spencer comes in behind us. ‘Time to go.’

  We get out and climb into Spencer’s car, although Zeke makes him get in the passenger seat so Zeke can drive. I’m in the back, looking out the window, making sure that the BMW isn’t going to spring another surprise on us.

  ‘I guess the rental company isn’t going to rent me any cars for a while,’ Zeke says.

  ‘That’s what happens when there’s a hit out on you,’ Spencer reminds him. ‘It’s just not good for business.’

  Zeke sighs. ‘I can’t believe you went rogue on me, then went to the beach and got stoned. I told you to go somewhere safe.’

  ‘How was I supposed to know Hollywood Beach wasn’t safe? It’s always been safe before. Someone must have followed you.’

  ‘No one followed me.’

  ‘Well, we didn’t have any trouble until you showed up.’

  ‘You were too stoned to notice.’

  ‘I would have noticed.’

  They are like a bickering old married couple. I am more than curious about how Hollywood Beach plays into their history, but although my heart has finally stopped pounding, I can’t keep the anxiety at bay, worried that whoever is after us will find us. Wherever we’re going.

  Which seems to be somewhere in North Miami. And not a great neighborhood.

  Zeke pulls into a parking garage and gets out, sliding the seat up so I can climb out. He takes the backpack so it’s easier for me and slings it over his shoulder. I feel naked without it. I want to take it from him, but it would be a childish move.

  The three of us head up a stairwell. It’s an apartment building, white stucco that’s clearly seen better days. On the third floor, we go down a hallway. Zeke stops in front of a door and puts a key in the lock.

  I find myself wishing for the apartment in South Miami, because this one is dark and smells like old socks and cigarettes. Zeke turns on a small light and it basks the room in a golden glow that under other circumstances and in another environment might be romantic. Here, however, it only accentuates the worn, sagging sofa and stained coffee table. I don’t even want to know what the beds look like.

  ‘Can’t the FBI swing for a nice hotel?’ I ask.

  Zeke grins. ‘It’s a safe house.’

  ‘For Palmetto bugs, maybe.’

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’

  ‘I choose to go to a hotel.’

  But he’s not paying attention. He and Spencer have pulled laptops out and are setting them up on the coffee table. Zeke looks up at me. ‘Can we find that cell phone locator?’

  Instantly, my exhaustion disappears. I squeeze on the sofa next to him, trying not to think about what might be living inside the cushion. I download the program and again put Ian’s cell number into it.

  The phone is on the move down the South Dixie Highway. I’m a little surprised, considering where we’d left him just south of Hollywood. If, in fact, he was driving that BMW. Perhaps Zeke was right, though, and it was Tony’s guys.

  ‘Maybe he’s going to the apartment,’ I say. ‘Do you think he’s going to see Daniel?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe he thinks we went back there.’

  ‘He thinks we’re stupid, then.’

  Zeke chuckles.

  But then the little dot changes direction, heading now to another familiar location.

  Spencer’s house.

  ‘Damn,’ Spencer says.

  We all share a glance.

  ‘Did you actually see a car there, or were you just tracking online?’ Zeke asks us.

  ‘Tracking,’ Spencer and I say in unison.

  ‘We did see a BMW there before,’ Zeke muses softly, thinking out loud.

  Spencer is very quiet. I reach over and put my hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. I can’t even imagine what he’s going through. To his credit, he gives me a wan smile and reaches in his front pocket. He produces another joint, his eyebrows rising with the question. Zeke shrugs and grins. ‘What do you say?’ he asks me.

  ‘What the hell.’ I feel like I’m in my teens again, rather than over forty. ‘There’s nothing we can do tonight anyway.’

  Spencer takes a drag and hands the joint to Zeke. ‘That’s what you think,’ he says. I forgot that he probably does his best work like this. Me, I curl up at the end of the sofa and rest my head on the cushion.

  ‘Wake me if you find something,’ I say and immediately fall asleep.

  Someone’s nudging me. ‘Tina, wake up.’ I open my eyes and squint, trying to focus. Zeke is leaning over me.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You have to see this.’

  I unfold myself so I’m sitting next to him. Spencer is on the other side of Zeke, engrossed in something on his laptop screen.

  ‘Remember how I said that the money went into a bitcoin tumbler and from there it went into Roger Parker’s account?’ Spencer asks.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t stop there.’

  I frown. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We only traced the money to its first stop. Which was Parker’s account. It hadn’t gone anywhere beyond that at that point.’

  I don’t say anything, just wait for him to finish.

  ‘Since then, the money’s moved again.’ Spencer looks at Zeke, who takes over.

  ‘Tina, the money went into an account with your name on it.’

  FORTY-SEVEN

  I set up the original bank account, but my name had never been attached to it, for obvious reasons. It was an offshore account in the Channel Islands that I created online. I haven’t had an actual bank account in my own name in over sixteen years. ‘Whoever’s doing this is setting me up. It’s easy to create an account online through a back door using anyone’s name.’

  ‘You didn’t let me finish,’ Zeke says. ‘It’s a local bank. A bank here in Miami.’

  I’m not sure what he’s trying to say.

  ‘The account was opened in person.’

  In person? I still don’t get it. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was opened this morning. The person who opened it went to the bank. In person.’

  Spencer takes over. ‘The money was transferred into it at noon. The transfer was done online, but the account was opened legitimately, with a
deposit of a hundred dollars.’

  ‘How is that? They need documentation, right?’ I struggle to remember how to open a bank account. It’s been so long.

  ‘Driver’s license and social security number,’ Spencer says. ‘And you had both of them.’

  I get a sick feeling in my stomach. ‘What do you mean, you?’

  ‘The account was opened in your name. Tina Adler. The documentation matches. I already got into the Social Security Administration website and the number they used is a match.’ Spencer pauses.

  Someone really is impersonating me. It’s gone from impersonating me online in the chat rooms to physically impersonating me. Which begs a question.

  ‘The photo ID, the driver’s license, whose picture is it?’ I ask.

  And then it’s on the screen, the image I expect: Adriana DeMarco. It’s the picture that Zeke and I found in the code when we were hacking the hacker. Someone made up documents using my actual information and Adriana’s picture. I turn to Zeke.

  ‘You were with her today. You saw her.’

  ‘She didn’t say anything about opening a bank account in your name. That never came up.’ He is trying to sound angry that I’ve asked this, but he is clearly flustered.

  ‘But she told you someone hacked her laptop and was holding it for ransom. I wonder if this was before or after she opened the account in my name.’ I pause. ‘I guess you never thought that she might be using you. If she knows enough about me to open an account with my name, then she might know about my shadow; she might have already known what happened with my laptop.’ I realize I am very quick to judge her, but it seems that she’s guilty of something. Possibly everything. ‘Does she know anything about hacking? Maybe she’s a hacker, too.’ It would be rather convenient for Ian to have two hackers at his fingertips. Right. Ian. I remember now how she rattled off his cell phone number so quickly without having to look it up. He is such a master manipulator that it’s very possible he’s got everyone working a different angle for him.

  ‘She knows about me,’ I say. ‘That might explain how we both got implicated in the hit on Tony. Maybe she knows you’re not just some random IT guy.’

  ‘I’ve been really careful,’ Zeke says. ‘She doesn’t know who I am.’

  ‘But she does know who Tina is,’ Spencer tells him.

  I remember something else. ‘Patricia Hale,’ I remind Zeke.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Spencer asks.

  ‘Adriana went to Block Island to get information about me from my friends there. She told them that her name was Patricia Hale. That was my mother’s name.’ I pause. ‘If she knows so much, we can’t assume she doesn’t know about you, too. How well does she know Daniel? What if she saw you and Daniel together and then asked Daniel about you?’

  I remember how she called Tony DeMarco ‘Daddy.’ If she thinks I had anything to do with ordering the hit, then that could be motive. The only thing it doesn’t explain is who put the hit out on Tony. She wouldn’t do that. Not even to get back at me. But then I have a thought. What if she did? That could explain why he’s still alive.

  Zeke is busy with something. I’m trying to follow what he’s doing, and when I finally think I’ve got it, he’s found it.

  It’s video of Adriana DeMarco at the bank.

  ‘How did you get that?’ I ask.

  He grins. ‘I’m FBI, Tina, don’t you remember? I’ve got access to systems.’ I make a face at him. ‘OK, this is the camera that’s on the ATM machine inside the foyer when someone goes into the bank. All I had to do is check for the time that the account was first opened and that’s the time I looked for on the video.’

  I open my mouth to ask just how he’s able to access this when Spencer shakes his head. ‘Don’t bother. If I was able to get inside as easily as he can, I’d be a lot richer.’

  ‘So we know it’s Adriana,’ I say slowly. ‘What do we do about it?’

  Zeke gets up and climbs over me. He disappears into the small galley kitchen and comes back with three beers. He hands one to me and another to Spencer.

  ‘You’re going to have to see her,’ Spencer tells him.

  Zeke looks at me. ‘It’s Ian. He’s pulling the strings.’ He isn’t willing to admit that it could be Adriana, for some reason.

  ‘She’s not entirely blameless,’ I say, not wanting to let her off the hook. ‘She did do this.’

  ‘You of all people must know how he can be.’

  The implication is that Ian has seduced Adriana, just as he seduced me all those years ago. Did Adriana go along with it, like I did? Is she in love with him? Is she willingly betraying her father?

  Or does he know about it, too?

  I voice my thoughts. ‘Tony might be the one who’s pulling the strings, at least on this,’ I say. ‘If he thinks that I put out the hit, this could be his way to get back at me.’

  ‘But the money—’

  ‘The money might not be the same money. Spencer said it went in circles. All Ian had to do is have his son manipulate the code to throw off anyone who might have noticed it. He could have set it up so you and I thought that the money was back, when it really wasn’t.’

  ‘So it’s all a trick to get back at you?’ Spencer speaks up.

  ‘And get Tony DeMarco to order repercussions.’ Zeke swallows the last of his beer. He leans over and puts the bottle down on the coffee table next to my laptop. That’s when I notice the gun has reappeared, although now it’s neatly in a holster at his waist. It’s too bad he couldn’t have used it while we were being shot at, but it would have been hard, since he was driving. ‘If I’m going over there, then I have to have it,’ he says, explaining even though I haven’t asked.

  ‘Over where?’

  ‘He has to see Adriana.’ But Spencer is distracted. He’s trying to figure out how Zeke has gotten into the bank’s video system.

  I get up and face Zeke. ‘Why? We can access her bank account.’

  ‘Your bank account. And yes, we can, but I have a feeling that’s what they’re expecting. The moment we get in there, they’ll capture the IP address and that’ll be the end of us.’

  ‘I never thought Tracker would be so pessimistic about his own skills.’ I turn to go back to the sofa, but he grabs me around the waist and pulls me down the dark hallway. The scent of old socks is worse here, but I don’t have time to focus on that, because Zeke is kissing me, pushing me up against the wall, his hands underneath my T-shirt. I struggle against him and manage to move my head so he’s no longer kissing my lips.

  ‘Adriana,’ I whisper. ‘She probably knows who you are. You have to be careful.’ I don’t have to say that she’s Tony DeMarco’s daughter. That violence is part of their world.

  He leans his forehead against mine. ‘I’ll be OK.’ And he kisses me again.

  ‘Spencer’s out there,’ I whisper as his lips find my neck. He stops, and despite the darkness, I can see the intensity in his eyes.

  ‘If I don’t get back in an hour, you and Spencer have to leave. Somewhere far away.’ He kisses me one more time, then lets me go, leaving me trying to catch my breath, worry seeping into my head.

  I hear him say something to Spencer, but by the time I’m back in the living room, the door is closing and he’s gone.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  ‘You let him go?’ I demand.

  Spencer is still fiddling with the laptop. He doesn’t acknowledge me.

  ‘You let him go?’ I ask, louder this time.

  ‘I’m not his keeper. Neither are you. He’s a big boy. He’s a fucking FBI agent.’ He still hasn’t looked up.

  ‘But he’s got a gun.’

  Spencer does look up then, an amused smile on his lips. ‘What do you think he does for a living? He chases down the bad guys. He knows how to use that gun. They trained him. That’s what happens when you sign up.’

  ‘But he’s a hacker.’

  ‘They don’t know that. Well, they do a little, because he’s got that team. But they don’t
know what he can really do. What he’s done.’

  He’s alluding to the bank job. ‘When did he tell you about that?’

  ‘I knew something was up. That he was helping you with something. I had a feeling it was something illegal, but he wouldn’t tell me and wouldn’t listen to me. If they find out, he’ll be cut loose, probably sent back to prison, and no one can help him this time.’

  ‘Don’t lay a guilt trip on me,’ I say. ‘He didn’t have to help me.’

  ‘Yes, Tina. He did.’ Spencer’s stare is unnerving, and I have to look away.

  ‘So what do we do for an hour?’

  He chuckles, and I roll my eyes. I find two more beers in the fridge and bring him one, sitting down next to him. We clink bottles and drink, and I notice what he’s been doing online.

  ‘What’s that?’ I ask.

  ‘That kiddie porn site – you know, Unicorn. I’m trying to trace the IP address, but it’s cagey since we’re in Tor.’

  ‘It’s not impossible,’ I say, reaching for the keyboard. We’ve got an hour, after all.

  We are no closer to finding the IP address after the hour has passed. We’ve each had two beers and finished off a bag of chips we found in the cupboard. Spencer lit up a joint, but I don’t want any. I don’t have the tolerance to it that Spencer has. It dulls my senses too much, and I want to be on alert for when Zeke gets back.

  I remember something Spencer said about getting rich. ‘How do you make a living?’ I ask him. ‘You can’t just have that house and a bunch of computers. Or are you breaking into banks and stealing?’

  ‘Only you do that.’

  ‘I’ve supported myself as an artist for the last sixteen years. I also gave bike tours.’

  His eyebrows reach up into his forehead. ‘Really?’

  ‘He didn’t tell you?’

  ‘He just said he’d found you last summer. He didn’t say where or what you were doing.’

  ‘I lived on Block Island for fifteen years. Off the coast of Rhode Island,’ I add automatically because I’m not sure he knows where it is. ‘I didn’t have a computer. I didn’t go online at all.’

  ‘No shit?’

  ‘No shit. Found out that there’s life after hacking.’