The Hacker Who Became No One

by A J Jameson

  Chapter 9

  The command center was filled to capacity. Members from each squad squirmed and pushed to get a spot closer to Yolanda’s computer. They wanted a visual of the man threatening their existence: short and skinny, long blond hair tied in a ponytail, and square-lensed glasses that were more befitting of a previous decade.

  He had approached Darryl’s house, the operating station of a sleeper Delta member, in broad daylight, and parked his steel-reinforced SUV in the driveway.

  “…Honda sports bike, model CBR800M, license plate number CEE30?” the skinny man asked.

  Yolanda turned around in search of Eduardo, many of the other operatives doing the same. Including Law. Marek had wakened their leader from a nap just minutes ago and was pleased to see that Law’s ghoulish appearance was fading.

  “That’s the one,” Eduardo said. “How did he…”

  “Stall him,” Law said into the transmitter.

  Everyone turned back to watch Darryl through the monitor. He craned his neck and asked the visitor, “What was it you want?”

  The visitor repeated himself, this time slowly and with an effort to enunciate his words more clearly.

  “If he has the plate, he’s seen the bike,” Marek said. “Show it to him, feed him the script, and see if you can find out who he works for.”

  Law pondered Marek’s words. “Do it, Darryl.”

  Darryl inched his way to the garage and prepared to reveal the counterfeit bike. It had been sitting in the same spot for the past five years, the Delta sleeper ordered to never move it, not even during his weekly revving and rinsing. Marek felt his first pang of anxiety when the visitor ignored Darryl’s question of origin.

  “Stick to the classic story,” Law transmitted. “Every father in your family before you owned a Honda, and this one is yours.”

  “He brought the license plate number and had the make and model,” Victoria said. “If Darryl says the bike has been in storage this whole time, it’ll give him away.”

  “She’s right,” Zyta said.

  Law cursed as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Keep to the family tradition, but improvise. Say your son took it for a joyride.”

  “And he was driving recklessly because his mom recently died of cancer,” Victoria supplied.

  “Not yet,” Law said. “Give details only if he starts fishing.”

  Someone slapped Marek’s back. He turned to see Sadie grinning wildly. “You really shouldn’t make it this easy for Alpha.”

  Marek slapped her hand away. “Maybe you could help resolve the problem that’s affecting all of us.”

  “Shut up, you two,” Law barked. He was still watching the monitor feed of Darryl’s garage, but almost every other member of C3U was looking at Marek or Sadie. Heavy expressions, full of worry. Even Victoria, who Marek hadn’t seen outside of the medical center for who knew how long, was glaring in his direction.

  This is a big deal, Marek admitted to himself. There was no denying it. And worst of all, it was his doing. All those heavy expressions said the same thing: this is your misstep. The sweat we spill is the direct result of your incompetence.

  “I told him to take his frustrations out on something besides me,” Darryl was telling the visitor.

  Hunter, Alpha team’s technical expert, logged-in to the computer next to Yolanda. He launched a facial recognition program. Two separate windows split the monitor in half. The left side flickered through 100 faces per minute, searching for a match to the picture on the right side of the screen. The visitor had grayish-blue eyes and a goatee so fair it was nearly invisible.

  “He must have taken it for a spin without my knowing. Kids full of passion and ambition can be troublesome if they aren’t given proper guidance,” Darryl said.

  The visitor—a kid himself, Marek realized—seemed less tense after Darryl’s comment. The effect spread throughout the command center, lungs loosening and postures relaxing.

  But it didn’t last long. Yolanda rekindled the tension after she recognized something in the visitor’s dialect. “That phrase, ‘life is good,’ it’s what the hacker said during Dragon’s Throat.”

  “Are you positive?” Marek asked.

  Yolanda swiveled in her chair, searching the crowd. “Ivan, you were there. Do you remember if the hacker said that? ‘Life is good’?”

  The room shuffled around as a small opening was formed around Ivan. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “You can’t think so. You have to be sure,” Marek said.

  The two made eye contact. Ivan’s height, long blond hair, and gray eyes resembled the supposed hacker enough for Marek to want to smack both of them equally. Plus, Marek wasn’t completely over Ivan’s impersonation of Zyta.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” Ivan said, then looked away.

  “Yolanda, see if you can get an angle on this guy’s license plate,” Marek said.

  “Already on it.”

  The crowd shuffled around again, giving Law some breathing room as he coughed into a handkerchief. After his coughing fit passed, he addressed Marek. “I want you to oversee the complete dismantling of both bikes, the one here and the one at Darryl’s. If this horsefly comes buzzing around again you tell him the son totaled it. Wiped off the face of the earth. You got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Marek said. “Eduardo, you’re on retrieval.”

  “No,” Law said. “Take somebody from Charlie squad. Eduardo was driving the bike. His identity may be compromised.”

  “I wore a helmet, visor down,” Eduardo said, his location in the packed room marked by the many turning heads.

  “That’s fine, Eduardo, but it’s protocol,” Law said.

  “I’ve got a hit on the license plate,” Yolanda said. “Axel Warden, 1441 Branch Street…oh shit. He’s an active member of DOHS, Department of Homeland Security.”

  “He’s a fed?” Marek asked.

  “Bravo team is on quarantine, thirty days,” Law said. He sliced the air for silence. “Sadie, you and Alpha are to follow up with the dismantling of both bikes.”

  “But we’re on Laced Rain, we’re prepped and ready,” she protested.

  “Postponed until we’ve buried Dragon’s Throat.”

  Sadie flushed. Her eyes bore into Marek, her jaw grinding back and forth. She was about to explode.

  Marek angled his body into a better defensive position. Maybe a little fight between the two of them would do some good.

  “Wait a minute, look at this,” Yolanda said.

  Marek waited for Sadie to look away first, then peered at Yolanda’s computer screen. It showed the map of their neighboring state.

  “If I redirect the requesting server to a new state the license plate comes back registered to the same name, same occupation, but different address.”

  “This is the case for each state?” Law asked.

  The map changed shape as Yolanda changed states. “I’d have to go through all fifty states individually, but I’d guess it’s the same for each. This is definitely our life-is-good hacker. I’m surprised he was so sloppy about leaving this trail.”

  “So, no feds,” Marek said. “Are we reinstated to active duty?”

  Law didn’t answer. He stood silently and watched as Yolanda checked the license plate against each state. Chance was something Law knew little about, and Marek learned long ago the length of his patience. Marek also learned that idleness was an opportunity for building one’s case. And he found his on the TV mounted in the command center. Subtitles commentated the police parade taking place.

  “Look at that, a ceremony to honor our city’s finest,” Marek said, pointing at the TV. “Dragon’s Throat is already a success. We’ve restored faith in law enforcement. Come on, reinstate us.”

  Heads shifted to watch Law. Yolanda turned away from her computer, its screen displaying another address of Axel Warden three states over. Eventually Law turned to watch the TV. A pair of bike cops headed the parade, their red and blue lights blinking serenely. Law
sighed. “Fine.” He waited for the clapping and cheers to subside before continuing. “Alpha, you’re back on Laced Rain.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Sadie said, her lips threatening a smile.

  “Charlie, you assist Bravo in whatever they need to dismantle the bikes. Eduardo, you’re still restricted to base for now and will oversee the destruction of the bike you rode.”

  “Demolition is my specialty, sir,” Eduardo said, sweat beads glistening his neck.

  “And after you’re done, Bravo…” Law looked to each member of the squad, finding Marek last. “You find this Axel Warden. Learn if he has any true affiliations with the federal government, and if he doesn’t, make it known to him that we do. I need you to put some scare into this guy.”

  “Why not just take him out?” Sadie asked.

  Law squinted at her, the scar on his cheek stretching as he pressed his tongue against it. Sadie glanced down and pretended to examine her fingernails. “That’s not part of the mission,” Law said. “And we never veer from the mission.” Sadie didn’t respond, and Law didn’t push it any further.

  “And what if he is?” Zyta said. “A fed…”

  “Well, then you’re suspended again. And we shred whatever evidence to which he may have leads. And no traceables leave this facility. That pertains to every squad, effective immediately. You’re all dismissed.”

  Soft murmurs of frustration accompanied the scuffing of heels against carpet as the room emptied. Terrorists, jeopardized autopsies, and compromised motorcycles were a light rain compared to the tsunami brought on by a fed. It could mean anything from the disbanding of a single C3U member to an entire squad, and if the situation called for it, C3U itself. It happened once before, and only Law and Victoria were left after the fall out.

  Marek watched the parade on the TV. Police cruisers coasted down the avenue, red, white and blue lights flashing. Bystanders flanked them on either side, flags waving in their hands or the hands of the children perched on their shoulders, some of them outfitted in miniature police uniforms. It filled Marek with joy to witness the renewed unity between civilian and officer.

  He turned away from the TV. A few stragglers were waiting their turn to squeeze through the narrow doorway. Law hovered over Yolanda’s shoulder, mentally marking off each state of Axel Warden’s false registries. More bad news was the last thing the old man wanted to hear. But just because somebody doesn’t want to hear it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be said.

  Marek took residence over Yolanda’s vacant shoulder. “Law, there’s something I want to talk to you about, regarding Laced Rain.”

  “Two major setbacks, Marek, and you’re still not focused on the task at hand,” Law said. “Next state, Yolanda.”

  Marek trudged on. “It’s what we found. Ivan and I, during our recognizance.” A chill ran down Marek’s spine as he happened to glance at the doorway and spot Ivan, last in line to leave the room, staring back. It was like no matter where Marek went the kid was always watching. And now he lingered, ears perked and interested in hearing Marek’s remarks. But he never got the satisfaction and left after a few moments of awkward silence.

  “What was it you found?” Law asked, watching the monitor.

  “A few farm houses within a mile of the spill site.”

  “Sadie mentioned them in her report,” Law said. “Abandoned.”

  “I have reason to believe they’re not. Ivan flew his drone over each house and some looked deserted, but some also looked inhabited. And one of the barns had equipment inside. I checked it myself.”

  Law ran his scarred hand through his hair. “If these farm houses have occupants, that means the wells feeding the buildings are active. And if that’s the case…”

  “They’ll be exposed well before the suburban population,” Marek said.

  “Potential risk for casualties?” Law asked.

  “Haven’t run the numbers, it being Sadie’s mission.”

  Law’s thin, purplish lips twitched at the mention of her name. “I was hoping we’d removed the wedge between you two after our last talk, but there seems to be an impenetrable only-one-of-us-can-survive mentality between you both.”

  “I tried to get along with her,” Marek said.

  “Did you, really?” Law asked.

  “We cooperate during missions for the most part, we just, I don’t know…it’s like we don’t want to step on each other’s toes. We like to command full sovereignty over our missions.”

  “And how’d that work out for Dragon’s Throat?”

  Marek flinched at the slight. Law noticed and placed his hands behind his back. “I don’t mean to come off as aggressive,” he said. “And I know how rare it is for a mission to go exactly according to plan…but this potential federal agent. We can’t afford to get sloppy, Marek.”

  “I understand.” From Marek’s peripheral the tail-end of the parade was rolling by. They can’t afford for us to get sloppy, either, he thought.

  “Mention your concern of the farm houses to the rest of your squad. If they’re on the same page, then present your concerns to Sadie and Alpha squad. Figure it out, as a single unit. But Marek, don’t forget the task at hand.”

  “Right, Dragon’s Throat.”

  Law nodded, then turned his attention back to the monitor.

  Marek gravitated to the medical center without thinking about it. Zyta was his second frontal lobe; he always included her when processing an unforeseen development in the mission. And even though Laced Rain was officially on his back burner, he was still excited at Law’s reaction to the farm houses. Zyta would be just as excited, if not more.

  “We have the precise measurements for the contaminant,” she said, her voice muffled by a filtered respirator. She motioned at one of the dozen Petri dishes set on the steel countertop behind her. Beside the culture containers was an array of glass beakers, their cylindrical bodies fixed an inch above small blue flames. Each held purplish liquid and a glass thermometer.

  “Nice job,” Marek said. Then, “To both of you,” as Zyta bowed her head and gestured in the direction of Victoria. She, too, was covered from head to toe in personal protective clothing. “I hate to follow your success with unfortunate news, but…”

  The creased edges of Zyta’s eyes slowly unwrinkled. She waited patiently for Marek to continue.

  “While Ivan and I were scouting the river at ground zero for contamination, we found a few farm houses within the spill site’s severity radius. They look occupied and are fed by wells. One option is to report the toxicants shortly after the spill and get their insurance companies to cover relocation, but that may alert the other townships downstream.”

  “And you’ve seen people living in these houses? Drawing water from the river?” Victoria asked, stepping forward to reveal her own squadron of Petri dishes.

  Marek shook his head. “But we have enough indicators. And if that’s the case, these people are going to get far sicker than those downstream.”

  “Antidote,” Zyta said to her mentor. “We originally planned to make one.”

  “Won’t an antidote negate the contaminant? I mean, before it reaches the suburbs?” Marek asked.

  “Not if we isolate inoculation,” Zyta said.

  “The wells,” Victoria said.

  “Contaminate the river, wait out incubation, then introduce the antidote to the water holes. An over-night mission,” Marek said, envisioning the aerial photo taken by Ivan’s drone to estimate the number of doses. “Eight to ten wells, that’s how many treatments we’ll need.”

  “We’ll make twenty,” Zyta said. “Just in case.”

  “All right. Good. I’m off to collect the bike from Darryl’s house.”

  “Wait, can I come with?” Zyta said, removing her latex gloves and respirator.

  “What about the antidote?” Focus on the task at hand, Law’s words rumbled forward from the back of Marek’s mind. “You’re right, we should be addressing the bike incident as a single unit. I’ll find
Ivan. Or maybe I won’t. What do you think about Ivan?”

  Zyta knitted her brows. “He’s fine, what do you mean?” She untied her medical gown and dropped it into the wash basket. Then came close enough for Marek to see the flakes of her mascara.

  “Wait a minute, you’re not coming along for the bike. You’re coming—”

  “Shhh.” Zyta pointed at the camera on the ceiling.

  Victoria shook her head disapprovingly, but the corners of her eyes wrinkled to betray her hidden smile. She turned back to her work.

  “Come on,” Zyta pleaded. “I can work in the medical van on the antidote.”

  Marek didn’t answer.

  “It’s my weekend pass,” Zyta pressed.

  Marek laughed at that. “You’re dreaming if you think our weekend passes haven’t been revoked.”

  Zyta hushed him again, then whispered, “Law didn’t say anything about our passes. As far as I’m concerned, they’re still in effect.”

  Marek threw his hands up in frustration. Zyta wouldn’t stop, not when it came to spending time with her boyfriend. Marek was surprised Umar had lasted this long. They usually bailed within the first two months of Law’s strict dating schedule. “I didn’t hear anything you just said. I’ll be in the garage prepping the medical van for the test range.”

  “You haven’t driven it yet?” Zyta asked. “Wait till you feel how light it is. I mean, it has weight, but not nearly enough to match its size.”

  “I’ll see you down there,” Marek said, knowing damn well that Zyta’s outburst of joy didn’t stem from her awe of the new medical van. He turned to leave, then hesitated. “You think we need to take Ivan?”

  Zyta cocked her head quizzically. “Yeah, he’s part of the squad. What’s up with you and him? Did you guys get into an argument or something?”

  “No no it’s not that…I, I’ll see you in the garage.”

  Marek didn’t bother to check the sleeping quarters for Ivan. He went straight to the stairs, crossed the shooting range, and entered the vehicle test range. This portion of the underground base stretched way up to ground level, giving the wide-open hangar the altitude necessary for the various hills and valleys of the obstacle course.