The Hacker Who Became No One

by A J Jameson

  Chapter 19

  Marek removed Ivan’s disguise as they waited for Zyta to arrive. He was sure to take his time, seeing that the order had come from Imogen.

  “It’s a fake,” she said, after the rubbery skin had been peeled away to reveal the slightly shiny and sticky skin of Ivan’s authentic face. Then she nodded to herself—or to whomever was chirping in her ear.

  Marek had been receiving updates from his own little birdy. “Zyta’s closing in on your position. ETA, less than a minute.” That wasn’t good. There were still too many unknown variables. Was Zyta aware of the severity of their situation? Had Yolanda warned her about the cervical charges? Did Yolanda know about them herself? And what about Law and his take on this whole thing…was Zyta still being regarded as an unknown, or had Law come to his senses and realize she was acting under the coercion of threat? These were the questions Marek wanted to ask Yolanda—needed to ask her, for the sake of everybody at C3U—but Imogen had threatened to shoot out his teeth if he tried to radio his team.

  “Zyta just turned on 18th street,” Yolanda said. “Make sure Imogen is last in line when exiting the building. On my command, shut the door. And Marek, be fast about it.”

  “He’s here,” Marek said, and made for the door. Imogen stepped out of his way, her claws tugging at Eduardo’s throat. He gagged.

  “You’re going to walk out in public like that, holding a man with a bloody nose hostage?” Marek said. Ivan was already out the door and Eduardo had to be next. “You wanted Axel, he’s outside.” She released Eduardo and took two quick steps back. She’s scared shitless. Don’t get me shot in the back, Yolanda.

  Eduardo gasped, rubbing his throat. Sorry, bud. Marek shoved him through the door. “Now,” Yolanda said. Pushing the door shut behind him, Marek dove for the grass. A succession of clicks emitted from the door as the magnetized locks latched into place.

  The doorknob twisted left and right as Imogen futilely slammed her body against the door. Her screams were the muffled sounds of a person being suffocated by a pillow. Marek could almost feel the heat of hatred massing on the other side. “Down, get down,” he yelled, and pushed Eduardo again. The two hit the ground as Imogen opened fire, gunshots thudding against the inside of the door. She quickly expended her ammunition. Then launched a barrage of kicks, punches and smacks.

  “Give it some time,” Yolanda said. “The carbon monoxide will knock her out.” A few moments later the pounding stopped.

  “Ivan, come give me a hand,” Marek said, but the kid had already gone inside the mobile medical van, parked in the middle of the street right in front of Axel’s residence. There was no sign of Zyta in the driver’s seat. Or Axel. What the hell has he done to her? “Eduardo, you good to help me carry her body to the van?”

  “It’s just a busted nose, Marek. My arms still work.”

  “All right, good. We might need them for whoever’s in there with Zyta. But first we need to grab Imogen. Hold your breath when we go in. I’ll grab the tool bag.”

  Eduardo nodded solemnly, his eyes searching the van’s front cabin. “We can avoid a violent confrontation.” He turned back to Marek. “We’ll have his wife, or lover, or whatever.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Okay, let’s get it done.” The interior locks began to click and clack as they approached the front door. Yolanda radioed them before entry. “I don’t have eyes inside. She should be immobilized but stay cautious.”

  And she has our guns, Marek thought, but kept it to himself in the interest of time. The only available weapons outside of Axel’s house were inside the medical van, and they, too, may be in the hands of our enemy.

  Marek stacked on the door and Eduardo fell in behind him. It felt ridiculous without their proper equipment, but it was what they knew. They’d have to clear the room using hand-to-hand combat. Even if she had the gun reloaded, Marek’s body would act as a shield for Eduardo, who would jump at Imogen at the first opportunity. We even have a medical van waiting right out front.

  “Ready?” Marek asked.

  “Not at all, so let’s go before we change our minds.”

  They both took huge breaths before bursting into the house.

  The air was thick and wavy, like heat lines over blacktop. A mildly painful itchiness irritated Marek’s eyes, calling forth tears. Imogen’s body lay a few inches from the door, the pistol still clutched in her hand. Marek had the revelation that the resistance he’d met while pushing the door open was her limp body. The duffle bag remained where they had left it. The duffle bag with our respirators.

  Marek slung the bag over his shoulder and lifted Imogen by the arms, Eduardo picking up her legs. She didn’t weigh much. They set her down outside on the grass. Marek gave Eduardo a pistol from the duffle bag, but before they could chamber a round the back doors of the medical van swung open. Zyta smiled as she lunged forward. Marek caught her in one arm, his pistol raised at the back of the van.

  Ivan lingered just behind Zyta. He was leaning over a body sprawled on the extendable gurney. Marek lowered his gun and hugged his sister. She had evaluated her options, responded to the threat, and subdued her aggressor. But it came at a price. Her face glistened with sweat and her eyes were red and puffy.

  “Thanks for coming, Zee,” Marek said. “We need to hurry and get her inside.”

  He returned to the sidewalk and hauled Imogen into the van, using a rope from the emergency survival kit to bind her torso to the chair of Ivan’s vanity. Next it was Axel’s turn. He flinched at the sight of jumper cables, but he didn’t protest as Marek wrapped and weaved them between his legs, trussing him to the extendable gurney.

  “Are there any more beds in here?” Ivan asked.

  Zyta handed him a flame-retardant blanket.

  “I got first watch,” Eduardo said, pinching a gauze pad around his nose before taking a seat on the floor next to Axel.

  Zyta returned to the front cabin and Marek followed. “Would you like me to drive?” he asked.

  She shook her head. The glint of relief from a minute ago had already vanished. She’s tired. We all are.

  “We’ll debrief everything you’ve been through soon as we get back,” Marek said. “But first, there may be a bug in our trackers. They’re…um. They have explosive charges implanted with them—”

  “Cervical charges,” Zyta said. “I know. Victoria told me about them a while back.”

  “Really? That information’s supposed to be classified.”

  “Check the laptop,” she said, and Marek noticed that the van had turned left where it was supposed to turn right.

  “We need to get back to base, Zee. ASAP. And figure a way around Imogen’s threat.” When she didn’t answer, he took up the radio. With his other hand he typed the login information for the laptop. “Yolanda, access our database from a remote location, outside of the command center, and check the status of our tracking chips. There’s reason to believe they’ve been hacked and are set to detonate following certain parameters set by Little Eye.”

  “Roger,” Yolanda came back.

  The airways remained silent for a while after that, as did the medical van. Zyta continued to make wrong turns and Marek became less concerned by them as he combed through the laptop’s files. False accusations of Law lying to others in C3U. Fabricated death scenarios of Marek and Zyta’s parents, supplemented by doctored photos of a past Alpha team that never existed. The work of a professional. Little Eye.

  “A weapon, constructed by our enemy and used to crumble our faith in C3U,” he said to Zyta.

  But then came the photos of Marek at around four or five years old, Zyta sitting next to him in the lap of a stranger. Our artificial mother. And on one side of Marek: our father. The other side: Law. “A shame they had to antagonize us, they’re really good at cybernetic warfare.”

  “Those files came from external hard drives found in Law’s office. And that’s just the beginning.” Zyta pointed to a pile of additional drives resting on the fl
oor between them. “I’m not going back.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t tell me this is all your own doing.”

  “What? It’s not, it’s Law’s. The evidence is in your lap—”

  Marek slammed the laptop closed. “Why would he do it, Zyta? I mean listen to yourself, to what you’re saying. You really think our parents were C3U members and that what, Law killed them?”

  “Dismissed them,” she said.

  “Is everything okay up there?” Eduardo asked, his voice nasally.

  “Yeah, fine. Just a little paranoid,” Marek said.

  “I’m not paranoid,” Zyta protested. The weight of the van lurched forward as she slammed the brakes for a red light.

  She’s losing it. “Okay, so if you’re not paranoid…Eduardo.” Marek leaned around the metal partition that divided the front cabin from the back of the van. “How much faith would you put into the idea that Law killed our parents, who, as it turns out, never worked for an anti-home invasion company, but for C3U?”

  Eduardo lowered the gauze from his nose. “I guess none.”

  “Thank you,” Marek said, noticing that Ivan was repositioning himself on the floor. The other two, bound to the gurney and chair, remained unaffected by Zyta’s sudden stop.

  “He hasn’t seen the files,” Zyta said.

  Marek had yet to tweak around with this particular laptop, but its setup resembled those previously outfitted by Pablo. Two thumb-screws needed to be loosened to shift the laptop’s mounted casing, followed by accessing the glove compartment for a Torx driver to dismount the actual laptop. A convoluted process, but necessary, considering the files uploaded.

  Marek handed the laptop back to Eduardo. He doubted anything would turn up; Eduardo’s comb for sifting through previously tampered material was courser than Marek’s. What he really needed was Yolanda’s expertise. Don’t doubt yourself. It’s all doctored. “Zyta don’t take the…” but the van had already taken the on-ramp for the freeway. “I don’t understand what you think you’re going to do when we get there.”

  “I’m going to explain to him what happened. And what I found.”

  A short burst of keyboard clicks sounded from the back.

  “That’s a stupid idea. You’re not thinking straight.”

  “Well now you know. And I don’t see you trying very hard to stop me.”

  Marek glanced out the window and watched the car in the other lane slowly drift behind them. An elderly man sat behind the wheel and there was a kid in the backseat. Maybe eleven years old. The view of the passenger seat was blocked, and Marek found himself wondering who was in it. A parent to the kid in the backseat? Maybe the driver’s significant other? Or worst case, nobody. A seat that should be filled but remained empty. “I haven’t figured out what to do with the two in the back yet,” Marek said.

  From his peripheral he sensed Zyta’s gaze. “You mean, you’re not going to kill them?”

  “I don’t know if your mental state could handle it right now. Don’t misinterpret me, they must be taken care of. They’ve seen too much, heard too much. And I don’t…” he trailed off, then met her gaze. “I don’t want the same thing to happen to Umar.” In that moment a new distance fell between Marek and his sister. A type of mistrust that was once thought an impossibility. Why doesn’t she understand?

  Except for Eduardo returning the laptop and sharing his neutral stance on the subject of Law’s betrayal, they rode in silence. Marek skimmed the files of three more external hard drives.

  Chapter 20

  The files Marek found of evidence planting, assassinations, and munitions trafficking—the last being the reason my father was killed—that dated to before Marek was born—I’m not fully convinced, I can’t be—struck him as maybe true. Although they were still fifteen minutes away from Umar’s, Marek closed the laptop. Zyta didn’t ask what he had found. She didn’t have to; it was written all over his face. The type of expression a person gets when learning that they’re spouse of thirty years is a child abuser.

  “Yolanda.”

  “Go ahead,” Yolanda responded. But Marek wasn’t aware he had radioed her. “Go ahead, Marek.”

  What are we doing right now? Where are we going and what’s the mission? We’re running from…ourselves. “Trackers. See if you can disable our trackers. They’ve been hijacked by Little Eye to detonate if something should happen to Imogen, and most likely Axel, too.”

  “The home database has been corrupted,” Yolanda said. “Cloud and remote laptop systems included. Everything’s been compromised. Somebody may be listening to this conversation.”

  “Little Eye has been eliminated,” Marek relayed. “Use the laptops on display upstairs if you have to. The line should be clear of any threats.”

  “Negative, we’re going offline. And Marek, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep us offline…”

  Marek wanted to override her decision—we have multiple operatives vulnerable at this very moment…maybe all of C3U—but he heard the nuance in Yolanda’s message; his name. She wouldn’t be using his name if they’re communications was compromised. Going offline was her way of giving them time. Time for what? Where are we going and what’s the mission?

  “You’re disobeying a direct order,” came the voice of Law.

  “You lied to us, you lied to all of us!” Zyta screamed.

  Yolanda’s voice cut through like a saving deity. “Communication was lost for a moment there, Law. You’ll want to repeat that last order.”

  And while he was doing so, Marek took hold of his sister’s wrist. “Maintain composure. Nothing has been confirmed.”

  “…direct order,” Law repeated. “Return to base for immediate debrief.”

  “We have a few things we need to get in order, first,” Marek said, his eyes locked with Zyta’s.

  A horn beeped. Marek glanced back to find Eduardo and Ivan huddled in the small opening between the driver and passenger seats, listening. Nobody’s watching the prisoners, Marek thought, but let it be.

  “I’m giving you a direct order,” Law said. “If you disobey, I have no other option but to classify you as an unknown entity.”

  “What?” Marek said. The car behind them beeped again. Zyta eased on the accelerator. “Why would you classify me as unknown? It’s me, Law.”

  “That’s what disappoints me the most about this whole thing.” Rage tightened Marek’s throat. Did he have to say that in front of everybody? He couldn’t have waited for closed doors to chew me out? “Get your squad back here. I don’t want to waste resources tracking you down.”

  “We will. In due time.”

  “You better hurry. Sadie has recovered and is being reinstated as Vanguard.”

  Someone laughed sardonically. Whether it was Eduardo or Ivan, Marek couldn’t tell, but he found the reaction appropriate. “Sadie was unconscious when I left. She’s in no condition.”

  Silence. Did he feel it? The same anger that was boiling Marek’s insides? Nobody else would have dared to backtalk Law considering the circumstances. But when Law finally responded, there wasn’t a hint of outrage. “Then you better get back to relieve her.” The warning indicator on the console blinked and a robotic voice transmitted, “Communication disrupted.” Marek tried reaching Yolanda, but there was no answer.

  “They won’t be able to monitor us through the van’s inputs for a while, Yolanda gave us that much,” Marek said, addressing his squad.

  “I uh…” Ivan raised his hand.

  “What? Spit it out.”

  “I uh, think I should go back.”

  So it wasn’t you who laughed, Marek thought. “At the next light hop out. How close are we?”

  “Two minutes,” Zyta said.

  “You want me to walk?” Ivan asked. He had shied away from Eduardo’s hard stare and was nearing the exit.

  “Take a cab. Never mind, public transportation is against protocol. Take Eduardo’s bike.”

  “We might need it later,” Eduar
do said.

  “Maybe, but he needs it now.” Where are we going and what’s the mission? Marek pulled his hands away from the laptop. He had the sudden urge to throw it out the window. That’s definitely against protocol.

  Eduardo begrudgingly unlocked his bike from its rack and started it via his thumbprint.

  “Good luck,” Ivan said.

  “We’ll see you in a little while,” Marek said. The kid nodded and rode the bike down the ramp. Down to three, Marek thought. Two prisoners and a soon-to-be…what, tag along spectator? And what the hell were they going to do with Umar? He almost asked Zyta what her plan was but got distracted by Axel’s grunting. He was rising from his sedative. And now we have to keep an eye on him. Or…

  Marek entered the van’s back cabin and opened a compartment located in the space dedicated to his personal attributes. Various outfits—police, firefighter, EMT, business casual, business formal, business tactical… He tried a different compartment. Small arms weaponry, night vision goggles, and—ah, yes—subcutaneous trackers.

  “All right, kid,” he said to a bleary-eyed Axel. “You’re going to hack the system in my favor for once.” He loaded a tracker into the spring-released injector and knelt by Axel’s head. The muzzle pressed against Axel’s neck, Marek pulled the trigger. A clicking sound emitted as the stored mechanical energy released. Axel now had his very own tracking chip. “Congratulations on the new job.” He brushed Imogen’s hair aside and implanted her tracker next. “Now they’re part of the circuit. At least it’ll be a draw if the trackers detonate.”

  Marek grasped for the overhead railing as the van screeched to a halt. Eduardo wasn’t as lucky, grunting as he flew into the metal partition. “I’m not dragging him into this,” Zyta said.

  “I think that’s a good call,” Marek said.

  Eduardo stood up, rubbing his head. “Can you warn me next time?”

  “Sorry.”

  “They know where we’re headed,” Marek said. “Unless you can prove otherwise, Law will assume Umar knows about C3U.”