Crucible of Fear

by D. W. Whitlock

  CHAPTER 62

  Spirit

  Briana opened her eyes.

  The early morning sun knifed in under the blinds and she rolled over and squeezed them shut again.

  Dark Messiah.

  That was what the taxi driver had said. It sounded like one of those cheesy hacker names from television but at least now they had a name. She found her laptop among the rumpled sheets and lifted the screen, mousing over to tap into the free Wi-Fi the motel provided. Even shit boxes like this place had wireless. A list of available connections popped up. First thing she wanted to do was use the Find My Phone app and track down her phone. She was about to double click on the Wi-Fi icon then stopped, slowly closing the screen. If she connected now, they’d find her.

  Did that matter anymore? Maybe. After what I’d pulled, they were probably keeping an eye out. But how dangerous were they, really? They could ruin a life, that’s for sure, but how much farther would they go?

  She recalled of the black box with the shiny blades inside.

  Better to stay hidden, she thought.

  Briana emptied the contents of her suitcase out onto the bed. After changing into a clean T-shirt and shorts, she swept her hair back into a tight pony tail. It was going to be another hot day.

  Dumping out the cash from the plastic bag, she separated the bills into even stacks by denomination before folding the wad in half and stuffing it into her hip pocket. She drew a finger down the stack of hundred dollar bills she’d found under the masks. There were eleven in all.

  Briana went to the small rickety table next to the door and knelt down. There was a thin crevice where the metal legs of the table crisscrossed the underside. She tucked the stack of bills in there. Money wasn’t going to be a problem, at least for a little while. The room was only sixty-nine bucks a night.

  Sixty-nine, she thought. Mom’s right, this place is infected.

  The strange, zebra-striped garment lay draped over the gun where she placed it in the corner. Dazzle camo, Leish had called it. They looked like a kid’s pajamas. She didn’t understand how it worked exactly, but it was worth a try. It went on with a shooshing whisper as she zipped it closed. The air was stuffy, but she felt safe and hidden.

  Invisible.

  She plucked the key off the table and left, locking the door behind her. Where to put the key? Gazing down at the suit, she noticed a small slit stitched along one of the black lines near the waist. The key slid in and disappeared. Briana walked to the stairs and started down, slowing as she reached the first landing.

  Am I really doing this?

  A bell rang out from below, followed by a clatter as a bicycle dropped onto its side. A middle-aged woman with frizzy blond hair clumped up the stairs, a slender brown cigarette perched on her lips. She startled as she reached the landing, seeing Briana for the first time. The woman’s yellowed eyes regarded her with contempt.

  “Halloween’s over, asshole,” she said in a raspy croak as she pushed past and continued her way up. The rickety metal frame of the stairs shook with each heavy footfall.

  The sun beat down on the dazzle camo, the heat inside building to an uncomfortable swelter. Briana clenched her jaw and stared up at the woman, hating her. She hated her halter top and jean shorts, the rank smell of her cigarette smoke, her chemical-damaged hair.

  “You know what? Fuck you!” she screamed.

  It felt good.

  The feeling melted away as the woman jerked to a halt, but Briana held her ground. The older woman’s head slowly rotated, eyes glaring down over one spotted shoulder, hooded under thick eye shadow. It was bright blue, like the belly of a lizard. For a strange, surreal moment Briana felt as if she were gazing at her future self, a version that would be if she didn’t change her life right here and now.

  The woman grinned, all gaps and yellow teeth. “That’s the spirit,” she said, clomped to the door at the top of the stairs and disappeared inside.

  CHAPTER 63

  Bait

  Dante leaned against the rail and looked down at the tree-dotted slope that swept from the rear deck of his house. Crows cawed back and forth among the treetops, embroiled in a territorial dispute. Boucher sat on a deck chair sipping coffee as the sun crept up in the eastern sky.

  “So, what do you think?” Boucher said.

  “I don’t like the thought of Abigail being away from me,” Dante said, “but if you think it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I do. It’s just until we catch who’s doing this. A week or two, tops.”

  “Where would you take her?”

  “It’s best if you don’t know where, but it’s close by. One of our secure locations along with two other agents I’ve selected. They’re good people. I trust them. And Kelly of course. Don’t think I could have stopped her if I wanted to.”

  “And I stay here as bait,” Dante said.

  “Yes. Once we get Abigail secure on the plane, I’ll come back here. The techs are installing our equipment right now. Then we turn your home network back on and connect all your devices.”

  “Which airport?”

  Boucher said nothing.

  “Right. Better if I don’t know. Then what?”

  “We wait,” Boucher said. “It’s a big part of the job, unfortunately. Ninety percent boredom, ten percent terror. When they try another breach, we’ll get ’em.”

  “Just like Skylar Westfall.”

  Boucher remained silent, sipping her coffee with a noisy slurp. “It’s a shitty deal,” she said. “But it’s all we got right now. I have to ask. Do you have some sort of protection?”

  “Protection?”

  “A gun. Do you have a gun.”

  He raised his prosthetic hand. “And how exactly would I shoot it?”

  “Doesn’t answer my question.”

  Dante sighed. “Why can’t Abigail just stay here?”

  “She can.”

  “But…”

  “Do you really want her to be here if something happens?” Boucher said.

  Dante looked at the prosthetic hand before letting it drop. “No,” he said. “Jesus, what a shit show.” He glanced at Boucher. “I hate to ask…”

  “Colin Murray. Age thirty-six. He’s got a juvenile record, but it’s sealed. Lives alone in Brentwood. Studio apartment at a place called Matisse, but he’s rarely there. Spends most of his time at work. Software engineer for Kellerman Digital specializing in machine learning applications for big data management. They’re flagged but that’s not uncommon.”

  “What do you mean, flagged?”

  “They have contracts with the government so it means they’re hands-off for surveillance of any kind without express permission.”

  “Sounds ominous,” Dante said.

  “Not really. A lot of companies are flagged but that protection doesn’t extend outside company property. When employees leave the grounds they’re up for grabs.”

  “What else is he up to?”

  “Eating takeout, a few hours online through an encrypted connection and sleeping. We took a peek. Chess and anime mostly.”

  “That’s it?”

  “He talks to you,” Boucher said.

  “What?”

  “He talks to you, like you’re right there. Whole conversations. We only get one half, of course.”

  “Jesus. What about?”

  “Boring nerd stuff. Games, movies, stuff like that. He mentioned something about “a place” or “the place” one time. Mean anything to you?”

  “No,” Dante said. He could feel Boucher staring at him.

  “You know he was in the hospital for almost six months? That’s a helluva long time in a nut house.”

  Dante sighed. “What are you saying? Does he have something to do with this or not?”

  “Well, he’s infatuated with you, that much is sure. But listen, a stiff wind would knock this guy down. If anyone spoke harshly to him, he’d likely piss his pants. Maybe he’s running a game on us. Mentally unstable software engin
eer by day, genius hacker terrorist by night. Profiling is not my thing, but he just doesn’t fit. From where I sit, he wants to be your friend again, not ruin your life.”

  “Well, good,” Dante said. “That’s a relief, of sorts.”

  “You could do better, but it’s funny what life gives you. Take Kelly, for example.”

  “I’m lucky to have her,” Dante said. “She’s a good friend.”

  “Oh, you don’t have her,” Boucher said with a snort. “When my husband left me, you know what I would have done to find someone who not only loved my daughter but wasn’t a complete psychopath? I mean these things just don’t happen.”

  “She doesn’t feel that way about me.”

  “My god,” Boucher said. “People are stupid sometimes.”

  “Don’t remember asking you.”

  “Don’t care. When you get to my age, made the mistakes I have and you see somebody being colossally dumb, it’s hard to let it alone.”

  “Great. Anything new on Skylar Westfall?”

  Boucher set her coffee down on the table and leaned forward, hands clasped together in her lap. “It’s simple, Dante. She just wants to know that you care. Really care,” Boucher said. “And mean it.”

  Dante opened his mouth to retort then closed it. “That’s good advice actually.”

  “Good boy. Agreeing with old people is the only way to shut them up.”

  “You’re not that old.” Dante said, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe I need someone like you in my life.”

  Boucher shook her head. “Nah, I don’t go for cripples, even at my age.”

  Dante glanced sharply at her and they both laughed.

  It felt good to laugh.

  They fell silent as Boucher lifted her coffee and sipped. Dante glanced back down the hill. The crows had quieted down, having found some sort of tacit agreement.

  “Okay. Let’s put Abigail somewhere safe,” Dante said. “When?”

  Boucher held his gaze a moment before speaking. “The plane leaves in two hours.”

  CHAPTER 64

  Stay

  Dante rapped his knuckles on the door frame. The prosthetic hand almost sounded normal to him. Abigail and Kelly looked up from where they were snuggled together in bed. They were reading Bunny My Honey. It was a little kid’s book, but it was one of Abigail’s favorites. Her mother used to read it all to her all the time.

  “Mind if I come in?” Dante said.

  “What’s going on, Daddy?” Abigail said, clutching the book to her chest. Her eyes were large and watchful as if Dante might vanish any second. As he sat on the bed, Kelly slid her legs over the edge to leave.

  “No, stay,” he said.

  Kelly nodded and sat cross-legged next to Abigail, sliding a comforting arm behind his daughter’s back.

  “So, you know some bad people have hurt me. We don’t know who. Yet. But the FBI are going to catch whoever did this to me,” Dante said. “Okay? They’re going to get them.”

  Abigail nodded, waiting.

  “But you’re not safe here.”

  “No,” she said, eyes widening.

  “Abigail, honey, you’re just going to go on a little trip with Kelly to a safe place for just a few days until this thing is over.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a baby. I need to stay here and take care of you,” Abigail said, tears brimming. She flung the book aside and she squeezed her right hand with her left.

  Kelly rubbed her back. “This is how we take care of your dad, Abby. By going somewhere safe so the bad guys can’t hurt you. It’ll be a little scary, but I’ll be with you the whole time and trust me, nothing bad will happen when I’m with you.” Kelly looked at Dante. “Nothing.”

  “We can stay in touch with these,” Dante said. He pulled two phones out and gave one to Abigail. “Spy phones. Agent Boucher gave them to me. They’re totally secure and we can talk whenever we want.”

  Abigail stared at the phone in her hands before setting it down. She looked up at Kelly, her lip trembling, then slid out of bed and went to the dresser. Lifting the lid of Michelle’s jewelry box, Abigail reached inside before coming back over.

  Wiping her face, she said, “Do you have the mommy elephant?”

  Dante slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it then shook the wallet over her open hand. The elephant pendant dropped into her palm. She took the baby and snapped its trunk into the larger elephant’s tail and held them up with a teary smile.

  “You found it,” Dante said.

  Abigail nodded and blinked, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. Then she unsnapped the two and gave Dante the larger elephant back before wiping her face.

  “Keep it safe. When this is all over and I come back home, we’ll put them together and never take them apart again. Deal?” she said holding up her pinky.

  Dante hooked his left pinky with hers. He raised his right hand up to Kelly, the motors whirring softly as the hand closed except for the smallest finger. “You’re part of this too,” he said.

  Kelly gazed at Abigail, then swallowed before linking her pinky with his mechanical one, eyes locked on his.

  “Deal.”

  CHAPTER 65

  Safe Now

  Dante sat on the couch, muscle bunching at his jaw. Letting Abigail go had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. If Kelly hadn’t gone with her, there was no way he could have gone through with it. Colin sat nearby, here for moral support, but he looked worse off than Dante, foot twitching off time with his face. A soft knock came at the front door and Dante rose, putting an eye to the peephole before opening it.

  “Thanks for stopping by, Naomi,” Dante said.

  She stood in the open doorway, limned in early morning light, dressed in a charcoal pencil skirt and blazer. He couldn’t remember a time when she’d looked more beautiful. Her perfume wafted in, along with the pleasant odors of fresh cut grass and damp stone. A police officer shot him a quick salute from the end of the walkway and Dante waved back with his prosthetic hand. Naomi flinched before spitting a nervous laugh, staring at the hand before her eyes slid away. She flashed a quick smile at him, but it looked more like she’d smelled something foul. She moved past him, eyes scanning the room as if she’d never been here before.

  “Hello,” Colin called from the couch. He sat on the edge of a cushion, knee bouncing up and down.

  She nodded toward him then turned back to Dante. Her face was pale and she licked her lips, tongue darting in and out.

  “You okay?” Dante said quietly.

  “Fine,” she said, eyes locked on the hand again. She reached out to touch it before pulling away. “Oh my god,” she said, her eyes finding his. “Dante…”

  “I’m fine,” he said, hating the pity and disgust etched neatly on her face.

  Glancing away, she blinked and smoothed down the front of her suit jacket. “I just can’t stop seeing it. All that blood.”

  Dante hesitated. He wanted to reach out and hold her, tell her everything was fine, but the way she had looked at him made his face burn. Can’t say I blame her. She did catch a mouthful of blood.

  The prosthetic hand tightened.

  “How are things at the studio?” he said, voice strained.

  “Great,” Naomi said, blinking. “Everything’s great. A few people have quit since the summer bash, but we hired a few contractors to cover…” she trailed off, licking her lips again.

  “Naomi?”

  “Sorry. I’m just not good at this sort of thing.” She exhaled a loud hiss as she swept past Dante toward the front door. “I can’t do this right now.”

  “Can’t do what right now?”

  She opened the door then stopped for a moment before glancing over her shoulder. A tear slipped from her eye. “This is my last week with Ellis Media. I’m sorry.”

  The door stood open, her heels ticking on the flat stones of the walkway as Naomi made her escape. Dante went slowly over to the door and closed it again, twisting t
he deadbolt. Her perfume drifted through the heady scent of warm morning air. He walked back to the couch and dropped onto it, staring at the table.

  “Sorry,” Colin said.

  “Figured a mouthful of blood would’ve brought us closer.”

  “Jesus, Dante,” Colin said, shaking his head.

  “You meet a lot of people in this business, you know? You have drinks, get together at conferences, become friendly working on a projects together. Some you get to fuck.” Dante shifted in his seat, frowning. “Play tennis or basketball with some, cards with others. Exchange cell numbers. Text witty little jabs. I got plenty of witty little jabs after that fucking deep fake video went out, I’ll tell you that. You should have seen Bainbridge, eyes boggling at the thought of sticking it to me.”

  “Never liked that guy,” Colin said.

  “After my hand got cut off though, total silence. Not one of them so much as texted or called. Like I’m infected with losing and it’s catchy. None of them are here now. Only you.”

  Colin looked back at him, the slight smile on his face melting. “Well, I got a lot to make up for,” he said.

  Dante turned and stared at his childhood best friend, heart thudding slow and painful in his chest like a kettle drum. “This really sucks, man.”

  Colin swallowed, throat bobbing up and down. “Everything’ll be fine. Abigail is with Kelly and she’s got ol’ battle ax Boucher watching over her. Man, that is one tough lady. Five hours she questioned me,” Colin said. “Gotta say though, it was pretty cool going to the FBI office. Boucher had Fat Burger delivered. Classy.” Colin gazed at Dante. “Abigail’s safe now. That’s all that matters.”

  Safe now.

  Dante nodded with a grimace, flexing his prosthetic hand.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Colin said. “You could probably punch through a wall with that thing.”

  Dante raised the hand and tightened it into a fist. “Not really. It’s tough but I was told not to overdo it.” He rotated the wrist and extended the middle digit. “Hey, this finger works.”