The Cipher

by Maldonado, Isabella

  “I spotted a house with a light on and rang the doorbell. A man answered, took one look at me, and hollered for his wife. She put a blanket around me while her husband called the police.”

  “What happened after the police arrived?”

  “The usual. They questioned me while a couple of EMTs checked out my injuries. I was pretty traumatized.” She had drawn from the mix of adrenaline and terror coursing through her to hold herself together through countless interviews with detectives and medical personnel over the next several hours. It was only much later, finally alone after a long shower, that she had allowed herself the luxury of tears.

  “Did they transport you to a hospital?”

  “You mean did they do a rape kit?” she said, her tone sharper than she’d intended. “Yes. I never saw the report, so you’d probably know more than I do about the results.” Another file with information she’d never seen.

  “What about the crime scene?” Wade asked.

  “I was able to tell them where the shed was, but by the time they got there, it was fully engulfed. Burned to the ground in less than half an hour.”

  “Who owned the land it was on?” Buxton asked.

  “The estate of an elderly couple who died without a will. They’d built a house on a twenty-acre parcel of land decades earlier. Their adult children, who had all moved away, were squabbling over it. The property had been in probate for over a year. The police told me my attacker had most likely constructed the shed without anyone’s knowledge or consent. They processed what little evidence was left after the fire, but any prints, fiber, or DNA were destroyed.”

  As she finished her account, something Wade had said earlier prompted a question of her own. “You kept asking about the kind of tape he used,” she asked him. “Why?”

  “Might help to know if it was anything unusual. Same is true with whatever he used to cut it from your wrists and ankles. There are some military knives that can slice through parachute cords and tough fabrics.”

  “I don’t recall seeing what he used.”

  “I think that’s enough for now,” Buxton said a little too quickly. The tension in the room eased as he made a show of looking at his watch.

  She couldn’t escape the feeling that the boss had rescued her when her memory failed her yet again. That she had somehow let the team down. She wanted desperately to unearth every scrap of information, but she had to admit that a small part of her had become too adept at pushing the details back into the dark recesses of her mind. In order to catch the monster, she would have to drag those pieces—and the pain that came with them—out from where she had carefully stowed them and into the light.

  Chapter 11

  Three hours later, Nina jumped as Kent thudded a pitcher of beer down on the scarred round table. Wade plunked four clear mugs beside it as he sat next to her.

  Breck picked one up and poured. “The first one’s for Guerrera.”

  Nina grasped the mug’s chilled handle. “Buxton’s not coming?”

  Kent gestured around the room. “I get the feeling the higher-ups make it a point not to see what goes on in here.”

  After a grueling day in the confines of the BAU, they had piled into one of the Bureau Suburbans to drive the short distance to the Quantico facility, where the FBI academy had its own bar. Known as the Boardroom, the venue was a destination for everyone from new agents to senior police executives from around the world attending the FBI National Academy. Depending on the evening, there might be dancing, karaoke, or card playing among those who wanted to blow off steam.

  She glanced around. “Not a big crowd tonight. No one’s getting rowdy.”

  Wade tipped the pitcher, sloshing amber liquid into his mug. “I think Buxton wanted us to have a chance to chat among ourselves.”

  Made sense. They had been thrown together to work as a team. Wade and Kent were the only ones permanently assigned to the unit. They needed to gel in order to be productive. May as well take advantage of the opportunity.

  She slid an empty mug to Kent. “I saw you studying the code on the computer a couple of hours ago. Any luck?”

  “I was working with the cryptanalysts on the internal server.” Kent filled it from the pitcher before pushing it to Breck. “Breaking codes is their wheelhouse, but I wanted to focus on the unsub’s previous phraseology to see if it might shed light on this new message.”

  “Kent has training in psycholinguistic analysis,” Wade said, digging through a basket of pretzels in the center of the table. “Courtesy of Uncle Sam.”

  She raised a brow at Kent, inviting explanation.

  “I was in Special Forces before joining the Bureau,” he said simply. “My team needed someone to assist with interrogations.” He held up a hand. “Don’t ask for details. All my missions were classified. I had an undergrad degree in psychology, so they picked me for advanced training. Paid for my master’s too.”

  Breck nudged Wade’s arm. “You hunting for a peanut at the bottom of that bowl?”

  Wade stopped pushing pretzels around. “I could use some protein.”

  “I could, too, but peanuts won’t do it for me,” Breck said. “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse and chase the rider.”

  Nina smiled. “I love the way you talk, but I can’t place your accent.”

  “Georgia,” Breck said. “Not Atlanta either. I’m from the Low Country, where sushi is still called bait.” She stood. “I’ll order us a pizza.”

  “What drew you to study linguistics?” Nina asked Kent, far more interested in his background than food.

  “It was a logical progression,” he said. “I can speak four languages, and I like to read. Words interest me.”

  “What can you tell about a person from their speech?”

  “Not just speech but written communication too. I can get a feel for their education level, IQ, area where they grew up, and worldview, among other things. Sometimes idiosyncratic turns of phrase can offer insight, such as when the unsub said he wished he’d been the one to ‘bestow’ the wounds on your back.” He put down his beer. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring that up again.”

  She noticed Wade watching her and jerked her thumb at him. “He took me through it three more times while you and Breck were busy.” She waved Kent’s concern away. “I’m getting numb to it.”

  Which had probably been part of Wade’s plan. Inoculate her through repeated exposure while data mining her subconscious for every minuscule detail about her abduction.

  “I’ve been thinking about the unsub’s odd word choice too,” Wade said. “You know who bestows things on people?”

  “A king?” Breck said. She had just returned from the register at the far end of the room.

  “An organization?” Kent offered.

  Nina responded with the first thing that occurred to her. “A god.”

  Wade lifted his beer in mock salute. “Exactly.”

  Nina’s fingertips brushed her bare throat. “The god’s eye necklace. He kept it all those years. What does that mean? Does he think he’s a god?”

  “Don’t have enough info to be certain,” Wade said. “He definitely wants to exercise ultimate power and control. His comments to the media today indicated as much.”

  “Predators are all about control,” Kent said. “Part of their personality entertains grandiose notions of superiority, but another part has to dominate everyone around them in order to cover deep-seated feelings of inadequacy.”

  “That’s a total contradiction,” Nina said.

  “One of many reasons they’re not what you’d call well-adjusted folks.” Kent picked up a pretzel and examined it. “I believe the technical term is loony.”

  “Some have childhoods involving parental abuse.” Wade’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “With this guy’s personality, I would suspect a father or father figure.”

  “You dig through their skulls, and I dig through their hard drives,” Breck said. “I like my job better.”

  “Speaking
of which.” Nina turned to her. “I saw you in a huddle with the Cyber team this afternoon. You guys make any progress?”

  “I need another beer for this.” Breck refilled her mug. “Apparently, the unsub loved that comment from the news anchor—you know, the one about how he’s as much of a cipher as the clues he leaves?” When they nodded, she curled her lip. “Now he’s calling himself the Cipher.”

  “Plays into his ego,” Wade said. “He’s beyond understanding. A mystery.”

  “Mystery.” Breck let out a derisive snort. “He’s nuttier than a squirrel turd.” She took a swig. “He set up social media accounts with an image of an ancient cipher scroll. It’s like he’s branding himself.”

  “Which means he intends to keep this going,” Nina said.

  “He’s getting a ton of followers,” Breck said. “Mostly they troll him, but there are also a few fans.”

  Nina almost choked on her beer. “Fans?”

  “He posted an image of the clue on his Facebook page and challenged people to solve it.” Breck took another sip. “Got a bunch of likes. In fact, people are forming teams and competing to see who can crack the code first. There’s a group from MIT that claims to have come up with several possible answers.”

  Wade shook his head. “So now he’s got all kinds of people playing his game. Talking about him.”

  “Can’t we subpoena the social media platforms to turn over his information?” Nina asked.

  “We’ve already filed emergency subpoenas,” Breck said. “They’ll give us the data, but I’m not optimistic. He seems fairly tech savvy. No way he used his real name to set up his profile, and he probably found a way to hide his IP and location too.”

  Kent cursed. “Then let’s shut him down.”

  “No.” Wade’s voice was surprisingly sharp. “Every scrap of information we get about him, everything he posts, gives us a clearer picture of who he is.”

  “He’s getting the public to interfere in our investigation,” Kent said. “What if someone solves that clue before we do? Our Crypto team is still working on it.”

  “The last messages were aimed at Guerrera,” Wade said. “The next one will probably be more of the same. Past behavior is the best predictor of future behavior.”

  The table grew quiet. They were clearly waiting for her to weigh in. She had been the subject of the Cipher’s previous messages and the target of his threats. How did she feel about thousands, perhaps millions, of people playing a game with a man who wanted her dead?

  She downed the rest of her beer. “If it will help catch him, I vote to leave the sites up and active.”

  “This will continue to put more public attention on you,” Kent said. “And on the Bureau too.”

  She understood the underlying message. Depending on how the case went, it might not go down well at the executive level. From its inception in the days of J. Edgar, all agents held one rule sacrosanct.

  Don’t embarrass the Bureau.

  Would that include having her name and her new nickname splashed all over the internet?

  “We’ll need to present a united front to Buxton,” Breck said, obviously thinking along the same lines. “I gave him a quick briefing before he left the office. We’re keeping everything as it is until we hear back about the subpoenas, then he plans to shut the Cipher’s social media profiles down if we don’t have any investigative leads to follow. We’ve got everything in place to pull the plug, but I convinced him to wait. I agree with Wade, but for different reasons. The longer the Cipher interacts, the better chance we have of untangling whatever safeguards he’s installed to hide in cyberspace.”

  Kent ran his finger around the rim of his mug. “I don’t like it, but I’m a team player. We’ll go to Buxton together tomorrow.” He leveled his deep-blue eyes on Nina’s. “This unsub has already hurt you so much. It feels like we’re giving him a lot of rope hoping he’ll hang himself. Too much rope, if you ask me.”

  She gave him a slow nod of understanding. The Cipher was dangerous, and they had chosen to deliberately allow him access to a worldwide audience he desperately craved. Would it be worth the risk to give him extra rope, or would he take the slack and use it against them? More than anyone else alive, she knew what the monster could do with a length of rope.

  Chapter 12

  After precious little sleep, Nina’s morning routine was interrupted by the unexpected appearance of her next-door neighbor’s foster daughter. Nina opened her apartment door to find Bianca just outside, clutching a massive gray cat.

  “I think you broke the internet,” Bianca said by way of greeting.

  She turned a bleary-eyed gaze on the girl. “That cat’s starting to get a little too comfortable around here.”

  “Seriously, you’ve got to see this,” Bianca said, pointedly ignoring the hint. She marched inside with the big tom draped over one shoulder and her cell phone in her free hand. “You’re blowing up every platform, and you’re at the top of every search engine.”

  A teenage social media addict, Bianca spouted a rapid-fire stream of updates on the status of the growing public fascination with the killer, his secret codes, and the Warrior Girl, as Nina was coming to be known.

  Bianca held the phone out to her. “And did you know he’s using a creepy serial killer nickname now?” She paused for effect. “The Cipher.”

  When Nina didn’t react, Bianca let out an impatient huff. “Well? What do you think about the name?”

  Nina closed her eyes briefly. “I’d already heard.” She sipped at her coffee. “This isn’t helping our investigation. Do people who respond to his posts realize they’re feeding his ego?”

  “I’m sure some of them do,” Bianca said. “But they can’t help themselves, you know?”

  She did know. “Now that he’s got an audience, he’ll feel compelled to give them a show.”

  “But you’ll stop him before he can do anything else. I mean, the FBI has every computer geek they’ve got tracking this guy down, right?”

  “First, they’re not geeks. They’re highly trained agents and analysts.” When Bianca raised a pierced brow, Nina added, “Okay, so some of them may log too many screen hours, but they’re good at what they do. Which is why it’s so frustrating.”

  “What? That the FBI’s being outsmarted by a psycho or that they’re being out-geeked by college students?”

  She knew Bianca hid her concern under a thick layer of snark. Like many foster children, Bianca had learned to conceal her emotions with dark humor, outward hostility, or feigned indifference. Nina had done the same when she was in the system. She understood that Bianca was worried about her.

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” Bianca said, not quite meeting her eyes.

  Her cop antennae went up. “What?”

  “I put a team together. A select group of com-sci majors like me.” She glanced down. “Gamers, coders, and hackers that could put the feeb dweebs to shame.”

  Bianca had graduated from high school at fourteen, winning a full-ride presidential scholarship to George Washington University. On target to receive a bachelor of science at the end of the semester, she’d set her sights on a master’s degree next.

  Nina didn’t like where this was going. Resting her cup on the coffee table, she leaned forward and gave Bianca her best federal-agent-demanding-answers scowl. “Spill it. Now.”

  Bianca lifted her chin. “We’re going to shut him down.” When Nina simply waited, she snuggled the cat closer before elaborating. “He said he’s going to post a link to a new YouTube channel once he gets it set up.”

  Breck hadn’t mentioned the video streaming at the Boardroom last night. The Cipher could attract an even bigger audience with more visual content. She didn’t want to consider what else he might decide to show the public either.

  She would speak to Breck later. Right now, she had other concerns. “How do you plan to shut him down?”

  “Hello? Remember when I mentioned we’re com-sci?” Bianca said a
s if the answer was obvious. “We hack in and take him offline. Show him he can’t get away with posting whatever bullshit he wants.” Her eyes narrowed. “We’re going to fight back.”

  She considered how best to put a stop to the scheme, but she knew Bianca was too much like her to back down without a good reason. It sounded like Bianca had already put the plan in motion. There was no time for a policy debate at Quantico.

  She came to a decision. “I’ll share a couple of things with you, but if you post a single word of this conversation, or repeat it to anyone else, I’ll run over that phone of yours with my car.” She watched Bianca stroke the cat’s short, thick fur while the threat sank in.

  “No need to go all agent badass on me,” Bianca said. “I won’t say shit to anyone.”

  Nina let out a sigh. Breck’s blast text to the team thirty minutes ago had started the day on a frustrating note. Every major social media platform had responded to their emergency subpoenas, but the unsub’s profiles had all been as fake and untraceable as Breck had predicted.

  “Truth is, we’re not making any headway tracking this guy down,” she said to Bianca. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  “He must have set up his accounts from somewhere. Can’t you snag him through servers?”

  “He’s a cyberghost.”

  “Then shutting him down will stop him.”

  Not this again. “You can’t, Bee.”

  “Sure we can. It’s easy, we just—”

  “I meant to say, we don’t want you to.” She pushed her fingers through her hair. “The whole reason I’m even sharing this much is to convince you and your friends to back off. Because if I don’t, you’ll just go ahead and do it anyway, won’t you?”

  They stared at each other until the cat squirmed in Bianca’s arms. She bent to put him down. “Why do you want this guy putting out his crap? It’s twisted.”

  “We discussed it at Quantico yesterday afternoon,” Nina said. “We decided that—for now—it’s better to let him keep posting.” She lifted her palms. “He might give himself away.”