No. 7.5.
Five miles, 7.5 mph Welcome John Laine!
The small screen seemed to swell and widen, enveloping him; the words dissolved into an image of a rough track that wound through green hills.
Grimly, John began to stride, but his legs already felt wobbly and weak. By the time the digital track rose toward a distant mountain, he was gasping for breath; after less than half a mile, he gave up. As he leaned on the rails, panting, the screen shrank, and the digital illusion disappeared.
“I thought so.” Flopping back on the bench, Salome rolled her eyes toward him. “Go and get some rest, John. Now.”
There was no point in arguing with Salome in this mood. She could be annoyingly maternal, but John was secretly relieved to be given the order. Tucking his laptop under his arm, he left the gym.
The atrium was busy as usual, most of the tables and pods occupied by late-lunching students, and John wasn’t feeling sociable, so he headed up the sloping walkway toward the
dormitory wing.
Sunlight spilled through the glass roof, giving him a powerful urge to get outside and let the Arctic air clear his mind. But I haven’t got time. I don’t have time for anything but this wretched malware.
Resentfully, he slouched on toward his room. Ahead and to his right was the short corridor that led to Yasuo’s garden-office; John wished he had a space like that. With a calm and light-filled working area, he might at last find the perspective he needed to fix Eva’s bug.
Temptation nudged him into the corridor. What was it Roy had said? Yasuo always has time for students. Not to mention space—Yasuo often let favored students use the calm circular room for study. He wouldn’t mind . . . If Yasuo wasn’t there, there was nothing—not even a door—to stop John from borrowing it for half an hour. And that gravel garden might be downright inspiring . . .
Slowing, he edged along the corridor. No, shoot. Yasuo was in his office: John could hear his voice.
Actually, he could hear an argument. Wow, the teachers fight? Even Yasuo?
John craned his ears. The clipped German accent was instantly recognizable.
“—I will not hear of it. Lykos has no right.”
John’s eyes widened. He’d never heard anyone refer to Roy quite so contemptuously and only by his surname.
Yasuo’s calm tones floated from the office. “Take a moment to consider, Irma. More flies are caught with honey, as the Americans say.”
“The flies are already caught,” she snapped. “We have been in possession of them for six weeks and five days, and they are not Lykos’s to do with as he wishes.”
“I was speaking of Roy,” he said patiently. “Let him indulge his methods. It might even keep him conveniently busy. What harm can he do?”
“Extreme harm, Yasuo, as you are well aware. The subjects are secure here, and testing is well underway. It would be madness to let Lykos play with the programming, if programming it is. He is capable of far too much mischief, and worse, he has a predisposition for it.” She took a sharp, audible breath. “I do not trust him. I would sooner see Project 31 destroyed than to have him interfere.”
The hair on John’s neck raised. What did Ms. Reiffelt have against Roy Lykos? He’d known she was severe and scary, but he hadn’t realized she could sound so vindictive.
Yasuo sighed. “Roy is very dedicated to his students.”
“Too dedicated.” Her tone was venomous.
“Roy knows you are monitoring him, Irma,” soothed Yasuo. “He will not risk anything that could have him removed from this facility.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Her voice lowered till John could barely hear it. “He could ruin everything, Yasuo. And I do mean everything.”
Slowly, John backed away. He was afraid to hear another word. What was Irma Reiffelt planning against Roy? What project would she rather destroy than have him involved?
Backing out of the corridor, John hurried toward his and Slack’s room. He hadn’t thought it was possible to feel sorry for someone as wealthy, successful, and brilliant as Roy Lykos, but if Irma Reiffelt had it in for him, he didn’t envy the man at all. Poor guy.
With a sigh of relief, John slumped onto his bed. Staff room politics were no different here, it seemed, and he was mighty glad the two teachers didn’t know he’d overheard.
It was funny, though, he thought with a smile. Whatever the flies were, they’d been at this facility for six weeks and five days.
Which was a coincidence, since that was exactly the same as he and Slack.
There was no question of taking a nap. John sat cross-legged against his pillow and opened his laptop again. How could any self-respecting hacker sleep with this challenge nagging at his or her brain?
Yet he’d run out of ideas. It was good to think outside the box, but he’d turned left, right, up, and down, and he didn’t know where to try next. John scowled at the lines of code he’d uselessly typed in earlier.
I could kill Adam and Leo.
No. He blinked, shocked. He didn’t really mean that.
Put it this way: I’d like to wipe them off the Matrix.
No. No, no, no. It was their program that had to be eliminated, not them. They were stupid, arrogant kids—that was all.
They’re a virus.
NO.
John tossed his laptop onto the quilt. He was shaking.
This was the feeling he got in his dreams: this thrill of homicidal longing. It didn’t belong in his head while he was awake.
It wasn’t only in his head, either. It rippled through his bones, an urge to get up right now, to walk to Adam and Leo’s shared room, and to delete the malware at its source.
“Oh, that’s it,” he exclaimed out loud. Jumping down off the bed, he shook his head violently. Maybe he did need some physical exercise.
Grabbing his jacket, he headed for the stairwell that led up to the plateau. The blast of cold wind that hit him as he emerged was like a healthy slap in the face.
There was a layer of fresh snow. Picking a direction at random, he walked till he reached the precipitous cliffs and sat down with his legs dangling over the edge. He took a few deep breaths of the clear air. Even the fleece-lined jacket that kept the Fairbanks chill away wasn’t very efficient on Little Diomede, and John realized he was shivering, but it didn’t bother him. It took his mind off that tingle of hatred in his blood.
Across the gray sea lay Big Diomede, gloomy and desolate under heavy cloud cover. It looked like some sinister island Odysseus might visit, or maybe the Prospero’s Isle. It’s tomorrow over there. Maybe, where it’s tomorrow, I’ve already solved Eva’s problem.
Far below, surging waves crashed against the rocks; across the water, a smear of darkness between sea and sky told him that more snow was falling out there. Winter was definitely approaching in earnest.
John closed his eyes and tilted his face upward, letting the north wind whip his hair across it. This beat the gym, the climbing wall, and even the wild oceanic pool. He felt better already. Maybe his grandfather had a point about the benefits of fresh air . . .
His phone bleated in his pocket.
Startled, John glanced to the left and right, but there was no one in sight. He tugged the phone from his pocket. Something about the message tone sounded wrong, somehow, yet it was familiar.
Then he realized. It was the call of a Japanese bush warbler. It was the ringtone he’d set for Akane.
His heart leapt as he opened his messages. How was this even possible? Out here there was no signal from his home provider, and the island’s Wi-Fi network was supposed to block any outside calls. Yet there was Akane’s cartoon face, smiling from beneath straight black fringe.
Can you talk?
He glanced over his shoulder, then tapped the screen eagerly. Yes.
OK. FaceTime now.
By the time he’d tapped the FaceTime icon, the real-life Akane was already there. This Akane’s smile had an edge of tension, and her eyes looked strained.
“John!”
“Hey, Akane! You’ve no idea how glad I am to see you.”
“Same,” she told him emphatically. “John, is everything all right over there?”
“It’s . . . great,” he told her truthfully. “Mostly.”
“Good. I . . . I was worried about you.”
“Why?”
“There’s no . . . well, nothing strikes you as off about the place? Nothing odd?”
John shook his head. “No, it’s fine, Akane. It’s good.”
Even on the small screen, he saw her sag with relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I couldn’t get in touch with you. All my messages bounced.”
“Well, that’s the only thing.” He wrinkled his nose. “We don’t get outside contact, which is a pain.”
“That’s been bugging me.”
“I hate that part, but it’s for security. There’s so much hacking going on, all legitimate and supervised, and I guess they don’t want to risk some outside sneaker getting in through a back door.”
“Fair enough.” There was something guarded in Akane’s voice.
“It begs the question, though. How did you get in touch?”
She grinned, looking for the first time like the old devil-may-care Akane. “You know the accelerometer inside your phone?”
“Yes . . . ”
“I used electromagnetic radiation to detect what you’ve been typing. That let me declassify your whole online footprint. I got in that way.”
John gave her a broad grin of delight. “Clever girl . . . ” His face fell as he realized he was echoing Adam and Leo’s ransomware. “I mean, nice one. When did you think of . . . ” His brow furrowed. “Wait a minute—”
“I’ve got a confession to make.” Akane looked guilty. “I’ve been tracking you for a while.”
John stared at her. “What, like you told me not to do to you, ever again?”
“Sorry.” She chewed her lip.
“I never noticed. Why didn’t I notice?”
“I was really sneaky. Sorry. And you weren’t expecting it, I guess.”
“That’s how you caught on to Slack’s hack so fast. Back in Fairbanks, I mean.”
“Yeah. Sorry again.” She took a deep breath. “I was worried about you. I . . . look, John, your dad had gone missing, and he wasn’t there to protect you. And you were so distracted, and . . . I was worried,” she finished, lamely.
Akane had been monitoring him, and he hadn’t known about it. I didn’t pay enough attention. Dad was right. Fleetingly, John felt a twinge of hurt.
Along with it, though, came a strange and detached sensation: a cold calculation in his brain, as if a background program was already running. Fix that bug.
Catching his breath, John shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m glad you did, now. But Akane, can you keep contact to a minimum right now? We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“OK.”
“Because I’d be in big trouble if the teachers found out.”
“Oh, I’m sure of it.” Her eyes darkened.
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I mean, I’d like to talk to you properly, John. There’s stuff we need to discuss. I’ve dug up some . . . odd files. Bizarre ones. But if this isn’t a good time . . . ”
His eyes shifted to the time at the top of the screen, and he made a face. “It’s not. I’ve got to be in class with Ms. Reiffelt in six minutes, and nobody is late for her classes.”
“I’ll bet.”
John frowned. “How d’you—why would you say that?”
Akane blushed. “I might’ve . . . ” She cleared her throat. “I might’ve looked at the staff profiles.”
John laughed out loud. “You’re brilliant.”
“I know. You know Reiffelt used to be an East German spy?”
“Yep. Except she wasn’t; I asked Yasuo. She was a double agent. That’s how she ended up here.”
Akane gave him a long, intent look. “Here. A canoe ride away from the Russian border.”
John shook his head. “No way. That’s a coincidence. Yasuo says she got into IT really early, but she saw right away how much faster it was developing in the West. So she defected and started working for them. For us.”
“Hmm.” Akane narrowed her eyes. “Doesn’t sound like she was a conviction convert.”
“But she was,” insisted John. “At least half the research at this school is for big corporations.” There was no time to tell Akane about the conversation he’d overheard, but it had sounded like Ms. Reiffelt was as fiercely competitive as any good capitalist. “Listen, I really can’t talk right now. She’ll have me in detention if I’m a millisecond late. She’s scary. But also, her classes are great. I have to go!”
“I’ll get in touch again, John,” Akane said, with a hint of urgency. “We must talk. You’re sure you’re OK?”
“Positive.” John scrambled to his feet. “But this has been great. Laterz, Akane!”
Only when he’d pressed disconnect and tucked his phone back into his pocket did John remember he hadn’t told his best friend about the malware attack.
Never mind. It can wait. He shrugged and jogged back toward the Center, his heart much lighter now. He was still a little annoyed about Akane’s secret tracking hack, but that was more his fault than hers. And it had been so good to talk to someone on the outside—especially when that person was Akane.
She might have some ideas for fixing Eva’s malware, something I just haven’t thought of. He’d talk to Akane again soon, and together they’d come up with a way to kill that bug.
It really is the only thing that’s wrong around here.
Shivering, Akane stared at the blank FaceTime screen. John sounds fine. Everything sounds great.
I know it isn’t.
Beneath the shade of the Gotokuji maple trees, Akane set down her backpack and studied the clustered, happy white cat statuettes. The maneki-neko by the shrine were a serene sight, shining and cheerful, and she’d needed something to calm her down.
What she really needed, of course, was a flight through cold air. A plunge at terminal velocity might clear her head . . . but after that awful confrontation with her mother and father, when she’d demanded answers about her childhood accident and operation, her BASE-jumping equipment had been confiscated altogether. Ironically, the argument had made her parents even more determined to keep her feet on the ground.
You must see now why we’re worried! You still have that reckless streak, Akane . . .
Her father had been remorseful about the secrecy, even a little apologetic, but he had sternly defended it. We hoped you would forget jumping. You were a daredevil even then. But we did not want to make our brave daughter afraid. You have to put yourself in our place. Our beloved child was back, and the horror was all over!
And when her mother had come home, not ten minutes later, she had been just as firm. It was better that you didn’t know. Your accident, it was best forgotten by all of us. I’m sorry if your feelings are hurt, Akane, but we thought it was for the best. We don’t know how Mikael Laine did it, but he saved you.
And the really annoying thing was that Akane did understand. When they’d hidden her accident from her, her parents had done what they had to do. They’d tried to shield her from the consequences of her own actions. She’d only been four years old, after all.
Now, with her parents at work and a BASE jump out of the question, Gotokuji had been the only alternative outing that Obaasan would agree to. Akane had had to swear on her honor that she’d go straight to the temple gardens and back, with no dangerous detours. But she didn’t truly mind: Gotokuji Temple had seemed th
e natural place to retreat to. After all, this was where it had all begun.
This is where I decided to fly from the temple roof. This is where I nearly died.
This is where I began to become the property of the Wolf ’s Den Center.
The gardens were beautifully quiet, but even though Akane had peace to think, it was difficult. Golden leaves stirred in the breeze, and puffy clouds glowed pink in the late sunlight, but she could hardly focus on calming her breathing.
It had been impossible to tell John everything in that phone call. He’d been in a hurry, and she hadn’t had time to explain properly, and besides, a stolen and hurried chat hadn’t seemed right for such a momentous conversation.
She had to try again. What else can I do? I have to tell John what I’ve found out.
But for all Akane knew, a secret call to John might be detected and monitored. What kind of trouble might she get John into?
He should know his father set up the Center with this Freki person, she reminded herself sternly. And John should know what’s been done to him. What’s been done to me too.
She had to find a way of telling him; Akane just couldn’t think what it was. And it was going to take a lot of tactful explaining, and it wasn’t as if she could just get on a plane and go to Alaska.
Branches dipped in the gentle breeze. Leaves whispered and rustled. She could hear the hum and bustle of the city in the distance. A footstep shuffled on the path beyond the trees.
A what?
It was only a footstep, on a path, in the middle of a tourist attraction, so Akane didn’t know why her whole body suddenly tensed, why every sense was raised to high alert. She focused her ears on the low voices.
“She came in here.” It was a soft murmur.
“Then find her,” said another voice.
Akane’s heart raced. She backed very slowly away from the cats and deeper into the shadows of the trees.
The first voice spoke again. “I thought this one was to be harvested next term?”
“Schedule’s been moved up. There was a security breach this morning. Hold on, let me listen to this message from the Center.”
The Ghost Network (book 1) Page 8
