She opened her mouth as though to say something, then shut it, and a thoughtful expression came to her face. After a full minute, she said, “It couldn’t hurt, could it? And I could depend on their discretion. I’ll give them a call.”
With my grandmother’s ambush in mind, I took a different route than usual back into the city. I arrived at the station about an hour before my appointment with Whittaker, so I had time to catch up with Novak.
“None of the numbers on their phones have any connection with any Family members we can identify,” Novak said in reference to the guys who tried to kill me. “On the other hand, that ifrit at the bar, or someone else who worked there, did know how to use a phone. Numerous calls to or from Johansson, David Moncrieff, and a number registered to Lucifer’s Lair.”
“Not surprising, considering the ownership.”
“Yeah, but some of the numbers called by that phone at Lucifer’s are interesting.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Calls to phones that appear to be part of an Akiyama network. Whittaker said he’ll work on getting to those phones, but since they’re part of a private network, we don’t have normal access to them.”
I chuckled. I had seen that scenario before. Whittaker wasn’t working on anything having to do with those phones. He planned to drop a hint to me and then pretend I didn’t hack the network. He had known my father and grandfather, and was quite aware of a magitek’s capabilities.
I headed back to Whittaker’s corner office.
“Hey, boss. Guess what? Some mages ambushed my grandmother today. A couple of miles from the estate.”
He sat straight up in his chair and gave me his full attention.
“She’s okay, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yeah, she’s fine. There’s a couple of big, black holes in the ground, and her guardians are a lot more respectful than they were yesterday, though.”
“Any survivors?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. If there are, I imagine Osiris will let them go. You can’t buy that kind of advertising.”
Whittaker shook his head. “A lot of people don’t understand how the Ten got to the top of the heap,” he said. “I knew Olivia and Hunter back before the Rift opened. She was hell on wheels when she got excited. She and George put Findlay where they are. Have you talked to Novak?”
“Yeah, but before we get to that, I’ve figured out what happened to Sarah Benning. Well, at least up to a certain point.”
I told him what I’d learned without bringing Ashvial into it. When I got to the part about Akiyama Benjiro, Whittaker let out his breath in a loud whoosh. Benjiro was young to be a Family head, but he had taken control three years before when his father unexpectedly died.
“Deputy Commissioner, Findlay thinks Akiyama is trying to make a push. They suspect them of being behind the attacks on my grandmother and me. And I assume you know that Findlay is in discussions with Novak.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m aware. I’ve been asked to reach out to a couple of unaligned Families where I have friends.” The Whittaker Family was an ally of Novak, and Thomas was head of his Family.
“I should also tell you that Findlay has asked me to resign from the police,” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that. You may be more valuable to them inside. Have they considered that?”
“That might be true if I wasn’t a magitek.”
Whittaker took a deep breath. “And if you weren’t a James.”
Grandfather Hunter died when he opened the Rift. A definite cautionary tale for all magiteks. He was supposedly a smart man—maybe too smart for his own good. A magikally enhanced nuclear bomb turned out to be a monumentally bad idea. The firestorm had engulfed everything within fifty miles of ground zero, and the shock wave flattened everything for another hundred miles. If the effects weren’t contained by the mountains surrounding the site, scientists speculated the damage and loss of life would have been far worse. As it was, the explosion tore a hole in reality.
It was generally acknowledged that Hunter and my father were the strongest magiteks ever. So, everyone also assumed I was a superwoman. I didn’t know, and wasn’t particularly interested in finding out. I did know that I could replicate anything my father had built, and I’d invented a number of devices myself.
“Well, I haven’t said yes, I just told her I’d think about it. I still haven’t found Sarah Benning, for one thing. Speaking of magitek, what’s this about a private Akiyama phone network?”
“Encrypted. Totally unhackable.” He tossed a chip across his desk. “Had our best cyber security guys look at it. They all agree it’s impossible.”
I picked up the chip and slipped it into my pocket. “If that’s the case, I won’t waste any time trying. Hacking it is probably illegal, anyway.”
“Probably. Interesting how they sealed it off, though. They used magitek.”
“Oh, well, that definitely ends the discussion. No one will ever break it.”
He smiled. “Take care of yourself, James. I’ll pass along the intel on Akiyama.”
Chapter 39
“That trap you set on my shop door works wonderfully,” Kirsten said as we sat down to dinner.
“Someone tried to attack you?”
She shrugged. “Not exactly, but I’m not sure. A demon tried to get in. Shocked the shit out of him.”
There wasn’t anything in her store to interest a demon. They couldn’t use any of the charms or potions she sold, and they wouldn’t have any interest in the herbs, soaps, or other mundane items.
“Did your guardians capture him?”
“They tried, but he pulled a disappearing act.”
“No idea what he wanted?”
“Nope, but demons and I don’t get along that well, and with our current problems, I wasn’t taking a chance.” Kirsten shrugged and passed a small envelope with my name on it across the table. “And in other news…” She smiled. “I got one, too. We’re invited to a betrothal ball. Did you know that your cousin Lila is getting married? The formal proposal is next Saturday.”
I had to concentrate for a moment to bring up Lila’s face in my mind. Grandmother Olivia’s younger sister Dorothy had married John Butler, younger brother of Granduncle George’s wife Denise. Their daughter Janice married Bruce Oliver, and Lila was their daughter. Pretty little dark-haired girl about ten years younger than I was. Recalling all that made my head hurt.
I never understood how I was supposed to remember all my relatives, much less keep them straight. And at first, I didn’t understand why I had to go to this girl’s betrothal. I had successfully ducked plenty of Family events over the years. Then I thought about the ambushes. Olivia probably wanted an ally she could trust, or maybe she thought having me inside the estate might protect me.
“No, I didn’t know.” I picked up the envelope like it was a snake and turned it over in my hand. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I can get out of going.”
“Only if you’re dead, which could happen if I miss such a golden opportunity to snag a wealthy husband. And if you get past me, I’m sure your grandmother would seal the deal.”
“If you have an invitation, you could go without me.”
“Then your grandmother would kill me. I’m pretty sure I’m invited expressly to ensure your attendance.”
I opened the envelope. In addition to the standard invitation announcing the engagement of Lila Oliver to Marco Novak, there was a small slip of paper. Written in my grandmother’s hand was an address with a time and date and the notation ‘Take Kirsten.’ I recognized the address of her personal torturer from previous debacles.
“She’s scheduled time for us with her dressmaker,” I said.
“Us?”
I chuckled. “She’s seen how you like to dress. She probably feels you need some help appreciating proper decorum. Look at it this way. It’s a free dress, and if you don’t embarrass her, she may assist you with a little matchmaking.”
Kirsten took the
note from me. “It doesn’t say who it is.”
I told her the name of the dressmaker and saw her eyes light up. She followed all the celebrity news and social scene. I could care less, I’d seen it from the inside and was less than impressed.
I had a dozen dresses by the same designer hanging in my closet at Findlay House, each worn one time. I didn’t see the need for a new one, but I knew it was futile to argue. I’d probably have to get a new dress for the wedding as well. God forbid one of the thousands of people involved with the party, wedding, and reception should notice I wore a dress twice.
I looked at the invitation. “She’s marrying Marco Novak?”
“Yeah. You didn’t tell me that Mychal had a twin brother.”
“I didn’t know.”
After dinner, I sat down at the computer and plugged in the chip Whittaker had given me. Following the roadmap it contained, I soon found the firewall Akiyama had erected around their private phone network. The electronics and software were strong, and the firewall was definitely enhanced by magik.
I triggered my enhancement and jacked into the datanet. It was far easier to trace the trail on the chip than to use the computer, and I encountered the firewall very quickly. An enormous wall of white ice stretching in all directions. But they had to have ports to call out and receive calls. Those ports would be monitored and protected, but I’d deal with that when I found them. I began searching.
What I found appeared to my mind as little red pimples, so tiny and scattered that they were easy to miss. I stuck a probe into one and immediately jerked back. My probe was fried, and the intrusion device caused me a stab of actual physical pain.
I pulled back and spoofed one of the numbers Novak had gathered to call into the Akiyama network. The call didn’t go through one of the little red pimples. The portal it used was a tiny pale-yellow depression, almost impossible for me to see in the expanse of white. I followed the call through the port.
Not only was I inside a private Akiyama phone network, but I discovered I had also penetrated the main firewall for their computer systems. Half an hour of poking around led me to their mainframe. It took me another half an hour to identify the accounting system.
I was tempted to plant something nasty in it but decided I should wait. Osiris would want data, and he would have ideas about what kind of hack would be most damaging. And if I was going to leave a malevolent package for my father’s killers, I wanted to design something especially nasty. Something they couldn’t easily recover or repair.
Back to the phone system. I soon identified the numbers Novak had given me and linked them to people. More than half of the calls from Lucifer’s had gone to Benjiro himself. He had also called the demon’s nightclub three times in the past month.
I wondered what kind of game Ashvial was playing. He seemed rather eager to point the finger at Akiyama, and it was hard to imagine that playing games with me was important enough to sacrifice such a powerful ally.
Distraction. Ashvial was up to something, and he didn’t want me sniffing around. And if he was willing to point me at Akiyama, either he expected them to kill me, and his hands would be clean, or his other scheme was even more important than trafficking humans.
I backed out of Akiyama’s system and tucked my consciousness back inside my skull. I was stiff, my butt had fallen asleep, my mouth was dry as a desert, I had a throbbing headache, and it was almost midnight. I had been inside the datanet more than four hours.
I managed to make it into work on time and went straight to Whittaker’s office.
He looked up from something he was reading. “What’s up?”
Closing the door, I sat down and said, “Those numbers inside Akiyama’s network. Someone inside Lucifer’s Lair, inside the business operation, is conducting a fair amount of communication with Akiyama Benjiro himself.” I pushed the list I had compiled across the desk. “This is more than trafficking one girl. I would even suggest it’s probably beyond human trafficking, unless Akiyama is selling humans across the Rift. I suspected Fredo and Martin Johansson of doing that, but Benjiro? That’s piddly crap.”
Whittaker nodded. “I agree. Even Rifter drugs would be too small time to interest him.”
“Well, we have two choices, the way I see it. Either Akiyama is selling something that Ashvial is sending across the Rift into the demon world, or Ashvial’s bringing something here that Akiyama wants to buy. Probably both. I mean, it’s all about money, right? Business. What probably got Johansson killed was that he went over the line and mixed business and pleasure.”
My boss’s eyes narrowed. “You have a devious mind.”
“I’m not a complete idiot. Just because I’m not preoccupied with making money, doesn’t mean I didn’t notice that everyone else in the Hundred is. Present company excluded, of course.”
He laughed. “Law and order have been very good to the Whittaker Family. Between the police, private security services, and mercenary contracts, we live very well. If I didn’t think George Findlay would have a meltdown, I’d have offered you a magitek engineering job in one of our arms factories a long time ago.”
After sending a quick mental blessing for Granduncle George, I changed the subject. “Are you going to be at Marco Novak’s betrothal party?”
“Of course. Frank Novak expects his allies to pay their respects.”
“Well, I need to take off early this afternoon. I have an appointment with my grandmother’s dressmaker.”
“Try not to get ambushed. I hope you realize how upset Olivia would be if you got her favorite designer killed.”
Kirsten met me at the dressmaker’s shop, excited as a six-year-old on the first day of school. It reminded me that things I took for granted—and often considered irritating impositions—were something she had only read about or seen in vids. My mom wasn’t rich, but my father came from two wealthy and powerful Magi Families. At least, back when Dad was born, James was powerful and respected. Findlay had made sure I never lacked for anything. The best schools, never a worry about shoes or enough to eat. They had trained me to ensure I didn’t embarrass them, so I never had to think about which fork to use, or proper forms of address.
But there were major downsides. When I said I had to watch my back around my family, I meant that literally. I hated that big house with a raging passion. I spent most of my childhood living with my mother, but weekends and some holidays at Findlay were torture. Again, literally. Except when my grandmother was present, the hateful language and nasty bullying never stopped.
When I met Kirsten, she was a scholarship student at my boarding school in western Pennsylvania. I suspected her looks played as much a part of her getting that scholarship as her intelligence and magikal strength did. She was exactly the kind of woman the Magi would want to diversify their bloodlines. Her family was a middle-class witchy group of people, hard-working and kind, and that described her very well.
Madame Clairmont met us inside. No greeting, just looked us up and down with a severe expression. Her face relaxed somewhat when she surveyed Kirsten, evidently seeing an easier task.
“Miss James,” she finally said in her French-Canadian accent. “It has been a while.” Her tone plainly conveyed that it hadn’t been long enough. She walked around me, then let out a sigh. “Are you going to introduce your friend?”
“Madame Louise Clairmont, this is Kirsten Starr. And I believe this is her first fitting with your establishment. Kirsten, Madame Clairmont, the foremost fashion designer in all of North America.”
Clairmont’s cheek twitched, and the glance she gave me was slightly less scornful. “I am pleased to meet you, Miss Starr. Please, the dressing rooms are over there. Disrobe and Ingrid will guide you.”
Ingrid, a tall blonde as fair as Kirsten, stepped forward from the edge of the room.
“Fiona will work with you today,” Clairmont said, turning back to me. A dark-haired woman I knew from my previous visits bowed her head in my direction. I had always had the
impression that Fiona was assigned to the most difficult customers because she combined the patience of a saint with the take-no-nonsense attitude of a military drill instructor.
She started, of course, with foundation garments. I let her measure me, and then she produced under-cup supports and skin-tight panties that were designed to show no lines. Then Fiona brought out two bolts of fabric for me to choose from—royal blue and forest green. I smiled to myself, looking at the rainbow of fabrics arrayed along the wall. Either Olivia or Louise had decided beforehand what colors looked good on me. I chose the blue.
And sure enough, the dress they planned for me was sleeveless, mostly backless, and guaranteed I would have to shave.
Hours later, my feet and legs aching from standing so long, I met Kirsten in the waiting room. She was still pretty bubbly and wide-eyed, but she didn’t object when I suggested going to Jenny’s for dinner.
“It was like being in a vid,” Kirsten said when we sat down at the restaurant.
“Yeah, it does remind me a little of torture porn.”
“Pooh. The fabrics,” she rolled her eyes and pretended to swoon, “and the under garments. Any man that undresses me is going to get his money’s worth just visually.”
I choked on my drink. “I doubt that’s what my grandmother has in mind. What color is your dress?”
“A pastel pink. Silk chiffon. I’ve never felt anything like it in my life. If it wasn’t for all the beading, the bodice would be see-through. It’s like wearing an illusion.”
I reassessed. Maybe Olivia was trying to help Kirsten catch a rich husband. She was devious, and she might think that if Kirsten had another protector, I would be more amenable to moving to Findlay House. Thinking back to the evening gown Madame Clairmont and Fiona had designed for me, I wondered if I might be part of the matchmaking menu as well. If I looked nearly as good as the model in the sketches did, all I’d have to do to catch a rich old man was keep my mouth shut.
Magitek (The Rift Chronicles Book 1) Page 19
