Ctrl Z (10 page)

Marq took two shaking steps backward, his eyes moving from
Jude, to the man approaching him. Jude willed his friend to stay, but in
seconds, Luca had shuffled him out the door. Jude’s mind flashed to other
footage: the windows where his father and the others had been trapped, tongues
of flames licking up the sides of the building.

“Sit down, Mr. Alden,” King repeated. It wasn’t a question.

Jude settled shakily onto the chair. He needed out of this
room, out of this building. He felt like he was going to vomit, his whole body
vibrating with fear.

“Open the folder,” King ordered.

Jude lifted the front cover, noting that someone had put a
green tab on one corner, but other than that, nothing marked it. Inside was a
photograph of the man sitting in front of him. A line of type marked the area
under his photo.

Tyrone Marcellus Fischer, D.O.B. August 2
^nd
,
1958.

The text continued on, year by year, filling the entire page
.
He lifted the corner of the first sheet. Beyond the demographics, there were
lists of websites, company names, businesses and banks. Other pages had lists
of addresses and school information dating back to the sixties.

“Why are you showing me this?” Jude gasped.

King leaned forward on his desk, and he fought down the urge
to recoil. The gun now sat next to his elbow.

“You’re a hacker,” King said darkly. “That right?”

Jude nodded.

“And you think for yourself,” King added. He glanced over to
the two men who waited at the side. “Obedience is something I expect from my
employees, but someone who goes beyond it…” He tapped once against the side of
his forehead. “
That,
is unique.”

Jude looked back down at the package. He didn’t want to be
holding this. Didn’t want this kind of responsibility. The rat in the maze of
his mind was a blur of motion, unthinking.

“I have a job to be done,” King continued. “One I need a
hacker to do.”

“What kind?”

“The kind only someone like
you
can do,” he said with
a short laugh. “You’re holding the public side of my dealings. With that, I
want you to do your worst. Dig up any information you can. Try to get into my
files. Hack those sites.” King’s face twisted. “Show
me
where the weak
spots are so that I can fix them before someone
else
gets in.”

“Check how secure the information is,” Jude muttered.

“Exactly! Luca here will check in with you in a week or so.
You can tell him what you found then.” The King nodded. “I’ll pay you twice
what you made on the last project.”

Jude didn’t respond. He wanted a way out without agreeing to
this, but his mind couldn’t get past his terror. One part of his attention was
trapped in the room, another part of his attention on the third floor with his
father as the walls began to buckle and come down around him.

King’s face sharpened knowingly.

“You said you were ready to do another job, Mr. Alden,” he
snarled. “Have you changed your mind?”

There was something about the way King was watching him that
had Jude’s heart going double time. King’s hand was next to the gun, his two
armed thugs on either side, watching the interaction. The seconds stretched out
impossibly long.

“So this is all I have to do?” Jude said in a strangled
voice. “Just try hacking your computer systems, and report back?”

King’s lips twisted into an uneven smile.

“Of course.”

Jude leaned against the side of the dumpster, last night’s
chips and Mountain Dew coming up in a greenish sludge.

“Oh Jesus motherfucking God,” Jude whined. “I’m so fucked.
So goddamned
fucked
!”

Stomach empty, he panted through the last dry heaves. Marq
paced a stone’s throw away, expression wild with anxiety.

“I’m sorry, Jude,” he hissed. “I told you that you didn’t
have to—”

Jude spun, hands raised.

“You
asshole
!” he screamed, throwing the first sloppy
punch. Marq dodged. “What the hell did you get us into?!?”

“I warned you!” Marq yelled. “I
did
!”

He raised his fists, backing up.

“Warned me?!?” Jude roared, throwing another punch. This one
met Marq’s gut with a thud. “You didn’t fucking
warn me
!”

“I did!” Marq gasped, deflecting another blow. “I… I tried
to tell you…” he grunted as another fist slammed into his torso. “I tried to
explain—”

Jude’s uppercut ended whatever he was saying. Marq stumbled
back, nose bloody.

“Do you even realize what you’ve
done?
!” Jude
bellowed.

“I’m sorry, man!” Marq cried, voice breaking. “I just
couldn’t do this myself! I didn’t know
how
, Jude! I didn’t know—”

“Enough!”

Jude staggered out of the alley into the light. The knuckles
of his right hand began to throb, heartbeat pulsing through his digits. He
stretched his fingers once and again, finally shoving his hands back into his
jacket. His fingers brushed against a folded envelope, and he winced. It held
the public information on King, and the payout for the Trojan.

He had a pocket full of cash, but he’d trade it all for a
do-over.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Callum Woodrow sat in his office in the English Department,
his foot tapping on the desk in annoyance. He didn’t have classes today, it was
Saturday after all, but given the events of the morning, he needed something –
anything!
– to distract him. He brushed his fingers over his mouth, pausing on the
broken flesh of his bottom lip. Two teeth marks marred the skin. Feeling it,
the ghost of a smile brushed over mouth, then disappeared. He hadn’t seen her
in months, but Indigo hadn’t changed at all. Cal scowled, as another thought
intruded.

Except now she was with Jude Alden.

With a sigh, he lifted up the first of his freshman student
papers, staring down at the title:
Brontë’s Wuthering Heights: An
Exploration of Romance and Revenge.

For ten minutes, he slogged through the paper, circling
errors and writing notes in the margins. Reaching the end of the essay, he
frowned, struggling to remember what he’d read. He couldn’t. Indigo was there
instead, standing on the sidewalk dressed like a model in a magazine. She kept
flickering to life in the apartment hallway too, but he pushed
that
thought
aside.

He had one way he liked Indigo, and that was the one he
focused on.

Cal took a slow breath, replaying the moment she’d turned,
in her high heels and dress, looking at him with tortured eyes. It was
Heathcliff and Catherine reunited. The only problem was that Edgar was standing
there between them.

Cal tossed the paper and pen onto his desk, reaching for the
computer’s mouse and clicking open his archived files. Years earlier, Cal’s
marks had been audited by the Board, and that experience had taught him the
virtue of a long memory. While Jude looked familiar, Cal couldn’t place him.
He’d taught at the university too long for that; the memories of his students
blurred together nowadays.

Cal clicked backward through the years, searching for the
name Jude Alden. Seven searches in, he found him. Jude had been in his Classics
of English Literature course. Cal’s nose flared in displeasure, jaw tightening
as he read through an unexpectedly stellar list of grades.

Critical Essay #1: 95%

Critical Essay #2: 92%

Critical Essay #3: 94%

Somehow he’d been expecting Jude to be dim-witted or dull.
With marks like this, in an advanced university English class, Jude Alden
should
be in a graduate program, but he wasn’t. Cal scrolled through the remaining
grades, eyes widening as he reached the end.

Novel Study and Exploration: 97%

Major Project: 96%

Final Exam: 81% *Note: See anecdotal records

Cal clicked open the link to his course notes, hoping
desperately that he’d kept them too. He had.

Alden, J.: Classics of English Literature

The take-home exam was administered as per Department
protocol. All students logged in, and an IP address was taken. Partway through
the exam, Jude’s computer timed out and his login disappeared. When his login
reappeared, computer records show that he went back, changing several of the
answers he’d already submitted. His final grade was 99%. Seeing this, I assumed
cheating, and requested the Disciplinary Committee remove him from the course.

An investigation, via the Tech Department, couldn’t prove
or disprove the claim. On advice of Dean Fournier, an alternate, hand-written
exam, provided by Professor Wheatley, was administered. The average of the two
marks were submitted.

Online exam: 99%

Written exam: 63%

Mean exam mark: 81%

Callum smiled, the scab on his lower lip tearing open,
filling his mouth with the tang of blood. He reached out for his phone, hitting
number four on speed-dial. There was a click, and a woman’s voice appeared.

“You’ve reached the Tech Department, Lissa Amos speaking.”

: : :
: : : : : : :

Elliot lifted the bar above his chest, forcing his elbows
not to lock.

“You got an exit strategy?” he said as he lowered the free
weight down.

At his side stood Jude, grey-faced and weary. Too distracted
to lift, he was spotting today.

“I’m gonna be fine,” Jude mumbled. “I can handle this,
Elliot. Don’t worry.”

Elliot pushed the barbell up, arms burning.

“Handle it like you did in high school?”

Jude muttered something under his breath, crossing his arms
in defiance.

Elliot blew out his breath in a hiss, slowly lowering the
weight to his chest, and waiting for the burn to ease. He could remember the
day the principal had shown up at the door of the auditorium to pull Jude from
the assembly. The entire group of seniors, dressed in their private school
blazers and ties, had watched Jude being led up the stairs to the back where a
police officer and Elizabeth Alden, Jude’s mother, stood waiting. Just before
he’d stepped out of the doors, Jude had turned back, flashing the middle finger
with a nonchalant grin. The room had erupted in applause.

“This is nothing like what happened in high school,” Jude
grumbled. “What I’m doing right now isn’t
actually
illegal.”

“Hacking
is
illegal,” Elliot replied. “And that’s
exactly
what you’re doing.” He tightened his grip on the bar, tensing his arms.
“One more rep,” he panted. “Then I’m done.”

 “I’m keeping logs of everything,” Jude said. “It’s a
legitimate request, Elliot.
It is!
I’m just testing the guy’s security
systems.”

“The security systems of a known criminal,” Elliot grunted,
slamming the barbell up onto the Y-supports. He lay on his back, glaring up.
“You've got to get out of this, Jude. Cut your ties and do it fast, for
Chrissakes!”

Jude’s lips pursed, forehead wrinkling as if about to cry.
He looked young all of a sudden.

“I can’t do that,” he whispered. “I just need to do this one
last job. Then I’m done. Promise.”

Elliot sat up, massaging his arms.

“Why?” he insisted. “Why this last one? You just said you
had second thoughts. That should be enough.”

Jude shook his head, staring out into the busy gym.

“I… I can’t, okay?” he said. “Besides, this is good money.
One last job and then I’ve got my Get-out-of-Dodge plan. I’d have enough to
start a business. Start programming on my own.” He turned back, eyes wide and
earnest. “I could do it, Elliot. I
know
I could.”

“This isn’t the way.”

“Being an entrepreneur is
totally
the American way,”
Jude smirked. “Make your own luck.”

It was that statement – the insouciance of it – which
finally lit the fire under Elliot’s temper. He surged to his feet, worry
blossoming into rage.

“Listen to yourself!” he snapped. “What would your Dad say
to that?”

“You leave my father out of this.”

Elliot shook his head, face grim.

“That’s it! Get out of my apartment.”

Jude stumbled backwards, anger shifting into surprise.

“What?”

“I said
get out
!” Elliot repeated. “Move! I’m done!”

Jude’s eyes widened.

“But… how can you do this?”

“Easy. I just did!”

Jude stared, open-mouthed.

“But you’re my oldest friend.”

Elliot turned, walking away even as he answered.

“We used to be friends,” he growled. “We’re not anymore.”

: : :
: : : : : : :

Indigo didn’t see Jude for a week. She half expected him to
appear on the weekend, but Saturday and Sunday came and went without a word
from him. The next week was busy with school projects. Each day at break,
Indigo was certain he was going to show up with coffee and a story of what had
kept him away. He didn’t do that either. By Wednesday, his absence had grown
into an irritation that wouldn’t leave her mind. It bothered her, but she
wouldn’t allow herself to call him. Indigo always held the cards. That was her
deal, no matter what. She didn’t wait for guys to call.

Except with Jude,
she couldn’t help it
.

Late Thursday, she lay in bed, tossing and turning. Cal’s
kiss in the hallway kept playing over and over in her mind. She
knew
she
shouldn’t get involved with him again, but it didn’t change her feelings. She
and Cal had a connection. A fucked-up one, but connection nonetheless. She
frowned.

Right now that was more than she had with Jude.

The cell phone on the table buzzed, and she glanced down,
half expecting the text message to be from Cal. It was from Jude instead.

You still awake?