Fake: The Scarab Beetle Series: #3 (The Academy) (27 page)

“To see Doyle, first. That’s where we’ll start.”

“I already saw him. He said the core was at the guy’s house, only I couldn’t find it.”

“Doyle’s tricky,” he said. “And you don’t know anything about this core. Doyle will be able to give us more clues. First rule of doing things the smart way: Know what you can do and know what you’re doing.”

“The guys know things. This was just a surprise. And we were caught off guard. It wasn’t any of our business and this Eddie group dragged us in.” I was irritated that he was saying the guys were stupid.

“It can happen,” he said. “But you don’t just go running off after bad guys and secret phone services without knowing what you’re handing over and who you’re dealing with. Your first mistake was your first move after Brandon was taken. You exposed yourselves. Now it’s not just Brandon, but three of them. You shouldn’t have been bait.”

“I thought they’d kill him,” I said. “We were trying to find the core so we could jump them when they showed up.”

“And if they had, they wouldn’t have just handed him over. They might have shot you, or him, or both. You didn’t even know if Brandon was alive at all. If Brandon was already dead, then you were chasing a lost cause.”

I bristled, not liking this worst-case scenario where Brandon ends up dead. “Were we supposed to just assume he was dead and stop looking?”

“They were risking your life to do it, and their own lives, too,” he said. He combed his hair with his fingers as he drove. “That’s something you’ll have to learn. Taking a risk is one thing. Suicide missions shouldn’t be in the equation. It’s common sense. Not looking ahead also meant you were risking Brandon’s life; you couldn’t have known if trying to save him would have gotten him killed.”

I wanted to fight him on this, but I was too tired to play the game of what might have happened. We’d been working with what information we had, even if it wasn’t enough.

I fell silent, trying to keep myself from falling asleep, but I think I did sleep for a while. There were stretches of time where I closed my eyes, and then opened them, finding the scenery completely different. Before I could figure out where we were, my eyes would drift closed again.

I jumped at the sound of a car door shutting. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, noticing the outline of Doyle’s farmhouse and yard full of satellite dishes.

Part of me was tempted to stay out in the car this time, not wanting to get shot at again. Plus, the car’s seat was comfortable and I was really tired.

I drummed up the energy by thinking about the guys: Axel, Brandon, Marc. They were missing. I needed to find them.

There were no outside lights on at the house, and once the car lights went dim, it was shadows and deeper shadows all the way. I kept my hands out and stomped through the grass for anything I couldn’t see and might trip or bump into. I tried the cell phone as a light, but it wasn’t providing enough. I should have remembered about the flashlight, and was tempted to go back for it, but I didn’t want to lose Blake.

I reached out for Blake, wanting to find his back.

The moment I touched him, he shifted and found my hand. He took it in his and held on to it, keeping me beside him. Without a word, he continued through the dark.

I stiffened, but held on, not wanting to get lost. After everything I’d done to him, the surprising warm gesture sent a wave of guilt through me. Despite many things, Blake was here when he had no reason to be, no stake in the game. He was simply here because I had called. It was hard not to be grateful to him.

Blake guided me through the dark front doorway. I paused, waiting for him to find a light.

Instead, he continued through the house. I barely remembered the layout, and kept right behind him. Was he insane? It was one thing to approach Doyle, who had a shotgun, during daylight. What if he thought we were robbing his house? Would he shoot first and ask questions later?

There was smoke in the air, but it was stale. I hadn’t checked the time on the way here, but I didn’t think it was super late. The house was silent, except for the hum of a refrigerator.

Blake took me through what I’d remembered was the living room, and instead of moving on beyond it to the parlor with the computer and collection of old furniture, he turned down a hallway. From this point on, I was at his mercy. Maybe he’d lock me in a cellar and go after Axel and the others on his own... did Hannahan houses have cellars?

Blake released my hand and whispered, “Keep still. Don’t move.”

Why couldn’t he have told me to simply wait in the car? I could have slept a little longer instead of standing in the dark in the middle of Doyle’s house.

I was left alone in the dark, and waited. The longer I was left waiting though, the more I was anxious and wanted to get moving. Thoughts of ghosts and zombies filled my head. I wasn’t scared of the dark, but this was a creepy farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere where I already knew the owner had a shotgun.

Crash.

I jumped and then froze, terrified.

“Fucking Christ, shit!” came a familiar, loud Irish voice.

“What were you thinking letting Kayli go into a place where you know there’s an illegal network?”

“Who’s Kayli? I don’t know...”

Thunk.

There were more noises and grunts. “Doyle,” Blake said. “Get up. We’ve got work to do.”

There was more grumbling before a light went on. It was dim, but it managed to show me I was in a hallway, where there was a bathroom with the door open on the right, and a back bedroom on the left, the door open. I tiptoed forward, spotting Blake standing off to the side of the bed. Doyle, wide-eyed with bed-head and wearing only dingy, faded boxers with penguins on them and a lime T-shirt, was standing bent over the side table fiddling with the lamp.

He straightened and pointed at Blake. “You could kill someone doing that. I nearly had a heart attack.”

“I just walked into your house without you waking up. If you actually put in a doorbell in this place, I wouldn’t have to. You also need an alarm system. Now come on. I need your help.”

“It’s not my problem,” Doyle said.

“It will be when this cell phone network is discovered and the FCC goes looking for secret signals and somewhere in the mix, finds your secret lair. Don’t you realize if this gets stolen, they will come looking for you, too?”

“No one knows I’m here,” Doyle said. He leaned over, picking up a pair of jeans and stepping into them. “My own mother doesn’t even know.”

“I’ll tell her where you are,” Blake said.

Doyle stiffened and stood fully with his pants still only halfway on. He narrowed his bloodshot eyes at Blake. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” Blake said. “But I won’t if you’ll get out here and tell me how to stop this Alice chick.”

“Who’s Alice?”

♠♠♠♠♠♠

Ten minutes later, I was sitting on one of the overstuffed sofas in the weirdly overcrowded parlor. Doyle, finally dressed, was typing into his computer, Blake stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“I can’t concentrate with someone looking over me,” Doyle said.

“Just tell us what you know,” Blake said. “And don’t skip the small stuff this time.”

“What do you want? Murdock’s Core is at that house on Kiawah.”

“I was there,” I said. I had my feet up on the couch, and yawned, wishing for a blanket. “I’ve gone through the house. There’s no an antenna there, or a big computer. If there is a secret cell phone service, the source isn’t there.”

“It is,” Doyle said. He leaned over until he was looking at me across his wrecked desk. “You checked out every closet? I’m telling you. There’s no mistake. The strongest signal is coming from that house.”

“What do you mean, strongest signal?” Blake asked.

“I mean a cell phone network isn’t going to have just one tower, is it? It’ll have a bunch in the area. You can’t just have one tower. The signal only goes so far.”

“Where are the others?” he asked.

Doyle made a face, and then reached into a desk drawer for a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, and inhaled as he responded. “Scattered all over the city. Duh. I don’t know exactly. I wasn’t paying attention before. I was trying to keep my nose out of it. I just looked up the core because she asked.”

“Is it possible there’s just a big tower signal coming from the house, but that’s not where the core is? To access it?”

“No,” Doyle said. “Trust me, the core is in that house. The service is just transmitted on it, but all the data gets pulled through there. It’s like any cell phone service, there’s a hub that collects all your data.”

“Are they piggybacking on other towers in the area?”

“No. That’s how they’re not getting caught. They’re using completely separate towers and a different frequency that changes randomly to keep separate from what legitimate cell phones are using so there’s no interference. It’s ingenious, in a way, but still obvious to anyone looking for signals in the air like me. The only thing stopping anyone from pulling data and deciphering it is that blasted security packet.”

“And you can’t break into that, by chance?” Blake asked.

Doyle made a face. “What do I look like? Someone who cares? No. Well, I could, maybe. But it’d take a while. And it’d be much easier to simply get to the house and check out their core computer.”

“Not if they don’t have a core computer,” I said.

“They have one,” Doyle said. “Trust me. I know. I can see it. It’s as clear as day.”

“There's got to be something else we can do,” I said. “I can’t just go back there, because Alice is there waiting. If she has Brandon, thinking he’s Corey, then she probably has who she needs, and is going to be there trying to work her way in. I just waltzed in and handed her the one person she thinks will give her access.”

That hit me hard, and I found it difficult to speak after that. Alice had been a few steps ahead of us from the start, and now I just gave her who she thought would open the doorway she wanted. She had access, because she was marrying the guy she targeted, and now she had a key. It was my fault for letting Brandon get that close.

“But she doesn’t have Corey,” Blake said. “Right? She has Brandon.”

I nodded and swallowed. It might be enough. I breathed in and then tried to focus. “What about these other towers. Could we find one? Is there something we could do? Maybe disrupt the signal a little? Cause a stir?”

The room went silent and Doyle looked at Blake. “She’s a bloody genius.”

“If we disrupt the signal,” Blake said, “by taking out one of the towers, it’ll bring someone out to fix the thing. Then we could kidnap that person and ask them questions.”

“We’re going to kidnap someone that works on this core?” I asked.

Blake smiled like a fox that’d pinned a mouse. “Sometimes you fight fire with fire.”

A FALSE LEAD

B
lake asked Doyle for a pair of shoes. Doyle tried to trade them to get out of going with us, but Blake made a few more threats and suddenly we were all three in the car. I sat in the back and managed to grab another nap on our way. Doyle sourced a tower we could check out and Blake drove through the night taking Doyle’s directions.

I didn’t want to sleep through everything, but I was taking what sleep I could, knowing I was going to need to be alert soon enough.

It wasn’t really sleep, anyway. It was closing my eyes, and wishing I was back at the Sergeant Jasper, with Corey in his room asleep. Or even with Brandon pretending to be Corey, who I still needed to box in the head and ask him why he was sneaking in and letting me think he was his brother.

I’d even rather be back in the hotel room with Wil, fighting off my father after one of his drunken escapades. I’d face all measure of horrors just to have this terrorizing last couple of days over with.

To my surprise, we ended up on a corner block of residential neighborhood not a couple of miles from Kiawah Island, somewhere amidst the streets of John’s Island. Most of the island was asleep, as it was getting on to eleven in the evening by the time we got there.

If Alice’s story about the poison was true, then I only had until…maybe ten in the morning? Ten hours until she could give them the antidote, if there was one at all. I didn’t want to believe her, but I couldn’t risk not believing.

Blake drove Henry Anderson’s car, and parked in a lot in front of a grocery store about a block away from where Doyle said the tower was.

“Why don’t we just drive there?” I asked, getting out of the car and stretching. My bones ached from tiredness and the chill in the air. We were on the southern end of John’s Island, with a lot more trees and a lot of rural sprawl. This particular block was home to two churches, a grocery store, a couple more outlet stores, and one nondescript four-story brick building that looked vacant but happened to have a satellite dish on top. It was supposedly defunct in the 1980s but Doyle said it could be used as a tower, if connected right. The rest of the surrounding buildings were small old homes with broken fences, some in severe need of new paint and repair.