Hacker: The Outlaw Chronicles (19 page)

S
TONE PAUSED midstride and listened
, but the only sounds were the old wood groaning under the strain of the wind. The lobby was filled with scaffolding and plastic-wrapped stacks of lumber.

His eyes traced the floor, which was covered in a skim of dust that had been disturbed in a trail from the door to the elevator and nowhere else. Twin lines, thin and parallel, carved a fresh path in the grime. Between the lines, which he assumed had been made by the mother’s wheelchair, were footprints.

Veering toward the stairwell, he paused only to glance at the gated, open-air elevator that rose through the vaulted ceiling. A lighted digit above the door indicated that it was parked on the top floor.

He took the stairs, moving quickly and silently. He heard the girl’s scream as he reached the top floor’s open doorway. He paused at the threshold, waiting, listening.

Another scream. Just the girl. That didn’t mean she was alone in the apartment with her mother, but he suspected that was the case. Her anguished shrieks piqued his curiosity.

Stone hadn’t bothered reattaching the sound suppressor to the gun’s barrel. There was no need. No one would hear her screams or the gunshots.

He moved deeper into the dimly lit hallway, angling right, following the sound of the girl’s voice, which came from an open doorway across from the elevator.

He reached the door, pistol cocked by his face. The massive room beyond the entrance was dim and filled with blinking server racks and medical equipment. Several feet into the room a woman sat in a wheelchair with her back to the door. The mother.

The girl was out of sight, somewhere on the far side. Stone held his weapon in both hands, arms now extended. Rolling off the wall and around the threshold, he entered the apartment.

“
I
WON’T give
up on you,” I whispered. “I won’t . . .”

I leaned down to blow into his mouth again, three quick breaths, knowing it was hopeless, but unable to stop. A loud crack echoed through the apartment when I straightened to pump his chest again. Something slammed into my right shoulder, knocking me to the floor. I cried out and grabbed my shoulder. Pain radiated from it, hot and fiery. A bloom of red blood spread across my shirt, below my collarbone.

I’d been shot?

But then it wasn’t a question. I’d been shot!

I jerked my eyes toward the source of the sound. The view was mostly blocked by shelves and a desk, but I still caught a glimpse of black pants and shoes walking toward me.

Frantic, I pushed upright and struggled to my knees, feeling like a trapped rat, as a second gunshot split the air. To my left, the doorframe to the tank room splintered. Another
crack!
sent a bullet across my scalp, grazing it and stinging like the lash of a bullwhip.

“Trust me, if I wanted you to be dead, you’d be dead.”

Stone . . . but how had the man found me? No one had followed me here, I was sure of it. My eyes searched the room, looking for some way around him. The sharp pain in my shoulder pulsed in agonizing rhythm with my heart.

“Stand up,” he said.

I crawled forward, keeping the desk between the man and me, and peered around the corner. He stood twenty feet beyond the console. The large control panel was the only thing separating us. The only way out was through him.

I pressed my back to the mammoth desk, which provided my only shelter. Blood soaked my shirt, making the material cling to my skin. A cold chill worked through the right side of my body and my head felt light. I was trapped and no one knew where I was. No one would rescue me this time. He was going to kill me.

He fired three more rounds, and monitors on the console shattered, raining down shattered glass on me.

“Your mother’s dead, I see,” Stone said. “They’ll blame you, of course. Isn’t that how this story goes?”

Get a grip. Think . . .

But the only thing I could think was to stall him and even that would do nothing.

“Racked with guilt from killing her own mother, a loving daughter takes her own life.” Stone continued. “However the story really goes, I have to kill you, you understand.” He paused and let the words settle on me. “How quickly and painlessly is up to you.”

I felt myself starting to fade, as much from fear as with the loss of blood.

“Why are you doing this?” My voice sounded weak.

“It’s quite simple. You took things that didn’t belong to you, things that could cast my employer in an unfortunate light. I can’t allow that.”

He took a step, angling around the console. I heard the clink of a bullet casing spin across the floor as he kicked it.

I peered under the desk and saw his black shoes on the other side, close. A few more steps and he’d see me.

“Your friend, Pixel, died slowly,” he said. “You, however, don’t have to. Just stand up.”

My eyes flicked toward the tank room and, driven by instinct more than logic, I lunged forward and scrambled through the doorway. I slammed the door shut behind me and jammed my thumb against the doorknob’s button lock.

Panting hard, I leaned there against the door and squinted into the room’s darkness. If only the hacks could have allowed our bodies to travel through time and space and not just our consciousness, I would’ve gotten into the tank and escaped through another reality, because that was the only way out.

Eyes adjusting to my surroundings, I crawled toward the far side of the room. There had to be something I could use to defend myself. My hands bumped against the legs of the stainless steel table where Austin laid out his tools for calibrating the tanks. I stood and bumped the tray with my arm. Metal wrenches clanged and scattered across the floor.

I bent, reaching for the tool, and, glanced up as the man’s wide shadow fell across the shade over the observation window. For a brief moment, he stood there, then moved toward the door.

My fingers groped at the scattered instruments until they grazed the handle of a long screwdriver. I snatched it up, gripping it like a knife in my left hand. I could barely hold it: pain raked my entire body and my hands were trembling.

I turned to face the door. My only chance was to blindside him and stab him when he came in. It was all pointless, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to just let him kill me.

My focus settled to the right of the door—a small space between the first tank and the window. I started to move but was cut short by a deafening boom that filled the room. The door splintered at the jamb, swung open and banged hard against the wall.

The man planted his foot back on the ground and stood in the doorway, gun by his side. He was dressed in what appeared to be the same clothes he’d worn at BlakBox—black suit, white shirt, black tie. His face was hard as flint and, even silhouetted by the light coming from the apartment, I could see the death in his eyes.

Completely relaxed and unconcerned, he watched me. He considered the screwdriver in my hand and tilted his head to the side until his neck cracked loudly. “Understand, this isn’t personal,” he said, setting his gun on the table, beside the mannequin heads. “It’s only business.”

With a scream I rushed forward, screwdriver raised.

In a blur of motion, his hands came forward. A sharp pain cracked through my wrist as the man skillfully knocked the tool from my grip then clamped his hand around my neck and squeezed.

I tried to gasp for breath, tried to scream, but no air went in and no sound came out. My pulse thumped in my head. My fingers clawed at his hands, trying desperately to peel them away. I stretched to reach his face, but my efforts were frustrated by his long arms.

He spun me around and wrapped his arm around my throat then carried me forward, as though I was nothing more than a rag doll. I thought he might take me into the apartment, force me to my knees, and put a gun to my head. I thought maybe he’d kill me next to Austin or my mom. That would’ve been better I suppose—quick and painless—but he had other intentions.

He held me for a moment, choking for breath, then dragged me to the second tank, the one full of water, arm still clamped tight on my throat. He was going to drown me.

The tank’s rim hit my shins as he shoved forward. I fell and the water swallowed me. My arms flailed and I twisted around as I broke the surface, gasping for breath. Stone’s hand grabbed my face and shoved it under. He held me down and I thought my lungs would explode.

This was it, I thought. I was going to die in the tank, like Austin.

His hand grabbed a fistful of my shirt and yanked me upright. I gulped a lungful of air, wheezing as he held me just above the water. I struggled to get my hands under me, to grab the lip of the tank, to brace myself on my knees—anything to keep my head above water.

“Tell me,” he said in a flat tone. “Where is the information you sent your friend?”

“I don’t know! I don’t ha—”

He shoved me under again. I clawed and thrashed until my lungs burned and I thought I’d pass out. As dark stars crowded the edges of my sight he yanked me up again.

“Where?” he said again.

I shook my head and gasped. I couldn’t find my breath to speak. Everything was tilting and fading. He plunged me under again. Water rushed into my nose and mouth. Staring up from beneath the water, I saw the blurred image of the man through the murky, blood-tinged water. It was my blood and it all seemed so surreal.

He jerked me upright again, this time pulling me closer to his face.

“I have to be sure, you understand.”

“I don’t know anything . . . I swear.” My words were slurred by exhaustion and pain. “Nothing . . . I don’t know . . .” My throat began to cinch tighter as the hot tears blurred the world.

“Think harder.”

I shook my head. “No one . . . no one knows . . .”

He studied me with lifeless eyes. There was no hint of contempt or anger in them; they were simply dark and empty. I was simply an obstacle on his path to some objective or another, and he was here to remove me.

Gasping, I struggled to speak and he pulled me closer. I didn’t know what Pixel had found. All I knew was that it had cost him his life, and it would cost me mine if I didn’t find a way out of the situation.

And then something in me changed.
Why struggle?
I thought.
Why such a frantic desperation to keep breathing in this body? Why not just let go?

My mother’s words from beyond whispered through my mind. She’d found peace. This wasn’t the end at all. So why was I so desperate to cling to my last heartbeat?

It’s not that I suddenly
wanted
to die; I just no longer felt any need to resist what my mother had told me in my hack. There was nothing to fear, she’d said.

Peace, like a warm blanket, settled over me for the first time. It’s going to be okay, I thought, and I felt my face soften.

“You want to tell me something,” I heard Stone say, leaning forward.

It’s going to be okay.

I opened my mouth to speak, when the man’s attention snapped to his left. In the doorway I saw movement and heard a voice that seemed far away. The world slowed to a crawl.

Stone released his grip on me and lunged to his left, blurring out of sight. I started to fall back into the water and heard the crack of gunfire. One, two, three muzzle flashes.

And then I slipped beneath the surface. I flailed, panicking, feeling myself fade and desperate to get back up. My face broke the surface and I gulped air.

A raspy gasp to my right. Stone was there, holding the lip of the tank, trying to pull himself up. His eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. Blood soaked through his once crisp white shirt.

Oddly none of this really seemed to concern me much.

Another shot rang out.

Stone’s head snapped sideways, and he collapsed. My sight blurred. I was fading now. Slipping back into the water.

It’s going to be okay . . . It’s going to be okay, Mother . . .

I thought I heard a voice, but I was underwater again. I thought about opening my eyes, but they felt as heavy as iron. Either way it didn’t matter. It was going to be okay.

A hand suddenly grabbed my shirt and pulled my head above water.

This time I clearly heard someone say my name. Felt someone’s arms under me, holding me. Then I felt his breath on my cheek and my ear.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Austin said. “I’ve got you.”

B
LAKBOX IMPLODED
while the world watched. The story dominated the news cycle with the video clip of federal agents leading Walter Bell, handcuffed, into court.

Stone had been unaware that the cameras mounted in Austin’s apartment were recording the whole time he was there; Austin had documented every hack. Stone had unknowingly implicated Bell in Pixel’s death and far more than that.

The FBI conducted raids on five of Bell’s data centers and uncovered proof that he was the architect of an elaborate “dark net” used by terror organizations and rogue governments to traffic in state secrets. Bell had been the power broker behind it all, betraying his country for the sake of profit and power.

The talking heads on TV were already debating how fragile cyber security was even at the highest levels of government. Everything was for sale and no secret was ever truly secret. Privacy, they said, was dead. In cyberspace, anyone could hack into your life if they knew how.

But they only knew the half of it. Austin and I had seen far more.

I sat on the edge of my hospital bed and felt a deep sense of peace as I watched the TV, not because Bell was going to jail—although that certainly didn’t hurt—but because it was all over.

Jill’s life had been taken and so had Pixel’s and Mom’s. Yet, despite the sadness I felt, I was strangely at peace with their deaths. I would miss them all terribly, but in some way I was also happy for them. Death was no longer a monster to be feared because it wasn’t the end. It was a new beginning and if it had taken Mom in such a kind way, with joy and comfort, then I believed it would’ve done the same for Pixel and Jill and for Dad and Tommy.

Death wasn’t to be feared. It was simply the next step toward forever.

“Let me get that for you,” Lettie said and tied my shoe. She hadn’t left my bedside from the moment they’d admitted me.

“Thanks. I can’t wait to get this thing off.” I gently massaged my arm, which hung in a sling. Thankfully, the bullet had gone straight through, and the doctors were pleased enough with my recovery that they were discharging me.

“Well, don’t rush it,” Lettie said. “Things take time to heal.”

I slid my feet to the floor and stood as a woman stepped into the room. Brenda Colson, the head of the FBI’s cyber-crime division who’d stopped by my room the night I’d been admitted. Today she was dressed in a grey business suit and held a thick brown file folder under one arm.

“Ms. Parks . . .” The woman stepped up to me and extended her hand. “How are you feeling today?”

I shook her hand, glancing at Lettie. “Much better, thanks.”

Brenda Colson had sat quietly in the corner that first night, merely observing while I was questioned about BlakBox, Austin, and Pixel. She had an easy smile and grey hair.

“I understand you’ve been cleared to go home,” Agent Colson said.

“Yes ma’am,” I said.

“Wonderful.” Her attention snapped to Lettie then back to me. “Before you do, there are a few matters we need to resolve.”

“Matters?” Lettie said. “What kind of matters?”

She flipped open the file folder and traced her finger down the page as she spoke. “Despite their CEO’s personal woes, BlakBox’s legal counsel is leveling a number of charges against you: trespassing, wiretapping, extortion . . .” She paused and looked over the top of her glasses. “Then there’s the matter of your mother’s kidnapping, which is being taken under advisement by the Department of Justice, considering your mother’s death.”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

“You’re in a bit of a precarious position, Ms. Parks,” she said. “Being seventeen, the law would normally see you as a minor and might mitigate the consequences you’re facing. However, I understand that you’re an emancipated minor, which changes your legal status to that of an adult. An adult fully accountable to answer for these charges.”

The room was silent.

“However,” she finally said, closing the file. “Intelligent, gifted young people like you don’t belong in courtrooms or concrete cells, an opinion which my superiors share with me in your case.”

“So that’s good news,” I said.

Agent Colson watched me, but showed no emotion. She was all business.

“Isn’t it?” I asked.

“Well,” she continued, “that depends on you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Through this particular investigation, it’s come to our attention that, in the recent past, you’ve engaged in questionable activity online,” Agent Colson said. “Activity of questionable legality and significant consequences if properly addressed.”

“I, well . . .” My voice trembled.

“However,” she continued, “We’re prepared to drop the charges and make the inquiry go away. On one condition.” She held up her index finger. “That you to come work for us.”

“What?” Lettie said, stunned.

“Really?” I said.

The woman’s stone-hard face eased. “It’s rare to discover someone with your skills, especially at such a young age. Cyber security is the new battleground and, frankly, we can’t afford to be outgunned. There’s too much at stake. You and Austin are brilliant, two of the smartest hackers we’ve ever encountered, and we have a great need for individuals with your particular skill set. Brilliance like yours can’t be wasted or, worse, used toward nefarious ends.”

“Austin too?”

“I’ve already spoken to him.” Colson looked at me. “I’m offering you a new life—the best ongoing training, access to the most cutting-edge technology, and a chance to do significant work that’s challenging and vital. You’ll be working under my direct supervision. I’m establishing a new West Coast division based here in the Bay Area. I’ll push you harder than you think possible. But it’ll be the best work you’ve ever done, that much I can promise.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” I said.

“Yes would be a good start.” Colson said.

“Yes,” I said. “Of course, yes.”

“Good,” Colson said. “My assistant will make contact with you tomorrow.” She handed the folder to me. “A keepsake,” she said with a grin.

I put it under my arm and gave a nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Also,” Agent Colson said, “I understand that you have some lingering medical expenses related to your mother. Those will be taken care of while we negotiate your compensation terms. I want your head in the game, not on scraping money together to pay bills.”

I looked at Lettie. Tears were forming in her eyes. “Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “See you next week.”

I couldn’t help but smile, watching her leave.

Lettie picked up my small overnight bag. “You ready?”

“I have just one stop to make first.”

Lettie gave a knowing smile. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Thanks.” I said and kissed her on the cheek before heading toward the elevator.

Austin was recovering in the room next to the one I’d taken Mom from a few days before. They said that everything I’d done to revive him, including injecting the adrenaline, may have been enough to resuscitate him, but they were having a difficult time believing it. He’d been dead too long.

Austin, propped up on pillows, watched me come into the room. He looked more at peace than I’d ever seen him despite the deep-blue puffs of skin under his eyes.

He’d survived death and was hardly worse for the wear.

“About time you dropped by,” he said, smiling.

“I was . . . busy.” I went to his side and took his hand. “How you feeling?”

“Alive.” His eyes were bright. “I think you saved me. Thank you.”

“I think it’s the other way around.” I leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you. For everything.”

Austin looked at me in a way no one ever had before. He didn’t have to say that he cared about me, that he might even love me, because I knew it. I saw it in his smile and in his eyes.

“You have to tell me everything,” I said, “What about your tumor?”

His eyebrow arched. “Gone.”

“What!”

“They’ve run every kind of test that exists, but can’t find a trace of it. Three different radiologists have examined me.”

“You found Outlaw then?”

He tilted his head to the side, as if remembering something important. “I did, but not in the way I’d planned. You know the truth of it is that I didn’t have to find him because
I’m
Outlaw. And so are you. We’re not bound by the laws of this world. It just took these experiences for me to realize . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Realize what?”

“That death isn’t death. It’s not the end because we aren’t just our minds or our bodies. We’re far more than just physical beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a temporary physical experience.” He paused. “All I know is the reality that’s beyond all of this transcends words and comprehension. The only way to grasp it is to let go of our own limited understanding.”

I smiled and squeezed his hand. “You look so . . . different. So alive. What did you see? What changed?”

“Everything changed,” he said. “Everything. Turns out, some things can’t be explained.” He smiled.

“At least not yet,” I said.

“Not yet, and maybe never. Either way it’s okay. Some things are too big to comprehend. You have to leave space for mystery. A lot of space. And the only way to grasp it is to let go of everything else.”

“That’s what my Mom told me.”

“Deditio,” he said.
Surrender
.

“Deditio,” I repeated with a chuckle.

“Nothing will ever be the same. I feel like I’m seeing the world for the first time.”

“Me too.”

He nodded. “And it feels like just the beginning.”

“I think you’re right,” I said. “Just the beginning.”

And I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Nothing would ever be the same.