Mr. CEO (39 page)

“Peter was involved. I mean, besides the fact that I was kidnapped out of Japan and brought here, he was involved. I've never been able to prove that he had a direct hand in my mother's suicide beyond a phone call where he basically told her that she was outta luck, but I have my suspicions. What I do know is that my mother's death wasn't a suicide.”

“How?” I ask, and realize I may sound like I'm doubting her. “I mean, how'd it happen?”

“Security camera footage showed two men visiting the apartment building where my mother and I lived. It took me a very long time and a lot of connections to obtain it. Later, both men were busted by the cops on an unrelated charge, but what was interesting was that the handwriting of one of the men perfectly matched the handwriting used in my mother's suicide note. Even the grammar and word choice was the same. My mother spoke and wrote in the Kanto-style dialect of Japanese, and from some of her earlier school writings that my grandmother sent me, she had pretty, almost dainty writing. The note was written in a heavy, sloppy hand, and was written in Kansai-ben, the Osaka style of Japanese. The differences are small to foreigners, like using
ore
instead of
watakushi
to refer to herself, but I really applied myself with my language studies... there's no way that Aiko Mori wrote that note.”

I gawk, and Andrea nods. “Yeah. So you see why I've got a sword to grind against Peter DeLaCoeur as well. For the past six years, I've been pretty much doing the same thing Katrina was, gathering information. I was just looking to finish my MBA before taking him down. When I heard about what you were up to, I approached Nathan when he came back by himself today. He told me where to find you.”

I should be pissed that she's kept this secret from me for so long, but I'm not. Instead, another question comes to mind. “So why have you called me
oniichan
for most of my life, if you hate the family so much?” The Japanese term for older brother is probably only one of maybe five Japanese words I know. However, I know I'm the only person Andrea uses familial Japanese terms with. Peter hates it when she speaks Japanese since he doesn't understand it and never bothered to learn any, and Andrea would never call Margaret her mother in any language.

Andrea gets up off the chair and comes over, sitting next to me on the bed. She puts an arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “Oh Jackson, I've never hated you. You've pissed me off plenty of times and disappointed me, sure. Mainly it hurt that you spent so much of your life living in denial of who we are and what sort of family we lived in. But I have never hated you. You're my big brother, and I love you. Right now you need my help, and I'm going to be here for you.”

I hug Andrea back, fresh tears coming to my eyes, and soon I'm crying again. I wish the little waif in my arms was about six or eight inches taller, that the long black hair was short and brown, and that Andrea was Katrina. Still, it helps, and Andrea holds me back, letting me vent. When it's over, she kisses my forehead, and gives me a smile. “Better?”

I nod, and wipe at my nose. “Yeah. I think I need to invest in some tissues though. I don't see any. I don't think Katrina ever cried.”

“I bet she did,” Andrea counters. “I've done plenty of crying myself. Now, you know why I'm here. I've got some computer skills too, and with your permission, I want to combine what I've gathered with what Katrina's got. Together, I'm certain there's enough dirt there to put Sam Grammercy and Peter DeLaCoeur away for the rest of their lives. There has to be.”

“Let's do it,” I say, anger filling my voice. “I don't care about the money anymore. Those bastards took Katrina from me, they need to rot.”

“And our money?” Andrea asks.

I shrug. “Doesn't fucking matter anymore. Maybe I'll take what I can before the cops move in, I'm sure I can do some wire transfers or get cash advances on my credit cards that he's paying for, but I honestly don't give a fuck. I'll walk out tomorrow with five bucks in my pocket if I have to.”

“Well, we can do more than that,” Andrea says with a chuckle as she gets off the bed and goes over to Katrina's computer. She sits down and takes a look, and I can tell, she's impressed. “Whoa... this thing is fucking... I think we could rename this thing Skynet.”

“Can you access it?” I ask, and Andrea nods. “Really?”

“I know more than just business. This might take a little while though, unless you know the system, too.”

I shake my head, chagrined. “I saw her use it, but she didn't tell me much.”

Andrea flips a switch, and the computer hums to life, a glow forming from the flat panel display. “Well then, this might take a little while to get into. Do you have any money on you?”

I pat my hip pocket, and pull out my wallet. I honestly wasn't even sure it was there until I take it out. Opening it up, I see a few bills. “Maybe fifty bucks, why?”

“Because I skipped lunch to argue with Nathan and find this place, and I'm hungry. I saw a minimart on the corner if you turn left when you hit Market Street. Think you'd be willing to make a grub run while I get cozy with the HAL-9000 here?”

“Skynet, HAL-9000... you're a geek, Andrea.”

She turns and gives me a smile, and I realize something. I love her, too. “Thanks,
oniichan
. Take a hat or something, I can hear the rain still.”

* * *

I
t actually takes
Andrea three weeks to crack the system, during which I can do little more than sit around, read the business books that she brings me, and fuck around on my own laptop. Nathan gives me a call once in a while, but my cover story of just being pissed at Peter is holding pat, and Peter hasn't invested too much effort in finding me yet.

I also start exercising again, copying the movements that Katrina and I went through, and trying some more that I make up from the stuff laying around the loft. I find that the pain of the exercise eases the pain in my heart, and that in doing so, I find myself closer to Katrina. I can understand more about what she put herself through for so many years, and I can begin to understand what drove her to become the woman she was. It's both sad and beautiful, and as I drop the sandbag that I've had over my shoulders, not all the water dripping down my face is sweat.

“You keep pushing yourself like that, you're going to end up with rhabdo,” Andrea says from over by the computer, where she's been working for four hours. “I'd prefer to not have to drag you to the hospital on the back of my scooter.”

“You brought my car today,” I reply, dropping down into a burpee and kicking out before pulling back in and jumping, touching the beam that's over my head. I'd found the two rope handles that Katrina had tied around the beam yesterday for pullups, and realized there were so many little things I still wanted to find. “Besides, rhabdo mostly hits untrained individuals.”

“And athletes who refuse to accept that their bodies may not be as strong as their minds,” Andrea notes, turning back to the computer and typing away. “I'm just saying, don't kill yourself over there.”

I ignore her and finish my set, stopping when the world swims in front of my eyes and I'm fighting for my balance. Enough, it's enough for now... maybe I can do more later. “How's the process going?”

“I’ve nearly... got it!” she says, sticking her hands in the air.

I stagger over, sitting on the bed while Andrea clicks away madly with the mouse, typing occasionally. “You're not going to believe all that she's got here. Holy shit, I thought I had information.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, staring at the blanket while the world still swims. I lie back, and the spinning slows enough that I can focus on what Andrea's saying.

“I mean, I have gigs of data, lots of documents, and I thought I had a lot. But Katrina... it's going to take me a while, but this thing... she's got just one file folder named 'PDLC' here that has over a terabyte of data. That's like twenty full-length Blu-Ray movies of information.”

“What's it all say?” I ask, covering my eyes. It helps some more, and I think that maybe in a minute or two I might even be able to sit up. “I think I might puke.”

“That happens,” Andrea says dismissively. “As for the info... I haven't had time to go through this all yet. Like I said, if this was a movie, it'd run for about forty hours, just this one folder. I don't even know what the hell else is still on here. I need time.”

“Take all the time you need,” I reply, sitting up slowly. “Is the computer locked?”

Andrea taps, and shakes her head. “It can be. What do you want the password to be?”

I think for a minute, and know there's only one answer that fits. “Make it... Hagakure. It was her favorite book.”

Andrea types, then nods. “Done. First letter capitalized.
Oniichan,
I know that this is important to you, and it is to me too, but I've got some other work I need to get done. Can I leave this in your hands, to start going through the data?”

“Sure, I'll stick to the PDLC files only though.”

“Good. By the way, when I come back tomorrow, I'll bring another book for you to read. It's a good one on business evaluation.”

I give Andrea a confused look. “Why?”

Andrea grows serious as she gets up and grabs her backpack. “Jackson, we're going to take down Peter. But the best way you can honor Katrina... is to be everything she saw inside you, the same potential I see. I won't let you waste it.”

* * *

I
barely sleep that night
, absorbed by the data that I read. Andrea was right, Katrina's pure amount of gathered information is staggering. I start with the documents, mostly a lot of PDFs, but also text files, copied e-mails, and all sorts of other data. The names I see attached to each are disgusting, and I realize finally just how far deep down the rabbit hole I've been living.

He may not have been responsible for Katrina's father, but Peter's had at least a dozen other men killed. Some of them had families, and some of them were for simply business reasons. Some of them, perhaps the most disgusting ones, were ones he had killed merely because they pissed him off.

After my eyes go bleary from reading text, I switch to some of the audio and video files. I listen to intercepted conversations as Peter tells people what to do to maintain their criminal empires. Most of them sound like Katrina was using some sort of microphone or listening device to get them, and I wonder just how many years she crept around, gathering her data before she was sure she was ready to strike.

Finally, just before dawn, I drop off into a light doze, waking up when I hear someone knocking on the door again. I sit up, realizing I've spent the whole night in front of Katrina's computer, and check the time, seeing that it's nearly eight in the morning. I've only been asleep for about four hours.

“Yeah?” I ask at the door, opening the peephole. I see a black woman outside, tall and statuesque, with intense eyes and a solemn cast to her face. She's pretty, but she wears the same gravity on her face that I've come to recognize on my own face in the mirror. “Who are you?”

“A friend of Katrina's,” she says. “My name is Darcy.”

I remember the name, and unlock the door. “What are you doing here?”

Darcy steps inside and lets me close the door behind her. “I should ask you the same thing, but I know the answer. Peter's sources may have kept it minimized in the news, but I know what happened. Of course officially, it was just a random shooting without even a body, the bastards. And I know you've had some help, there's no way you got into Katrina's computer without it. It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face, Jackson.”

“Katrina mentioned you, the pleasure is mine,” I reply automatically, remembering a little bit of my manners. “How'd you know I was here?”

Before Darcy can answer another knock at the door comes, and I hear Andrea outside. “It's me. I've got breakfast.”

I open the door, and Andrea looks startled when she comes in. “Who's your visitor?”

Before I can say anything, Darcy introduces herself. “Darcy Weaver... also known as BlakDhal1A.”

Andrea looks surprised, but I'm even more surprised when she offers her hand to shake, since she rarely does that. “Andrea DeLaCoeur... Blue Sakura.”