No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery) (12 page)

“So, you are friends with the legendary Zimmerman twins,” he commented. “I am most curious about them. Are they as odd as everyone says?”

“They’re not odd,” I protested. “I’m really starting to hate that word.”

He nodded knowingly. “I understand. People must have called you odd, too.”

“The twins are
not
odd and neither am I—the rest of the world is simply out of touch.”

He smiled at that. “Unlike you, I embrace my uniqueness. You’ll understand better once you get to know me.”

“Why would I get to know you?”

“Because I’ve decided that you will.”

I rolled my eyes and his smile widened as he typed some more commands I’d never seen before. Then he did some very strange maneuvers, which, as far as I could tell, brought him no closer to breaking into the computers.

I glanced at my watch. Five minutes had already passed. He’d never make it under ten minutes at this rate. I yawned.

“So tell me,
cara,
what do you like to do in your free time?” he asked.

“The test,” I said pointedly. “Keep your mind on the task at hand, please.”

“I’ll worry about the test,” he said lightly. “And you worry about answering my questions.”

“Why should I answer your questions, especially when they’re personal?”

“It’s a nice way to pass the time.”

I shrugged. If he wanted to play it this way, I could go along.

“I like to play GURPS, shoot pool and eat pizza,” I said. Generic Universal Role Playing Systems are like hi-tech simulation games. They are addictive and I have to be careful not to spend all my free time in front of the computer on them.

“You any good at pool?”

“I’m okay. Xavier is awesome. Every shot is a mathematical calculation to him.”

“What about pizza? What do you like on it?”

“I like the works on my pizza, including anchovies,” I answered, glancing at my watch. Seven minutes down. From what I could see, he wasn’t even remotely close to breaking in. This guy was toast.

He started humming and glancing around my room as the screens flashed by quickly. I couldn’t even figure out where he was, let alone what strategy he was employing. If this was the best Slash could do, he was a total disappointment.

He abruptly pushed the computer toward me. “There’s your number,” he said.

I looked down at the watch—seven minutes and fifty-seven seconds—then back at the screen. There it was, the number for John Phreak.

“How…”

He yawned now. “I did it my own way,
cara.
And now that I’ve passed your pathetic little test, may I finally learn why I was summoned here?”

I was still staring at the screen. “I can’t believe it. You
are
Slash. I’m just surprised you actually came, not to mention that you exist. Will you tell me what was in the message from the Zimmerman twins?”

“That is between me and them. Suffice it to say it piqued my interest.”

I took the laptop and set it aside. “Your hacking method was so weird. I didn’t understand a thing you did.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I guess I am,” I admitted. I adjusted the pillow behind my back and leaned against it. “Can I ask a rather personal question?”

“Ah, now the tables are turned. How personal a question would you like to ask?” he said with a suggestive lift of his eyebrow.

“Sheesh, not
that
personal. I just wondered what would happen, you know, if you were to fall into enemy hands?”

“I’d have to kill myself.”

I had a feeling that he wasn’t joking. “I know how you got in here. You hacked into the SuperProtect computers and figured out how to bypass my alarm.”

“It took me less than three minutes,” he said. “I left my briefcase in the foyer.”

“Optimum,” I said. I knew I sounded like a teenager, but I couldn’t help it. I was thoroughly impressed and not just a little awestruck. “Well, the twins were right,” I finally said. “They assured me you’d come. But they didn’t say you’d come directly to me.”

“The twins do not know what I will or will not do.” There was arrogance in his voice, par for the course for a man like him.

“So, why
did
you come?” I asked. “What exactly piqued your curiosity?”

He looked intently at me. The man had gorgeous smoky brown Italian eyes with long, black eyelashes that most women would kill for. He also had that Colin Farrell, unshaven look going. And for him, it worked quite well.

“You,” he said simply. “I’ve heard a lot about you and decided it was time to finally meet you face-to-face.”

“Me?” I repeated, stunned. “You heard about me? I, uh, hope it was all good stuff.”

He smiled. “Before I came tonight, I did a little research of my own.”

“What kind of research?”

He leaned back on the bed, putting his arms behind him. They were very nice arms, muscular and well-built, which was unusual for a computer geek.

“You were born in Springfield, Virginia on the twenty-eighth day of July,” he said. “That means you are twenty-four, at least until next week. You stand five foot eleven inches and weigh one hundred and forty-four pounds.”

“One thirty-seven,” I insisted and then blushed. “I’ve been on a diet. Sort of.”

His smile widened as he continued. “Your father is a lawyer in Washington, D.C., for Harrington, Mariball and Carmichael. Your mother is a homemaker and a former beauty queen, active in charity work. You studied at Georgetown University and earned an undergraduate degree in mathematics and computer science. Graduated with honors. You currently work as a techie at the NSA and your direct supervisor is Jonathan Littleton, who is totally incompetent, by the way. You have two older brothers, Beau who’s a policeman in Baltimore, and Rock, a journalist, in Richmond. You drive a red Miata with Maryland tags ABV333, and you adore Diet Coke and chocolate éclairs. How am I doing so far?”

“Not bad,” I admitted. “But that’s superficial information. A kid could have dug up that.”

He studied me for a moment. “Your bra size is 36A.”

My mouth dropped open. “No way! How did you do that?”

He leaned over and picked my red Wonderbra up off the floor, letting it dangle from his finger. “I’m an excellent observer.”

I snatched it from him, my cheeks flaming. “Hey, that’s cheating.”

“
Al contrario.
That’s making good on my talents. And by the way, I happen to like red lingerie on women.” He looked at me intently and my cheeks flamed hotter. Grinning at my obvious discomfort, he glanced about at the room. “Another observation—you’re not much of a housekeeper.”

“My apartment got tossed,” I said, hastily stuffing my bra beneath the pillow. “I’ve been kind of busy and haven’t had time to clean it up yet.”

“Tossed?”

“Someone searched it.”

He stared at me, his smoky eyes shuttered. “Looking for what?”

“Well, that’s the thousand dollar question these days.”

“Which is why you had the twins summon me, I presume.”

“Partially, yes.” I crossed my arms against my chest, feeling exposed now that he not only knew my pathetic bra size, but the embarrassing fact that I wore a padded one.

“So tell me the rest,
cara.
Why am I here?”

I exhaled a deep breath. “It’s up to the twins to fill you in on the details.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “Why? You still do not trust me?”

“I don’t know you. True, you passed the test. But I’m relying on the twins’ judgment. If they’re convinced you’re Slash, that’s good enough for me. Come back and talk to me after you’ve met with them.”

“You are dismissing me?” He looked incredulous.

“Look, bringing you on board was the twins’ idea. Time is of the essence and they thought you could help. I agreed to go along with it. Frankly, I won’t blame you if you decide to back out of this. Things have been a little dangerous lately, and I don’t even want to think about what would happen if I put a national treasure in danger.”

“Now you think I’m afraid of danger?” He swore under his breath, sounding downright insulted.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I backtracked. “It’s just I’m not sure what’s going on. I don’t want to go to jail for endangering you.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “I’m not at all certain I have you figured out,
cara.
You openly insult me, but for some reason I think I like you.”

“That’s a compliment, right?”

He stood abruptly. “Until I hear what the twins have to say, you will not say a word about my visit to anyone, especially not to your boss. Don’t trust anyone.”

“How did you know my boss is Jonathan Littleton?”

“I work at the NSA, remember? I’ll meet you here again tomorrow night and we’ll talk.
Si?
”

“I won’t be home until after eight,” I said. “I have karate. Can you come after that?”

He lifted his hands to the sky in what looked like the Italian gesture for exasperation. “First she summons me, then dismisses me and after that she dictates when I should come again.
Buon dio,
a classic example of how the mind of a woman works.”

I rolled my eyes. “So does that mean you’ll be here or not?”

He looked pained. “
Si, cara,
I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think. But tell me one thing, what’s with the gun? A new fashion statement for hackers?”

He looked down at his weapon and shrugged. “I live in D.C.”

That said it all, I suppose. “But I thought you were protected by the FBI.”

“When they know where I am,” he replied and then started to walk out of my bedroom.

“Wait,” I called out, stopping him. “What’s your real name?”

“Sorry, that’s classified. Call me Slash. Everyone else does.” He paused, crossing his arms and leaning back against the door. “Why do I get the feeling that there is something else you wish to know about me?”

Gee, I’d only known him for half an hour and he could read me like a book. Still, I’m not one to waste opportunity, so I quickly asked, “Are you by any chance related to Enrique Iglesias?”

“That Spanish singer? Certainly not. He’s got a big nose.”

I looked at Slash’s nose and thought it a fine nose indeed. Then again, I thought Enrique had a pretty fine nose, too. Obviously I did not know my noses.

“Um, so I can’t tell anyone I met you?” I asked.

“Only the twins.”

I sighed. “Gee, it’s like meeting Zorro. But if I can’t tell people, where’s the fun in it?”

“Zorro was Mexican. I’m Italian, and I’m not wearing a mask.”

“I know. It was just a figure of speech. And I suppose it’s a good thing you aren’t wearing tights and a cape either. I might have had heart failure.”

He laughed. “You are such a flirt,
cara.
I like it.”

I blushed. Me, a flirt? Okay, maybe a little. Who could blame me? There was something dangerous and terribly exciting about flirting with a national treasure. Besides it was three o’clock in the morning and I was punchy. I needed to go to sleep so I could get up and function at work in the morning.

“Buona notte, Lexi
.
Sogni dolci,”
he whispered, leaning against my doorjamb.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” I said, lifting my hands.

“I said good night and sweet dreams,” he said, his mouth twitching. “Perhaps now you’ll dream about me,
si?
” With that, he disappeared from my bedroom and presumably my apartment.

Feeling a little testy, I made certain the door was locked and the alarm rearmed. As if it really mattered at this point. Then I picked up the phone and called the twins. Elvis answered on the first ring. It was the middle of the night, but he was wide awake and probably working.

“Hi, Elvis, it’s me. I think Slash was just here.”

“How do you know it was Slash?”

“I wasn’t sure, so I gave him a test. You know, on the practice network you set up for me. I don’t know how he did it, but he broke into the computer and found the phone number in seven minutes and fifty-seven seconds. I think it’s a record or something.”

“Shit,” Elvis said and I heard him drop the phone.

“Hello, hello?” I called out. “Elvis, are you there?”

I could hear him talking rapidly with Xavier in the background and then about two minutes later, Elvis got back on the phone.

“You there, Lexi?”

“Yes,” I said, worried. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Not only did he hack into the computer and retrieve the phone number from said document, he stole all the digital keys from the log-in machine, booby trapped several programs and modified the kernel system so he could break in any time he wanted. We had to shut down the network completely and unplug the computers. We’ll have to reinstall everything from scratch. It will take us a weekend’s worth of work.”

“Your whole system is compromised?” I said, horrified.

“Nah, just the practice network,” he answered. “We caught it early enough, so luckily, it’s nothing more than a pain in the ass.”

I could have been wrong, but amid the irritation in his voice, I thought there was a trace of admiration.

“Oh, God, Elvis, I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just trying to make certain it was him. I didn’t tell him anything. I left that up to you guys. He said he’ll be stopping by soon.”

Before he could say anything more, I heard the doorbell ring in the background. “Get that, would you, Xavier?” Elvis said.

I listened intently. “Is it Slash?”

Elvis was silent for a moment. “Nope,” he said. “But someone ordered us a dozen pizzas with the works, including anchovies, and charged it to our tab at Avanti’s.”

Shit.
“Oh, well, I gotta go,” I chirped. “Call me as soon as you make contact with Slash.”

I hung up the phone, unable to believe how stupid I’d been to let Slash into the twins’ network, even if it had been in a peripheral way. That was all a guy like Slash needed to get a foot in the door to do some serious damage.