Weavers (27 page)

CHAPTER 63

“I want you to tell me everything,” said Mrs. Martin as she took her seat at the table across from Cynthia.

Grilled cheese sandwiches and tall glasses of water sat between the two of them, but Cynthia’s appetite died with her friend’s question. Cynthia hadn’t said anything about what she’d seen in the men’s apartment.

“Spit it out, my dear. You’re harboring something ugly, so let’s be rid of it.”

“I went exploring last night, on the map,” explained Cynthia slowly, and Mrs. Martin nodded. Cynthia knew that she was angry with her—even worse, disappointed. It didn’t matter, though. Cynthia wasn’t sure of exactly what she’d seen, but she knew it was bad and that Mrs. Martin was the only person who might be able to help. “I saw the men that we saw the other day, from the truck. They live on the other end of the parking lot.”

“What were they doing?”

“One of them was mad,” explained Cynthia. “He was all purple and black, and he just looked so angry. Dad was really upset, but this was a lot worse. I was going to leave after I saw that, but I went back to see the other man. He’d been at his computer before and he was when I got back, but he was gone, too. He was weaving with the computer. I could see the threads coming from him, and they went into this little box that was hooked to the wall. When I went into him, I could see that he was looking through someone else, and that person was looking at a computer, too. It looked like he was doing something with money, but I couldn’t tell for sure.”

“Oh my,” said Mrs. Martin. She reached for a cigarette, and when she lit it, her hands were shaking.

Cynthia felt like the worst person in the world. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to do that stuff without you, but I was bored, and I just wanted to explore. Their apartment wasn’t marked, and I just thought I’d have a peek, just to see.” Cynthia swallowed thickly, and Mrs. Martin exhaled smoke. “I knew it was bad as soon as I was in there,” whispered Cynthia.

“Are you sure about what you saw?” Mrs. Martin asked. “You need to be very sure, Cynthia. Are you absolutely positive that you saw him weaving into a computer?”

When Cynthia nodded again, Mrs. Martin nodded, then set her cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and exhaled deeply, smoke and frustration curling over her lips.

“Eat your sandwich,” said Mrs. Martin. “I’m going to need to see for myself, and I’m going to need you to come with me.”

“Do I have to?”

Mrs. Martin smiled at her sadly. “I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve, dear, but age is not on my side, and I’ve never been as strong as you. I’ll need you to guide me there, and then I’ll want your help in case we get into a bind.” Mrs. Martin took another drag from her cigarette and said, “Eat up. The sooner it’s over, the better.”

Cynthia nodded and then tore into her sandwich. She wasn’t hungry, but she wanted to do as she was told and for what Mrs. Martin had said to be true. She wanted it to be over.

CHAPTER 64

Darryl was going through the Roberts’s accounts, dumping them all into a single offshore account that only he had the numbers for, but he still felt the intruders.
It was like feeling a lover’s breath on the back of his neck, and then they were inside.

Darryl had never felt bad about the many, many times he’d violated others in just this way, but he was shocked and wild with hatred for them all the same. He despised them for making his life harder than it already was, for having the nerve to try to see inside of him, yet he forced himself to remain calm. Even though he was positive they were going to try and steal his money, he let them in. There were two of them this time; he was sure of it, just as he’d been sure that there had only been one before.

He’d already seized several hundred thousand dollars, so if this was the beginning of the end, he’d at least made a good start.
They don’t know that you know they’re here
,
Darryl reminded himself, sure that he was mentally strong enough that they wouldn’t be able to steal his thoughts, no matter how hard they might try. As far as that went, who the hell cared if they did know they were in him?

Darryl walked to the bathroom, ran his hands over his face, and then stared into the mirror, grinned, and extended a middle finger to himself and to them. They were gone from him as if they’d never been there at all. Darryl spun in the room, looking for them and knowing there would be nothing there to see. He ran to the computer, but everything there was fine, too. There was no way for either of them to have gleaned any information from him or the screen, but Darryl found that even that relief wasn’t good enough. He needed to know who they were, and he needed to know why they were fucking with him. He pounded his fist into the wall, and Terry came running.

“Are you OK?”

Darryl shook his head and collapsed to the floor, landing on his ass. “No, I am not,” said Darryl. “I feel like I’m going crazy. There was just someone in my head, I know it, but they didn’t do anything.”

He closed his eyes, and as he tumbled onto his side he heard Terry calling to him. Then there was nothing. Darryl was floating in the air near the ceiling of the apartment, a trick he hadn’t tried in years. Indulging in it felt like a step back for him, but then he saw them, and he knew he’d been right to try it. They were floating together, a shimmering form that was both very real and translucent at the same time. Darryl watched them as they sat together in the corner, watching him and Terry and listening like a couple of spies.
How long have they been here? Why are they coming at all? Who are they?
The questions would have to wait. The thieves felt him—he knew it—and just as they’d run from his head, now they ran from the bent world in the apartment and were gone.

Darryl winked back into himself, opened his eyes, and pushed himself to a sitting position.

“We need to leave.”

“Now?”

“Yesterday,” said Darryl as he stood. “It’s probably already too late.”
Fuck.

CHAPTER 65

“He’s clearing it all out,” said Pat as he came to, and Jessica grinned.
The game was on. They’d be out in the open soon, and with any luck, in custody very soon after that.

While conditions for Pat had actually improved in some ways here on the road—Jessica was certain they were feeding him better than he fed himself, for instance, and they also took the trouble to keep him hooked to a saline drip to ward off dehydration—it nonetheless had to be terrifying, draining work. Jessica had had decades to get used to Frank, but even she couldn’t begin to imagine what it must be like to actually have the slob inside your head.

“It’s gone,” he said. “All the money is in a new account, and they’re going to ground. You need to move now.”

Jessica nodded and began to stride from the room. She paused, though, considering her assets and options. She tried to imagine capturing her quarry with just Tesla-helmeted men armed with Tasers but balked at the prospect, forced herself to really consider what was at stake. What happened next could be the tipping point for the United States for the next fifty years. No, she needed Frank on board, too. There was no point in pretending that it could be done any other way. Frank could still do a shutdown. He was still the alpha in the room, even to a reverse-mute. There could be no shutting him out. Jessica flashed back to that awful last meeting with Howard. He was wrong. Darryl and Terry were exactly what they needed, and she would prove it once she apprehended the TKs and brought the issue to the board.

“I’m leaving,” said Jessica, “right now, and I need you to stay here and stay online.”

“Done.”

“Frank is coming with me,” explained Jessica. “He can shut these people off, and he is required for this mission.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Pat, but this is how it has to be.”

“It’s fine,” said Pat.

What, Jessica was apologizing for taking him off the head-shrinking team? No sweat. He
wanted
to be cut from this weird field team. The initial euphoria had long since faded. He wanted to be back in Hartford and riding a desk amidst his friends. This literally mind-numbing work, with the travel and the risks he was just beginning to realize no one could quantify just yet—not to mention being involved in actually cornering these maniacs—wasn’t for him. There was a reason that he didn’t watch cop shows, that comedies packed the DVD racks back in his sad old apartment.

“I’m ready to go home.”

“Not home,” said Jessica. “At least not yet. I need you to do one more thing.”

“Oh. OK.”

“I need you to log in and be live bait for these assholes,” said Jessica. “You know all of the loopholes, all of the stuff that Frank opened up for you and this mission. Darryl or Terry—whoever it is—is already busy dumping assets, gathering stolen money, and he’s going to stay that way. He’ll be glued to his monitor, so you won’t need to do anything but focus on picturing your own computer and making sure he stays that way.”

“What? You want me to do this without help?”

“Just enjoy the ride,” said Jessica. “You know the scams, the sites, so just follow along. The longer you can keep him occupied, the better our chances. You just need to do your job, and I know you can.”

“I don’t even know that—how can you?”

“Trust me, the last thing they’re going to be thinking of is dumping all of this or getting rid of you. To them it looks like there are still millions of dollars ripe for the plucking, and they’re not going to give that up. Just stay calm, and remember, they can’t possibly know what we’re up to.”

“I don’t like this.”

“We’ll be back in Hartford before you know it,” said Jessica. “You just need to help us get there.”

CHAPTER 66

Ruth Sherwood walked to her car with a smile on her face.
She was tired, even though it was only lunch, but it was a good kind of tired. Working with Nick at the liquor store had been hard, too, but this was different, far more rewarding, and still a little weird. She’d always wondered what kind of place she could’ve made for herself in the world if she hadn’t married so young, and now she was finding out. Since separating from Nick, she’d gulped independence like a rescued swimmer gulps oxygen.

Cheating bastard.
There it was, out of nowhere, derailing her pleased, proud train of thought like a dynamited trestle. She hated herself for letting it happen. What made it worse was that she still pined after him like some teenager. When Cynthia was asleep and the world felt dark and dangerous to Ruth, she wanted her man. It couldn’t be helped. They’d practically grown up together. Nick had been her soulmate before he’d ever touched her, and when her dreams turned to gripped sheets and a burning itch from what felt like the very center of her, he was the one and only answer to her prayers. She hated him and she loved him, which she knew was the definition of crazy. Now that she was soaring off into a world that still felt more like an excited dream than reality, she also knew she owed it to Cynthia to keep her feet on the ground.

Ruth hated that part. She wanted to be a good mother, but she felt she just had to be more than that as well. She felt like a freed bird, and Cynthia was the loving lanyard holding her back from flying freely. There was nothing for it, though. She’d make it—they both would—and it would be worth it in the end. It was easy to imagine them reminiscing over coffee with tear-streaked faces, Cynthia in her graduation robe and Ruth in a tailored suit, the two of them talking of how proud they were of one another for making it through those tough times together.

Ruth was sticking her key into the car door, thinking not for the first time that if she’d been planning to jump ship she should have waited for a car upgrade, when she felt something press into the side of her head hard.

“Greetings, cunt,” said Nick.

Ruth wanted to scream. She hadn’t seen him since that awful birthday party—no one had—but she’d never stopped feeling him out there. Still, she’d somehow never expected him to just show up like this—and certainly had never, ever expected to hear him talk to her like that.

She needed to get a grip. Take a breath.
Little boys and petty men hate to let go of their toys, remember?
Nick had been first one and was now the other. She’d tried telling herself that he’d just run, that he’d accepted as she had that the relationship was over and discarded her for that whore, but she’d known deep down she was wrong. She’d known he was always going to be out there—but she’d never imagined the look in his eyes.

“Let me go,” said Ruth. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you.”

Instead of speaking, Nick reached around her and turned the key in the lock, opened the driver’s door, and shoved her behind the wheel. There was a moment after he’d slammed the door shut when Ruth thought she could get away. Nick was still reaching for the handle of the back door, and all she needed to do was slide the keys in the ignition, put the car in gear, and slam on the gas, but none of that happened. Ruth fumbled the keys, hit the door lock as a last resort, but then the doors unlocked, and Nick slid into the backseat.
You cheating fucker
,
thought Ruth. The gun was pressed against her head again.

“You left the spare keys at home, Ruth,” said Nick, his voice cruel but cloyingly familiar. “You thought clearly enough to leave me and take my daughter, you kept it together enough to file divorce papers and get a restraining order, but you left your spare keys at home.” Nick sighed, as though he were the one in trouble because of this oversight, and all Ruth could think about was the pepper spray trapped at the bottom of her purse.

“Why don’t you drive us home?” said Nick. “Take me to my daughter.”

“She’s not home,” said Ruth.

“So take me to where she is,” hissed Nick.

Ruth’s mind was reeling, trying to come up with some lie that would placate him, but she knew Nick. He was going to get what he wanted eventually. She did the only thing she could think to. Ruth turned the car on, pulled out of the parking lot, and started driving. Nick wanted to see his daughter, and there was nothing she could do about that—at least not yet. If she was lucky, she’d see a cop or be able to signal another driver that she was in trouble, but Ruth already knew neither of those things was going to happen.

Still, she pleaded with him. “Just leave us alone, Nick. We’ll get the charges dropped for what happened at the party. You’ll be free then. You’ll have Linda and can just leave us alone.”

Nick chuckled from the backseat, the gun pressing against her head as she pulled onto the highway.

“You have no idea what I have and what I don’t,” said Nick. “Just take me to my goddamn daughter.”