Code conspiracy, p.11
Code Conspiracy, page 11
Jerrica’s voice hung in the room, and she flushed. She’d never use her past to garner sympathy, but there it was. That scene in the park must’ve brought back memories for her. She’d witnessed the murder of her mother and her brother. Her father had died a fiery death when the FBI had blown up the place where Jimmy James had kept his stash of weapons. Jerrica didn’t even have her father’s body to bury. She’d had to ID him through a necklace he’d always worn.
Amit must’ve heard her tone, too. He grabbed Jerrica’s fingers and said, “I’m sorry. You had every right to suspect me, especially as I was stupid enough to get caught and then even more stupid to potentially lead my abductors to your place. But you know what?”
“What?” She blinked her eyes rapidly and swiped her hand across her nose.
“Even though we’re not...besties, I came to you because you’re badass, and that was even before I knew you’d partnered with a Delta Force badass.”
Gray clapped his hands to defuse the awkwardness. “Now that you’ve eliminated each other as suspects...again...let’s get back to Cedar’s message. What is he trying to tell you about Olaf? Has Olaf gotten back to your SOS, Jerrica?”
“No, but that’s not unusual. Sometimes it takes him days to respond.”
“Cedar left that message after Kiera’s murder. Would Olaf have any reason to want Kiera dead?”
“What? No.” Jerrica shot up, pulling back her shoulders. “Olaf wouldn’t harm one of his own people.”
Amit traced the lump beneath his eye. “Are you sure? What if he found out Kiera had betrayed you?”
“How could he find out that quickly? Gray and I didn’t even realize Kiera had betrayed me until the so-called transient pulled out his gun—and I’m still not sure she did double-cross me. How could Olaf have known that?”
“Maybe he saw something before. The man may be in hiding, but he knows and sees more than most people on the ground—us included.” Hunching forward, Amit grabbed the arm of the sofa.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jerrica circled the couch to stand in front of her captive guest.
“I need to get up and move before I sink into that sofa. Do you have any tea? I’ll make myself a cup.”
Jerrica held out her hand, Amit grabbed it and she helped him to his feet. “Get me one, too, please.”
Amit straightened slowly, pressing one arm across his midsection. “You want one, Gray?”
“Me? Tea?” Gray poked a finger at his own chest. “No, thanks, but if she’s got a beer in there, I’ll take that.”
“I have a couple of bottles.” She smacked a hand against the pocket of the jacket she hadn’t removed when they walked into the apartment. “My phone.”
“Someone’s calling?” Gray’s pulse ticked up. “Could it be Cedar following up?”
Jerrica squinted at her phone’s display. “I don’t know. It’s a message notification. Someone responded to my message on the zombie-show board, after my original message.”
Amit clanged a pot and then limped out of the kitchen. “That can’t be. That’s Kiera’s board.”
Gray circled his finger in the air. “Do what you have to do.”
Jerrica dropped to her knees in front of the laptop Amit had left on the coffee table. She tapped on the keyboard. “I’ll check it.”
Amit perched on the edge of the sofa behind Jerrica, and Gray crouched beside her.
She brought up the message board and scrolled down to the thread that contained her post. “It’s a new message under Kiera’s user name, Deadgirl.”
Amit choked. “She must’ve had a premonition.”
Gray rubbed his eyes as the small letters kept blurring in and out of focus. “What does it say, Jerrica?”
“It says, ‘I think the Forest is a better setting. They could do stories for the eleven new characters in the Forest.’”
“Okay, what the hell does that mean?” Gray trailed his fingers through his short hair.
“The Forest is Times Square, and she wants to meet at eleven o’clock. The meeting place is the discount ticket kiosk.”
“She? She’s dead, Jerrica.” Gray jumped as the tea kettle whistled. “You’re not meeting anyone tonight.”
Amit hobbled back to the kitchen. “I agree with Gray. Looks like the impossible happened and someone figured out our communication system—or Kiera told someone.”
“That’s impossible, and why would Kiera tell anyone? She gave them what they wanted, leading them to me. There would be no reason for her to reveal our method of communication. The people who got to her figured I’d be dead or captured by now. They wouldn’t have thought they’d need a way to communicate with me going forward.”
Her jaw formed a hard line, and Gray’s stomach sank. “You’re going to Times Square, aren’t you?”
She grabbed the cap she’d discarded on the sofa and bunched it up in her fist. “Broadway tickets, anyone?”
* * *
GRAY HAD CONVINCED her to keep the cap in her pocket until they could figure out what was what and who was who. He’d also convinced her to take a taxi to Times Square, but he hadn’t convinced her not to go.
As he slid into the taxi beside her, he said, “Why would Cedar send you two messages? He scrawled one on the door. Why send another through a message board, Kiera’s message board?”
“I don’t know, but keep your eye out for a scraggly dude with shoulder-length hair, maybe a man bun, and a backpack. Cedar always carries a backpack.”
“In Times Square? Easy.” He bent his head close to hers and whispered. “It’s the ones we can’t identify that worry me.”
The taxi crawled through the traffic until Jerrica couldn’t stand it anymore. She rapped on the divider. “You can pull over up here.”
As the car rolled to a stop, she jumped out while Gray handed the driver some cash.
She elbowed Gray in the ribs. “Don’t look so worried. If someone were following us, he would stand out like a sore thumb now, right? He’d be getting out of his taxi, too.”
Gray walked backward for a few steps, and then turned around. “Nobody’s following us—they’re probably waiting at the ticket booth instead.”
“This time I’m not going to be a sitting duck.” A few blocks later, Jerrica grabbed Gray’s hand and pulled him across the street toward the pedestrian area of Times Square. “We can hang out behind the bleachers and have a clear view of the kiosk.”
They stationed themselves at the corner of the stands where people scattered, taking seats to watch the carnival unfold before them.
Jerrica hoped to God she and Gray wouldn’t be providing any more excitement. A figure moved through the crowd wearing a cap like the one in her pocket. Jerrica’s heart skipped a beat.
She plucked at Gray’s sleeve. “I see someone with the cap. Three o’clock from the Spider-Man character.”
Gray moved closer to her and tucked an arm around her waist. “Skinny black kid with the earbuds?”
“Yes.”
“No man bun, no backpack. That’s not Cedar, is it?”
“Cedar’s a white guy. That is definitely not Cedar.”
“Then we leave. If you don’t know who that is, we get the hell out of here.”
“Even if we can take him in and get some intel out of him?”
“Take him in? Here?” Gray’s eyes widened. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“Wait.” Jerrica pulled the cap from her pocket. “I know him.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure, and it would make total sense right now.”
“Pretty sure is not good enough when it comes to your safety, Jerrica.” Gray slipped his fingers into the waistband of her jeans from behind as if to hold her back. “Who do you think it is?”
“That’s Russell Cramer—Kiera’s son.”
She moved forward and jerked to a stop as Gray pulled on her pants.
“Wait. If Kiera was compromised, how do we know they didn’t send out her son to lure you in again?”
“Really? He just lost his mother.” She twisted away from Gray and plunged into the crowd as she pulled the cap onto her head.
With Gray dogging her steps, she approached Russell and touched his elbow. “I like your cap.”
He jumped and spun around, his fists clenched.
Gray moved between them smoothly and growled through his teeth. “You touch her and I’ll flatten you.”
The young man clutched his stomach and spluttered. “A-are you Jerrica?”
“Yes.” She slipped the cap from her head and shoved it back into her pocket. No sense in announcing to the world that she and Russell shared some kind of connection. She dropped her gaze to the skinny arm pressed against his belly. “Are you okay, Russell?”
“Not really.” He swiped at a bead of sweat rolling down his face and missed. “You know my name?”
“I do. Let’s talk.”
“Did anyone follow you?” Gray had shifted to the side, but his body radiated menace and it had poor Russell quaking in his sneakers.
“No. After posting that message, I snuck out of the...hospital.” His voice caught on a sob. “I left through the loading dock. If anyone was watching the hospital entrance or the waiting room, they never would’ve seen me.”
Jerrica felt a stab of pain. Russell had just lost his mother, and he wasn’t much older than she’d been when she lost hers. But Kiera must’ve taught him well.
“Sorry, man.” Gray patted down Russell’s thin frame anyway. “Let’s head to that fast food place and talk.”
Russell’s grief had obviously taken a toll on him. As they crossed the street to the hamburger place, he lurched and tripped beside them. Gray had to grab his arm a few times to keep him upright.
They squeezed into the restaurant, and Jerrica grabbed a table with Russell while Gray ordered some food and drinks to buy their spot.
Jerrica patted Russell’s hand. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really. No. I can’t eat.” Russell’s head dropped and he kept it down until Gray returned with a tray full of paper-wrapped burgers and empty cups.
After he placed the tray on the table, he held up the cups. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Ginger ale if they have it. My stomach feels bad.” Russell slouched back and for the first time, Jerrica saw that the whites of his eyes had a yellow cast to them.
She sucked in a breath. “You don’t look well, Russell.”
“That’s because I—I’ve been poisoned.”
Chapter Ten
Jerrica put a hand to her throat. “You need to get help.”
“No.” Russell pounded a weak fist against the table. “I can’t tell anyone. They said not to tell.”
“Who, Russell?” Gray hunched over the table, squeezing the paper cups in his hand. “Who poisoned you? Was it to get to your mother?”
“Of course. Someone poisoned me and when I came home sick, a man and a woman dropped in on my mother and threatened her. I-I didn’t understand that much because whatever they gave me made me fade in and out. I just know they threatened her.”
“How’d you make it here? How’d you get to the hospital?” Jerrica folded her arms on the table, her fingers digging into her biceps.
“The man and my mother left. The woman stayed behind with me. I think she got a call or a text, and then she gave me a shot. As soon as I started feeling better, she left, but not before she warned me not to tell anyone anything.”
“And yet here you are.” A muscle ticked at the corner of Gray’s jaw.
Jerrica shot him a look from the corner of her eye. She was supposed to be the cold one. “The shot was supposed to make you better? Counteract the poison?”
“Yeah, but how can I trust them? They killed my mom.” Russell rubbed his eyes. “I still feel bad, but I’d recovered enough to answer the phone when the police called to tell me my mom had been shot in Washington Square Park.”
“Eat something. It might help you feel better.” Gray shoved a burger toward Russell. “How did you know to post that message on the fan board?”
“Before the man took Mom away, she tucked a note in the waistband of my sweats when they weren’t looking. After the woman left and I could move, I pulled it out. She left instructions that if anything happened to her, I was supposed to post that message on the board and to come to Times Square at eleven o’clock.” He shook his head and pulled off the cap. “I thought it was some kind of joke until the cops called.”
Jerrica traced a pattern on the table top. “She wanted me to know that she hadn’t betrayed me.”
“Betrayed you? What’s going on? My mom was a computer programmer. I don’t understand any of this.”
“Eat.” Gray held up the cups. “I’m going to get you some water.”
As Gray walked away, Russell peeled the waxy paper from the burger. “Did you work with my mom?”
“We worked at the same place—Dreadworm.”
Russell choked and went into a coughing fit.
Gray returned with the drinks and pushed a cup of water toward Russell. “Is he okay?”
“I just told him his mother and I worked for Dreadworm.”
“Why would you tell him that? You might be endangering his life even more.”
“He deserves to know. Nobody has seen us together. They have no idea Kiera left her son that note, and I’ve told you before that message board is secure. They probably think he’s still at the hospital filling out forms. Why would they follow him, anyway?”
“To make sure he doesn’t go to the police.”
Russell had recovered and gulped down some water. “I’m not going to the police. I thought about it after I found out that they killed my mom, but then I figured they could get to me if they wanted to. They poisoned me without my even knowing about it.”
“Going to the police would be pointless, Russell. The people who poisoned you and killed your mother are not going to be caught or stopped by the police.”
Toying with the burger, Russell asked, “Dreadworm? You mean that Olaf guy?”
“Yes, your mother was a hacker for Dreadworm, as I am. My coworker and I hacked into a secret database. Someone found out, and they’re trying to get us to stop.”
“By killing my mom?”
“They used your mother to get to me. She allowed it because she was trying to protect you, and now we’re going to make sure you stay safe.”
“How are you going to do that?” Russell looked around wildly. “Nobody’s safe.”
Jerrica sucked in her bottom lip. Another paranoid conspiracy theorist had just been born.
“The first step is to stay away from the police. Accept the official version of events that your mother was randomly gunned down by a transient. Bury your mother and go about your business. You know nothing. Your mother told you nothing, and they have no reason to fear you.” Gray plunged a straw into one of the soda cups. “Can you do that?”
“They have to pay for what they did to my mother, to me. I want them to pay.”
“Don’t worry, kid. They have a lot to pay for, and we’re gonna make sure they do.”
Once he started eating, Russell couldn’t stop. He finished all three burgers, all the fries, downed a couple of cups of water and then got a soda for the road.
She and Gray saw him into a taxi. As he ducked in, Jerrica put her lips close to his ear. “Olaf will pay for all your mother’s funeral expenses and the rest of your education at Columbia. Don’t worry about that.”
Russell didn’t have time to respond, as Gray slammed the door of the taxi.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and spit at the ground. “Poison. They were slowly murdering her kid to make her do their bidding.”
“And their bidding was to find me, so they know Kiera and Cedar don’t know anything about the government database.”
“Cedar does know something, though. He knows something about Olaf.”
“I don’t know why he left me that message. Am I supposed to figure out what it means? It’s Olaf. So, what?”
“Think about it.” Gray bumped her shoulder as they merged with the pedestrians on the sidewalk. “Cedar left that message right after Kiera was shot and an attempt was made to either abduct or kill you. It’s Olaf.”
A chill zigzagged down Jerrica’s back and she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. “You mean, as in, it’s Olaf who had Kiera killed? No way.”
“I know you worship the man, but why not? He’s always been anti-government, and the people who are plotting this attack and framing Denver are nothing if not anti-government.”
“I don’t worship Olaf.” Jerrica pursed her lips. “And I know he’s anti-government, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to kill innocent Americans to make the government look bad. He wouldn’t do that.”
“It might explain why nobody has orders to kill you. Olaf still has a soft spot for you and while he wants to stop what you’re investigating, he’s not willing to kill you to do it.”
Jerrica punched Gray’s shoulder. “Just stop. You have a distorted image of my relationship with Olaf—and you always have. He’s almost twice my age for one thing.”
“There’s about a twenty-year age difference between you. People have those relationships all the time. It’s not unusual.”
She stopped, turned to face him and grabbed both of his sleeves. “Do you really think Olaf and I are lovers or even want to be?”
“Maybe not on your side. On your side it’s more hero worship, but why wouldn’t he be in love with you?”
“I can think of a million reasons why. For one, I’m not particularly lovable.” She shook him. “You’ve given me several more reasons.”
