Blind Rage (14 page)

More than half a mile away, deep snow muffled the explosion to a dull
whump
. A geyser of ghostly white plumed into the night air. Travis hustled over to Luis with the additional round, unloaded the spent shell, and loaded the new round in the breech. He stepped to the side as Luis adjusted the gun on his shoulder, found his range, and sighted his new target. Within seconds, he fired the second round. It landed with another huge concussion, closer this time. Both men ran for the snowcat and jumped aboard. Travis started it up and aimed it diagonally down the mountain’s face.

They ran without lights, using night-vision goggles to steer their way through the trees across the snowfield. Ahead, the mountain seemed to shear off in two places and slide down into the valley below. The susurrant hiss of the avalanche grew to a roar they could hear above the growl of the snowcat’s engine. Luis grabbed a pair of binoculars and steadied them as the snowcat bounced down the slope.

“It’s going to catch them!” he shouted. “They’re not slowing!”

Travis braked and lifted the binoculars around his neck. Far below, the SUV hurtled down the road. Its brake lights flashed several times, but it showed no signs of slowing. The river of wet snow ahead had nearly reached the road, and the SUV headed right into it. The second avalanche would thoroughly box it in from behind. Travis revved the engine, threw the snowcat in gear, and roared down the mountainside in the track of the second snowslide that Luis had triggered.

Travis drove down off the steep slope onto a snow-packed fire road that in summer was little more than a dirt track through the trees. It was smoother going and less precarious than traversing the mountainside, and they made good time to the bottom. Racing on the top of the slide, Travis followed what had moments before been the highway, aiming for the spot he’d last seen the SUV. Luis flipped a on a GPS tracking device and monitored the screen.

“Left!” Luis shouted over the engine. “That way! The avalanche rolled him off the road.”

“Do you see him?”

“No, not yet. Keep going.”

Travis churned on through the snow. Several hundred yards away, the other snowcat with Red at the controls angled down from the other side of the highway on a course that would intersect theirs.

“Slow down!” Luis said. “Over there! I see it!”

Travis spotted it, too—the SUV, half buried in snow, tipped up on two wheels, smashed almost beyond recognition—but intact, not crushed. He roared up next to it and leaped out of the snowcat before it came to a stop. Luis tumbled out right behind him as Red cruised up and stopped. Travis ran to the SUV and wiped snow off the driver’s window, put his face to the glass, and peered inside the dark interior. He counted three bodies.

Travis had been in the middle of a war for nearly a decade, had seen the worst atrocities men could commit—boys barely old enough to shave strapping bombs to their chests and blowing themselves to bits in packed markets, men cutting off the heads of their enemies and using them for soccer practice. But he felt numb. These were people he knew. Innocent people, not soldiers.

Luis frantically dug snow away from the rear door. Red came up behind him and dug alongside until the door was clear. Luis yanked on the handle—locked. He pulled his sidearm from its holster and shattered the window with the butt of the gun. Bits of glass showered the girl lying unconscious on the backseat. Her face was bloodied and one leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Luis popped the lock and wrenched the door open. Stripping off a glove, he pressed his fingers against the girl’s throat.

“This one’s still alive!” he said.

“A library with a secret room. Too cool.”

Matt Tsang looked around the room, head bobbing in appreciation. Tall and thin, he moved with the grace of a puma. He carried himself with self-assurance uncharacteristic among those of his reputed ilk, but I acknowledged that Tess may have led me astray. He didn’t look like a geek to me.

His gaze finally rested on her. “So, what gives?” He wore an impassive expression, but the fifty-meter dash his eyes took around the room again gave away his arrant curiosity.

“I—we need your help,” Tess said.

“You said that on the phone.”

The corners of her mouth twitched down. “Can you trace an e-mail back to the sender?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Easy.”

Tess held out her phone.

Matt didn’t move. “What’s in it for me?”

“What? You’re kidding. Like money, you mean?” Tess said.

He waved away the suggestion. “I don’t want your money. But I wouldn’t mind working at your dad’s company.”

Tess’s nostrils flared. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s dead.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry about that. But doesn’t your uncle run it now?”

“You don’t give up, do you? Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

Wordlessly, he stepped forward and took the phone from her hand.

“Okay if I use this computer?” he said as he rounded the desk.

Tess hesitated before saying, “Yes.”

Matt played with the phone while the computer booted up. “I assume you mean the most recent e-mail. This one, from . . . your dad? Guess I get it now.”

He typed and waited, typed and waited again for several minutes before glancing up.

“You’re not going to like this,” he said. “The sender’s IP address is a computer at MondoHard, downtown.”

“My dad’s company?” Tess said. “Oh, my god. It really could be him.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Tess,” I said. “If your dad’s alive, don’t you think someone at work would recognize him? Maybe would have told you he wasn’t dead?”

“Matt, can you tell where the computer is?” she said. “What office it’s in?”

“Sure, if I hack into the IT department, there should be records of where they assigned the computer.”

“I don’t think you have to hack the system. I mean, you’re sitting at my dad’s computer.”

He glanced at the desk and blinked. “Don’t suppose you have a password.”

“
Life of Pi,
” she said. “Unless he changed it. ‘Life of three-dot-one-four-one-five-nine.’”

He keyed it in. “Hot damn. It works.”

He concentrated on the monitor for several minutes. I watched tension and excitement grow on Tess’s face, while feeling the skin between my eyebrows permanently furrow. Matt scribbled something on a scrap of paper and pushed away from the desk.

“Got it,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, fella,” I said. “Who said anything about going somewhere?”

“Look, whatever’s going on here, I’m in,” he said. “Tess? What do you say?”

She fumbled with a silver chain at her throat. “He can help us, Oliver.”

“Fine. We figure out who’s messing with you, teach them some manners, and we’re done.”

“Okay. Welcome to the team, Matt.”

“Just so you know, I’m not what you’d call a team player,” he said.

I shook my head. “Great. It’ll be a pleasure working with you. Either of you figured out how we’re going to find this computer? You think they’ll just let you walk in and look around?”

The room went dead silent. Tess chewed her lower lip. Matt shrugged like it wasn’t his problem.

Tess’s face brightened. “I’ve still got a key card my dad gave me—if I can find it. It should get us in.”

Thirty minutes later, the three of us slipped through a side door of a new office building in the South Lake Union area of Seattle. Tess clutched my arm tightly. Tsang slouched along on her other side, hands in his jeans pockets. Most people were hard at work at their desks, but the few people we passed in the hallway were young and casually dressed, like us. We didn’t look too out of place. That didn’t make me any less nervous.

“Where is it?” I hissed.

“B-oh-four-north,” Matt said. “Lower level, north side. Why are you whispering, anyway?”

“Because we’re not supposed to be here.”

“You’ll just attract attention,” he said. “Besides, if anyone asks, Tess is giving us a tour. After all, her uncle runs this place, right?”

“Makes a lot of sense, genius—blind girl giving us a tour.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Tess said. “Let’s just find it.”

She clutched my arm like a bird on a power line in a high wind. We ducked into the nearest stairwell. The door clanged hollowly behind us.

“Ten,” I said automatically, patting Tess’s hand to let her know we were about to descend.

She groped for the rail with her free hand and took the stairs in lockstep with me. When we reached a landing, I said, “Ten more,” and steered her in a semicircle to the next flight. Matt pushed through the door at the bottom, ahead of us, and looked both ways before leading us left down a long hallway. Our footsteps echoed on the hard tile. The floor above had been carpeted. Matt stayed a few pace ahead of us, head swiveling like a Wimbledon spectator’s as he searched for the right office.

“There! That’s it.”

He angled across the floor to a door like all the others we’d passed—except this one had a card reader mounted on the wall next to the jamb.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s office.” I stepped up to the door and knocked, but there was no answer. “Tess, we need your ID.”

She fingered the lanyard around her neck and held out the ID card attached at the end. I guided her hand to the security pad. A green LED flashed, and the lock clicked. Matt pushed the door open and stepped through. We followed. Tess stopped inside and turned a slow pirouette.

“What?” I said. “What is it?”

“What is this place?” she said. “I smell computers, electronics. Lots of them, from the sound.”

I sniffed the air, catching a whiff of hot plastic and rubber and a touch of ozone. A loud electric hum filled the room, along with the whirr of fan blades. Racks of computer equipment lined the large room like library stacks. The door behind us closed with a loud click that nearly made me jump.

“Servers,” Matt said. “Tons of them. Awesome!”

“This isn’t right,” Tess said. “You mean the e-mails came from one of these servers? How will we find out who sent them?”

“Hang on a minute,” Matt said.

A small computer station stood in a corner. He walked over and sat down in front of the monitor, slid a keyboard drawer open, and typed furiously for several seconds. I guided Tess closer and peered over Matt’s shoulder. I couldn’t make head or tails of what he was doing.

In a moment he looked up and said, “This is the computer that sent the e-mails.”

Tess’s face fell like a collapsing soufflé.

“You might want to try giving her good news next time,” I told Matt.

“Hey, I thought that was good news,” he said. “It means the e-mail isn’t coming from some jerk messing with her head, right?”

“Anyone could have come in here and used this computer,” I said. “Anyone with access.”

“Whoever it was didn’t have to physically come in here,” Matt said. “Someone programmed this computer to send those e-mails. This terminal is online. If someone had the IP address, they could get in remotely, as long as the computer is on and connected to the Internet.”

“Then we’re right back where we started,” Tess said. Her eyes glistened.

“Not quite,” Matt said.

His fingers flew over the keys, and his brows knit in concentration.

“Damn. Almost had it. This guy is good.” He shoved his chair back and looked up at us. “I thought I could back-trace this guy, but he covered his tracks really well. The good news is that there’s another message here, ready to send. Want to know what it says?”

“Yes!” Tess and I answered in unison.

Matt rolled his chair back to the table and pressed his face to the monitor.

“Tick-tock,” he read. “Watch the clocks. It’s 10:05. I really need your help, Tess.”

“It’s him,” she whispered. “It’s really him.”

“It may have been him,” Matt said, “but the file date on this message is exactly a year ago.”

“He sent it a year ago?” Tess said. She frowned. “How come I just got it?”

“He
wrote
it a year ago,” Matt said. “The time stamps on the messages you got earlier are from today. Hard to tell whether he programmed this terminal to send the e-mails today, or if someone triggered them.”

“Either way, it’s him,” Tess said.

“How can you tell?” I said.

“It’s code,” she said. “Nobody else could possibly know that.”

“Uh-oh,” Matt said softly.

“What do you mean, ‘uh-oh’?” I said.

“Somebody’s monitoring this computer. They can tell we’re online. I’m guessing we’ll have visitors in about two minutes.”

“Then we damn well better be out of here in less than one,” I said.

I grabbed Tess’s arm and pulled her toward the door. Matt stayed where he was and typed furiously.

“Come on!” I said. “Let’s go!”

“Be there in a second,” he said.

“Oliver?”

“He’s coming, Tess. But we’ve gotta go. Now!” I guided her through the doorway. “Matt!”

“Right behind you,” he called.

I hustled Tess down the hall toward the stairwell. Matt came through the door behind us, footsteps racing toward us. I yanked open the door to the stairs and pushed Tess through.

“Up!” I said. “Ten.”

“I remember!” she said, grabbing the railing and heading up.

Matt crashed through just as a voice down the hall by the elevators yelled, “Hey, you!”

“Go! Go!” Matt muttered, taking the stairs two at a time.

As the stairwell door closed I saw a security guard step off the elevator and break into a run. I raced up and took Tess’s elbow. She stumbled and nearly fell on the landing. I caught her before she went down. She regained her footing and took the next flight two at a time. At the top we burst through the door into the hallway on the next floor.

“This way!” Matt said.

He hurried down the hall to a side exit. We raced across the parking lot to the waiting BMW, and moments later we blended into the rush of city traffic.

Tess sat quietly in the car on the way back, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. She was certain her father had sent the e-mails.

But why, after all this time? Had he known that something would happen to him and Mom? Something as dreadful as the accident that had killed them? Or was it just some terrible joke? He wants my help, the message said. But does that mean he’d wanted my help a year ago? Or does he need my help now? How could he, if he’s dead?