The 13: Fall (9 page)

Taylor laughed and pointed at his shirt. “My dad had one of those.”

“Got one in the back,” Artie said proudly. “Still play some of the old games on it.”

Inside, the door gave way into a dimly lit open space. It looked like a warehouse, but given the décor—what little there was—it was obvious Artie lived there.

“I guess you can come on in,” Artie said as Taylor watched Keene push his way past the little man.

“This is Taylor,” Keene said. “She’s with the FBI.”

“Aw, man,” Artie said incredulously. “What’s wrong with you? How you gonna bring FBI in here, bro? I thought we were boys.”

“Artie,” Keene said, “you’re a computer hacker and a lifelong criminal. I’m a government agent. We aren’t, nor have we ever been,
boys.
”

“C’mon,” Artie said. “Why you busting my chops? I ain’t done nothing.”

“That’s exactly why we’re here.”

“What?” Artie stared at them with a confused look. Taylor got the joke.

“Double negative.
Ain’t done nothing.
Means you have done something.”

Artie looked even more confused.

“You’re not that bright. Are you?” Taylor said.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Keene said. “Artie here’s smarter than he looks. And he’s got a lot of cool toys.”

“Yeah, so?” Artie said defensively. “Ain’t no law against having computer equipment.”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, “but what do you do with all this computer equipment?”

“None of your business, lady,” Artie snapped.

“You better watch it,” Keene warned. “She’s not playing. If she shoots you, I’ll just say you drew down on her.”

“Oh yeah, right! With what? My finger?”

“No,” Taylor said. “With that .38 you got tucked in your shorts.”

She could see Keene grinning out of the corner of her eye; she had just impressed him. But even a first-year probationary agent would have noticed the bulge in the small of Artie’s back, under the robe, when they came in.

“Look,” Artie said. “I haven’t done
anything.
What do you guys want?”

“That’s a good question,” Taylor said. “What
do
we want, Keene?”

“Well,” Keene said, “like I said. Artie’s got a lot of cool toys. Thought he might want to help us out with that video.”

Taylor grabbed Keene by the arm and led him away from Artie. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she said, fuming mad. “What in the world are you doing!”

“Relax,” he said casually.

“Relax? Did you not hear President Grant? We can’t show this criminal that video.”

“Calm down. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you why we were coming here. But do you think I’m a complete idiot? Do you think I would risk showing this thing to anyone if I thought it was going to get out before we knew what was going on?”

Taylor just looked at him. She had to assume he could at least be trusted. She hoped.

“And what do you suppose this guy is going to be able to help us with?” she asked. “I have all the same gear back at the Bureau. We could’ve just stayed there.”

“Yes, we could have,” Keene said. “And what if someone came by asking what we were doing? What if someone else is monitoring your station? I’ve been around enough stuff like this to know you don’t just drop off letters to the Oval Office unnoticed. You don’t just hack into the president’s private e-mail.”

“Are you suggesting that someone on the inside is helping this guy?”

“Don’t know. But until we do, we can’t take a chance that anyone other than us knows about this.”

“And, apparently, Artie.”

Keene let out a laugh. “Trust me. This guy has skills. If there’s anything on that video you want to look at, he can find it.”

She wasn’t happy about it, but she knew he was right. And until they discovered if and who, they needed to stay under the radar.

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll do it your way.”

Keene nodded and stepped away. But she grabbed him by the arm one more time.

“But if this comes back to bite me in the rear end, I’m gonna have your head on a stick!”

She followed Keene back over to where Artie was waiting.

“We’re going to show you a video,” Keene said. “I want you to tell me what you see.”

“What kind of video?” Artie asked.

“The kind that can get you killed if you ever talk about it,” Taylor said.

“Then I’d rather not,” Artie said.

“Shut up and sit down,” Keene said, grabbing the frail man by the shoulders. He pushed him into the next room and down into the chair sitting in front of a wall of computer towers and monitors.

“Welcome to my lair,” Artie said, looking at Taylor.

She had to admit, she was impressed. She was familiar with every piece of gear sitting here and had most of it in her office. She handed him the thumb drive and said, “It’s the only thing on there.”

Artie pushed the thumb drive in and began to click around on the keyboard. Instantly the video appeared. Keene reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him from pushing P
LAY
.

“No audio. Just watch.”

“Man, c’mon!” Artie protested. “You asked for my help. Remember?”

“Just watch,” Keene said again.

Artie muted the audio output and pushed P
LAY
. Once again the video of the man sitting on the stool played.

“What do you see?”

“Nothing, man. Just some dude on a stool with a bandana on his face. What am I looking for?”

“Can you tell me where this was filmed?”

“Universal Studios,” Artie said sarcastically. “Seriously! How am I supposed to know that?”

“Look around. Anything there that can identify where this is?”

Artie froze the image and studied it for a few minutes. “Man, I’ve got nothing.”

“There’s something,” Keene said.

“There’s nothing! Dude’s in a room, on a stool, with computer monitors behind him. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me if there’s anything in there that tells me where this guy is.”

“Maybe if I could hear the audio.”

“How?” Keene asked.

“Because you can filter out noises and isolate others,” Taylor said. “And that may give us something.”

“Okay,” Keene said. “Do it.”

“Keene!”

“It was your idea,” Keene said.

“Yeah, so take Artie out for some ice cream, and I’ll do it.”

“No way,” Artie protested. “No one touches my gear ‘cept me.”

“Trust me,” Keene said. “Artie has helped me before. He may not be the best law-abiding citizen out there, but he’s solid. We can trust him.”

Taylor hoped she didn’t live to regret this. “Okay. But you’re on the hook for this.”

“You hear that?” Keene said to Artie. “That means that if you burn me on this, I’m going to come back here and shoot you.”

“You worry too much,” Artie said.

Keene spun the small man around in his chair so they were eye to eye.

“Artie,” he said in a menacing voice, “I’m serious. This is national security stuff. You even open your mouth to your dog—me, or someone like me, will show up here and kill you. You understand?”

Artie swallowed hard. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Not a peep.”

“Go ahead,” Keene said, spinning him back around to face the computer.

Artie reset the play head and started the clip again. This time the Prophet’s words echoed through the open room. When it was finished, Artie started tapping away.

“Man, you weren’t kidding, huh? This is like some terrorist stuff, right?” He held up his hand. “I know. I know. Not a peep.”

Artie tapped away again on the keyboard. Taylor watched him bring up an audio shelving software, complete with compressor and graphic equalizer plugins. She had an app very similar to this—but this one looked like it had a few more bells and whistles.

“Okay,” Artie said when he was done pointing and clicking. “What I’ve done here is, I’ve muted the dude’s voice and opened up some bandwidth that should allow us to hear the surrounding sounds. If there’s anything going on, we should be able to hear it.”

This time the video played and the Prophet’s voice was silent. In its place, a myriad of noises could be heard in the background. They listened through once without anything jumping out. They played it again. And then again a third time. Halfway through, Taylor spoke up.

“Right there! Stop,” she said. “What was that?”

“What?” Artie asked.

“That dinging sound. Back it up.”

He did and then played it again.

“There!” she said. “Can you isolate that?”

“I think so,” Artie said, tapping away at the keys. He rolled it back and played it again.

“That’s it.”

“That’s what?” Keene asked.

“That’s a train,” she said smiling.

“Oh … okay,” Keene said. “Yeah, that helps a lot.”

“Isolate it,” she said, dismissing his tone.

“That’s going to be tough,” Artie said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe for you. Move over and I’ll do it.”

Artie smacked her hand away. “Like I said. No one touches my gear but me. Give me a second.”

He clicked a few more buttons and played it again. The train’s audio now came to the forefront.

“That’s good,” she said. Then, “Roll it back again. See if you can hear anything before that.”

Artie did and started the video again, with the current filters in place. A lot of screeching and clanging was heard, but there was also something else.

“Right there!” Taylor said again.

“Yeah, I heard that, too,” Artie said. “Let me see if I can clean it up.”

Again, he tapped away for a few seconds. Pushed P
LAY
.

A computerized voice could be heard over what apparently was a PA-system announcement. And now, after all the shelving of the frequencies, they could hear what the female voice was saying:

“The train is approaching. Please stand clear of the platform.”

After that came another succession of screeches and clangs. A train was coming to a stop.

“Hey can you boost that?” Taylor said hurriedly.

“Yeah.”

This time it was a different voice.

“What’s that?” Keene asked.

“It’s the conductor of the train,” Taylor said. “The doors must be opened, and he’s announcing where they are and where they’re going. Boost it some more.”

Artie did and ran it back.

“… Blue line. Next stop, UIC-Halsted, then Clinton-Blue.”

Taylor was getting excited now. “We need to—”

“Already on it,” Artie interrupted.

He opened his browser. He typed in a search. Seconds later they were all looking at a transit authority map.

“There,” said Keene, pointing to the screen. “Racine Station! Chicago.” He gave Artie a friendly smack on the back of the head and said, “Good job. We owe you one.”

“Yeah,” Artie said, “just don’t kill me, and we’ll call it even.”

   CHAPTER 15   

T
he Prophet was confused. While he was under no assumption that he would be safe—in the sense that his calling didn’t mean a safe life—he didn’t think that he would be in any physical danger. Not that that would dissuade him. He was committed. He would follow whatever direction he was led in. And if it meant his head being served up on a platter, then so be it. But if what he’d been told was the case, then how would he continue his mission?
Well
, he thought,
I guess that’s what living by faith means.

So … there would be someone coming for him. And while he wasn’t told who or when or how, he was to avoid being caught at all cost. And that was going to be the trick. Wasn’t it? Don’t get caught by the person or people who are coming for you, though you have no idea where they are or when they’re coming. He smiled to himself. Not that he found it amusing. Just that now he had more to be concerned with. He pulled the collar of his coat up, to shield his face from the bitter wind that howled outside, and left the diner.

Two blocks up he entered another small café. The hoodie was pulled tight, and he turned his head as he passed the front counter, avoiding the small camera above the clerk. He made his way to the back and sat down at an open space. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying him any attention. No one. Nor would they. Most people here were already busy typing away on the many keyboard stations around him. He chose this particular Internet café because it was usually filled with people who were out of work and didn’t have Internet of their own. Most of them were probably revising their résumés. Some others were just young kids skipping school, playing games.