Zero Alternative (36 page)

‘I just…’ She coughed, then her legs gave way and Walker stumbled trying to hold her weight. He lowered her to the floor gently. ‘Okay, but we can only stop for one minute. Pienaar’s guys might be catching up to us.’

Layla didn’t answer, her hand squeezing his fingers, almost hurting him. She drew a few shallow breaths before whispering, ‘I’m sorry. You should…’

‘Shut up. I’m not leaving you here.’

He knelt and slid his hands under her legs and shoulders, ignoring the agony in his left arm. With a grunt he lifted her to his chest and took a few halting steps towards a narrow tunnel on the other side of the cave. Layla held the burning stick and he carried her for a few long minutes, straining every sinew in his body to go as fast as he could.
Not fast enough
.

The flame flickered out and a heavier darkness fell around them. He struggled onwards, straining his eyes in the mild bio-luminescence of lichens and fungi, the rhythm of his footsteps almost hypnotic. Every few seconds distant noises rebounded around the tunnels, a mild screeching, thumps, a cracking of wood.

The world had become a grey mist, darker and lighter shadows mixing and coalescing, forming into solid corners and walls before floating away. Time had stopped, perhaps. But he knew the Frenchman must be behind them, slithering in the darkness, weapons ready to finish the job. And every sound felt closer, every step seemed to echo.

He was making too much noise.

Layla was hardly moving any more, her breathing low and shallow. A couple of times she groaned in pain, but when he asked she whispered she was okay. Walker tried to believe it, digging deep within himself. He pushed on, beyond the edge of exhaustion, spurred along by a faint brightness he could see growing in the distance.

Suddenly the tunnel shrank, with shadows and light now clearly visible. He prayed it wasn’t his
battered brain playing more tricks but soon the tunnel widened again and a waft of fresh chilly air hit him. He struggled through a few tangled plants and emerged into a clearing in the forest where moonlight shone on damp grass. His muscles were screeching with the effort and he lowered Layla to the ground, winded. Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a little smile. Then she coughed and tried to sit up before giving up and lying back. ‘Where are we?’ she croaked.

Walker sucked in a few breaths, wondering if they had really made it. He picked her up again for a few paces, then propped her against a wide tree-trunk. Both her leggings were dripping blood, a dark stain on the pristine grass. ‘The woods. Our car is only a couple of minutes away, I think.’

Layla nodded, struggled to speak and coughed. Her legs twitched and Walker bent lower, trying to ignore the stab of fear in his chest. ‘I’ll carry you again, let’s go. We need to get you…’

‘Wait… please.’ She raised her hand, then lowered it by her side, reaching into her coat pocket. When it came out again she was holding onto her phone, the low-green light turning her face into a mask of shadows. She studied it for less than a second, he guessed. Though it felt a lot longer.

‘It’s okay…’ she rasped, letting the phone drop to the ground. ‘We can wait here.’

Walker froze, his heart skipping a beat.
Oh God, no
. It couldn’t be right. ‘What?’

‘I’m sorry. I…’ She choked, tried again. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. ‘The hotel has been secured, and Pienaar’s men are dead or have run off.’

‘How… how do you know?’

Layla shrugged and lay back against the tree, almost spent. ‘We can stay here – they’ll be coming to pick us up in a few minutes.’ She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

It should have been good news, Walker guessed. He groaned and stood up, turning away from her. ‘Of course. Who are they? The US Government or…’

‘Hackernym.’ Layla’s voice cracked. ‘I’m sorry, Scott. But they saved us.’

‘Because you work for them. It’s your
job
, again.’ Walker was surprised at the ice in his voice but he felt strangely flat, emotionless. Hollow.

‘Just for the Old Man… directly.’

‘From the beginning?’ He knew she was wounded, fading. But he didn’t care any more, and kept pressing. She owed him this much.

Layla nodded, her voice dropping even lower. The night was so quiet he could hear faint noises coming in their direction from the Castle, far away. ‘I’ve known Soffet for a long time. He hired me to infiltrate Pienaar’s team…’ She paused and breathed shallowly, then looked at him again.
‘He didn’t really trust anybody, even his own people… not with this.’

‘I see.’

The first step away was almost impossible. The second threatened to break his soul, and he hesitated. Then DM’s dead voice spoke with Luigi’s accent and he took a third, longer step, reaching the treeline.

‘Scott,’ she whispered.

‘What?’ Walker didn’t turn around. Looking at her would have been too hard.

‘Aren’t you… won’t you come back with us? You could really help with DeepShare and…’

He spun back then, letting some anger creep into his tone. ‘That’s not the real Deep. The storage driver only contains DM’s baby version, with what I wanted Mosha to see.’ He felt a sad smile crease his lips. ‘You didn’t think I was just gonna hand the full Omega to a bunch of crooks, did you?’

He turned around again and stepped into the undergrowth, disappearing among the shadows of the forest.

Chapter Nineteen

Sharing

Walker resisted the urge to throw the newspaper into the water and he poured himself another juice. He stared at the article again, ignoring the twitch in his left shoulder, before sitting back and lighting a cigarette. The ocean lapped calmly a few yards away from his porch and he tried to relax and enjoy the beauty of the little bay hidden among the mangroves. But Tulum’s emerald coast was not working. Nothing would work. His friends had died, Layla had betrayed him even while saving his life, and now this.

Once more he went through the words, not really wanting to absorb them. It was only a background article, written days after the events, in The Wall Street Journal. The quiet raid on Frankel Schwartz, Friedman’s disappearance, some new faces on the executive board. At least Wendall Welsh had had the decency to commit suicide. Your run-of-the-mill corporate scandal.

Nothing more.

The bank still stood, continued with its business, its share price already stable. All sorted, somehow. He crumpled the newspaper and opened his laptop, bringing his email up.

The work on the baby version of DeepShare had taken him several days, but now everything was ready. At the touch of a button the software could be made public, access given to large banks and government agencies around the world. Since what Hackernym had taken might still become too powerful in their hands, balance needed to be restored. And as far as anyone else was concerned, this was the real Omega. A little trap that might also give him an alternative, the zero one. Because if you ever needed to capsize a boat, you wanted everyone to move to the same side first. And it was what DM would have wanted anyway, and the only chance Walker had to be free.

Not from his nightmares and memories, but at least free to try and rebuild a life of some kind.

Alone again, as ever. Could he do it once more?

Walker shrugged and took a few steps down the beach, enjoying the feel of warm sand on his feet. He turned and studied the small shack where he’d been living for the last few weeks, since the cursed night in New Mexico. Layla would probably have liked the small wooden house, shaded by
an ancient tree. But she had chosen Hackernym.

Familiar faces appeared in front of his eyes – Luigi, DM. Mosha had survived, barely, and was still in hospital. All gone now, because of greed, and fear. Because of the hubris of wanting more, knowing the future, gaming the system.

Even the Old Man is dead
. Walker wondered once again whether Hackernym’s betrayal would have happened with Soffet still alive, or if it had only been caused by the panic of a headless organization.

It didn’t really matter any more. Revenge, what little of it he had tasted, had left him only with a bitter, empty aftertaste.

Walker exhaled some smoke, returned to the porch and put out his cigarette. His hand hovered for a second above the keyboard before finally hitting the send button.

A Visit

He was almost drunk, as usual.

Walker tried to focus on the words in the Reuters article but his eyes weren’t quite working and he gave up, closing the lid on his computer. It didn’t matter. DeepShare had been right once more – the Italian government had called for a popular consultation on its Euro membership in the run-up to Christmas. The markets had initially swooned but now, a few weeks before the actual vote, things seemed to be stabilising.

The referendum was expected to fail, and Italy would continue to honour its trillions of dollars of debt and stick to the Union without making a mess of the world economy. Which sort of made sense.
Unless…
Walker tried, but he couldn’t summon the energy to rethink the scenarios through. Financial markets just didn’t matter to him any more – not now he knew how the system was rotten to the core. They could all go to hell, for what he cared.

He poured himself another beer, knowing there were still many to go before he could sleep for a few hours. He was about to down it when a voice interrupted him from the darkened beach.

‘Are you going to offer me a drink?’

Time stopped. Walker felt his throat go dry as the question bounced around his brain, echoing in the empty spaces of his skull. A part of him had been expecting something like this, waiting for it. Hoping for it.

Dreading it.

It wasn’t a hard question, really. Just a yes or a no would suffice. The past month had given him a long time to think, to remember, to wish for a different past. He’d seen Layla’s eyes shining in his mind so many times that he could count the tiny freckles in her pupils. He had felt her hot mouth and body in his dreams, over and over. He had remembered her voice, cracking.
I’ve known Soffet for a long time. He hired me to infiltrate Pienaar’s team…

Words that didn’t really give him a whole lot of room to wiggle. Words that brought DM’s death back, in sharp relief. Words that might get Luigi to thrash in his grave. It was impossible to tell if things might have turned out different, though.
You can’t change your own history
. But he guessed the future was still up for grabs.

And the question was whether his future could somehow forget a part of his past.

The betrayed part.

The part that knew he had only been a job, for a long time. An involving one, certainly. One that had shaken Layla to her roots, he guessed. That she was prepared to die for, as she had shown. To love for, maybe.

The problem was, Walker knew himself. And he had too good a memory. He knew how he would always wonder if there was something else lurking behind a corner, another slice of uncertainty. Another dark shadow above his head, ready to break him again. Not a way to live, though his life felt scratchy and flat like a worn-out jumper, hardly wearable any more. But what choice was there: did he have anything left, beside his pride?

He shrugged and narrowed his eyes, his tone cold. ‘I thought you’d never ask. How long have you been out there?’

Layla stepped with a slight limp into the circle of light thrown by the large candle he kept on the table. His heart struggled to beat. She looked as gorgeous as ever, in a short strapless summer dress. ‘Not long. Half an hour, maybe.’

‘What were you waiting for? The more I drink, the less pleasant I am.’

She picked her way over the sand and sat on the porch steps, her expression uncertain. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Why did they send you?’ His voice was steadier than he felt. At least the trading floor had taught him something.

‘I didn’t give them a choice. I wouldn’t tell anyone where you were.’

Walker nodded, almost relieved. It was a good start, he guessed. ‘Why not?’

‘You’re asking silly questions again.’

‘Maybe.’

She paused a beat and shook her head, pushing her hair behind one ear, as she had so many times before. ‘I run the Hackernym action team now.’

Walker sat back then, his mind made up. ‘Congratulations. So what do you want?’

She hesitated. ‘You already know. Now that you’ve released the baby version, we need the full Omega to…’

‘No.’

Silence.

Walker stared at her. ‘And if you’re not going to drag me away in chains, you can piss off now.’ He sipped his drink and half-turned, looking into the night.

Layla remained silent for a few seconds, waiting. Then she inhaled, cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry it had to end like this,’ she said.

Walker snapped, getting up so fast his chair fell to the ground. He stood over her, his voice crackling with ice. ‘Did you really think that I’d never find out, even without Pienaar showing up at the Castle?’

‘I… I don’t know. I tried to… I really cared for you.’

‘Right. Forget it – you just
finished your job
, as ever, and I should have seen it. But what’s really pissed me off is the bullshit with Frankel. How could you be so fucking stupid?’

‘We went to the SEC and the Federal Reserve with our files,’ she replied, her eyes widening.

‘Exactly.’ Walker exhaled, trying to calm down. ‘And what did you expect? They buried most of it, of course. Friedman vanished. The bank will get a new CEO, some fresh faces on the board. A slap on the wrist. They are still around, and DM and Luigi died for nothing.’

‘We had to do it like that.’ Layla’s voice was still calm and Walker’s anger grew again, like a storm breaking.

‘Did you?’ he shouted. ‘Why couldn’t you just go public, and let everyone know how corrupt and criminal the entire fucking bank is?’

‘Listen…’

‘For God’s sake, their stock is already bouncing back. You let them get away with it.’ Walker returned to the table to finish his drink. ‘Did the Old Man plan it like that, or was it just sheer fucking stupidity on your part?’