Hard to Come By (10 page)

Charlie sighed as he pulled up a folding chair and sat down. “Jeremy
literally
has no regular T-shirts.”

“And?” Marz said, gesturing for the other man to keep talking.

“I’m wearing it inside out for a reason,” Charlie said, eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, but I’m going to pester you until you tell me so take the route of least resistance.” Marz grinned.

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Fine. This one has a Schnauzer wearing a saddle that says, ‘Weiner rides: 25¢’.” The guy threw him a droll stare, challenging Marz to laugh.

Marz worked at a straight face. “That’s a good price.”

Charlie threw a potato chip at Marz. He caught it and popped it in his mouth. “Don’t worry. Your weiner rides are our little secret.”

“Oh, my God,” Charlie said, rubbing his good hand over his face. “So, how’s the key search running?” He took a bite of his sandwich.

“Slow as fucking molasses,” Marz said, grabbing a handful of chips.

“Faster now since we networked the machines, though, right?” Charlie shoved the long strands of his dark blond hair out of his eyes and scanned his gaze over the computers.

Marz nodded at Charlie. “Yeah. But it’s not fast enough.” He took a bite of his sandwich—turkey and Swiss on rye—and gave Charlie a thumbs-up. Chained to the computer station all day, Marz hadn’t eaten much else.

“Hey.” Wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans, Nick eyeballed them as he walked up to the desk, and his expression said he’d overheard some of their conversation. He grabbed a folding chair and sat backward on it, his arms resting on the backrest, then he glanced at the closest monitor. “So, can you explain this to me in layman’s terms? What needs to happen and what do you need to make it happen?”

Marz glanced to Charlie, who waved a hand as if to say,
It’s all yours
.

“Okay,” Marz said. “Let’s say you have data you need to send over the internet or on a disk, but you don’t want anyone to be able to read it if they intercept it. To protect the data, you encrypt it. There are various ways of doing this, but no matter which you choose, encryption is largely accomplished by putting a big-ass math problem between potential snoops and your data. The answer to that math problem is the password or key that deciphers the encryption. The bigger the math problem, the longer the answer and therefore the password, and therefore the more possible number sequences there are in the password. Make sense?” He munched a few chips.

A look of concentration on his face, Nick nodded. “Following so far.”

Charlie scooted his chair closer. “There are pretty much three ways to break a cryptograph,” he said. He held up his uninjured hand and counted off with his fingers. “First, you can attack the cryptography itself. That’s the code Marz is talking about.”

“Essentially, solve the math problem,” Nick said.

Nodding, Charlie continued. “Yes. Second, you can attack the software or hardware if you have a specific target in mind. And third, you can access relevant humans.”

“Meaning someone gives you the key,” Marz said.

“Okay,” Nick said. “So . . . I take it we only have that first option at hand.”

“Well, mostly,” Marz said. “We’d been thinking that the bracelet Becca’s father gave her might provide the passcode for the chip. That would’ve fallen under that human option. But no matter what we do, it’s not working.”

The bracelet was made up of a series of silver circles and bars. Charlie had recognized that those charms actually meant something—they translated to binary code. The string of circles and bars could also be read as zeroes and ones, but so far no joy.

Between the chip and the bear, at least they knew why the Churchmen had ransacked Becca’s house and tried to nab her. She
had
in fact had information from her father, she just hadn’t realized it. And they still hadn’t figured out how to access it.

Marz took a drink of water and set his cup back down. “So, yeah, mostly, we’re looking at solving the math problem. There are two main ways to do that. A brute-force attack, which simply means entering every
possible key sequence until you hit the correct one. And a side-channel attack, which means finding some extra source of information that can be exploited to break the system.”

“Like what? Gimme a concrete example,” Nick said.

“Okay,” Marz said. “Like the greasy smudges your fingers leave on the screen of your smartphone when you enter the passcode. Or the fingerprints you leave on an ATM’s keypad after you enter your pin. In both of those instances, the extra information of those fingerprints significantly narrows your search from a key involving ten possible digits with nearly four million permutations, zero through nine, to a key involving just four digits, which only has twenty-four possible permutations.”

“Do we have access to anything like that?” Nick said.

“I’ve tried,” Charlie said. “I’ve tried different combinations of numbers that might’ve been personally significant to the Colonel, like family birth dates, but none of that’s working yet, either.”

From what Marz understood, Charlie’s relationship with his father—who he always called the Colonel—hadn’t been good, and Merritt apparently hadn’t accepted his son’s homosexuality. That made Marz wonder what was worse—having a parent in your life who rejected who you were to your face, or being abandoned by your parents for reasons you never got to know.

Damn, if they all didn’t have a fuck-ton of baggage.

Marz sighed. “So that brings us back to brute force. And it
will
work. Eventually. With enough time and sufficient computing power.”

“We don’t have lots of time,” Nick said, understanding slipping into his pale green gaze. “And I’m
assuming we don’t have sufficient computing power, either?”

“We spent the afternoon networking all these machines together, so it’s going faster now,” Marz said. “It’s just gonna take time.”

Nick tugged a hand through his dark hair. “And if it takes more time than we have?”

“I’m working on it,” Marz said, a rock settling into his gut. The team was counting on him. No way he’d let them down.

Charlie clapped Marz on the shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Push comes to shove, I might be able to make some contacts.”

Nick nailed Charlie with a stare. “You’re a missing person, remember?” After they’d rescued Charlie, they’d decided it would be safer for him to remain “missing” rather than risk recapture.

The blond shrugged. “Well, at some point we might have to decide whether it’s more important that I stay missing or chance being seen and get us stronger hardware.”

Admiration washed through Marz at Charlie’s offer. It wasn’t the guy’s fight, and he’d already lost so much.

Long pause, then Nick gave a sharp nod. “Fair point.” Rising, he stepped toward the desk and stole a chip off Marz’s plate.

“Dude,” Marz said, holding out his hands, “get your own crunchy goodness.”

Nick rolled his eyes as he munched on the chip, then he rubbed his stomach. “I just might. So, is there anything I can do to help you with this? I don’t want you to feel like you’re out flapping in the wind.”

“Nothing for now, but thanks. Besides, I’m not alone.” Marz gestured toward Charlie. “We got the brains
and
the beauty over here.”

Nick leaned in quick and snagged another chip.

“Dude! Goddamnit,” Marz said, laughing and taking a swing at his friend. “You’re stealing food from a one-legged man.”

Nick just laughed.

“Glad that’s funny,” Marz groused and ate a chip, then he kept his hand cupped protectively around them. One thing you learned in the Army—never let your food sit unprotected. Some hungry fucker would come snarf it down in the blink of an eye. Guess that still held even though they weren’t in the Army anymore. “Oh, hey. Everything go okay with the Ravens this afternoon?” Marz asked.

“We’re even-steven, and we have a standing offer of assistance,” Nick said.

“That’s good to hear, especially with Seneka in the picture.” Marz took another bite of his sandwich.

“Exactly,” Nick said. “We gave them the lowdown, so they knew exactly what they might be agreeing to get involved with. They were cool.”

Agreeing to get involved with
. Nick’s words pinballed around Marz’s skull and made him think of Emilie. “Oh, uh,” Marz started, hoping Nick didn’t shit a brick. “Speaking of getting involved.”

Nick’s eyebrow arched before Marz had even finished speaking. “Has anything good
ever
followed a segue like that?”

Probably not. But here went nothing. “Well, I kinda sorta made another date with Emilie Garza.”

E
milie was ready to explode with excitement over Derek, so she called her best friend, Kelly Baxter, and begged her to go to dinner and do some shopping after work.

A true friend, Kelly hadn’t really needed begging. She never did.

An hour later, they sat across from each other at a Thai restaurant near the mall. As soon as they ordered, Kelly leaned forward and nailed Emilie with a stare.

“Something’s up with you,” she said, interlacing her pretty manicured hands on the table. With her jet black hair, her black silk blouse was striking. “Spill.”

Emilie couldn’t hold back a smile. Where Emilie was average height and curvy, Kelly was tall and thin. And where Emilie had long, wavy dark brown hair, Kelly wore her dark hair in a supershort pixie style
that suited her to a tee, and showed off her long neck and high cheekbones to perfection. But in all the ways that counted, they had tons in common. They’d met in a book club and had bonded over always loving and hating the same books. Long after the club petered out, they were still getting together to talk books, see movies, or go shopping.

When everything had fallen to pieces with Jack, Kelly was Emilie’s main support system, next to her own family. So, yeah, she would be the one to notice something was up.

“Well,” Emilie said. “I went on a date last night.” She took a long drink of her ice water.

Kelly’s hazel eyes went wide. “Oh, my God. Who . . . what . . . details!” she sputtered.

Emilie laughed, her friend’s reaction being pretty much what she expected, especially since Emilie resisted everyone’s repeated advice to get back out there again. “This perfect, beautiful man fell out of the sky and asked me out.” When Kelly scowled, Emilie laughed again. “Okay, okay. Well, it
felt
that way, anyway. This guy—”

“Name?” Kelly said.

“Derek.”

“Ooh, good name.”

“Right? Anyway—”

The waiter interrupted their conversation, delivering their soups and a steaming porcelain teapot.

“Thank you,” Emilie said. She fixed her tea as she spoke. “So, I went to lunch at the coffee shop and he helped me with a computer issue, and then we struck up a conversation. Tons of chemistry and everything felt great, but then he left. I didn’t think anything of it. Except, when I left the office last night, he was waiting
on the porch of the center.” She took a sip of her tea.

Kelly’s eyes narrowed and she lowered her spoon to her bowl. “Wait. How’d he know where you worked?”

Emilie waved her hand. “I mentioned it. Like I said, we probably talked for a good ten or fifteen minutes. So, I was totally surprised, and kinda freaking out because Hottie McHotterson is waiting there for me and asking me out. So I said yes.” She wrapped both hands around the little porcelain teacup, letting the warmth seep into her skin.

Holding up her hands, Kelly said, “I have, like, a million questions.”

Emilie laughed and dug into her soup. “Hit me.”

“Well, first of all, why this guy? Don’t get me wrong, I’m
glad
you went out. You know I’ve been telling you for months to start dating again. But what made you say yes?” She sprinkled some crunchy wontons into her bowl.

“I don’t know, exactly. I mean, he is
really
hot, Kelly. Like, it’s crazy. And he’s funny and sweet and attentive. And it just felt easy being around him. So, I took a chance.” Emilie ate another spoonful of soup.

“Aw, Em, I’m so glad, for real. It was time. I know it’s only been a few months since the decree came in finalizing everything, but it was really over years ago. You’re too awesome to be alone.” Kelly reached a hand across the table and squeezed Emilie’s. The words lodged a small knot in her throat, so she just nodded. “So, you said yes. Then what happened?”

Their meals arrived and Emilie gave her the play-by-play of the rest of the evening while they ate. She tried to skim over the juicy parts, but Kelly had none of it. Though she and her longtime boyfriend were totally and completely in love, Kelly said she wanted to relive
every last detail of the first-kiss experience. Who was Emilie to deny her?

“I’m going out with him again tomorrow night,” Emilie said after they’d finished eating. “He lives up in Baltimore, so we’re going to meet after I’m done at the clinic.”

“What are you wearing?” Kelly asked, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

“Just . . .” She shrugged and looked down at the white cardigan she wore over a pair of basic black slacks. “Work clothes.”

Kelly’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no. No, no. Hottie McHotterson deserves more than work clothes. Hottie deserves a little black dress or a pair of fuck-hot jeans and a slinky little top. And heels—sexy, tall heels.” She arched an eyebrow.

“Uh. Well, I guess.” Emilie nodded and mentally sorted through her closet. She didn’t have a lot that fit Kelly’s description. Working on a college campus, the dress code was relaxed. And it had been a
really
long time since Emilie had needed clothes for any kind of special occasion.

Throwing cash for the whole meal on the table, Kelly got up abruptly. “That’s it. Come on. We’re going shopping. Clothes. Lingerie. Shoes. Condoms.”

Emilie burst out laughing and looked around to see if anyone had heard Kelly. Sure enough, they were getting some stares. “You don’t have to pay,” she said, rising.

“Oh, honey, I’d pick up the tabs of everyone in here if it meant you could be as happy as you deserve to be.” Kelly slung an arm around Emilie’s shoulders. “So let’s go get you ready to get yourself some Hottie.”

Chuckling, Emilie nodded. “Okay. I need to buy a Mother’s Day present, anyway.”

“Stuff for Hottie first. Gotta have your priorities straight,” Kelly said. They left the restaurant and stepped into the parking lot. “Ain’t getting no orgasm from Mama.”

Emilie froze in her tracks. “That is . . .
so wrong
on so many levels,” she said, unable to hold back her laughter.

Kelly shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s true, too. Come on.” She waved to her convertible. “Ride with me. I’ll bring you back later.”

“All right,” Emilie said.

“You know, you should get these cherry-flavored condoms we used one time. They tasted pretty good, in case you wanna . . .” She gestured with her hand to her mouth.

“Oh my God, Kelly,” she said, laughing as she settled into the passenger seat.

“What? Just being practical. Plus, why reinvent the wheel when I can share my bounty of knowledge with you?” She waggled her dark eyebrows.

Emilie shook her head, even as her thoughts flickered to the possibility of actually
needing
condoms. Her stomach fluttered. “Just drive, crazy woman. I can pick out my own damn condoms.”

T
WO HOURS LATER
, Emilie dropped all her new belongings on the living room couch: one clingy red wrap dress that hugged her curves in all the right ways. One pair of hip-hugging jeans that did great things for her ass. Two new tops. A royal blue matching bra and panty set. And one box of Trojan Magnum extra-large condoms—because Kelly said it couldn’t hurt to think positive.

Emilie chuckled as she dumped her purse and keys
on the coffee table and turned on some lights. Going out with Kelly was exactly what she’d needed. It had gotten her mind off of Manny, helped her unwind, and gave her a sense of reassurance that she wasn’t making a big mistake. The affirmation was helpful because, in her own mind, judging Jack so incorrectly for so long had done a number on her confidence. But she was working on it.

And Derek was a step in the right direction.

She wandered into the kitchen.
Thump, thump
. Emilie tilted her ear and concentrated. Had she just—

Thump
.

That sounded like—

Her basement door opened and someone stepped out. Emilie screamed and reared back against the counter.

“Em, it’s just me,” Manny said. The overhead kitchen light turned on.

“What in the ever-living fuck, Manny?” Emilie yelled, her body still on full alert, heart racing, skin prickling, tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. “You scared me to death. Wait. . . . Where is your Hummer?” She always knew when he’d come to visit because the big black monstrosity took up half her front yard, but it hadn’t been out there tonight.

He thumbed over his shoulder. “Around back.”

Emilie braced her hands on the counter on each side of her. “Uh, why? What are you doing here?”

“I just didn’t want to leave it out front, that’s all. And I had dinner with some friends in Arnold, so I thought I’d drop in while I was so close. Didn’t expect you to be out at this hour.” Manny crossed to the fridge, pulled the door open, and grabbed a soda. He was dressed all in black again, his hair pulled back in a knot at the base of his neck.

Uh-huh
, Emilie thought. “Okay, but what were you doing in my basement?” Emilie
never
went down there because it was the world’s biggest haven for the two things she feared the most—snakes and spiders. The fact that snakes had
no
legs and spiders had
so many
put them both at the top of her creeptastic list. So she liked to pretend that her basement, which was so small it was more of a crawl space, simply didn’t exist.

“I heard something down there, so I went to look. I think it’s a raccoon, which means there’s probably a nest. I know you don’t like to go down there, so I’ll arrange a pest control guy if you want and then find the hole and get it patched.” He took a long drink from his soda.

Emilie watched him, weighing and assessing his words. She was torn between thinking his story was a crock and wanting to hug him for offering to take care of the problem. Assuming there really was one. She’d never heard any noises down there before, but then again it was spring, so it made sense that a mama raccoon would be looking for a place to make a nest. Right? God knows she didn’t want to check for herself.

“Sure, that would be, uh, great. Thanks, Manny.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his ankles. “Why were you out so late tonight?”

“I went out with Kelly after work,” she said. No way was she offering up anything about Derek yet. That was all too new. It was entirely possible they’d just have a few nice dates and nothing more, so she wasn’t tripping her brother’s protective instincts until there was something to actually tell. Manny had been there through a lot of Emilie’s hard times with Jack, so between that and being her big brother, he came by those instincts honestly. “Speaking of which, don’t forget to
buy Mama a present for Saturday. You’re still coming, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, probably,” he said, running a hand over his hair.

“No probably, Manny. She’ll be crushed if you don’t come.” Emilie crossed her arms. And Mama would also drag her heels about the emergency psychiatric evaluation if she didn’t get to see him.

“I’ve got some stuff going on, Em, but I’m planning on it. Okay?” he said.

She sighed. “Okay.” She glanced at the clock on the microwave. 9:30
P.M.
“So, what’s your plan tonight? Are you sleeping over? Or . . .”

“I thought so, yeah. That okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, when what she really wanted to ask was why he wasn’t staying at his own place. To which she’d never been. Heck, Emilie wasn’t even sure their mother had been there. Not that she minded Manny spending the night. He’d done it many times before—after family get-togethers and right after Jack moved out when Emilie was still feeling shell-shocked, so it wasn’t necessarily unusual. Still, something about it felt that way. Or maybe that was just their strange encounter from the other night talking. “I’ll go make up the bed.”

M
ARZ COULDN’T DECIDE
which was worse: the hammer smashing his big toe or the nail driving into his heel. The torture would’ve sucked ass no matter what, but it was even worse for the fact that he no longer had the foot currently being smashed and nailed.

No bigger misnomer than “phantom” pain.

Sighing, Marz shifted and grimaced. The pain was always the worst at night. He could go all day without
a twinge, but the moment his ass went horizontal, the fun started. Which often made spending time in bed a whole lotta pointless. And pain meds left him wired, which also did nothing for his chances at sleep.

Tonight was definitely one of those nights, so there wasn’t any reason to keep lying there. Marz pushed the covers off and swung his legs toward the side of the bed. His left foot hit the cold concrete floor and the stump of his righty hung just over the edge of the mattress. Sitting in the dark, he gave his exhaustion a good shove into the background and blew out a long breath.

Swiping his hand along the side of the bed, Marz found his cell phone wedged between the mattress and box spring where he’d stuck it the night before. He thumbed on the flashlight application, throwing a dim glow over the mostly empty room. So much about what they were doing here was makeshift, including his temporary accommodations in the unfinished apartment on the top floor of Hard Ink.

But Marz didn’t mind roughing it a bit. Hell, he had a mattress, a hot shower, and a roof over his head—it was damn near luxurious compared to some of the places he’d bunked down while in the Army. Besides, he’d sleep on the damn concrete if it meant being with these guys again. Even missing half his leg, he hadn’t felt this whole, this together, this . . .
right
since the last time they’d all been in the same place. That was back in Afghanistan, before Merritt had discarded Marz and the rest of the team like so much trash and they’d been forced to shoulder the blame for the deaths of their friends.

And as long as he didn’t have all the answers about how and why the shit had landed on him and his
teammates—and who was behind it—Marz was going to bust his ass to find them.

He reached for his liner, socks, and prosthetic limb, and unplugged the latter from its charger. For the past two months, he’d most frequently worn an elevated vacuum limb that gave him a more complete seal between the socket of the limb and his skin, which was why Nick hadn’t been able to pull it off. But the vacuum pump required nightly charging.