Brainrush 05 - Everlast 02: Ephemeral (4 page)

M
ARSHALL
NOTICED A COUPLE
of residents watching from a nearby table. The two men
appeared to be in their late twenties and their wary expressions made him uneasy.
“What’s up with those guys?” he asked, nodding in their direction.

Several of the kids glanced over, but then quickly turned
back.

“They’re yellows,” Dolphin said under his breath.

“Yellows?”

Dolphin held out his left wrist, palm up. With his other
hand he pinched the skin, and a symbol the size of a quarter illuminated just
beneath the surface. It glowed with a neon green hue. “We’re greens. They’re
yellows. They work on the twenty-fifth floor.”

“What goes on up there?”

Dolphin and the others exchanged furtive glances. Too casually,
Dolphin said, “Don’t know. We’re only greens.”

Marshall accepted the dodge but he knew better. These kids
were kindred spirits, and he knew from his own experiences that locked secrets
were a challenge few hackers could turn away from. The bigger the secret, the
bigger the invitation to show off your skills. He asked, “So greens work on the
twenty-fourth, yellows on the twenty-fifth, and never the twain shall meet. Is
that it?”

“That’s the idea,” Dolphin said. The others nodded quickly.

Marshall leaned forward. “Really?” he whispered.

Dolphin’s lips tightened. Finally, he lowered his voice and
said, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Touché,” Marshall said, smiling. “At least tell me this
much,” he said. He unbuttoned his cuff to reveal one of the bracelets. “What
color am I?”

“Blue,” Dolphin and Shamer said in unison. They chuckled and
nudged each other playfully.

“Ugh. Get a room,” BlackFlag said.

“Gag me,” Whomper added.

“Blue?” Marshall asked.

“It limits your access to this floor,” Dolphin said. “It’s a
temporary ID tag. Used by new arrivals until they get their implant.”

Rolling up his other sleeve, Marshall said, “So why do I
have two of them?”

There was a collective gasp and the kids stiffened. Dolphin
moved closer to inspect the bracelets. He ran his finger along the metallic
edge of one of the bracelets. “One of the new models?” he muttered.

“Careful,” BlackFlag whispered.

“Seriously,” Tornado said.

“Okay, guys,” Marshall said. “You’re starting to freak me
out.”

 “Much thicker,” Dolphin said, turning one of Marshall’s
wrists so he could examine the other side. “No actuator or manual release.
Clever design.”

“Designed to do what, exactly?” Marshall asked.

Dolphin lowered his voice. “The standard bracelets are
nothing more than an ID badge with built-in access controls. But there have
been rumors—”

“Shhh,” Shamer said. A group of three residents had just sat
down at the table beside them. From their age and stiff demeanor, Marshall
guessed the new arrivals were yellows.

Dolphin accepted the rebuke and Marshall noticed him
squeezing Shamer’s hand under the table. He said to Marshall, “For now, I’d
recommend remaining on this floor.” His voice was light and casual but his gaze
was intense.

Marshall nodded, rolling his sleeves back down. The mood at
the table had grown anxious so he changed the subject.

“So, where are you all from?”

 “All over the mainland,” Tornado said. “I’m from a village
in Hebei province. So is Whomper. Out of thirty-four provinces, we have people
from twenty-nine of them in this building alone.”

“There are others besides those of you who work here?”

“Of course,” Shamer said, suppressing a smile. “The program
has been in place for over twenty years. Compulsory aptitude testing is
conducted throughout China. It begins before a child’s first year in school.
It’s a great honor when someone is chosen and it’s celebrated in grand fashion
in towns and villages. Afterwards, candidates are sent to specialized boarding
schools. There are many thousands of us.”

Many thousands? All working together with a common cyber
goal? Under the authority of the Chinese government?
Marshall shivered at
the thought of it.

Shamer frowned. “Most of the others work in large facilities
near Beijing and other major cities. Those of us here were taken from those
centers, all on the same night. We’ve never been given an explanation.” She
sighed. “We haven’t even been permitted to speak to our families.”

As if to lighten the tone by getting back on the subject,
Bambi said, “I’m from Chengdu in Sichuan province.”

“Beijing,” Dolphin said. “Same as Shamer.”

“Jiangsu,” TomBoy chimed in.

BlackFlag said, “And I’m from a village in Fujian Province.”
He puffed out his chest and added, “The same as DarkMatter—uh, I mean, Master
Jiaolong.”

DarkMatter?
Marshall knew that handle. Heck, any
gamer worth his salt knew that name. DarkMatter had been one of the top-ranked
players in the world when Marshall was younger.

“Master Jiaolong, huh?” Marshall asked, his anger rising.
“Is he the dude in charge?”

The kids exchanged curious looks. “Of course,” Dolphin said.
“This is his company.”

Shamer leaned in and whispered, “We think he bribed someone
to have us brought here two years ago.”

BlackFlag hushed her. “We are well treated.”

Under different circumstances, Marshall thought he might
have enjoyed an invitation to meet the man known as DarkMatter. But to be abducted
on the lame excuse that some mysterious outfit was targeting him and Lacey was
a load of crap. He was in trouble and so was Lacey, and he wasn’t sure how much
longer he could contain his anger in this charade. He needed answers, and it
was apparent that the kids seated around him could provide only some of them.
But
if I can get my hands around the throat of the man in charge...  

“Can’t wait to meet him.”

“After the practice round,” Shamer said.

“Practice round?”

“Sure,” Dolphin said. “To make sure everything’s running
smooth for the big tournament tonight. You have a reserved spot and we’re all
rooting for you. That’s why you’re here, right? Master Jiaolong is going to
monitor the practice session from upstairs but he’ll be down afterwards to
debrief. So, you’ve
got
to play,” he said, standing up as if to lead the
way.

Burying his confusion, Marshall rose from the table and
nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Two minutes later he stepped into a room that took his
breath away. The darkened walls, dim lighting, and huge wall screen gave it the
feel of a private movie theater. But instead of rows of seating, the carpeted
floor was occupied by sixteen luxury game pods, each with a leather recliner
enclosed by rounded privacy walls. The interior front wall of each pod was
embedded with a curved video screen.

Gaming paradise.

The huge screen at the front of the room featured a large
central display surrounded by sixteen smaller displays. With no active game in
session, the center screen streamed highlights of previous battles, and Marshall
saw that the game was a first-person shooter with open-world technology. The
genre was the current big thing in multi-player online gaming. He’d heard
several new ones were in development. In fact, he’d been invited to participate
in the beta trials for one of them, but his travel schedule over the past
several weeks had made it impossible to—

“This way,” Dolphin said. He escorted him toward the front
of the room.

Four tiers of bleacher seats stretched along the back wall
and every space was occupied. A hush fell over the crowd when everyone noticed
Marshall, adding fuel to his growing sense of apprehension. As he walked down
the aisle, Shamer and the others peeled off toward their own pods. The two
yellows appeared, along with several others who seemed to be cut from the same
cloth. They occupied all but two of the remaining chairs. As each player got
situated, the perimeter screens on the front wall lit up with static images of
the opening battle environment, superimposed with each player’s handle. Once
game play commenced, he assumed the perimeter screens would be slaved to the
individual pod screens so that onlookers could watch from their favorite
player’s viewpoint.

“This one’s yours,” Dolphin said, motioning toward a pod in
the front row. “I’m right next to you.”

Marshall settled into the chair and the interior screen lit
up automatically to display the battle scene. It was like being in the cockpit
of an advanced aircraft—except when he glanced around he noticed there were no
controls. He turned toward Dolphin and frowned.

The boy hovered beside him. “Wait for it,” he said with a
wide grin.

A sultry female voice sounded from an embedded speaker.
“State
your name and handle, please.”

The familiar voice brought a smile to Marshall’s face. He
whispered to Dolphin, “Is that Shamer?”

Dolphin nodded. “Programmer’s prerogative,” he whispered.
“Pretty hot, huh?”

Marshall gave him a thumbs-up, then spoke toward the screen.
“Marshall Erickson. TurboHacker.”

A panel beneath the screen flipped open and a robotic arm
telescoped outward holding a high-tech headset. He recognized the
eight-fingered skullcap immediately and his breath caught in his throat. It was
a twin to the thought-control Spider headset he’d received in the mail several
weeks back—and loaned to Jake’s son.

Scattered pieces of the puzzle tumbled into place, and he
realized the events over the past couple of days weren’t about him, or Lacey,
or maybe even Jake.

It’s all about Alex.

M
ARSHALL
REELED
as the shotgun blast blew him off his feet.

Killed again.

The game timer ticked down. Thirty seconds to go. Like each
of the other games he’d played over the past hour, the free-for-all game had
been a slaughter, at least from his point of view. While he’d stumbled this way
and that trying to teach his brain to control his movements, the other players’
avatars dodged and weaved with a swiftness that was double what he was used to
from the games he’d mastered with a hand controller. They shot, knifed, and
clobbered him time after time, and when any of the other players earned a twelve-point
kill streak—unlocking the robotic swarm perk—forget about it. They repeatedly dropped
him with ease, and he started to feel like one of those pop-up targets that
SWAT used during hostage rescue training.

Die. Respawn. Get nailed again.

Even though he’d improved somewhat throughout the matches, the
kills he’d scored had been more luck than anything else. His frustration
mounted at each failed attempt, not because of his humiliating performance but
because of the barrage of questions he knew he’d face later. He had to keep
Alex’s involvement a secret.

At all costs.

He died again, and the game ended before his avatar respawned.

“
Game over
,” Shamer’s sultry voice said through his
headset. “
You placed sixteenth.
”

No kidding, he thought. He had only four kills, while
everyone else had racked up twenty or more during the extended game. As soon as
he removed his headset, he noticed the buzz of conversation that had been
present in the room before the first match had vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable
silence. The audience’s hero, TurboHacker, had a solid lock on last place.

“
Clear the room
,” a stern voice ordered over the
intercom. “
TurboHacker, please remain seated.
”

The spectators in the bleachers rose quickly and made their
way toward the exit. The other players stepped out of their pods and followed. No
one spoke. Dolphin was the last to go. He cast a worried glance in Marshall’s
direction as he walked past. The crowd’s cowered obedience to the evacuation
order pissed Marshall off. It was how he’d expect abused children to respond,
not a group of brilliant programmers. It spoke to the strict indoctrination to
which they’d been subjected.

The voice had ordered him to remain seated. Screw you, he
thought, climbing out of his pod. He faced the door and crossed his arms, bracing
himself for what was to come. Before most of the attendees had exited, a man
and woman slid through the crowd, followed loosely by a trio of hard-faced men
with holstered sidearms. The couple appeared to be in their thirties. She was a
svelte package, a classic Asian beauty in a navy pantsuit, with pulled-back
hair that flowed to her waist. She carried a tablet in one hand. The man
appeared to be Eurasian, black-haired and clean-shaven, with dark eyes that
narrowed as he approached. He walked with purpose. She glided beside him with
the economy of a tigress.

“Welcome, Mr. Erickson,” the man said, extending a hand. “My
name is Jiaolong. But you may know me as DarkMatter.”

“DarkMatter, huh?” Marshall said, ignoring the man’s hand.
“You mean the substance that makes up five-sixths of the cosmos but is still so
nebulous that scientists have yet to isolate a single molecule of the stuff?
You must think you’re pretty damn special. Does that mean you’re the man in
charge?”

Jiaolong’s expression hardened. He lowered his hand. “Yes. I
am most definitely the man in—”

Marshall slugged him across the jaw so hard that Jiaolong
spun a three sixty and fell to one knee. The woman stepped aside, her mouth
agape, and Marshall heard gasps from the lingering spectators at the back.

“What have you done with my wife?” he shouted. “Where is
she? If you’ve harmed a single hair on her head, I will bring your entire world
to its knees!”

The three guards rushed forward and Marshall readied himself
for their assault. But Jiaolong held up a hand and they stopped short. The man rose,
massaging his jaw. The entire left side of his face was red.

Jiaolong snorted. “Is that the best you’ve got...TurboHacker?
Trying to cover up for your phony antics in the game? Come on, you can do
better than that. Hit me again.”

Marshall glanced at the guards.

“Don’t worry about them,” Jiaolong said. “They won’t
interfere. Hit me.”

Marshall wanted nothing more than to oblige, despite the
fact his knuckles were throbbing. But he sensed a setup.

“Come on, coward,” Jiaolong taunted. He jutted his jaw to
offer an easy target. “Hit. Me.”

Marshall coiled his muscles, his eyes darting left and right.

“You’re worried about your precious wife?” Jiaolong yelled,
spittle flying. “Either hit me or watch my men cut her.”

 “Where is she?” Marshall shouted.

“Hit me!” Jiaolong demanded.

Marshall released his fury in an uppercut toward Jiaolong’s
chin. His fist was halfway there when the bracelets vibrated, sending white-hot
pain to every nerve ending in his body. His muscles seized and he collapsed to
the floor on his back, jerking and twisting.

Jiaolong hovered over him, a small device in one hand, his
thumb depressing a button. “Had enough?”

Marshall’s vision jumped and shook. He tried to answer but
all he could manage was a gurgle. Jiaolong grinned. Finally, the man released
the button and the pain stopped as abruptly as it had started. Marshall melted
into the floor, gasping as his mind worked to convince his system the attack
was over. Sweat dripped from his brow. Blinking several times, he tried to
focus his jumbled thoughts and emotions. The woman moved into view, her
compassionless gaze boring into him. For a brief moment he thought he
recognized her. The memory was vague, as if from a dream, but a part of him was
alerted to its importance—another reminder that nothing was as it seemed.
She
asked questions about Jake.
The recollection began to fade, but he forced
his consciousness to latch on to it.

“Get him up,” Jiaolong said.

Two of the guards helped him to his feet. As Marshall rose,
he noticed the third guard ushering the last of the residents from the room.
One of them was Dolphin. He’d witnessed it all, and though it appeared as if
his eyes were moist, the expression on his face was one of absolute
determination. The guard closed the door and Marshall turned his attention to
the couple, glancing from Jiaolong to the woman and back again. He wondered at
the depth of their deception and the lengths they’d gone to in order to bring
him here. He still didn’t know what was going on but at least he’d identified
friend versus foe.

Jiaolong’s thumb lingered over one of two buttons on the
remote, the second of which was shielded by a plastic cover. His smile was
sinister. “Are you ready to behave?”

Marshall buried his anger behind a clenched jaw, his
imagination spinning over what the other button might do.

Jiaolong followed his gaze. “Oh, are you wondering about
this?” He flipped up the plastic cover and caressed the button.

Marshall sensed a surge of tension from the guards, their
focus on his wrists. The one closest to him edged backward. The woman held her
ground but frowned at her boss.

Jiaolong ignored their reactions. “Plastic explosive
embedded inside the bands,” he said. “Just enough to sever both hands. You
won’t be much good on a keyboard after that, right... TurboHacker?”

Marshall stopped breathing. He held his arms out and stared
at the bracelets. His hands quivered.  

“Ah, I see that I’m getting through to you,” Jiaolong said.
He flipped the cover closed and handed the device to one of the guards, who clipped
it to his belt. He stood a head taller than the other two guards, wearing a
blue security uniform. He had broad shoulders and a shaved head. Jiaolong
added, “This is Chang. He shall remain at your side to ensure your continued
cooperation. Do not test him, understood?”

Marshall looked back at the bracelets. He realized he had
little choice but to do what this fool demanded. At least for now. “What’s the
carrot?” he asked.

“The carrot?”

He held up his wrists. “You’ve shown me the stick. So what’s
the carrot?”

“That’s simple. Win the tournament tonight and you’ll save
your hands. Answer a few questions after that and you’ll save your wife.”

“I want to see her.”

“In due time. As I explained before, she’s en route.”

“But—”

“No buts. No more questions. No more games,” Jiaolong said.
He pointed to the wall screen, where a static battle image was overlaid with a
leader board. A countdown timer indicated the tournament would begin at eight
p.m. “Well, except for that game, of course. I suggest you use the time between
now and then to practice.” He turned and headed for the exit. The woman and one
of the guards followed, leaving Chang and the remaining guard behind.

Marshall locked eyes with Chang, who gave him a thin smile
and patted the remote attached to his belt, as if daring him to try something. When
Marshall didn’t react to the taunt, the man clicked his tongue and shared an
amused look with his partner. The second guard was smaller than Chang but every
bit as tough-looking. His knuckles were covered in calluses.

Marshall watched the door as it swung closed behind Jiaolong
and the others. Then he looked at Chang and raised an eyebrow. Chang grinned,
placing his index finger over the remote.

“No!” Marshall said.

Chang gave the button a tap and a current shot up Marshall’s
arms. His shoulders flinched from the excruciating sensation. It was over in an
instant, though the pain lingered. The guards laughed.

Marshall blew out several breaths. “Assholes,” he muttered,
turning his back on them, waiting for the next jolt. But it didn’t come.
Instead, the guards chuckled and took up positions at the back of the room. They’d
made their point.

I owe you one.

Marshall stared at the big screen, and that’s when he realized
that he recognized most of the player handles in the tournament. There were
fifty-four in all, ranked in order of their overall standings since the beta
headsets were sent out. TurboHacker—Alex, in this case—was in the number one
position. His kill-to-death ratio was double that of the closest competitor,
and Marshall once again marveled at the kid’s gifts.

Like father, like son.

But it was the names of the other competitors that ratcheted
his concern. He knew most of them, if not personally then at least by
reputation. He’d worked with several of them on joint security projects and had
gotten to know many of the others during various cyber conferences, workshops,
and other gatherings. One of them was a geek friend from high school. The guy
had earned himself some serious jail time for one of his hacks, but he’d gotten
an early release when he accepted recruitment into the NSA. Three others had served
with Marshall on a top-secret advisory panel for the FBI’s Cyber Crime
division. But the American handles represented less than a third of the entire
list. Marshall recognized others from major countries across the globe, including
several from China. These weren’t your average gamers. These were the world’s elite
cyber warriors, whose combined expertise protected some of the most secure
facilities on the planet. The fact that they’d been gathered together, even if
only in a virtual space, raised alarm bells.

For the first time since his abduction, Marshall had a nugget
of a clue to focus on. He set his emotions aside and allowed his analytical
mind to take over.

Like programmers, hackers, and computer geeks around the
world, the players on the board shared a common love for video games, a
weakness that would’ve been easy to exploit. They’d probably been lured into
the beta testing in the same way he had—with a gold invitation that included a
very-cool-looking Spider headset, with personalized log-on credentials and a
thought-responsive system that was levels beyond anything on the market. What
geek in his right mind could pass that up? Hell, he remembered his own
excitement when he’d first opened the package. He would’ve been all over it if
he hadn’t needed to leave that afternoon for a six-week project and then fly to
Rome to meet up with Lacey.

So when Jake and his son had driven him to the airport, he’d
passed it on to Alex.

And made the kid a target.

But a target for what?
He glanced toward his pod. The
Spider was still on the chair.

Time to find out.

***

Back in the control room, Jiaolong
paced anxiously, trying to keep his anger in check. Having Jake Bronson loose
in Hong Kong was one thing, but getting struck in the jaw by TurboHacker—after
being played for a fool by the man as he’d pretended to be new to the Spider
game—was about to send him over the edge. He watched TurboHacker’s avatar
maneuver clumsily across the screen.

“Why is he going through the tutorials?” Lin asked.

“Because the damn fool is still playing games with us,”
Jiaolong said. He’d hoped that the threat of the bracelets and the fear for his
wife’s safety would entice TurboHacker to strike back with the only weapon at
his disposal—hacking into the system again through the Spider.

Sister Zhin said, “Unless it’s within the tutorial that he
discovered the program’s vulnerability?”

“Perhaps,” he said, watching the avatar pick up a grenade and
throw it. The projectile didn’t come close to the target. “But the man is a
master coder. He knows we’re watching. Trust me, he’s playing us, biding his
time for an opportunity to turn the tables.”

“I can fix that,” Min said with a gleam in her eye, caressing
the bobbles dangling from the end of her long braid.