Monster (10 page)

“Yeah, maybe once
Lex is out of the picture once and for all,” she said, pulling
away from me. “So where's your laptop?”

The moment was gone.
Her shields were back up.

“How about you
get yourself a shower? I'll make coffee and some food and then we can
get to work.”

She turned back to me,
shaking her head. “You need to like... brush up on your
kidnapping lessons. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to offer me
showers and food.”

“How 'bout we
pretend I ain't your kidnapper from here on out? We're working
together unless we have to pretend otherwise.”

To this, I got a shrug.
“Alright. I could use a shower. That train floor was filthy.”

I nodded, leading her
down the hall to the bathroom, leaving her for a second so I could go
grab her a t-shirt to put on. Pants would be useless, she was too
small for my stuff to stay up without her holding them in place.

And I was trying real
hard to not think about her being without panties or a bra underneath
one of my t-shirts as I went to the kitchen and started throwing
together some breakfast.

I could cook. When the
occasion called for it. Being up on the outskirts of civilization
made the lure of takeaway less tempting. So I figured out how to
throw some stuff together to feed myself.

I settled on omelets,
breakfast potatoes, and toast and set to work as the coffee dripped.

The bathroom door
opened as I reached for the plates.

And out she walked.

In nothing but my tee.

It was wide on her, her
thinness something like half my size. But it wasn't long. Maybe
mid-thigh. Giving me a nice view of her long legs.

“I can't believe
you cook,” she commented, coming into the kitchen and reaching
for the pot of coffee- pouring into the two cups I had left out in
front of it.

“Why?”

“I don't know. I
guess because I've never known anyone who could cook.”

“Not even your
mom?”

“No. I mean...
not unless things like spaghetti and frozen pizza counts.”

“They don't,”
I clarified.

“Then no.”

“Well, this ain't
anything special,” I said as she leaned around my arm to peek
at the food on the stove, “but it ain't bad.”

“Smells good,”
she allowed, then moved back. Thankfully because the smell of my soap
was all over her and it was a little too intimate. “Where's
your laptop? I can show you some stuff while we eat.”

“Drawer under the
TV,” I said, scooping food onto plates.

I set the food on the
coffee table, went back to get the cups of coffee, and when I got
there, she had already gotten into my computer. And I mean... into
it. As in... past the password protection.

“The fuck?”

“You're supposed
to use words and numbers, you know. I mean... not that it would help,
but still...”

I shook my head,
handing her a fork and watching her put the laptop on her lap and
balance a plate on the arm of the couch like it was something she had
done a thousand times before.

“So what do you
got?”

She reached into the
box, pulling a USB out by random and slipping it into the drive. I
watched as she punched in a passcode that seemed to have at least
thirty digits, her fingers moving over the keys so fast there was no
way I could even catch two of them put together.

The screen popped up.
And there were folders upon folders, each locked individually. And
even when she opened one, they were coded. She was careful. I
appreciated that kind of attention to detail.

“Just have to...
oh my god,” she groaned, her head going backward, her eyes
closing. “This is nothing special?” she asked, chewing
her food, rolling her eyes at me. “What the hell did you put in
the potatoes?”

“Just onions and
spices, doll,” I said, shrugging.

“If I live
through this, I need to learn to cook.”

“We live through
this, I'll teach you.”

Whoa.

What the fuck?

I'll teach her to cook?

What the hell was that?

I didn't teach anyone
anything.

I certainly didn't let
women hang around and chop onions with me.

Jesus Christ.

“I might take you
up on that,” she said almost shyly as she turned her attention
back to her computer, brought up some kind of box and typed rapidly
until the page suddenly refreshed and the code was gone.

“Holy shit,”
I said, dropping my plate back onto the coffee table and leaning
closer. “Is that what I think it is?”

“I released a
nasty little bug on his cell and computer a while back. But not
before I did some digging around myself. This is a list of the dirt
he has on all the organizations in the area. This is how he keeps
them under his thumb.”

“How the fuck did
you get into his system?”

At this, she snorted,
shaking her head. “I sent him an email from an address that was
one letter away from one of his usual contacts so he wouldn't be
suspicious of it. And I sent him a link to a snuff film.”

“A snuff film?”
I asked, my brows lowering.

“Yeah you know...
like a porn where they kill a girl at the end. But it isn't porn.
It's real.”

“Al, I know what
a snuff film is, doll. I just didn't think they actually existed.”

“Oh, they exist,”
she said with such authority that there was no question in my mind
about the topic anymore. “Incidentally, I wasn't sending him
to a real one. All he had to do was click the link and the bug was in
his system. It actually sent him to a video about ending sexual
assault.”

“So this is what
you got from him?”

“This,” she
agreed, throwing the lock back onto the files and ejecting the USB,
“along with financial records and pictures.”

“Pictures?”

As soon as I pressed
the point, she looked pale. She reached for her plate and set it on
the coffee table only half eaten like she had lost her appetite.

“Yeah, pictures,”
she said, digging around for the USB. When she found it, she held it
up toward me, but she didn't plug it in.

“What are the
pictures of, Alex?”

She swallowed hard.
“Women.”

I was pretty sure I
knew where that information was heading, but I needed confirmation.
“Doll...”

She took a deep breath,
looking down at the keyboard, typing into it.

“Pictures of
women in varying forms of undress. Enduring varying forms of torture.
Most prominently, women in the act of being raped.”

“Jesus fuckin'
Christ.”

“Yeah.”

“What can we do
with this kind of information?” I wondered allowed.

“I was thinking
that while I was showering,” she admitted and an image of her
naked flashed into my mind before I very deliberately pushed it away.

“Come to any
conclusions?”

“I could put this
out there.”

She said 'out there' in
a way that implied it had a meaning. Just one I didn't understand.
“Out where?”

“The dark net.
Deep web. Whatever you want to call it.”

I'd heard of it. Anyone
who did anything illegal in their lives probably had. It was a place
for people like Alex. Hackers. People who did shit they wouldn't be
able to do on normal browsers. And other small time crimes- endless
pirated material. Porn. Government documents. But also, it was for
other things. The bad shit. Gun running. Drug selling. Skin trading.
Pedophilia. Fuck, even to get yourself black market organs.

“How would that
help?”

At this, she shrugged.
“It could incense the right people. You'd be surprised. There's
a lot of people out there who actively try to shut down things like
this. Operations other people are too scared to take on. In the grand
scheme of things... I'm a nobody. My skills are pathetic compared to
what some of these people can do. And some of them aren't just freaks
behind a computer screen. They're people who... do shit. If I can
ferret them out, get them interested, maybe they will take action
into their own hands.”

I couldn't disagree
with her. There had been a lot of hackers calling themselves
hacktivists all over the news in the past few years. Taking down
federal websites, turning the internet back on in Egypt when the
government shut it down, releasing the names of KKK members, trolling
organizations until they caved into whatever demands the hackers were
making. They were powerful in ways I didn't understand but knew
enough to respect.

“How long would
that take?”

“No way to tell,”
she said, typing until my screen went black and some site opened up a
forum called 'info exchange'. “Could be minutes. Could be days.
But it's worth a try.”

I had to agree since it
was all we really had to go on.

So she set to work,
digging out the occasional USB, unlocking certain files, adding them
to the post she was creating. Crime reports of beaten and raped women
with descriptions of their attacker, detailing a very specific scar
he had running across his chest. She found a shirtless picture of Lex
and posted it beside the reports, scar on full display. Then she
opened the USB that made her pale, unlocking a folder saying simply
'faces' - and uploaded half a dozen shots of women with their faces
brutalized.

She ended the post
explaining her situation. Who she was (a nickname. Not her real
name). That she had been working on her case for ten years. That she
was compromised and there was a price on her head. Leaving out the
part about me. Detailing how many more incriminating files she had on
the topic. Then giving instructions for anyone to contact her.

Which was, apparently,
through some kind of coded chat that she was going to leave open on
my laptop to keep an eye on.

“Now we wait,”
she said, settling the laptop on the coffee table and reaching for
her cold coffee. She was silent for a minute, contemplating the black
TV. “How long do you think I have?”

“What?” I
asked, turning to look at her.

“Before Lex
finally decides to come fetch me. How long?”

That was a good
question. One I had been considering myself. He didn't seem like he
was in a rush when he told me of the deal. And maybe that was because
he wanted me to get worried about Shoot. The more time that passed,
the more chance of him getting himself into trouble. If Lex made me
sweat it, maybe I would be more willing to hand over Alex.

At least, that was all
I could come up with anyway.

Nothing else made
sense.

“Not more than a
few more days I'd guess,” I admitted. “Three tops.”

Alex simply nodded. No
hysterics. No reaction whatsoever.

“Did you happen
to pick me up...”

At this, I sighed,
reaching into my front pocket and pulling out a baggy with white
powder. “This is the good shit. Strong. A third of this could
make a non-user OD.” I handed it to her. “Ain't never
bought drugs before,” I admitted, looking down at the baggy.

“Well, at least
it was for a good cause,” she tried lightening the mood.

“Doll, you
dying... that ain't a good cause.”

She looked away from
me, taking the smack and slipping it into her boot, ripping the
lining slightly away from the ankle to push the baggie between the
lining and the leather. Easy access, but hidden.

“Alex,” I
called, watching her look blankly across the room.

“What?” she
asked, her voice distant.

“Look at me.”

She exhaled sharply and
turned her head. And there was just... nothing there. No sadness. No
horror. Again, just her grim resignation to her fate.