The Spy Is Cast (36 page)

“Good advice,” I
agreed wryly. “Thanks for that.”

He blew out a
frustrated breath. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I’m
going back in.”

I stepped into the
void again. Back in the file repository, I discovered that the
files tended to be grouped in clumps around specific dates. I
skimmed through the most recent ones first. My excitement built as
I read. Fuzzy Bunny ran a tight ship, indeed. And a well-documented
one. I froze as an idea hit me.

Dropping the current
records, I went back in time to the previous cluster of records,
around March. My mouth fell open at the records of their secret
tests of the brainwave-driven network. Coldness crawled down my
backbone when I read the detailed information about me. Thank God,
the file that contained my information still said ‘Deceased’.

I eyed the other
clusters of files, dating back sporadically several years. My pulse
raced. This was gold. My God, if Kane had this information…

A new thought struck
me. Who else had this information? They had to be sharing files
internally, if the Silverside operation was documented on these
servers. Where else was it stored?

I hovered in the file
repository while my brain grudgingly unearthed my outdated computer
knowledge. Did they have backups? How were they synchronizing
data?

Without conscious
thought, I burrowed into the operating systems, watching services
running and snooping on automated tasks. I caught my breath when I
ran across the synchronization routine. It was scheduled to run
every night at one A.M., but it could be manually activated as
well.

I stretched my
insubstantial body down the virtual data tunnels used by the sync
routine. The data was being synchronized at six other sites. I
snapped back into myself, trembling with excitement. At least six
other servers. And I could get to them all.

Triumph filled me when
I realized I could give Spider the IP addresses. His uber-geek
skills would let him pinpoint the locations of the data centres.
This could deal a deadly blow to Fuzzy Bunny.

I was about to step
back out the portal and deliver the good news to Kane when a
newly-created file caught my eye. It had appeared in the system
within the last several minutes, and it was still being edited by
the user.

I surveyed it
cautiously. Maybe I could overcome the file locking and peek at a
read-only copy. Ever so carefully, I opened the file.

Panic drove through
me.

My heart tried to
pound its way out of my chest as I dove back into the services and
destroyed the synchronization routine. There was a chance nobody
would notice until the next morning when they discovered that it
hadn’t run. Unless they tried a manual sync…

Adrenaline burned my
veins as I flew back to the sim rooms, hoping against desperate
hope that I was wrong. My heart stopped when I peeked into an
occupied room.

Somebody whimpered,
“No, no, no,” as I jerked to a halt outside the portal to carefully
step through.

It sounded a lot like
me.

Back into my
pain-wracked body. Terror intensified the agony. I fought
impotently against the crushing weight. Screams and curses choked
behind my clenched teeth. I failed utterly to control the impulse
to beat my raging headache against the nearest hard surface.

I gradually became
conscious of Kane sprawling completely on top of me. His legs
pinned mine to the floor while his elbows dug into my shoulders,
his hands clenched around my head and bruising my lips. Involuntary
tears streamed into my hair from under my screwed-shut eyelids.

I tasted blood. My
eyes wouldn’t open fully despite my best efforts. Kane’s weight
suddenly lifted, accompanied by a cacophony of noise. Barely in
control, I jerked into a ball, gulping air. I realized I was still
sobbing, “No, no,” like a broken record.

Hands on my shoulders,
and an urgent male voice. “Ma’am, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Oh, no. Not again.

I let out a wail of
despair and let the sobs rack my body as I squinted between my
eyelashes, adrenaline pumping while I tried to figure out what was
happening.

A uniformed security
guard knelt beside me. I heard scuffling and a couple of heavy
thuds from outside the rear doors, and then Germain spoke.

“You might not want to
rough him up too much. Cops might wonder.”

An angry male voice
responded. “So there was a struggle when we apprehended him. So
what.” There was another thud and a grunt that sounded like Kane.
“We caught this asshole yesterday and he must’ve gotten away from
the police. Did you see what he did to that poor woman?”

“No.” Germain’s broad
shoulders blocked the light as he looked in the open door. “My
God!”

He stepped up into the
van and pushed the guard away. “I have first aid training. Let me
look at her. And cut her loose, for God’s sake.” He gently lifted
the tear-matted hair away from my face.

“Ma’am, are you all
right?” he asked. “Can you speak?”

I opened my eyes and
let one eyelid drop in a wink while I sobbed and trembled. The
corner of Germain’s mouth quirked in an almost imperceptible
response.

“I think she’s okay,”
Germain called. “Just hysterical. And it looks like she might have
had a nosebleed.”

“Maybe.” The voice
outside the door registered satisfaction. “But maybe it’s his
blood. She bit him pretty good.”

Oops. I was going to
owe Kane for that one. Assuming we got out of this in one
piece.

“Police are on the
way,” continued the disembodied voice.

“Good,” Germain said.
He sat cross-legged on the floor beside me and took my hand. “I
don’t know anything about being a security guard, but I can sit
with her until she’s calmer,” he said to the guard. “I’ll let you
do your job and watch that lowlife outside.”

“Thanks.” The guard
stepped out of the van and more scuffling ensued, but it didn’t
sound as though Kane was being seriously injured.

I quickly stuffed my
knife back into my waist pouch as Germain leaned close and
whispered, “What happened? Did you get kicked out of the network
again?”

“No. Carl, listen, you
have to get out of here ASAP and go to Plan B.”

He frowned down at me.
“That’s only to be implemented if you’re captured.”

“I’m staying. Tell
Stemp I’m captured. Please!” I bit off my explanation as the young
guard stepped into the van again.

“We can bring her out
now,” the guard said. “We’ve brought a car around, and we’ll take
her up to the house where we can take better care of her until the
ambulance arrives.”

Germain nodded, still
frowning at me. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

I struggled
theatrically to sit up. “I… I’m okay, I think,” I stammered as
pathetically as I could manage. “I don’t need an ambulance. I was
just… so scared…”

“That’s okay. Just
take it slowly,” the young guard comforted as he and Germain helped
me to my feet. I leaned heavily on them and tottered out into the
sunlight.

I sank down to sit at
the end of the van. “I just… need a minute,” I breathed, and
slumped against Germain while I surveyed the situation. Kane was
spread-eagled face down on the asphalt, but the only visible damage
was the bite mark on his hand. That didn’t look too serious. At
least I hadn’t taken a chunk out.

I drew in a trembling
breath. If we were very, very lucky, the police might arrive before
the guards decided to take Kane up to the house. I was intensely
aware of the passage of time. I wasn’t faking my unsteady breathing
and shaking body. I needed Germain to get out of there, fast. And I
desperately needed to get into the network again.

I stood carefully, and
the two men ushered me to the waiting car. I sank into the seat and
turned to Germain. “Thank you for all your help. I’m sorry if I
made you late for your next appointment. He just… he just dragged
me in there…” I faked another sob.

“Ma’am, it’s no
trouble at all. I hope you’ll be okay.” He straightened. “I have to
get going, I’m late,” he said to the guard. “Here’s my card, in
case the police need to talk to me.”

The guard thanked him
and took the proffered card. I breathed a silent sigh of relief
when Germain’s van disappeared down the driveway. One safe. Two to
go.

As the car wound up
the driveway toward the house, I turned to the young guard.
“Please… please don’t bring him up to the house. I… don’t think I
can stand to be in the same room with him.”

“We’ll keep him down
there,” he reassured me. “But you need to stay and talk to the
police this time.”

“I’m sorry,” I
sniffled. “It was such a stupid mistake, but I was so… so scared, I
just wanted to get away. And then he found me again…”

I shuddered and
wrapped my arms around my body, trying to look pitiful. Tricky when
I was as tall as the guard himself.

“It’s okay,” he
soothed. “You’re safe now.”

I shrank into the seat
and made myself as small as possible. At the house, I turned to him
imploringly. “May I use the powder room again, please? I need to
wash.” I gave him the big brown eyes and let my voice quaver a bit,
and he ushered me solicitously to the door.

“Take as long as you
need,” he said gently.

Perfect. I closed
myself into the room and sat immediately on the toilet. In an
instant, I was inside the network.

I shot into the
operating system and checked the sync routine. Still dead. Thank
God. I flew back to the sim rooms.

I slowed as I
approached, afraid to look inside. I took a deep breath and
prepared myself as best I could. Relief washed over me at the sight
of the burly, tattooed figure still seated in the chair.

Fear rushed in to take
its place when I drifted through the wall and saw the blood
spattered on the floor. His back was to me, and I darted
frantically overhead to see his face.

My stomach tried to
turn inside out, and I clamped an invisible hand over my mouth.
Hellhound sat tied to the chair, motionless, staring straight
ahead. Other than a shallow gash on his forehead, he was completely
uninjured.

Except for his
hands.

My guts wrenched
again, and I gulped back bile. I could only imagine the horror of a
musician threatened with the loss of his hands. The other torturers
had been callously brutal, but this focused destruction was the
work of the same sadistic and merciless monster who’d tortured the
blond man. One who had taken the time to discover his victim’s most
devastating fear.

The sight of Arnie’s
broken, mangled fingers burned into my brain. The ends of the
severed tendons protruded obscenely from their surgically precise
incisions. Those hands would never play the guitar again. Nor even
perform the simplest task. I swallowed hard once more, barely able
to deal with the desecration.

Thank God, thank God,
it was only a sim. So far.

I drifted silently
behind him and threw my voice close to his ear, barely whispering.
“Arnie, don’t respond. It’s Aydan. This isn’t real. Your hands
aren’t hurt in real life. It’s not real, I promise.”

His body jerked, but
his knotted shoulders eased a fraction, and I knew he’d heard and
understood.

I had to relieve his
obvious agony, but I couldn’t think how. I wanted to touch him, but
that would reveal more about the sim than I dared.

I whispered again.
“I’m going to take away your pain now. In five seconds, it will go
away. You’ll still look injured, but it won’t hurt. Don’t say
anything.”

“Five, four, three,
two, one,” I counted softly. He made a harsh sound as his shoulders
slumped. Then he straightened into silent immobility again.

“We’re going to get
you out. Just try…” I gulped. “Just try to hang on. It’s not real.
It’s not real, I promise. I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I
can.”

I seeped through the
wall again and stepped carefully through the portal.

I fell to my knees in
front of the toilet, sobbing and vomiting. Spasms racked my body
while I clutched the toilet seat. My stomach heaved again and again
until there was nothing left inside me.

The door rattled under
a barrage of knocks, and the young guard’s urgent voice shouted,
“Ma’am, are you okay? Ma’am?”

“I’m okay.” My voice
felt like broken glass in my throat. I swallowed another dry heave.
“Just sick to my stomach. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

“Do you want me to
come in?”

“No. Thanks.” I
slumped to the floor, still embracing the toilet bowl. I forced
myself into yoga belly breathing. In. Out. Slow and steady.

Desperate compulsion
drove me to my feet. I lurched to the sink and regarded my
bone-white face. My tears had tracked through the smears of Kane’s
blood, and the effect was unflattering to say the least. Jesus,
pull it together. No time to be a wimp.

Another knock sounded
at the door. “Ma’am, the police are here. A female officer is
coming in.”

The lock sprang, and a
uniformed woman stepped through the door. She took one look at me
clinging to the sink, and stepped hurriedly to my side.

“Sit.” She guided me
firmly back and sat me on the toilet, pushing my head down between
my knees.

“Just breathe.” She
rubbed my back slowly and soothingly. “It’s all right. You’re safe
now.”

I couldn’t suppress
the despairing laugh that came out sounding like a sob. If
only.

No time for that.

I pushed myself up
with my hands on my knees. “The man from the parking lot. Is
he…”

“We have him in
custody,” she assured me.

“Thank God.” I slumped
in relief. Kane was safe. One to go.

“I promise he won’t
hurt you again,” she said. “Can you tell me what happened?”