Brainrush 05 - Everlast 02: Ephemeral (6 page)

“The equipment?” Pete asked.

“In place and ready to go,” she said, opening the door.

Jake stepped inside first, leading with the suppressed
muzzle of his MP5. 

A
IM...FIRE...SWIVEL
...duck...swivel...aim...toss grenade...

Marshall allowed himself a sense of satisfaction as he
dropped another of his computer-generated opponents. He’d opened his mind to
the game, starting this time with the built-in tutorial, searching for anything
unusual as he taught his brain the commands. Movement had been relatively
simple once he’d gotten the hang of it, so he’d moved on to the weapons and
combat commands. The tutorial had taken him through its “training” program, showing
him scores of flash-card images of various weapons and commands, apparently
learning
his brain patterns as he’d focused on each image. They’d flashed by slowly at
first, the sequence changing in a seemingly random fashion. Then the process had
accelerated, until finally the images had appeared in rapid-fire succession.
Before long, select images had dropped off the list, as if the software had
what it needed regarding that weapon or command. Ten minutes later, the last of
the flash cards had disappeared and Shamer’s sultry voice had said,
“Let’s
play.”

 He’d dove in.

He thought
AK-47
and his avatar switched to that
weapon, then
aim
, and the aiming reticle settled on a computer soldier
that was charging in from Marshall’s right, then
fire
, and his avatar squeezed
the trigger. The soldier flew backward from the impact of the rounds. It all
happened in the blink of an eye. Marshall had to admit it was awesome, and in
different circumstances he could imagine immersing himself in the game for
hours.  There was no denying its genius as he progressed through the practice rounds.
The speed with which it learned his unique brain patterns was astounding. The
technology was beyond anything he’d come across, and its applications were...

Mind-boggling.

It took him a moment to realize the beta team was filtering
into the room, along with a crowd of spectators. He paused the tutorial as Dolphin
walked by holding two frosty cans of soda. Each was already open with a straw
protruding from its mouth, the top half of the straws still covered by wrappers.
The kid deposited one into the drink holder in his own pod, and then returned
and offered the second one to Marshall. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Thanks,” Marshall said, reaching for the can. Dolphin held
the soda for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before releasing it
into Marshall’s grip, and that’s when he noticed the slight narrowing of the
kid’s eyes, followed by a subtle shake of his head. Marshall placed the can in
his drink holder without taking a sip. As he did, he sensed Dolphin’s relief.

“I’m glad they decided to let us back in to practice!”
Dolphin said. He shifted his position so that his back was to the front wall
screen and then held his hands together in front of him. He twisted his wrist
and a smartphone slid from under his sleeve into his palm. He aimed the screen
at Marshall, continuing to talk. “I’ll bet I know why you had so much trouble
in the first game. It had to be the headset!” He tapped the phone screen and a
message appeared.

don’t drink the soda. it’s drugged. keep the phone in your lap so
the cameras won’t see it.

“You didn’t bring your own headset with you,” Dolphin
continued without missing a beat, “so it must’ve been a tuning issue or
something.” He leaned over and placed his hands on the edge of Marshall’s pod,
dropping the phone into Marshall’s lap as he did so. A card-trick magician
couldn’t have done it more smoothly. Dolphin looked up at the big screen, where
the paused tutorial mission was projected in one of the perimeter windows. “It
looks like you were doing okay just now. But I’m still going to try to kick
your butt!” He held his palm up for a high five.

Marshall slapped it. “Good luck with that, kid. You may have
the edge for a game or two while I’m getting my headset, uh, tuned up. But
after that, you’re toast!”

Dolphin stood tall and smiled. “We’ll see, dude!” The kid strode
away and slid into his own pod. He donned his Spider, settled in, and dropped
his hands to his lap. A moment later, the phone in Marshall’s lap vibrated with
a text message. He was grateful the kid didn’t use shorthand text-speak.

will explain between games. keep the phone low and out of sight. no
texting during game or
THEY
will know. phone only works for internal messaging.
no Internet.

Marshall texted back:
what the hell is going on?

Shamer’s automated voice sounded from the game.
“The game
will begin in thirty seconds.”

Dolphin texted back:
something is up

what?

unsure. shamer is digging

about me?

no. but something bad. gotta wait for shamer. there’s more. about
your wife

Marshall nearly dropped the phone. He texted back:
what about
her?

Shamer’s voice counted down.
“Five. Four. Three. Two.
One.”

Marshall’s phone didn’t vibrate, so he texted again:
what about
my wife?!!!

But there was no reply. The game had begun and Dolphin had
warned not to text while playing. But Marshall wasn’t about to wait. He
pocketed the phone, rose to his feet, and reached up to remove his headset. Movement
behind him stayed his hand. Both of the guards started toward him, Chang gripping
the remote clipped to his belt. Marshall glanced over at Dolphin. The kid
gawked at him, his face white.

Marshall forced himself to calm down. He faked a yawn, stretched
his arms over his head, and twisted his torso from side to side.

The guards relaxed, Dolphin blew out a breath, and Marshall
plopped back into his chair in time to see his unmoving avatar blown off its
feet by an RPG—rocket propelled grenade. His mind raced as he waited the seven
seconds it would take to respawn.
What does the kid know about Lacey? Is she
okay? Does he know where she is? And what is Shamer investigating?

His avatar respawned and he dove into the game with a
vengeance, his thoughts shooting, blasting, and shredding anyone in sight.

The sooner the game was over, the sooner he’d get answers.

***

In the control room, Jiaolong sat
back in his Captain Kirk chair and watched the action on the primary wall screen.
Lin stood beside him while Zhin and Min watched from his other side. Pak and
his engineers were at their consoles.

“He’s doing much better,” Pak said.

“But nothing close to what he’s done in the past,” Zhin
added. “He hasn’t earned the robotic swarm perk once.”

Jiaolong scratched his chin. After a moment he turned to Pak
and said, “You’re certain there’s no root-level activity?”

Pak studied the data streaming on several open windows on
his monitor, then glanced toward the engineers seated on either side of him.
They shook their heads. Pak turned toward Jiaolong. “Still no breach.”

What was different now? Jiaolong wondered. In every previous
instance that TurboHacker had been engaged in the game, Pak’s team had
encountered evidence of his incursions. The occurrences had been seemingly
random, and none had resulted in any apparent damage to the program. But that had
only served to magnify Jiaolong’s concern. What was Marshall up to? More
importantly, how was he doing it? Despite the world-class expertise in this
room, every effort to discover TurboHacker’s back door had turned up nothing. Plus,
the game’s subliminal inquiry program, which had performed beyond Jiaolong’s
expectations with every other player, had failed to yield a single result with the
American’s game play from home. They hadn’t even learned his first pet’s name,
much less the passwords to the top-secret networks he was contracted to protect
as part of his consulting business. So the programmers had created a more
aggressive program, designed to work with the modified headset TurboHacker now
wore. It would not only glean his secrets, it would also track the origin of
any incursion attempts. They hadn’t activated those features yet. They planned
to wait until tonight’s tournament, when the American’s consciousness would be distracted
by his high-level opponents.

But the man’s poor performance in the practice sessions angered
Jiaolong. Even in the face of threats toward the man’s wife, TurboHacker
continued to toy with him.

He pounded the armrest with his fists.

Lin lay her hand over his, brushing it gently. He exhaled.
She’s
right
.
Frustration is a waste of energy. One way or another, we’ll get
the truth out of the American
. If not now, then certainly when they
returned to the village. Marshall wouldn’t last long under Min’s interrogation.

On the screen, Marshall’s avatar died in an ambush between
two other players. Jiaolong shook his head. The ambush had been poorly staged.
The TurboHacker he’d played against in the past would’ve seen right through it.
He turned toward a screen with a close-up view of Marshall’s pod. The man
appeared fully engaged by the game. Why, then, was his performance so poor? It
was as if he was...

 
An entirely different person?

The muscles at the back of his neck tightened and he sat
straighter in his chair.

“Activate the inquiry routine.”

T
HE
GAME WAS NEARLY OVER
when Marshall felt a tickle at the back of his
scalp. The new sensation interrupted his immersion in the action, reminding him
of the technological leap Jiaolong’s people had perfected to make the brain-to-machine
interface so seamless. It was truly astounding. But the secrecy? The
abductions? This was about far more than the game. But what? Thought control?
Could that work two ways? Was there such a thing as a computer virus or worm
that could be planted in a human brain? Was that what this was all about—some
sort of brainwashing? He didn’t think so. No, it had to be something simpler
than that, something Alex had apparently threatened when he’d hooked into the system.
He felt the tickle again, and imagined the software waiting for his next
command. Or was it doing something else?
What possible reason could there be
to get into
my
mind?
Then he thought back to the tournament leader
board he’d seen earlier, with the names of the gatekeepers to some of the
world’s most secure—

 “Holy crap.”  

***

“We’re getting something,” Pak said.

He swept his hand across the monitor’s touch screen and the
image flew onto the main wall screen. A blur of five-digit numbers scrolled
beneath the phrase
Office Zip Code
, the first digit a 9, and the subsequent
digits scrolling and dropping into place one after another until the number
90503
filled the space. Jiaolong knew they had TurboHacker. The number flashed and
slid into an
Office Zip Code
slot on the left side of the screen, under
the name
Marshall
Erickson
. In the same instant, the title
Office Street Address
appeared
on the center of the screen, and a list of street names taken from a database
of all streets within the 90503 zip code scrolled beneath it, slowly at first,
and then so fast the words blurred together. The list stopped abruptly on the
name Marshall’s subconscious brain reacted to—
Hawthorne Blvd
. Then an
escalating series of numbers scrolled in front of it, stopping quickly at
25515. The address slid to its corresponding slot under Marshall’s name and a
new window appeared:
Alarm Code
.

Jiaolong smiled. The entire process had taken only a few
seconds, and TurboHacker had no clue what his subconscious mind had given up. With
another day or two of game time, the man’s entire life—public
and
private—would be laid bare.

“Brilliant,” Lin whispered.

Yes, Jiaolong thought, it
was
brilliant. But why was
the inquiry routine working now? Why hadn’t it functioned properly when
TurboHacker had played from home? Was it because of the modified headset and
new software, or something else?

“Sir,” a tech shouted from the other side of the room.
“There’s something happening on the street!”

“On the screen,” Jiaolong ordered.

A gun battle was being waged in front of their building. It
appeared as though two rival gangs were going at it. Bodies fell and the crowd
fled in all directions. Adrenaline surged through Jiaolong’s limbs as he
gritted his teeth. “Nice try, Mr. Bronson. But I’m not so easily fooled.” He
turned to Zhin. “Notify the teams that it is time.”

“Already done,” she said, adjusting her headset. Two armed
guards rushed in and took up positions inside the door. Jiaolong saw another
stationed in the hall.

He nodded and returned his attention to the gun battle down
below. “Alright, let’s find him.”

***

Marshall ripped off his headset just
as the phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, careful to keep it low
on his lap.

just heard from shamer. yellows are agitated. showing signs of
getting ready to leave. exit door codes changed. darkmatter and team locked
upstairs.

 
Marshall glanced toward the back of the room. A
couple of the older residents were huddled in conversation but the two guards
were steadfast. He texted back:
gotta get outta here. can u help?

yes. shamer gave me the code for your cuffs

His heart skipped at the news.

gotta find my wife

There was a long pause, so he added:

do you know where she is?

I will tell you, but you MUST remain calm. your life and mine are at
stake. okay?

Marshall’s hands trembled.

okay

***

An eager tension quickened the pulse
in Jiaolong’s temples. His prize was at hand. Capturing Bronson wasn’t key to
his plans for Passcode, but his deep-seated desire to make it happen never
wavered. Not only was Bronson the only hope for his dying grandfather, but Jiaolong
wanted to witness the horror in the American’s eyes when he pressed the button
that would unleash his vengeance. Jiaolong studied the checkerboard of closed-circuit
camera views that had been swept onto the main screen. The lobby, elevators,
stairwells, rooftop, and sidewalks surrounding the building were all displayed.
The lobby and lower stairwells were crowded with scrambling tenants and passersby
eager to distance themselves from the gun battle outside. A score of his men mingled
among them, disguised to blend in, their weapons hidden, eyes searching.

“No sign of him yet,” Zhin reported.

“Patience,” Jiaolong said. “He’s coming. Remind the teams to
give him space so he can follow the breadcrumbs.”

Min stepped forward, her hands caressing the bobbles in her braid.
“I still don’t see the need for the deception. Why not simply take him once
he’s spotted?”

He held her gaze, sensed her excitement. “One doesn’t
capture a tiger with a headlong rush, sister. Better to lure him into a
camouflaged pit, yes?

A brief shadow crossed her features, then vanished in the
same instant.

Was that defiance?

His eyes narrowed. The triplets had always been free to
voice their concerns. In fact, he found their advice invaluable. But they
always spoke with a respect honed from generations of tradition, even Min, who stood
apart from her sisters because of her tendencies toward a more aggressive
approach to matters. He shrugged off what he saw as a product of the moment’s excitement.
He pointed at the camera view of his lone man stationed within the CCTV
security room—the goat tied to the stake. “This is where Bronson will strike
first. He’s here for his family and friends and that room represents the only
sure route to identifying where they are located. The man is clever and I will
not underestimate him. He obviously has resources at his disposal. How else
could he have eluded our teams at the airport? So be it by bribe or blueprints
or dumb luck, make no mistake—he will have identified that room as his target. And
then I will have him!”

Zhin said, “The teams are well-briefed and positioned
throughout the lower levels. They’ll hold back and follow the American at a
discreet distance, cutting off any chance of escape. And don’t worry,
Bronson—and whoever is with him—won’t get past unseen, despite the distraction
outside. There are only five entrances to the building and everyone of them is
cov—”

 “Rooftop!” Pak blurted out. “The door sensor has been
activated!”

Jiaolong snapped a glare at Zhin. He rose to his feet and the
room stilled. Zhin met his gaze, nostrils flaring. They shared the blame for
the oversight and they both knew it.

The moment stretched, until finally she motioned toward a
small wall safe beside the row of computer servers. They exchanged grim nods.

We planned for this possibility, too, didn’t we?

He approached the safe and pressed his eye against its
embedded retinal scanner. There was a click and a red
armed
light switched
off. With the internal explosive device now deactivated, he removed a gold
chain from around his neck and used the suspended key fob to unlock the safe. He
pulled out an external computer drive, unplugged its connectors, and handed it
to Zhin. She secured it in a leather shoulder bag.

The true brilliance of the Passcode program lay in its
ability to deposit an undetectable rogue code within a network after it makes
its first incursion with a stolen password. It provided Jiaolong’s team with a
back door that could be used in the event the primary password was changed by
the user. Each breached network was then assigned an encrypted key that could
be used to access the buried code. The individual keys were stored on the drive
Zhin now held.

Jiaolong’s eyes went flat. “Send a team to secure the garage
exit. Order the remaining men to get upstairs immediately. I want Bronson alive!”
He ushered Lin toward Zhin. “You’ll be safe with Zhin, my dear. She and Pak and
the engineers will escort you to the cars.” He turned to the two inside guards.
“Stay with them. On your lives!” They nodded, their assault rifles braced across
their chests.

“Min,” Jiaolong said, “you and the guard outside are with
me. We’ll grab TurboHacker and meet your sisters at the cars. It seems you will
finally have your way with him.” Jiaolong turned to Pak and the other
engineers.

Pak’s face paled. “There’s not enough time to wipe all the local
drives.”

Jiaolong nodded. “You know what to do. Transmit the
evacuation code. And activate the charges.”

***

Marshall stared at the vibrating
phone.

remember, stay calm. sending video now...

He tapped the download icon and a YouTube video loaded. It
was two days old. He held his breath and hit the
Play
button.

A news reporter was saying:

“Actress Lacey Hunter was critically injured today during
the filming of her latest action movie in Rome, Italy. The actress was
performing her own stunt when...”

The world seemed to collapse as the words and the accompanying
video jackhammered into his consciousness—the car crashing into the building,
the explosion, the burst of flames, Lacey dragged from the burning wreckage,
her face and hair aflame...

“Noooo.”

“Doctors reported that Miss Hunter was near death when
her body mysteriously vanished during a police operation at the hospital...”

“NOOOOO!”

“The circumstances surrounding the incident have yet to
be...”

Marshall jumped to his feet. “Lacey! LACEY!” He spun around
to face the guards at the back of the room. Chang sneered and unclipped the
remote control. His partner pulled his sidearm. They started toward him,
spectators scattering from their path.

“Come and get me, you sons of bitches!” Marshall screamed.
“I’m gonna tear you limb from—”

Dolphin grabbed Marshall’s arm. “Please, they’ll kill you!”

“Exactly!” Marshall spat. He ripped his arm free and shoved
the boy so hard he fell to the floor. But when he turned back to the guards,
they were no longer coming for him. They were rushing toward the exit. A few of
the spectators grabbed their wrists and charged through the crowd to follow
them. Marshall recognized two of them as the yellows he’d seen earlier.

“Oh, no,” Dolphin said, back on his feet. “It’s happening!”
He moved around to block Marshall’s path, his words tumbling out. “Please wait.
I’m so sorry about your wife. But you needed to know.”

Marshall stepped around him, but BlackFlag and Tornado were
there with palms outstretched to stop him. “Please wait,” BlackFlag said. “We
need a plan.”

He pushed past and headed for the door. The others followed
on his heels—Bambi, Whomper, and TomBoy joining them—and Marshall overheard
their anxious interchange.

“It’s happening!”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’ve got to find a way out of here!”

He shoved through the door and into the central gathering
space. Most of the residents were milling about in confusion, their voices
raised and questioning. But the older ones, likely all yellows, made a beeline
toward one of the stairwell exits. He spotted his two guards; they’d taken up
station at the doorway, checking wrists before permitting anyone to pass. A
third guard showed up and handed each of the other guards a snub-nosed
submachine gun. A growing herd of greens stirred nearby, fear etched on their
faces.

Marshall hesitated, unsure which way to go. The kids caught
up to him.

“How do I find DarkMatter?” he shouted.

The kids exchanged fearful looks. From behind, Shamer slid
into the group. Her hair was tousled, her face red. “He’s probably left
already,” she said breathlessly.

“So it’s true?” Dolphin asked. “It’s really happening?”

“
What’s
happening?” Marshall asked. “Where has he
gone?”

“It’s worse”—Shamer gulped, trying to catch her breath—“than
we thought. They’re gonna fire the building.”

“Fire the building?” BlackFlag asked.

She leaned over and placed her hands on her knees. “Yeah,”
she said. “Incendiaries. Top four floors.”

Dolphin placed a hand on her shoulders. “We’re going to get
out here.”

Shamer rose and pointed toward the door. “Don’t you get it?
We
can’t
leave. Only the yellows can pass.”

Bambi clutched her throat. “B-but what about us?” She
motioned toward the growing crowd. “What about us greens?”

Shamer shook her head.

“No friggin’ way,” BlackFlag said. He took a step toward the
door with clenched fists.

A quick chatter of gunfire stopped him in his tracks. They
all looked toward the exit to see one of the greens lying motionless on the
floor. Chang stood over him, his weapon smoking. The crowd of greens by the
door backed away. BlackFlag turned around, his face drained of color, his gaze pleading
with Marshall. The others turned toward him as well.