Come And Find Me Part 21

Diana focused on the steady thub-dub of Daniel's heart, and beyond that, on the constant sound of water flowing over the dam outside. Why was it so important to him that the three of them were working together again? The Three Musketeers. Three Stooges. Three mice, although she was the only one flying blind.

"Are you ready for the meeting with Vault?" Daniel asked.

"Is it tomorrow?" she asked.

She felt his body tense. "You know d.a.m.ned well it is. Jake is leaving here in the morning to catch a flight out of Manchester to BWI."

Diana propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him. "No, I'm not ready."

"We have a deal," Daniel said.

"I still have work to do-"

"Jake's got the proposal."

"But it'll take some time to prepare a presentation for the kickoff. Why not postpone until later in the week?"

"It's not negotiable. The meeting is tomorrow afternoon."

"Why the rush?"

Daniel paused. "Because that's when they're expecting to meet with us. Gamelan built its reputation on delivering on what we promise."

Coming from him, that was too funny. Next, he'd be reciting the Boy Scout pledge.

"I may not have been there," Daniel said, "but I have been paying attention. This has to feel like business as usual."

"Business as usual." Diana sighed. As if that were something to aspire to. She laid her head down.

"You'll be ready?" he asked.

"I'll have to work on the presentation in the morning. I couldn't do a lick of work now if my life depended on it."

She edged away from him and closed her eyes. A few minutes later, she felt him slide off the bed. Heard his footsteps cross the room. She caught a glimpse of him, just before he slipped out the door.

Click. He'd pulled the door shut and she was alone again. She recognized the chirping sounds-he was keying in a code to lock the door. The blinking yellow turned to a steady red. Not to keep danger out, but to keep Diana in.

Chapter Thirty.

Diana opened her eyes what felt like a minute later but couldn't have been because it was pitch-dark. She sat bolt upright up in the bed. The sound of rus.h.i.+ng water seemed like it was roaring in her head and her heart pounded painfully against her rib cage. She tried to catch her breath.

Shapes came into focus and she remembered. She was in the mill. Shadows danced in the windows and the makes.h.i.+ft walls that surrounded her seemed flimsy, easily breached.

As she panted for air, the room seemed to spin. She curled into a ball. She s.h.i.+vered, as much from anxiety as from the cold, and her fingers tingled. She knew she was making herself sick, gulping air and hyperventilating.

Counting slowly and deliberately, she regained control of her breathing. The mound at the foot of the bed, dark against light bedding, turned out to be the leather jacket she'd ordered from OtherWorld, the one Ashley had borrowed what seemed like a lifetime ago. She reached for it and pulled it to her. Dug her fingers into one of the pockets and found her medication.

With shaking hands she pried open the container and shook the pills into her palm. They seemed to glow in the half-light. There were just six left. She'd have to ration the remaining pills. She broke one, swallowed half, and fed the rest back into the container.

She put on the jacket, then lay back, bunching the pillow under her head. She counted the familiar items she could just make out in the dark. One, the tall, tapering post at the foot of her bed. Two, the bedside table that had once stood by her parents' bed. On that, the bouquet of wilted roses, her welcome home. Three, four-the tiny red lights that glowed from where she knew there were keypads beside the doors at both ends of the loft.

When her breathing had eased and the edges of her world had gone warm and slightly fuzzy, she resisted the pull of sleep. She stood and stepped to one of the windows. Four stories down, dull moonlight lit the mirrored surface of the still water that backed up behind the dam.

She crept to the edge of the wallboard screen and peered out. Under her bare feet, the uneven wide pine floorboards felt dry and splintery in places, worn smooth in others. Soundlessly she crossed from one end of the loft s.p.a.ce to the other, trying each of the doors.

Returning to bed, she nearly tripped over a leg of the metal rack with its IV bag still hanging from it. A little red light glowed as, even now, a camera watched over where she now slept, where Ashley had been held unconscious for days. She recalled Jake's remark: They can see in light or dark. She imagined her own infrared image glowing fluorescent green and wondered if either of the two geniuses was aware of her movements. They'd thought that it was perfectly okay to keep her sister unconscious for days on end, just as long as they hadn't "hurt" her while they regrouped. When there was the mere possibility that plan B was going awry, Jake had been all too eager to "abort the mission"-as if in real life you could just reset your score to zero, or simply get up and leave the game.

Shaking with rage, Diana struck out. In slow motion, the metal rack toppled, rubber tubing flailing in the air like an angry snake. She grabbed a pillow from the bed and held it to her face, m.u.f.fling a cry.

Had Daniel and Jake stayed up nights thinking up ways to bring her in? That limousine she'd seen on her street, like the one she'd seen parked in the mill's loading dock. The delivery van that had pulled into her driveway but hadn't delivered anything. Had those been them?

After Daniel's supposed death, she'd trusted Jake. He'd set up her computers. Her video surveillance. They shared the e-mail account and used its drafts folder as a drop for shared information. Jake had a.s.sured her that it was far safer to communicate that way than to broadcast messages across a network.

He had access to every mail message she sent. He could easily have discovered that she'd registered her avatar for the improv event at Copley Square. She'd been telling him she was feeling stronger, almost ready to venture out, so he would have been expecting her to do something like that.

She crept back into bed, s.h.i.+vering. Jake had been there, along with Ashley, to pull Diana back from the brink when she was wallowing in grief. When she still couldn't move on, he'd brought her news that Daniel's remains had been recovered. But he'd played her for a fool. He must have known that there was no way she could fly back to Switzerland with him. He hadn't gone to Switzerland alone; he hadn't gone there at all. She wondered whose ashes she had been given, or if there were any ashes at all in the urn he'd supposedly brought back along with doc.u.mentation that was essential for Daniel to be declared legally dead so she could collect the insurance settlement.

That had been months before Daniel claimed he'd returned to the States. Was his tale of crawling to safety and recovered memory a fantasy too? She was determined to find out.

More important, why were they doing this-what was at stake now that made them risk exposure in order to bring her in? All she knew for sure was that instead of watching her back, all the while Jake had just been watching her.

Two could play that game. Diana spent the rest of the night awake and thinking. She ran scenarios for the next day through her head, doubling back from dead ends and branching to account for the unexpected. By morning she was exhausted and stiff with cold. If there was heat, she didn't know how to turn it on. The sky had turned light and she was still alone.

She headed to the makes.h.i.+ft bathroom. As she sat on the toilet, she eyed the modular shower stall. A hot shower would have been heaven, but she knew she'd never be able to let down her guard long enough to step naked into what looked like an upright coffin, especially not with that security camera staring down at her from the ceiling.

She snagged a washcloth and one of the pale blue towels stacked on the floor and sniffed them. A sponge bath would have to do.

Later, she dried off and put on clean underwear from a stack of neatly folded items that she recognized as her own. She put her jeans back on. It seemed easier to get into them. No wonder. For five days she'd barely eaten.

She found her fleece turtleneck pullover among the clothes folded in the little bookcase. Over that, she wore Nadia's leather jacket.

When she reemerged, the door to the pa.s.sageway that connected to the silo stood ajar. She padded across the floor and peered out into the stairwell. On the floor were her red boots. When she went to pull them on, inside one of them she found a handwritten note: Follow the tape.

Chapter Thirty-One.

Follow the tape? Sure enough, a line of duct tape had been stuck to the floor on the landing, leading down the stairs. Overhead Diana spotted a small surveillance camera, tucked into a heavy beam and aimed at the doorway in which she was standing.

She pulled on the boots and stood, imagining herself in a video window on Daniel's computer screen. She tucked her trembling hands into her jacket pockets, feeling for her pills. She wasn't about to take more-she'd need every one of them, and besides, for what she had to do today, she needed to be extra sharp.

Running her hand along the wall to anchor herself, she followed the line of tape that ran down the stairs and through a doorway. It continued on across a floor of the mill and out into another stairwell. Up the stairway, through a corridor, and on she followed its circuitous path. Finally she came to the narrow, upward-slanted pa.s.sageway that ended at the metal door to the silo. The surveillance camera over the doorway was pointed down at her.

Hesitantly, Diana tried the door. It wasn't locked, but it took all her strength to push it open. When she peered inside, she saw Daniel at one of the tables. He turned her way as a breeze swept through the doorway, and it felt as if a pair of hands were trying to pull the door shut.

"Hey, close it, would you?" he said.

Diana stepped into the silo. When she let the door go, it banged shut behind her. The air went still. She realized what had created the draft-the hatch far up the silo wall had been open too.

"So you finally woke up," he said.

He got up and walked past her to the door. He punched some numbers into the keypad on the wall, his back sheltering it from view, and the door lock clicked.

"Hungry?" he asked. Flint sparked in his dark eyes. "Got you a bacon-and-egg sandwich."

Diana closed her eyes and swallowed. Just what she needed to chase last night's greasy pizza.

"There's coffee too," he said. When he turned and pointed toward the counter, she saw he had a Bluetooth headset hooked over his ear.

"Thanks," Diana said.

The carafe in the coffeemaker was nearly empty. She poured herself the last cup and added some milk from the little refrigerator. She turned off the pot. Beside it sat a grease-stained bag. She touched it. Cold. She shuddered, imagining the congealed bacon on fat-saturated toast.

The first sip of coffee with a hint of chicory was bracing but bitter.

Daniel returned to the table and focused on the computer screen.

"You didn't come back last night," she said.

"You weren't exactly encouraging. Besides, there was a lot to do."

Diana wondered what he'd been working on, and whether he'd been working on it for the last ten hours straight. She a.s.sumed that Jake had left to catch his flight to Baltimore.

She leaned against the wall and sipped her coffee. "You know, months ago, when we first started working together, I was amazed at how easily Jake was able to find and close Neponset Hospital's security hole. It was almost like he was channeling you."

Daniel stopped typing but he didn't look over at her.

"How long have you been our silent partner?"

"Neponset Hospital." He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, that was pretty slick, wasn't it?" He spread both arms, arched his back, and stretched.

"But Vault-they're a much bigger deal," she said. "I mean, they manage insurance coverage for virtually anyone who works for the federal government, past and present."

"Plus anyone incarcerated in a federal prison."

She whistled. "That's a lot of people. A lot of private information."

He swiveled to face her. "Information that the government has no business knowing, if you ask me."

"They must have paid a lot for that fancy new security system."

"Supposedly impossible to crack." Daniel grinned. "And then one of their employees goes and leaves his computer on a commuter train, a computer with a flash drive that never should have gotten out of the building. Got just what they deserved if you ask me." He winked at her. "Arrogance will be rewarded."

Those final words and the smirk that accompanied them were eerily familiar. Daniel had often used the phrase to underscore his contempt for his so-called enemies and the n.o.bility behind the mayhem that he unleashed on them. He seemed oblivious to the irony, since his own arrogance easily matched that of the federal government and of corporations like Vault Security.

"So"-he yawned again-"welcome aboard. Have a seat." He indicated her white tulip chair, which was pulled up to one of the systems on a worktable beside his.

She sat and rolled closer to the screen. The log-in box for OtherWorld was already up. She typed in NADIA VARATA and her pa.s.sword and waited for home office to come into focus.

Instead, pixel by pixel, a replica of the interior of the silo materialized. Nadia, dressed in her signature black leather jacket and red cap, was sitting in the same tulip chair that Diana sat in at that moment, facing a table covered with computer equipment arranged only slightly differently from the machines in the real-world silo.

"We gave you a new home base. I hope you don't mind," Daniel said.

She didn't. They'd already demonstrated how they could control Nadia whenever they felt like it. But it was a timely and potent reminder of all the variables she'd need to take into account.

Diana maneuvered the mouse to angle the viewfinder. The interior of the silo had been replicated right down to the shading of the curved walls, from brown to white as they neared the roof, and the bent rebar ends sticking out of them. A little inset map of the s.p.a.ce showed just one yellow dot-her avatar was alone in its virtual tower.

She quickly checked her inventories. Her libraries of "gestures," "sounds," and "clothing" seemed intact, but all of her "places" and "contact cards" had disappeared. Erased. Again, what she'd expected. Neither Daniel nor Jake would be so easily seduced by her promise to cooperate.

With a series of beeps, message after message popped onto her queue. She was surprised that Daniel and Jake hadn't disabled her communications. Uh-oh. A message from PWNED caught her eye. The subject line: "Re: Phew." Pam had sent it yesterday, after Diana had called her.

Pam's message began, Got your message. So relieved to hear from you . . .

Had Pam missed the point of her phone call? Diana gripped the mouse and shot a look over to Daniel. He seemed engrossed in his own work.

She quickly scanned the message, realizing that it wasn't a response to her call at all, but a reply to an electronic message appended at the bottom-a message supposedly from Diana, one that Jake or Daniel must have sent, rea.s.suring Pam that Diana's trip to New Hamps.h.i.+re had gone well and she'd be there for a while longer. Diana could only hope that Pam wasn't fooled, and this response was her way of playing along.

She clicked reply. Her computer buzzed, like she'd entered a wrong answer, and up popped a box with the message, Unable to complete. She entered a query to see whether Pam was in-world at that moment. Another buzz. Unable to complete.

"s.h.i.+t." She said it under her breath.

Daniel snorted. Diana choked, sure that he'd heard and realized what she was trying to do. But he was slumped in his chair, his eyes half closed and his mouth slack. His chin drifted down, down, and a moment later he jerked back alert. He snorted again and straightened, ran his hand back and forth over his mouth, and stared at the screen. A minute later, his head tipped to the side again.

Diana pushed away from the table. Her chair made a nasty sound as it sc.r.a.ped across the floor. Daniel jumped, and the little headset fell out of his ear. She walked over to him, picked it up, and handed it to him. Gently she put her hands on his shoulders.

He gave her a wary look that softened into a smile as she started to ma.s.sage his shoulders, working her thumbs at the knots of tension in his trapezius muscles. He closed his eyes and rolled his head around.

"Mmmm. That feels good." He slipped the headset into his s.h.i.+rt pocket, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.

She worked her way up and down in his neck and upper spine. Daniel's face went calm, the lines of tension disappearing from his forehead and jaw as her thumbs circled up into what would have been his hairline if he hadn't shaved his head. If he'd just let down his guard, he'd be dead asleep in seconds.

He grabbed her wrist. "What are you up to?"

"Idiot. You can see what I'm up to." She wrenched her arm free and rubbed her wrist. "I killed the coffee," she said. "You look like you could use another cup. I know I could."