A Devil in the Details jjd-1 Page 13

  The elderly computer doggedly worked at loading the site, when a window popped up with a message and a woman’s electronic scream echoed from the speakers. “I see you!”

  “Gah!” My heart slammed in my chest, and I heard a faint snicker coming from the earphones where they rested on the desk. After I recovered, I snatched up the headset with its handy mic and slapped it on. “Goddammit, Viljo, that’s not funny!”

  The man’s voice on the other end chuckled. “It was from where I am sitting.” It never fails to amaze me how well he speaks English, especially after dealing with Ivan’s regular slaughtering of our language.

  A Finnish native now residing somewhere near Pikes Peak, Viljo is our pet computer geek. By “our,” I mean Ivan and his champions. As far as I know, Ivan is all that stands between Viljo and extradition back to Finland to face charges for computer crimes.

  Once upon a time, dear Viljo bargained his soul away. I’m not sure who fought for him, but as repayment for being freed, he kept Grapevine functional and tightly locked down as only a hacker can.

  You might ask what a computer genius sells his soul for? (Well, I wanted to know, at least, so I asked.) The answer is the world’s greatest hack, of course. Ever hear of the Great Firewall of China? Yeah, that thing that pretty much edits whatever the Chinese folk get to access on the Internet? A couple years ago, a hacker with the handle GMontag brought it crashing down to the point where it took the Chinese government three months to get it functional again. GMontag was a legend amongst hackers, their very own cyber-messiah (or so I’m told). And GMontag was none other than our very own Viljo.

  I asked him once if it was worth it. He said, “If I had been thinking clearly, I would have arranged to bring it down forever, not just for three months.” Ah, the clarity of hindsight.

  “What brings you to my neck of the cyber world? You are not due to check in for another two weeks.” Another window popped up, this one with a choppy video feed of Viljo’s face. Our poor computer could barely handle it, and the resulting image was grainy and barely recognizable. It didn’t help that he was sitting in a dimly lit room, surrounded by at least seven computer monitors (that I could see). All I could make out was the dark outline of his glasses and the dyed matte black of his long hair. And was that a tiny scraggly attempt at a mustache? Ye gods.

  He frowned at the screen in disgust. “You still do not have a camera? Or even an adequate operating system?” I watched him for a few moments as his attention focused on the three keyboards he kept within easy reach, the image jerking like bad stop-action animation. I knew he was poking around inside Mira’s computer as easily as he did his own.

  Some ungodly wail came over the headset, and it took me a few moments to realize Viljo was listening to music. “Are you listening to Bjork?”

  He made a quick motion with his hands, and the song cut off in midhowl. “No.” Even over a crappy webcam feed, he looked sheepish, and I laughed. “Do you know what I could do to your computer from here? And still you mock me.”

  I snorted. “You won’t do anything to it. You’re afraid of Mira.”

  “That is not true.” Yes it was. Anyone in his right mind would be. My wife is a formidable woman. I guess it’s true that we look for wives just like our mothers.

  “Even if I did not plant a virus here, anyone else could.” The flustered little geek gave me a stern look. It might have had a better effect if I had never heard him scream like a girl at the sight of a spider. “You realize that even the manufacturer says this operating system should not be connected to the Internet, yes? Do you even listen when I tell you these things?” The stuttering picture shook its finger at me, glowering behind the thick lenses. Nerd rage is an amusing thing to see.

  “Ivan wanted me to check in. He has no Net access where he is.”

  “Is he still in Mexico?”

  “As of this morning, yeah. He’s still trying to find out what happened to Miguel.”

  Viljo sighed and shook his head, his pixelated image taking a few seconds to catch up with his words. “I do not like it. It feels all wrong.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly. “Can you send out an all-call to everyone, and have them all check in early? Ivan wants a head count.”

  “Even the Knights Stuck-up-idus?” The Ordo Sancti Silvii, the Order of St. Silvius, was a small band of champions attached to the Catholic Church. They considered themselves separate and apart from (and snidely superior to) our loose organization. Personally, I thought they were a bunch of elitist snobs, but Ivan claimed responsibility for them, anyway, and expected us to defend them just as we would anyone else.

  “Yeah. I doubt they’ll answer, but we can try.” I rocked in Mira’s chair, noting absently that it was nice to have a chair with both arms firmly attached. “Can you check and see when Miguel and Guy logged in last?”

  “Yeah, sure, easily done.” I could see the frown, even in the grainy image. “But it is funny you ask. They both e-mailed me, saying they were having problems connecting to the site.”

  “When was that?”

  “Oh… three weeks ago, for Miguel. Guy was longer than that. Five weeks? Of course, I do not hear from Miguel that often. He must go into the city to get a connection as it is. But Guy, he has never missed a checkin, until now.”

  Shortly before Miguel disappeared, then. And, if Guy was truly gone, then shortly before his disappearance as well. “You figure out what the problem was?”

  “No. I needed to be on at the same time they were to see what was happening, and we never got the chance. Why? You think it is connected somehow?”

  “Viljo, in the three years you’ve been doing this, the site has never gone down or had any access or security issues. Not once. And suddenly two people have problems, and then disappear? Yeah, it’s hinky.”

  “I did not think of that.” He sounded ashamed.

  “Listen, why don’t you flex those hacker skills of yours. See if you can find anything in their phone records that match up, or any registered travel plans or anything.”

  He grinned at the webcam. “You are asking me to hack across international lines, you know.”

  “That a problem?”

  “Not as long as the old man has bribe money for immigration.”

  I snorted. “If you get caught, you deserve to get deported. You’re better than that.”

  He flexed for the camera. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it. Anything else?” I hesitated long enough that he asked, “Jesse?”

  “I’m here.” I so did not want to do this. “Do you have anything of Guy’s? A personal item?”

  “Um… I have the card he sent me for Christmas last year.” That made me feel bad. I’d never sent Viljo a card.

  “That might work.” I’d be happier if it didn’t. “Could you send me that, or anything else of his you have?”

  “Mira working some mojo?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Yeah, I can overnight it. You’ll have it tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Viljo. Nice mustache.” I shut down the window before he could retort, then sighed, finding myself alone in the quiet house.

  Part of me hoped that Viljo didn’t find anything on Miguel and Guy. I wanted this to be a horrible, tragic coincidence, even though the churning in my gut was telling me otherwise. I wanted to laugh with Miguel and Guy about it, a week from now. Most especially, I did not want Mira trying to scry for Guy’s location-not this close to the last attempt; not at all, really.

  While normally I enjoyed peace and quiet as much as the next guy, today the house was eerie without Mira’s bustling and Anna’s usual chatter. Even the creaking and groaning of the building itself seemed ominous, a warning of impending collapse or something. I didn’t want to be there.

  Had I remembered that Rookie Paulo would be at work, I don’t think I’d have been in such a rush to get there, either.

  Senor Sulk was slouched against the wall behind the register, where someone had apparently left him on his o
wn. Thankfully, there were no customers. His sullen gaze followed me all the way to the back as I dumped my stuff in my locker, then back out to the front.

  “Hey, Paulo.” I glanced up to find Sarah on a ladder above me, rearranging the Tshirts on the wall. “Hey, Sarah.” Realizing what she was wearing, I averted my eyes quickly. Please, someone tell the girl not to wear skirts when she’s climbing ladders. Kids.

  “Hey, old dude. You wanna hand me that?” Her hand fluttered in the air until I blindly slapped a T-shirt board into it. If she was surprised to see me start my shift early, she didn’t say so. “Kristyn says we’re moving the clearance shelves to the other side, if you wanna start on that. Paulo’s got the register, and I’m right here to keep an eye on him.”

  If I hadn’t been in such a grim mood already, I might have danced. Okay, maybe not danced, but I could have twitched a little or something. Training Paulo was not high on my list of life’s enjoyable events. “So who else is coming in today?”

  “Um… Chris, I think, and Kristyn’s coming in at five to close.”

  “Cool.” I liked closing with Chris and Kristyn; we always had fun. Granted, I wasn’t technically supposed to close tonight, but if Kristyn needed the help, of course I’d stay.

  The clearance shelves were a disaster. The shirts were scattered every which way, with nonclearance merchandise stuffed in between. “Damn savages.” I mentally cursed whoever closed the night before, and set about getting things organized before I could even start trying to move the fixture. The best therapy is often mindless menial labor.

  I know I worked on it for a good hour before I felt that heavy gaze on me again. Standing up, I found Paulo on the other side of the fixture, sneer firmly in place. “Hey, Paulo. Something you need?”

  “So… what does a security consultant do, exactly?”

  That made me blink. I didn’t realize he’d paid that much attention to Kristyn’s introduction upon our last meeting. “Depends on the client. Sometimes I just test security systems. Sometimes I do actual bodyguard work.” Please don’t let him ask me anything about computers.

  His dark eyes ran up and down as if he could actually see me through the shelving. “You don’t look like much. You’re skinny.”

  “Looks can be deceiving. And I’m wiry.” I bent to my work again. I didn’t need to get into a dominance struggle with a kid who obviously thought I was the big dog he had to take down. Though, I have to admit, sometimes it’s hard to remember I’m supposed to be the adult.

  “ ’Course, all you have to do as a bodyguard is get shot instead of the other guy, right? I could do that.” In some way I couldn’t figure out, I’d made him mad. His accent was stronger. “A mannequin could do that.”

  “Yeah, but mannequins have a union. It’s a bitch to get around the paperwork.” I stood again and folded my arms on the top shelf, giving him the eye. “You know, I’m not having the best day of my life right now, so I’m just gonna ask. Did I do something to you I’m not aware of, Paulo? Or are you just a pissy little bastard in general?” Okay, it was not my most adult moment. I admit that.

  Hatred flared in those dark eyes. Not just anger, but deep-seated, depths-of-the-soul hatred. No one that young should be capable of that much rage. “You don’t know me. Don’t think you get to judge me.” His accent grew thicker with every word. In another moment, he’d start spitting Spanish at me, and I’d be lost. Languages are Mira’s strong suit, not mine.

  “Look, you’re right; I don’t know you. So I don’t know what your problem is. But if you can’t get a grip, one of us is gonna get canned, and I can guarantee you it won’t be me. You want this job, you cool it.” Whee, lookit me be adult again!

  Maybe Sarah saw a problem brewing. The doorbell sounded its cheery “bing-bong,” announcing a customer, and she said, “Hey, old dude, you take this one, I need Paulo’s help on the ladder.”

  Paulo gave me a look that could have melted titanium, but he went back to work under Sarah’s direction. What is it with kids these days? In my day, the worst we had to worry about was somebody keying a car. (Yes, saying “in my day” officially makes me old.) These days, I thought kids were scarier than any demon I’d ever stared down. I hoped Annabelle wouldn’t grow up to be one of those angsty teens.

  The customer turned out to be an angsty teen himself, sporting a blond Mohawk and enough metal in his ears to make drowning a risk if he fell in a pool. I noted his clothing as I approached, trying to guess what I might be able to sell him. With his white T-shirt, low-slung jeans, and pair of scuffed boots, he looked more like he belonged in a fifties greaser movie than our usual goth customer base .

  “Hey, welcome to It. Is there something I can help you find?”

  Mohawk looked up at me with a sly grin, and I felt ice run down my spine. His eyes flashed red, and I heard my own voice drip from his lips. “Is there something I can help you find?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I grabbed Axel’s arm and dragged him to a convenient corner.

  “Hands off the threads-these were expensive.” He frowned and pretended to dust my touch off his bare arms.

  Looking over his current form of choice, I felt sick. “Tell me you didn’t possess some idiot kid.”

  “Nah, humans are too much work. This is all me, baby.”

  It wasn’t an illusion. His arm felt all too real under my hand. In the future, I would have to rethink my opinion on just how dangerous Axel was. “You’re not welcome here.”

  He grinned lazily, perusing the shelves with half interest. “Public place, Jesse-you can’t keep me out.” His eyes roamed over the store. “Cute place. You sell men’s clothes here?”

  “What do you want?”

  Axel shrugged his shoulders. “Just shopping. Trying to expand my social horizons, that sort of thing.”

  “Get out.” A glance around revealed that Sarah and Paulo weren’t paying attention to us-yet. I needed to keep it that way.

  “Nah.” True to his word, he started browsing, picking things up, and letting them fall to the floor. “You don’t really want me to go, anyway-not until you find out why I’ve bothered to get all gussied up and come a-callin’.”

  “Hey! I have to pick all that up!” I followed along behind him, scooping up the mess he was making.

  Axel snorted. “Demon… Hello…”

  I dumped the armload of baby tees on a rack and moved to get in front of him again. “I don’t want you here. Nothing you have could be that vital.”

  There was a chorus of noise from the back as Chris arrived for his shift. He was easily visible over the racks, towering above most other folk in his bright SUPERHERO T-shirt. His shaggy brown hair hung in his eyes, a futile effort to avoid notice.

  “Oh, I know your soul’s in hock at the moment, Jesse… but I’d be willing to take one of theirs.” For the first time, Axel’s voice took on that quality that screams “demon.” It was an oil slick in my head, a taint at the back of my tongue. To hear my own voice echoing in the recesses of my skull was disconcerting at best; nauseating at worst. “Take that one, for instance.” He nodded toward Chris, a dark smile on his otherwise handsome face, and pointed a finger at the kids.

  Atop the ladder, Sarah toppled with a startled squeal when her foot slipped on a rung. Chris, moving faster than I ever thought him capable of, caught her at the bottom.

  “How horrible life must be for him,” Axel almost purred. “Freakishly tall. Too awkward for sports. Hopelessly in love with that girl but terrified to speak to her… What do you think he’d give me, for just one night? Just one kind word from her?” The two teens stared at each other for a moment before Chris set Sarah on her feet and retreated, blushing to the roots of his limp hair.

  “Or the girl.” He tsked softly, shaking his head. “So terrified that no one loves her. That she’s not good enough, that someone will find out she throws up every single day. What would it be worth to her if I could promise her eternal beauty, unconditional love?” As if
his words had conjured it, I could feel the despair settling into my bones; the loneliness, the choking uncertainty, the weight of a terrible secret. Despite knowing it was an illusion, I found it hard to shake it off.

  “Or maybe they’re too close to home. Maybe… someone you don’t know.” He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the windows, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “That one there, the girl in the pink shirt? She’s trying to get into Yale, but she plagiarized her last paper.” He smirked as he murmured into my ear. “You’d be amazed what she’d give to have that go unnoticed. Oh! And the tall man just past her, he’s pretty sure he has an STD, and he’s in deep shit if his wife finds out.” Axel snickered, and I felt my stomach do sick somersaults with someone else’s dread. “They’re not even good people, so what would it hurt?”

  “Don’t.” Through sheer willpower, I relaxed my muscles and blocked out his voice. I concentrated instead on my own heartbeat, a bit elevated but still steady. It grounded me, and the heaviness of other people’s feelings faded-for the most part.

  “What do you care? You don’t even know them. And I’m not hurting them. I’m offering them their dreams, Jesse, in exchange for something they wouldn’t even miss… Generous creature that I am, I am willing to throw in a bonus for you, too, something you so desperately need to know.” He shrugged and released my shoulders, his predatory gaze returning to my teenage coworkers. “I don’t think you’ll find a better deal, but I am nothing if not negotiable.”

  “It doesn’t matter if they’re strangers, or if they’re not lily white in the deeds area. They’re not for sale.”

  Behind the counter, a shaken Sarah refused to go back up the ladder, so Paulo took her place. He almost attacked the T-shirt wall, yanking things into position with a screech of tortured plastic.

  The demon smiled. There was something ravenous in his eyes, a starving man eyeing a feast. “Ah, now that one. You wouldn’t believe the secrets I could tell you about him. So angry. So betrayed… An emo-rock song, just waiting to happen. What would he be willing to give up to have one chance to just get even?” Axel’s eyes glowed, more than the mere flash he usually let slip.