Come And Find Me Part 2

"Anish?" IT director Manning asked.

"Completely," Chander said.

"But if everyone just rolls over and-" Diana started.

A text message popped up on her screen: J: BACK OFF.

Chander continued. "I'm well aware that I'm responsible for security, and I'm satisfied that our people have this issue covered. We can take it from here. We've been a.s.sured."

"Been a.s.sured?" Diana winced as she heard the shrillness in her own voice. But really, what was that supposed to mean? And who exactly had a.s.sured them? She hated it when victims simply plugged the breach and folded. That's what hackers depended upon. When victims didn't come after them, they'd go on probing for the next unguarded entry point. In fact, Daniel would have called that the hackers' greatest and most unappreciated service to industry-finding c.h.i.n.ks in corporate armor.

There were a few uncomfortable moments of silence.

"Nadia. Jake." Courtemanche spoke up. "I appreciate the work you've done for us. Thank you so much."

Blah, blah, blah. Diana swallowed her frustration.

"It's been our pleasure working with you," Jake said. "We'll send you our final reports. And, of course, the invoice." He chuckled.

"Of course. Send it to my attention," Chander said. "And we trust you'll continue to observe the nondisclosure?"

A new text message streamed across.

J: O&O.

Over and out? It was more like Over and don't let the door smack your sorry a.s.ses on the way out. Diana transported Nadia home.

"Know what that reminded me of?" Startled, Diana turned around. She'd nearly forgotten that Ashley was in the room with her. "Client I once had. Bugged out after I'd met with them for hours, worked up an entire ten-page proposal, then she goes, 'Sorry, the event's been canceled.' Only it's not. Turns out they're using my proposal to spec an RFP for other hotels to bid on."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it sucks. But there's one thing I've learned. Whatever you do, don't take it personal. "

But Diana was taking it personal. This wasn't the first time she'd seen this happen. Neponset Hospital five months ago. Unity Health Insurance six weeks later. When she'd pointed out the similarities to Jake-two clients rushing for the exit when they'd barely gotten past h.e.l.lo-he'd told her to grow a thicker skin. Now this was number three.

"I'm not being paranoid," Diana told Ashley.

"Did I say you were? Actually, I thought you were very . . . tactful."

"I made an effort. But I don't get it. I mean why-?"

"Weren't you listening to them?"

"They didn't say anything. It makes no sense."

"That's the point. Trust me. This has nothing to do with you. You can bet they've got some hidden agenda, some internal thing going on."

Diana stared at Ashley. Of course she was right.

"They pulled the rug out from under you?" Ashley went on. "So? Big frickin' deal. Move on." She stood, held her hands together in prayer, and drew them up and down, slicing the air in front of Diana. "I grant you absolution. As of this moment, it is officially not your problem."

More excellent advice. But once Diana saw a pattern, she was like a terrier going after a bone. That's what had drawn her into hacking in the first place-one puzzle after another, each more complex than the last, waiting for her to connect the pieces.

Besides, it p.i.s.sed her off when clients hired them to stop the hemorrhaging, then opted for a Band-Aid. Each time it happened, it p.i.s.sed her off more.

"This isn't the first client who's done this," she said. "Hit the panic b.u.t.ton and shut us down rather than track the problem to its source."

"Maybe it's easier for them to just pay someone off. They definitely wanted you to stop digging."

"Pay someone off?" Diana remembered Chander's words: We've been a.s.sured. If they'd been hit up for payment in return for silence, then the last thing they'd want would be for her to keep sniffing around.

"You're right," Diana said. "The publicity could have done serious damage. They warehouse data for some of the biggest hospitals and health-care companies in the country. If someone's got them by the short hairs, dammit, I'm going to find out who."

"You are, are you?" Ashley narrowed her eyes at Diana.

Diana didn't answer. But with or without their client's cooperation, she was going to find out what was going on. Otherwise Gamelan was doing nothing more than playing a glorified version of Whack a Mole. At least this time she'd antic.i.p.ated the speed b.u.mp. Only time would tell if she'd baited the laptop in time.

"I know that look," Ashley said. "What are you up to?"

Chapter Four.

"Come on, spill," Ashley said as Diana transported Nadia back to her virtual office.

"You like this outfit?" Diana asked as she turned Nadia's hair back to short and blond and traded her going-to-meeting clothes for leather jacket and jeans.

"Yeah, but-"

"You'd wear it?" Diana added a line of chalky black beneath Nadia's eyes.

"I know what you're doing," Ashley said, but Diana knew she had her. Ashley couldn't resist the question. Clothes had always been the perfect distraction. "Absolutely. Those business clothes are so Marian the Librarian. Does she have a Cheerleader Barbie outfit, too? Remember when we used to play Barbies?"

Diana did remember. They'd play for hours on end. They had Bride Barbie, Ballerina Barbie, Cheerleader Barbie, and Western Barbie. Western Barbie, Diana's hands-down favorite, came with a pair of six-shooters, each with a cylinder that actually rotated. All the Barbies had lived in the Barbie house, swam in the Barbie pool, and argued over which one got to drive the pink Corvette.

"All you ever wanted to do was change their clothes," Diana said.

"Which was hard because you kept losing the shoes and hair accessories," Ashley shot back.

"Hair accessories? You lost their arms and legs."

"Those were scientific experiments and sacrifices to the G.o.ds."

"Sure they were."

"So what's this?" Ashley asked, pointing to the corner of the screen where a stack of messages had queued up. Atop the stack was a message from PWNED, a friend Diana had made in this virtual world. "E-mail?"

"Just like."

With a ding, a new message appeared on the top of the stack.

GROB: Hey!

"Grob?" Ashley leaned toward the screen and slowly turned her head to face Diana. "What kind of a name is that?"

Diana felt her face flush. A moment later, another ding.

MISSION: UP IN THE SKY 6 PM COPLEY PLACE.

"Now here's something you'll appreciate," Diana said, clicking the message open.

SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION: 2NITE.

"Spontaneous Combustion? Sounds like a band. There's a Copley Place in this Fantasyland?"

"OtherWorld. Probably. There's an Eiffel Tower. A Moulin Rouge. A Taj Majal. A downtown Detroit. However, this event"-Diana indicated the message-"is right here in Boston. The real one. Spontaneous Combustion is an improv group. Like a flash mob? They'll pile into a subway car and fill it with balloons and streamers and serve cake. Or show up in a clothing store and all try on the same dress, guys, too, then walk out onto the floor and freeze like mannequins. They post videos of their events on YouTube."

"Like those people standing frozen in the middle of Grand Central during rush hour."

"This one's at the BPL. 'Meet on the front steps of the old entrance,' " Diana read from the screen. Those steps faced the west side of Copley Square. " 'Six sharp. Today. All you need is a cell phone and a pair of sungla.s.ses.' "

"What are they going to do?"

"Be there at six and find out."

"Today? But I'm meeting Aaron."

It took Diana a moment to remember. Aaron was Ashley's latest, a guy she'd met on a plane. A stockbroker, according to him. Wanted to date her but wouldn't give her his phone number or tell her where he lived. The only way she could reach him was through e-mail.

Ashley must have read her expression because she said, "You've never even met the guy."

Diana raised her eyebrows and held Ashley's gaze.

"Okay. You're right," Ashley said. "He is a s.h.i.t. And on top of that, he's been weirding me out. Checking up like he's some kind of control freak."

"So why are you seeing him?"

"I'm not. I'm dumping him. Tonight." Ashley sounded determined.

"Well, dump him early. Then you can go to this. I bet the people you meet here will be far more interesting than Aaron."

" 'If you accept this mission . . .' " Ashley read the screen. "So anyone can just show up and partic.i.p.ate?"

"And there's a ring tone." Diana clicked on the link and a piano crescendo played, then horns came in: DUM dah DUM, DUM dah DUM. Then a man's solemn voice. "Faster than a speeding bullet." There was a whoosh. It was the iconic opening of the old Superman TV show. "More powerful-"

Diana laughed and turned off the player. "You're supposed to download that to your cell before you go."

"That's easy. I'm in."

Diana hit reply. "There. You're registered." She hit print and the original message rolled off her printer.

Ashley grabbed the printout and scanned it. "Nadia Varata?"

"Sorry. She got the invite, so you're registered as her. It doesn't matter. I'm sure they don't make you wear name tags or show a photo ID."

A new message popped onto the top of the queue, confirming the registration. Diana was about to delete it when there was another ding. This time there was a blinking star beside the message-a file attachment.

Yes! She'd planted the bogus data file in time and MedLogic's hackers had taken her bait.

A third ding announced a new message from GROB.

Diana turned the monitor away from Ashley, stood and clapped her hands together. "So, you want to see what came in that UPS box?"

Chapter Five.

The shipping box lay open on the floor of the living room. The only thing that remained, nestled among the tissue paper, was a red cap. Ashley's white hobo bag lay like a deflated dirigible beside the box. From down the hall, the toilet flushed. Boot heels sounded on the wood floor. Then silence.

Ashley peered around the doorjamb. "Ready or not." She stepped into the room, and pirouetted in front of the fireplace. "You're going to look so great in these."

Ashley looked pretty great herself in the skintight black jeans and elaborately hand-tooled red cowboy boots. The fitted leather jacket hung open over a T-shirt emblazoned with the fractured word HACKER.

Ashley sniffed the arm of the jacket. "Leather, right? Because I'm allergic to latex and polyester."

"No vinyls were killed to make any part of that outfit. We're talking sheepskin. Cotton. Wool. Well, maybe a little Lycra in the denim."

Ashley pulled at the crotch of the jeans. "I had to lie down to squeeze into them." Then she twisted, straining to look over her shoulder and down her backside. "Wish there was a mirror in this place . . ." Her voice trailed off.

Diana offered her the red newsboy cap.

"Hang on." Ashley rummaged in her purse and came up with a hair clip. She pulled back her long hair, formed it into a figure eight, and anch.o.r.ed it with the clip on top of her head. Then she put on the hat, setting it on her head at a jaunty angle. She zipped the jacket and turned up the collar.

"You look great, Ash."

"Great pretty? Great s.e.xy? Great . . . big?"