Countdown (19 page)

too much to allow it. And just like Joe, Oliver was now sweating buckets, even though it wasn’t hot in here. “Sure. Okay.
I’ll go. Um…I’ll leave right now.”
Why did he sound so nervous? Was it just being around
Rogan? Or…was it something else?
I got a really bad feeling it was something else. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked him.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Never better.”
I didn’t know if it was my Psi ability kicking in without
skin-to-skin contact or if it was simply my gut telling me that
something was desperately wrong here.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he said, turning toward the
staircase.
“Yeah, sure. Oliver?”
When he turned back to me, his gaze guarded and fearful,
I gave him a tight hug. He stiffened, as if not expecting the
physical contact, before he relaxed against me.
Then I slid my fingers into Oliver’s hair at the back of his
head hoping very hard I wouldn’t find what I was looking for. But there it was.
Oliver had a freshly installed implant.
He took a step back from me. “I’m sorry, Kira.” My throat felt thick. “Why are you sorry?”
The boy was literally trembling now. “I had no idea you had
anything to do with the game. They hired me on last week—
thought my computer skills made me an asset to the team. I
wanted to tell you my great news, but you’ve been avoiding
me lately. They fitted me with an implant so I could watch.”
His expression tensed. “And they stationed me in the mall to
see if you’d try to get me to help you. But you didn’t. You
ran away. With
him.
”
Rogan now stood beside me, his gaze filled with fury.
“Where did you just go, Oliver? Did you make a call? Did
you let them know we’re here?”
He wouldn’t make eye contact with either of us. Then he
nodded once. “They’ll be here any minute.”
My chest tightened—a familiar sensation of fight or f light
I recognized very well by now.
I was voting for “f light.”
Another countdown commences.
“I’m sorry,” Oliver whispered.
I opened my mouth to say something to him—to scream at him for selling us out—but Rogan took a step toward him first. That was all it took. Oliver staggered back from him and tripped on a wire. He fell and hit his head against the side of
the computer table, managing to knock himself unconscious. I grabbed Rogan’s tense arm. “What are we supposed to
do now?”
“We hope Oliver’s wrong about our time line.” Joe’s eyes had grown very large. “They’re coming
here?
Somebody go up the stairs and lock the damn door.” I didn’t need any more prompting. I thundered up the stairs
as fast as I could, still favoring my sore ankle, and turned the
dead bolt.
When I got back downstairs, Rogan was staring straight at
Joe. “We need the antivirus and we need it now.” I was certain Joe was ready to run. I was equally certain
that Rogan wouldn’t let him, but we didn’t have time for a
physical confrontation. Not here. Not now.
To my surprise, Joe nodded sharply. He turned and sat
down heavily in front of his computer and put his fingers on
the keyboard. “I know it’s around here somewhere. It’s been
a while, man. I hope I didn’t trash it.”
“But will an antivirus actually work?” I asked. “I don’t
know much about computers, but wouldn’t the virus have
progressed too far for that by now? Besides, it’s not in a computer anymore, it’s in a person.”
Joe shrugged with one shoulder as he whipped through
folder after folder, which appeared and disappeared in f lashes
of light and color. “That’s entirely possible. But the virus isn’t
really in a person, it’s in an implant inside a person. And that
implant is directly connected to Ellis Enterprise’s artificial
intelligence server. If you can get to that server, shove in the antivirus disc, and launch it, then I think you’ll be able to do
some serious damage.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “We have to put the disc in the
server itself? We can’t do this remotely—like from here, if you
can hack into their network?”
“Unfortunately, no. They’ve totally upgraded their security. If you can’t physically get to the server itself, this has no
chance of working.”
Rogan gripped the back of Joe’s chair as the scrolling files
appeared on screen. “I wish I knew where the A.I. server is
now. It used to be on the second f loor.”
“It’s in the sub-basement now,” Joe said. “I walked past it
during my orientation tour and I’m betting the guy leading
the tour told me way more than Mr. Ellis would have wanted
him to on an intro tour of the facilities.”
“Do you know any more details? Like what room it’s in?”
I asked.
“Damn, why can’t I find it?” The files scrolled down the
screen faster than I could read them. “Where did I put it?” “Joe, which room is it? Do you remember?” I said it louder
this time. By my estimation, we had less than a minute left
to get out of here.
“Yeah, I remember. It’s marked as Mr. Ellis’s office, even
though I know his real office is on the top f loor. The room has
a computerized lock that only certain employees can access.
The only people who were able to get in have a red clearance
tag, if that helps. I remember that because those tags made
me think of blood.
My
blood. And I didn’t want to spill any
of it either then or now.”
Just then I heard a bang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. At the top of the stairs somebody was pounding on the
outer door.
They were here.
“It’s a strong door.” Joe’s voice trembled. “Trust me, paranoia will take you places. Especially dark, well-locked places.
We have another minute before they can get in.”
Rogan’s expression was bleak as he met my gaze. Jonathan
had been certain that if they ever found us, we were dead. “I’ll
hold them back for as long as I can,” he said. “And you try to
escape. Maybe I can talk some sense into them.”
Was he crazy? “I don’t think they’ll be too interested in
talking. They’ll just kill you.”
“Don’t be so sure. I have a hunch that my father—or the
thing possessing him—will want to see me personally one last
time. He’ll want to find out how we beat the system. I’ll be
questioned before they kill me.”
My throat constricted at the thought. “Rogan—” “I found it!” Joe shouted, sounding very relieved. “I just
need to get it on a disc for you.”
He opened a drawer next to him and fumbled through its
contents. He closed his fingers around a small, blue plastic disc
about the size of a quarter, pushed it into the slot on the side
of the computer, and clicked a few keys. After another moment he pulled it out and handed it to Rogan.
“If you can get into that room—and I don’t have any idea
how you’re going to do that—shove this into the A.I. server.
If it’s going to work, it’ll work.”
Rogan studied the disc with a frown. “How will I know
if it worked?”
Joe hesitated. “That’s a good question. I figure if it works…
you’ll still be alive.”
“Great,” Rogan said drily. He eyed me, and looked at Joe
again. “Is there another way out of here?”
Joe swallowed hard. “Unfortunately, no. But now that I
think of it, that would have been a really good idea. Escape
routes, and all that.”
Crap.
The pounding on the front door increased. We were cornered with only one way out.
Rogan looked at the small disc. Then he eyed me. “Can
you do me a favor?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Hide this for me until later?”
He handed me the disc and I looked at it. “Where should
I hide it?”
“Put it in your bra,” Joe suggested, and then blanched at
a look from Rogan. “I mean, I can think of a couple other
places, but, uh, a bra’s probably your best bet.”
I didn’t hesitate. I tucked it into my bra, glad I’d decided
to keep wearing the one that had gone with my
Countdown
costume.
“I’ll want that back.” Rogan’s gaze met mine. “Soon.” “Ask me nicely and it’s all yours.”
The edge of a smile appeared on his lips. “I just thought of
something hilarious.”
“Oh, do share. I could use a laugh right about now.” “Before—I had no idea how I was going to break into Ellis
Enterprises without getting caught. Security’s tight.” “And now?”
“I think we’re about to have an in.”
“Great. Just try not to die first.”
“I’m going to try real hard.”
Rogan took my hand in his and squeezed it.
Then several sets of feet pounded down the staircase as Gareth Ellis’s men came for us.

ELLIS ENTERPRISES WAS A FIFTY-STORY BUILDing made of silver and glass that sat in an otherwise empty section of the city like a cold, sparkling gem under the over
cast skies.
Rogan was seated next to me in the back of the SUV. Both
of our hands were bound behind our backs. He was currently
unconscious. He’d put up a pretty good fight against the five
men in white lab coats who’d come for us. They’d easily disarmed him of his gun and then knocked him out. Frankly, I
was surprised they hadn’t killed us on the spot.
I was sure it was only a matter of time.
Joe hadn’t gotten off so lucky. He’d tried to run, to push
past the men as they swarmed into the room. He’d gotten a
bullet in his back for the effort.
They hadn’t killed Oliver. He didn’t accompany us in the
car, so I had no idea what had happened to him. Frankly, I
didn’t care anymore. Maybe he’d get a reward. I guess everyone was out for himself. Not that this was news to me. I tried not to relive the experience at Joe’s gaming den and instead focused my attention on the shiny building—which, let’s be honest here, was the place
I
would likely die today, or tomorrow…definitely sometime soon. I didn’t have much hope of getting out of this in one piece. Things had gone way
too far for that.
I tried to imagine a younger Rogan, high on whatever drug
he’d just taken, showing up to his job at this building—the
son of the billionaire CEO. The Rogan Ellis I knew wasn’t a
spoiled rich kid with a huge allowance to spend on frivolous
things to relieve his boredom. I didn’t think I would have
liked the old Rogan.
In fact, I’m quite sure I would have hated him. Then again, the old Rogan probably wouldn’t have looked
twice at a girl like me. At the end of the day, I was just a street
thief who happened to steal the wrong guy’s wallet. Even back
when my father worked for the university, I’d never even been
inside a building as fancy as this one.
But that’s exactly where they were taking us.
I tried to concentrate on the sound of my breathing. Anything to keep myself from thinking about how bad this could
all go. As Rogan said, he hadn’t been sure how we were going
to get inside the building in the first place. The security was
tight. Super tight. We had to go through two checkpoints and
a manned security station before coming within fifty feet of
the place.
The car rolled to a stop next to a black side door. A man in
a white coat sprayed something in Rogan’s face, and he woke
with a jerk. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense until
he saw me, and our gazes met and held.
“Are you okay?” were his first gruff words. I should have
been asking him the same question.
“No. Actually, we’re both royally screwed.”
He smirked. “I think you’re probably right.”
“Shut up,” a White Coat snapped.
I glared at him but stopped myself from telling him to screw
off. We were in enough hot water as it was. Wouldn’t want
to throw more wood on the fire beneath us.
The back door of the car opened, and both of us were
yanked out of our seats. All the White Coats, whom I had
originally assumed were scientists of some sort, were carrying
weapons. Scientists didn’t pack heat. These were hired thugs
with a strict uniform policy.
“Move,” they instructed us.
We moved. Through the door and into the cool interior
of the building.
“We’re in,” Rogan said. “Should we celebrate now? Or
wait until later?”
I gave him a look. How could he joke at a time like this? But
the mild humor in his voice didn’t reach his serious expression. “Shut up.” One of the men jammed the butt of his gun into
Rogan’s back as we walked down a long bare hallway. The
white-tiled f loor squeaked against my boots. “Don’t make
me tell you again.”
My steps slowed as I saw who was waiting for us at the end
of the hallway.
It was Gareth Ellis. He stood there next to an open elevator with his feet spread, his arms folded across the front of his
expensive, black business suit. His blue-green eyes narrowed
at our approach.
“Welcome back, son,” he said as Rogan was shoved into
the elevator in front of me so hard that he hit the wall with
his shoulder.
“Son?” Rogan repeated through clenched teeth. “Is that
what I am to you? Are you sure about that?”
“I am.” Gareth’s mouth twisted into a strange smile, and
he glanced at me. “Why? Have you heard differently from
someone?”
A shove at my back made me stagger into the elevator, as
well. Four men in white coats pressed into the elevator with us,
and then Gareth stepped inside and the doors closed. Claustrophobia hadn’t been one of my fears in the past, but I strongly
considered letting it join the growing list.
We’d entered on the ground level, but the elevator took us
down even farther.
Joe had told us that the room with the artificial intelligence
server was in the sub-basement. These bastards had no idea
they were taking us closer to where we needed to be. The elevator lurched to a stop, and the doors opened on a
whole lot of white.
Gareth soundlessly stepped off the lift, and I felt a firm grip
circle my upper arm, crushing enough to bruise. One of the
men pulled me along another hallway.
All white. Everything was white and smelled of lemonscented antiseptic.
Never had pristine cleanliness looked more like death to me. “Where are you taking us?” Rogan demanded. The White Coat whacked his gun against the back of Rogan’s head. Not hard enough to knock him out, but definitely
hard enough to hurt.
Rogan turned a glare of uncensored fury on the man. “Do
that again and I’ll shove that gun up your ass and pull the
trigger.”
The man laughed, obviously unthreatened. “Yeah, sure you
will. Keep walking.”
Joe had said that he hadn’t wanted to work here. Despite
the perks, of which I was sure there were many, he couldn’t
stomach the sadistic nature of being controlled by a walking,
talking computer virus.
This guy, however, didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Gareth nodded at a door up ahead. “In there.”
It looked exactly the same as the room where I’d spoken
with Gareth before; they’d taken me here by helicopter after
level four when I’d been blindfolded. However, I could be
wrong. There wasn’t much to mark it as a unique room. It
was all white, with two narrow tables in the middle pushed
together to make one table. Two chairs on either side. Both
white. The monotone gave the moment a strange, almost surreal feeling.
Rogan and I, wearing our borrowed clothes from the safe
house and the heavy black boots from
Countdown,
were pushed
into the chairs so that we faced each other.
The slash of Rogan’s scar was red against his pale face. Blood
trickled down the side of his neck from where that thug had
hit him with the gun. My heart wrenched at the sight. His hands were still locked behind him in metal cuffs just
like mine.
He didn’t say anything and neither did I. But we’d spent
enough time together that I could guess what he might be
thinking.
Don’t lose hope. We’re not dead yet.
I’d try my very best.
“Leave us,” Gareth said, glancing at the men who stood there brandishing weapons that seemed so black against their
white clothes. “And send him in when he’s ready.”
Send him in.
My gaze left Rogan to move to the door.
Send
who in?
The White Coats left and then we waited. It felt like hours
but I’m sure it was only minutes until he walked in. My mouth
fell open.
Oliver.
Definitely not unconscious anymore, although he looked
slightly out of sorts. There was a red mark on his head from
where he’d knocked himself out against the edge of the table
in the gaming den.
He wore an Ellis Enterprises security clearance name tag
against his otherwise casual clothing—ripped jeans and his
chaos-logo T-shirt. He seemed no different than the Oliver
I’d known…other than the fact that he now stood beside the
man who wanted to kill us.
He looked at me, and his brow furrowed before he turned
his attention to his new boss.
“Oliver?” I managed. “What are you doing here?” Gareth’s lips curved. “Oliver works for me now, don’t you?” Oliver nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Gareth moved toward him and slapped him twice on the
back. “This boy’s a genius. I always have room for geniuses
on my staff. He was hired in an entry-level position a week
ago, but his association with you, Kira, made him suddenly
all the more interesting to me. I’ve decided that he will become my new personal assistant.”
I ran my tongue over my very dry lips and tried to find
enough moisture in my mouth to form words. Gareth’s personal assistant? Oliver? I’d felt the ridge in the back of his scalp where he’d been fitted with an implant, and known he’d taken a job here, but I hadn’t expected his connection to
Gareth to be this close.
The thought didn’t fill me with reassurance.
Anyone could be bought. Even someone you thought was
your friend.
Gareth’s smile held. “Along with evidence of accomplished
programming and hacking skills, Oliver is very driven to succeed here—as many who are plucked from the streets seem to
be. Before long I have no doubt he will rise high in my ranks.
I promised him the opportunity. Isn’t that right, Oliver?” Oliver nodded. “That’s right, sir. Thank you again.” Gareth’s gaze slithered over me with distaste. “I honestly
believed that you had gotten the better of me with your little
escape attempt.” His expression darkened. “You can imagine
how delighted I was when we were informed of your whereabouts.”
I fixed Oliver with an icy glare. He didn’t meet my eyes. A cool new job with a great paycheck—but he had to stand
by with a smile on his face and watch people die. Including
me.
I would never forgive him for this.
“You said that you wouldn’t hurt her.” Oliver spoke up after
a moment of silence. He seemed totally incapable of making
eye contact with me.
Gareth laughed. “Sentimental, aren’t you? Yes, I did promise that, and I always keep my promises.” He looked at me.
“Since Oliver has an implant, he’s been able to follow along
with your cycle of
Countdown.
I believed after the reward level
his desire to protect you would fade. No boy enjoys seeing the girl of his dreams in bed with someone else, but he still feels a
sentimental attachment to you for some reason. Fascinating.” I scowled at him.
“Now, on to other business.” Gareth clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace the room slowly, moving in
a slow circle around our table. My gaze f licked to Rogan for
a second, but his attention was now fixed on his father’s possessed body, as if stunned. I realized this was the first time
Rogan had seen him in two years. “Inspect him, if you would
be so kind, Oliver.”
Oliver moved toward Rogan, and I saw that he had a small
metal receiver in his hand that f lickered with green and yellow lights. He moved it over the back of Rogan’s head, and
he studied the light reading.
“What are you doing?” Rogan sent a dark look toward
the kid.
“My son.” Gareth leaned against Rogan’s half of the table,
his back toward me. “Please, relax. Oliver is simply checking
the validity of your implant.”
“Jonathan removed it before you had him killed,” Rogan
growled.
“No, no. Not that implant. The other one. The prototype.” Rogan went very still. “But it never worked.”
Gareth pushed away from the table and began to move
about the room again. “A lot has changed since you went to
St. Augustine’s, Rogan. Technology believed to be redundant
can be made active. Especially the prototypes. You have one.
I have one. Anything after that was simply mass-produced
imitations of the originals.”
“Which means what?”
Then Rogan’s face twisted in agony, and he yelled out. I struggled hard against my restraints. “What are you doing
to him?”
Rogan slowly relaxed, his chest heaving, and there was now
a gleam of sweat on his forehead.
Gareth ignored me and instead glanced at Oliver, who
squinted at the receiver. “Well?”
“It looks good,” Oliver said simply. “I’ve activated it for
you. Simple, really.”
Gareth cocked his head. “I’m so pleased that you think so.
Then all is well with the world. Do you want to know why
I care about your prototype implant, my son?”
“You’re not his father.” I bit off the words. “And you damn
well know it. I knew you were possessed, but Jonathan told
us the rest.”
Gareth glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his gaze
at me. “Are you trying to make me angry, little girl? I’m not
sure if you’re brave or stupid.”
“Bite me.”
He laughed. “You have been an amusement to me, Kira.
And the Subscribers enjoyed you, up until your disappointing finish, that is. I wonder if you truly do have Psi abilities
like Jonathan believed. I watched your interaction with Kurtis on the roof in level five. He was convinced that you could
see his soul. Were you lying to him?”
I glared at him. “I saw who he really was. Just like I saw
it with you.”
He regarded me for a moment. “A true Psi. A new breed,
an evolution to something greater than what came before.” A
f licker of interest lit his eyes. “Just like me. I never believed it
could actually exist. Perhaps I was being too closed-minded.”
He approached me and gripped my throat tight enough to hurt. “Obviously, when you read me before, you sensed the human presence who once controlled this shell. I wonder what
else you think you may have seen.”
I struggled to breathe, but didn’t f linch away from his intense appraisal. “Maybe I saw
your
soul.”
He raised an eyebrow and then released me. I coughed, still
feeling the imprint of his fingers on my neck.
Oliver watched me from the far corner, his expression tense. Gareth turned his back on me and approached Rogan, who
was struggling against his bindings, his narrowed gaze f licking between me and his father.
Gareth crossed his arms against his black suit. “While I’m
not happy about your attempted escape, Rogan, I will say that
I am very pleased that you survived so far in the game. When
I first brought you in, I thought of it as a mild amusement.
A way to get rid of you once and for all. I’d heard that there
were further investigations afoot after a similar crime at another university took place last week. This time it was ten girls