How Spy I Am (10 page)

He combed his fingers
through his beard. “We’re both looking forward to this very much. I
have some work to do in my lab downstairs, but Jack will stay and
observe your session here.” He beamed at us before making his
exit.

Honey’s stunning smile
reappeared. “It’s so nice to see him happy again. He was devastated
when he thought you’d died. We’re all so glad you’re okay.”

I nodded slightly
embarrassed thanks and turned my attention to Spider when he spoke
again, turning his usual happy-puppy expression toward Jack.

“You can follow the
session with me on my laptop,” he said. “We’ll stay outside the
virtual network and monitor through the physical interface. I can
explain what’s happening, and we can communicate with Aydan and
Richardson inside the network, too.”

She smiled and hefted
the familiar small case in her hand. “Thanks, but I’ve brought my
own monitoring equipment.”

“Remind me not to tell
a lie,” I joked as she laid out the case on the sofa beside me.

She eyed me, frowning.
“Don’t tell lies,” she said seriously. “It’ll get you into trouble
sooner or later.”

“Um… yeah…”

She pinned Smith,
Spider, and Richardson with a laser-blue gaze, each in turn. “The
contents of this case are highly classified. All you need to know
is that this is a mobile brainwave monitoring unit, just a portable
version of Sam’s lab downstairs. Clear?”

Oops. Me and my big
mouth.

“Clear.”

She nodded
acknowledgement of their ragged chorus and returned her attention
to me as she placed the electrodes on my forehead.

“Sorry,” I mouthed
silently.

She gave me a
half-smile, and Spider handed over the tiny box containing my
network key.

I waved Richardson
toward a chair. “Might as well get comfortable.”

I blew out a breath
and stepped into the virtual reality network where I stood waiting
in the void. When Richardson’s avatar materialized beside me, I
held my expression carefully neutral.

He glanced down at his
combat gear, bristling with what seemed an excessive number of
knives, and hefted the submachine gun tucked into the crook of his
arm. His blue eyes crinkled into a self-deprecating smile, the
elusive dimple in his cheek flirting attractively before vanishing
again.

“I guess somebody’s
feeling a little inadequate,” he quipped.

I laughed. “It’s okay.
Don’t fight it, it’ll change on its own when you get more
comfortable with all this.”

About an hour later,
I’d decrypted several files, and Richardson’s combat gear had
gradually faded into his fashionable real-world shirt and
slacks.

I rubbed my tired
eyes, surreptitiously watching him. He was young, fit, and
undeniably handsome, but I hadn’t realized how much I’d grown
accustomed to Kane’s muscular bulk. My mind drifted back to our
summer surveillance op, thanking the indulgent gods all over again
for that man-candy glimpse of Kane in his underwear.

Kane, ohmigod, those
killer six-pack abs and that massive chest. And those bulging arms.
And those shoulders a woman could sink her teeth into. That I
had
sunk my teeth into, once. And the way he filled those
hip-hugging black briefs…

The air in the file
room shimmered and began to take shape in front of me, and I yanked
my attention back to the file on my virtual desk. Do
not
think about things like that in a brainwave-driven simulation.

And anyway, hot as
Kane undeniably was, that opportunity had passed. I sighed and
determinedly redirected my wandering mind.

“How are we doing,
Spider?” I asked the ceiling.

“Fine. That’s the last
of the urgent files. Now you need to go into Fuzzy Bunny’s network
and see if they believed Stemp’s car crash story.”

I carefully avoided
thinking about the consequences of that story. So I was an internet
porn star. So eager eyes were watching the so-called me doing
unspeakable things with a pudgy, disgusting little slimeball. So
what. Stay calm. Like Hellhound said, it wasn’t that bad.

I sighed and reached
for Richardson’s hand.

He eyed me
uncertainly, and I explained, “I need an anchor when I do this
because I stretch a long way down some of these network paths and
sometimes it’s hard to find my way back.”

“Oh.” He relaxed
visibly. “Okay.” His hand closed around mine, and I faded into the
network traffic.

Down the convoluted
data tunnels, I eased into Fuzzy Bunny’s network again. I poked
around invisibly, slowly relaxing. The news of my public death had
stirred up quite a bit of activity, and it appeared they’d
thoroughly investigated all channels.

As Stemp had expected,
the bulk of their research focused on the current time period. I
discovered a complicated facial-recognition algorithm that was
sifting through images on the internet, searching for any facial
structure similar to my own. It had already garnered a few
candidates, and I had the unsettling impression of looking into
slightly distorted mirrors.

Unfortunately, the
algorithm had also dredged up a revolting number of Arlene Cherry
videos, which I avoided viewing. Harchman had obviously made
extensive use of his simulation network before the government
confiscated it. Slimy little bastard.

I contained a virtual
shudder and floated on down the network connections.

A thorough search of
all Fuzzy Bunny’s sites reassured me that so far at least, they
believed I was dead. Again. I crossed my virtual fingers, hoping
this time I wouldn’t be resurrected.

I rematerialized in
the file room and gave Richardson a smile as I let go of his hand.
“Thanks for the anchor. Looks like I’m safely dead, so let’s take a
break.”

He chuckled as he rose
to follow me. “You have to wonder about a line of work where it’s
good news to discover you’re dead.”

We were almost at the
portal when a wave of vertigo shook me. I clung fearfully to my
sense of self, but this sensation was different.

I tried to turn to
Richardson and failed.

The sim felt sticky
around me, constricting my movements as if I was submerged in clear
syrup. The virtual walls wavered. I concentrated fiercely, my
heartbeat accelerating. The frightened sound drummed inside my
skull while I fought to move. I managed a slow step, but not in the
direction I’d intended.

Richardson’s avatar
stepped into my field of view, his brow furrowed, lips moving. I
focused desperately on his face, panic swelling.

Long moments later,
the slow sound of his voice reached me, out of synch with his lips.
“Aaydaannn… aare yoouu ookaaayy…?”

I tried frantically to
shake my head no, but my leaden feet were pulling me toward the
virtual file room. I fought with all my might while my amplified
heartbeat blurred my vision. My soundless screams strangled in my
throat.

Each step took long
moments. The file room door loomed ahead, and more adrenaline
slammed into my veins. Focusing every ounce of will, I battled my
body to a halt. Compelled it to turn ponderously, degree by
gruelling degree, my pulse thundering in my ears, my breath coming
in hard gasps.

Back at the portal, a
construct that looked like me stood stock-still. Richardson touched
its arm, tense lines in his face, his brows drawn together. His
lips were moving, but his words didn’t reach my ears.

My feet refused to
move away from the file room. A shock of pure terror accompanied
the realization that I was invisible. Richardson didn’t even know
where I was. Nobody knew. I’d never escape…

My throatless screams
couldn’t disturb the silence. I sank to all fours to drag myself by
agonizing inches in the direction of the portal.

The hold on my body
released so suddenly I pitched forward, sprawling on my face.

I scrambled up, my
feet already scrabbling for purchase, my shrieks audible at last.
Blind panic drove me into a berserk sprint. I barely heard
Richardson and Spider yelling over the sound of my own screams as I
hurtled for the portal and dove through headfirst.

Red-hot pitchforks of
agony ripped through my eyes and gored my flesh. My body jerked and
thrashed helplessly, beyond my control once more as it fought to
escape the torment. My throat tore with my screams.

A gunshot exploded,
too close.

I didn’t even feel the
impact.

I jerked upright,
every muscle galvanized into terrified action before my eyes even
opened. The first scream wrenched out while I lashed out blindly,
sucking in the breath to scream again before Spider’s voice
penetrated my terror.

“Aydan, you’re
safe!”

My eyes flew open to
focus on his face.

“Aydan, you’re safe,”
he repeated urgently. “It’s okay, just relax, you’re in your office
and you’re safe.”

My bones turned to
jelly and I collapsed back onto my small sofa where I lay panting,
taking in the ring of worried faces above me. Shudders shook
me.

“What the hell was
that?” I croaked. I stared up at Sam, wondering when he had
arrived. His normally ruddy complexion was grayish, his face
strained as he leaned heavily on the back of the sofa.

“What happened?” I
demanded.

Honey and Sam
exchanged a glance, and Richardson spoke into the short silence.
“To answer your last question first, you went through the portal
too fast and triggered your pain reaction. I, uh… I shot you with
my trank gun.”

He dropped his gaze.
“Sorry. All I had was a ballistic trank… Sorry about your shirt. I…
just didn’t want you to suffer like that. I didn’t know what else
to do.”

I peered down at the
large red stain on the shoulder of my sweatshirt and drew a deep
breath. “Thanks, Mark. That was the kindest thing you could’ve
done.”

He returned a twisted
smile.

“How long was I out?”
I added.

“Only about twenty
minutes. These tranks are really short-acting.”

“Are you okay now?”
Spider inquired tremulously. His hazel eyes were huge in his pale
face, and my heart squeezed with sympathy.

“I’m fine, Spider,
thanks. Don’t worry,” I assured him. I gripped his proffered hand
to pull myself upright.

“Thanks,” I repeated,
and leaned against the cushions to let the last of the dizziness
subside. When the room stopped spinning, I squinted at the doctors.
“So what did you see on the monitors?”

“Nothing, really…” Sam
trailed off at Honey’s indignant expression.

“I saw a ghost tracery
that shouldn’t have been there,” she said firmly. “It was almost
like a second set of brain waves, but very faint.”

“A second set?” I
frowned at her. “What could cause that?”

“Could it be…
schizophrenia?” Smith spoke for the first time. I was surprised to
see what looked like anxiety in his expression.

Jeez, I didn’t know he
cared.

“No, definitely not
schizophrenia,” Honey responded. “Schizophrenia shows very distinct
markers, and none of those were present. This was a completely new
phenomenon. I’ve never seen it before, and it’s never appeared in
Aydan’s brainwaves before, either.”

“So what do you think
it was?” I demanded.

She shot a troubled
glance at Sam. “I don’t know.”

“Sam?”

He half-raised a
shoulder. “I don’t know, either. What did you experience?”

“It was like walking
through glue, and I couldn’t control my avatar or the sim. I
couldn’t make the sim firm up, and then my avatar just turned
invisible and walked away with me. I couldn’t stop it. I was all
the way over to the file room when I barely got control. Then all
of a sudden it was like the hold went away and I could move again,
but I was panicking by that time.” I felt a blush spreading up my
face. “Sorry. Stupid.”

“It’s not stupid!”
Spider protested. “That was totally scary!”

I gave him a smile and
turned to Richardson. “Mark, did you notice anything strange from
inside the sim?”

“Yes…” He frowned.
“The sim turned really faint, almost like it was fading away. And
you didn’t respond when I spoke to you. You were just staring
straight ahead like I wasn’t even there. Then you blinked out and
reappeared halfway down the hallway, running like hell.”

“That was just a
construct you were talking to. I was invisible, and I couldn’t say
anything.” I frowned up at Honey. “I want that thing out of my
head. Whatever it is. Could it be from when I had that identity
crisis yesterday?”

“No, there was no
ghost tracery when I hooked you up yesterday,” Sam interjected.

Honey’s smooth brow
furrowed and she picked up her case. “I need to see the traces
again. Sam, I’ll need your lab. Spider, come with me. I’ll need
your help with the feed from the video session.”

Sam looked distinctly
put out, and I suppressed a snort. Too bad if he had a problem
taking orders from a competent woman. For the first time, I was
glad Jack was on my project.

They left, muttering
technical dialect, and I leaned back in the sofa to massage my
still-aching temples and tried not to panic at the thought of
somebody else controlling me from inside my head.

In a short time, they
were back. Spider and Jack volleyed incomprehensible jargon back
and forth while they set up his laptop and her case side by side on
the desk. Jack dropped into the chair, her attention riveted on the
screen, a faint pucker of concentration between her flawless
brows.

She scanned the
display, the brainwave tracery scrolling on one side of the screen
while the video record from my session played beside it. Sam and
Spider hovered over her shoulder, and after a few minutes of
silence, she jerked upright with a “Ha!” of triumph.

“There!” She jabbed an
impeccably manicured finger at the screen and shot a look up at
Sam. “See it? Right there, where Aydan appears out of thin air in
the hallway. That’s where the ghost trace disappears. As if it
suddenly released its hold on her.”