Weavers (18 page)

CHAPTER 39

1999

Both Terry and Darryl were shocked into silence by their first sight of the SS
Badger
.
The thing was enormous, her back half-open to accept cars into her gaping maw. Built to continue US Route 10 across Lake Michigan, she looked her age. The
Badger
had been finished in 1953, originally for use as a railcar ferry, then converted to carry cars and their owners. Now she was a massive hybrid of old and new, her old steamship lines interrupted by the radar and radio gear piled atop her tower.

There was no issue with boarding the
Badger
. Darryl had initially balked at the nearly five hundred dollars to get them across the lake, and then he took money from a roll of cash and paid the man at the ticket window. They left the truck with a valet and then boarded the ship with a group of other passengers. Darryl and Terry exchanged a sideways glance as they made their way to the upper decks. The ship was huge, and neither of them was sure of where they wanted to go.

“There’s a movie theater according to that sign,” said Terry. “There’s a bar, too.” He grinned at Darryl. “Might be nice to knock a couple off and relax, don’t you think?”

Darryl did think so. It had been days since he’d had so much as a beer, and they’d been some of the most stressful times of his entire life. A cocktail or three didn’t just sound good, it sounded perfect, but it was not to be—not yet.

“Let’s go watch a movie and maybe catch a couple winks.”

“You don’t want to hit the bar? Come on, man,” pleaded Terry.

“A movie,” said Darryl. “We’ll watch a movie and maybe fall asleep.” He didn’t want to tell Terry that he agreed, a drink sounded perfect. It had been well earned, and there would be precious few moments for him to relax when they hit the shore and found a place to live. That was the biggest problem with needing to bend at a moment’s notice. He had to always be on, and there was no middle ground.

“Fine,” said Terry in a wounded tone. “Let’s go watch your movie.”

The hours on the boat burned by slowly. Even with all of the amenities on the SS
Badger
, Darryl and Terry were bored. They were road weary and had no bed to look forward to, no home to pine for. There would be a hotel and then another one and probably others after that before they eventually found a permanent place to stay. That wouldn’t be stateside, though. It could take months to get the paperwork together and to let a few new faces fill the top of the “Wanted” flyers that littered police stations.

Cheers erupting from the upper deck called Terry and Darryl to the top of the ship, where a group of twentysomethings were shouting and drinking beer. Terry pointed past the kids to where the shore was visible and growing by the second.

“Thank fucking God,” said Darryl. “Let me off this bucket and into a hotel room.”

“You and me both, brother.” The pair watched the line on the horizon grow thicker and blacker and then begin to be filled with details. Voices over the loudspeaker told guests to prepare to disembark and where to find their cars, but Darryl was ignoring all of it. There was a man on the deck with them, standing by the door about twenty feet away, and from the look of him he was a cop or at least ex–law enforcement of some stripe. Even with the hard lumps visible at his waist, though, the man was but one concern as the ship neared shore.

“Oh fuck,” said Terry, and Darryl just grinned in the sunlight. The dock was littered with police, and there was going to be no way to get through it without some contact. “Do you think—” Terry began, but Darryl cut him off with a wave of his hand. Before Darryl could speak, though, the man behind him spoke up.

“Just have a seat,” he said.

Darryl turned to see a gun in his hand, pointed their way. “Just have a seat. No one wants anyone to get hurt.”

Darryl grimaced as Terry took a seat, all but admitting his guilt to this asshole.
So fucking close.

“Is there a problem?” Darryl asked, and the man grinned at him.

“You bet your fucking ass there is. Now sit, before I make you.”

CHAPTER 40

Pat’s hands were shaking as he opened the e-mail.
It wasn’t his first eyes-only document, though the thrill of seeing what would have been forbidden goods was still fresh for him. It was especially intense at this moment, as he knew this was something special, the linchpin of his scheme to catch Darryl and Terry. The e-mail was going to confirm what sort of websites the dead boys from California and St. Louis had been hooked into. Pat knew in his gut that he was right, but still he couldn’t bring himself to open the electronic document. Around him he could hear his friends—some of the best friends he’d ever had—but they were competitors, too. This was his chance to separate himself. If he was wrong about this, he’d tumble back into the background, and one of them would be the one who figured out where Darryl and Terry were headed next.

When Pat finally opened the stupid thing, the words were sparse but gave him at least hints of the news he craved. They confirmed that computers in both homes had recently posted on video game chat rooms, the dead boys no doubt looking for hints for popular games—likely some of the same games Pat enjoyed and the same chat rooms he himself had used to decipher their mysteries. The boys had both used AOL chat to talk to Darryl or Terry—Pat was sure of that—but the rest of the details were muddled.

With time and resources, Pat could probably comb the site until he unearthed the name Darryl or Terry used in the chat rooms, but he had neither. And besides, Pat needed the men themselves, live online, not merely the name.
We need a sting
. Get someone who could safely be used by Darryl or Terry and then track down the pair of criminals via their IP address. It would be easy enough to pull off. These guys would be drawn back to the chats like crack addicts, if Pat was right about their MO, and he was more and more certain he was. But could a TK ever be fooled by such a ruse?

That was a problem above his pay grade, he knew. He could crunch data and troll websites, looking for footprints left by people who fit the parameters given to them by Jessica, but he couldn’t be expected to orchestrate a sting operation against a pair of jet-setting telekinetic murderers. Pat stood, garnering a look from Brinn next to him, and then walked to the phone on the far wall to call Jessica. Ten minutes later she was downstairs and the five of them gathered amongst the desks and computers.

“Spit it out,” said Jessica, and Pat nodded.

“My hunch paid off.”

“What does that mean?” Brinn asked.

“I had Jessica get me a federal warrant to track the final web activity of those kids—the suicide and the day care shooters,” said Pat, feeling his face flush. Brinn nodded, but he could tell she was frustrated that the lead she’d told him to ignore had paid off in some way or another. “The warrant revealed that at least one of the boys that shot up that day care was in a video game chat room just before the cops say he went off his nut, and Vinnie was doing the same thing, right up until he decided to rip off his dad.”

“Holy shit,” said Geoff.

“That’s still not proof of anything, though,” said Brinn. “Young boys like video games—hell, I like video games—but that doesn’t mean some TK has been in my head.”

“And there’s still no proof it’s even possible for one to do so,” said Jessica. “What do you think we should do with this information, Pat?”

Pat was having a hard time breathing. His anxiety was reaching levels he hadn’t felt since spilling his milk down the front of his shirt in high school, but he knew he was right.

“We need a sting,” he said. This was met with skeptical looks all around, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t just a hunch anymore. This was the way in. “We need a presence in these forums, some kid flashing money around like an idiot. We need a kid who can fool Darryl or Terry. A special kid. If they’re really controlling people over wires, we need someone who can feed them this shit back and make them believe it. Once we get an IP location, we can nail down their real location and send in whatever cops you call for a job like this.”

“Not cops,” said Jessica. “Cops can only manage the fringe for something like this.” She shook her head. “I know a person we can use to work them, a TK, but I’ll need you to be the face of the op, Pat. This TK knows nothing about the Internet. He can do all of the head bending we need to fool these guys, but the Internet stuff won’t be possible for him.”

“So you want me to let a TK into my head?” Pat asked, the idea horrifying beyond measure.

“No, man,” said Rick, flashing an evil grin. “She wants to let
two
TKs in.”

“Possibly three,” said Geoff. He was enjoying himself, too.

“Holy shit,” said Pat, the whole weight of what Jessica was asking crashing down on him.
She wants to let them go to war in my head, and if anything goes wrong I’ll be a vegetable or worse.
“I don’t know—”

“You’ll be fine,” said Jessica. “I just need to make this OK with the TK, set up a lab for you a few floors lower, and then we can start fishing. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two to put into place. We just need to get the TK to say that he’ll help, and the rest of it will fall in line.”

“I seriously want to help,” said Pat, “but I’m not sure I’m cut out for this. I’m just a computer guy. There has to be some badass cop who knows about computers that could do it, or maybe we could just teach the TK the basics of computer stuff. It’s not that hard—I mean, we all learned it, and so have a lot of other people.”

“The TK we’re going to use has been in service for almost fifty years,” said Jessica, “and if I had badass officers who knew as much about computers as you guys do, then I never would have had to get the four of you security clearance and a paycheck. No, Pat. This is your baby, and unless someone else wants to volunteer, you’re going to need to own it.”

“Just accept it, dude,” said Geoff. “We’ve all got your back. It’s going to be fine.”

“Truly,” said Rick, and Brinn nodded. “It’s all good.”

Pat didn’t know where in the fuck they got all their confidence, but he couldn’t figure out any other way to push back. This was going to happen.

“Excellent,” said Jessica, getting to her feet. “You three keep up the therapy session, and I’ll be back in an hour or two.” As she made the doorway, the phone on her belt began to buzz. Jessica grabbed it, checked the number, then stuck it to her ear. “Hockstetter.” She paused. “You’re shitting me. Is this confirmed? One hundred percent?”

Pat felt the lump in his throat rising as he and the other specialists exchanged
What the fuck?
looks. Whatever this was was big—maybe big enough to make Pat’s chat room sleuthing beside the point.

“No one moves until I say the word,” said Jessica. “No, I am serious. I don’t care! Listen to me, I’ll be in a bird in fifteen minutes, and I should be there right when they’re pulling in. No, make them wait. This is my gig now. This is federal.” She paused again, mimicked throwing the phone, then stuck it back to her ear, shouted, “So get your balls out and handle this!” and hung up the phone.

“What’s going on?” Brinn asked.

Jessica called back to them as she ran from the room. “They’re being held by an undercover officer on some Wisconsin-to-Michigan ferry,” said Jessica. “I need to be there when they disembark so the shit doesn’t hit the fan.”

Jessica was gone then, her fingers punching at the phone in her hand.

“Looks like you got lucky, dude,” said Rick as he smacked Pat in the arm, but Pat didn’t notice the punch or the comment. Freaked out as he’d been by his planned role in their scheme, now that it had been yanked away from him he understood how missing the biggest game of your life would feel.

Jessica had been right. Only fifteen minutes after hanging up the phone with the Grand Rapids, Michigan, FBI office, she was in the air and on the way to Ludington, Michigan, where the SS
Badger
was to dock. Aside from the flight crew, she was alone in the plane, and she was shaking with anticipation. This was the real deal, the first capture in a very long time, and she was heading the operation. She was going to save the TRC.

Don’t get ahead of yourself. The fish isn’t in the boat yet
,
Jessica warned herself, but it was hard not to be optimistic. She was flying, inside and out, even though after all she’d done—heading the operation from the start, putting all the machinery in place, prepping to perform one of the most spectacularly audacious stunts in TRC history to see the capture through—none of it had mattered. The old policy of sitting and waiting had yielded better results than her team of hackers and hundreds of thousands of dollars, but none of that mattered. This was still her success, and besides, what her team had learned could only help apprehending TKs in the future.
Especially if Pat’s theories are right
,
thought Jessica, which, the more she thought about it, seemed pretty likely.

Jessica felt the gun in her jacket. A weapon was a no-no for a normal agent looking to catch a TK, who was certain to turn both it and the agent carrying it to his own uses, but it was a perfectly acceptable risk for a reverse-mute like her. Still, she doubted she’d need it. With no room to run, Terry and Darryl would see the combined police force waiting for them and fold right up. All the officers needed to do was hold their fire, maintain good cover until the arrival of trained TK handlers, and make sure all the civilians ashore were removed in case of a firefight. Should events spin in that direction, time was all that would be needed: Darryl and Terry would run out of ammo and be caught by Jessica and her team, and that would be that.

The cop who called this in was dead, or would be soon. That the cop would die, along with most everyone on the boat, was a foregone conclusion with a TK who hadn’t been isolated and contained. If Jessica could magically cuff the men and slap Tesla Helmets on them for transport to the TRC, she would. In a slightly less magical world, she would have them drugged and on a plane. In this case, though, according to her FBI contact, she had Darryl and Terry on a boat with a single cop’s gun at their heads. Had the cop been trained, he would have called them in and done nothing, let a team that knew how to deal with this wait until the two men were in the middle of nowhere. None of this was the case, however. What she needed to concentrate on was retrieving a living TK.
All you need is one of them to survive long enough to get patched up.
Still, staring out the window, Jessica couldn’t help but feel a little bad that things were going to come crashing down for so many people.

Jessica forced her eyes from the window and down to her watch. They’d be hitting the tarmac in Ludington in less than two hours, and she was already going over what she was going to say to the two men, how she was going to begin the process of breaking them. These might be the flyover states beneath her, but what she made happen down there would impact the whole country. TKs were among the most important resources in the entire world, and right now the United States government was the only one that could verify that TKs even existed. Already looking past the death and destruction the next few hours were sure to bring, Jessica smiled to herself. She had done it.