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chapter 7: View from the Fifteenth Floor

Jude finished programming just after dawn. On the floor sat a sheaf of papers from the OpenSolaris Unix system, corners marked with sticky notes. He’d done a trial run of the Trojan twice, watching how it functioned within a protected system, then gone through the code by hand. In the last few days, Marq’s concern had become manic, the tension spreading by degrees until Jude felt like there was a person watching over his shoulder.

He saved the Trojan onto a hard drive, and then a backup onto a spare jump drive, tucking both into the inside pocket of his jacket. He stumbled across his room, only to find himself caught in the image in the mirror; he ran a hand over his stubbled chin, shocked by the red-rimmed eyes and haggard face that greeted him. He might want sleep, but he needed a shower.

Unexpected pounding at the door had him jumping.

“Yeah?” he croaked

Elliot opened the door.

“You’re already up,” he said in surprise. Three empty Mountain Dew bottles lined the windowsill; chip bags and papers littered the floor. “Programming again?”

“Uh-huh,” Jude said through a yawn. “Finished about an hour ago.”

“Great! You can hit the gym with me.”

“No can do, bro. I’ve gotta grab a shower.” Elliot’s face fell. “Sorry, buddy. Me’n Marq have a meeting downtown.”

Elliot nodded, but didn’t move. He was staring at the pile of Unix pages, and Jude belatedly wished he’d put them away. He could see the annoyance in his friend’s downturned mouth.

“Look Elliot, since you’re up,” Jude said, stepping in front of the pages and waiting until his roommate caught his eye. “Could I catch a ride downtown with you?”

“For what?” Elliot glared at the drive in Jude’s hand. In seconds, Jude knew he’d be making the connection he shouldn’t be making. He dropped it into his pocket, forcing an easy grin.

“Like I was saying, Marq and I have a business meeting today, so can I catch a ride?”

Elliot gave a wan smile.

“Yeah, sure thing.”

: : : : : : : : : :

Indigo was still in bed when she heard Shireese talking to someone in the living room. She frowned, glancing at the clock on the bedside table – 8:11 a.m. – and closed her eyes again. The voices in the foyer began to rise: one was Shireese, the other a man. The conversation was muffled, but bits and pieces of it began to appear.

“… she’s asleep!”

“… leave her my number.”

“… oh, I’ll tell her you came by!”

The words grew in intensity, the voices digging into Indigo’s awareness.

“If you could just check on her…”

“…not a chance in hell!”

“Just give me a second, Shireese…”

“You just go and keep on going!”

Indigo jerked awake, awareness dropping into place like a puzzle piece. Cal was here in the apartment! His voice and the memories of last night were abruptly real. Indigo clambered out of bed, grabbing jeans off the floor and sliding them on top of the panties she’d worn to bed. She threw her tank top into the laundry pile, fishing until she found an almost-clean bra.

“I just need a minute to explain.”

“I don’t know, and don’t care what you need!”

The voices were a low rumble, like thunder, the pretence of whispers slipping. Indigo struggled into a t-shirt, dread rising. Socks and a sweater were next; she pulled them on with shaking hands.

“… and don’t you think you did enough last time!”

“Look, Shireese, I’m not sure this is your call to make, Indigo’s an adult…”

Alarm sharpening her senses, Indigo grabbed the brush from her dresser, dragging it through tangled hair. She added a layer of lip gloss, hastily powdering her nose, hoping against hope that she didn’t look as exhausted as she felt. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth in lieu of brushing.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here again!”

“Just let me talk to Indigo. If she says I have to go, then I’ll go!”

“Oh, you think that’s your call now?” Shireese sneered. “After all the SHIT you pulled!”

Indigo toed on her cowboy boots, shrugging on her wool coat. She put a hand on the door handle then closed her eyes, breathing slowly. In the hallway, the voices were shouts of anger. Her face was a serene mask as she pulled the door open and stepped out. She had her shoulders back, her hips swinging as she came down the hallway.

Both voices disappeared at the click of her heels.

“Morning, Shireese,” she said as she reached the front door. She turned, as if only just noticing that her ex was standing there at all. “Cal,” she breathed, raising her brows. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled, positioning himself between Shireese and Indigo. He had, she saw, a bouquet of red roses in hand, but her attention was fixed on his face. His brown eyes looked tired in the morning light, his face worn in a way she hadn’t noticed last night in the dark. More like her Cal, not a younger version of the man she’d loved.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “Shireese and I were just talking about you.”

“Ah,” Indigo said, grabbing her purse from where it sat next to the door, and pulling it over her shoulder. “I thought I heard voices.”

She slowly lifted her gaze. Cal’s face was hungry, hands tight at his side.

“Indigo, don’t,” Shireese warned.

“I thought you might want to grab breakfast with me,” he said, lifting the flowers up before him like an offering. Shireese made a choking sound. “I thought we could go someplace quiet and talk about things. About us…”

He pushed the flowers toward her, but she didn’t take them. Instead she forced the most innocent smile she had; it started with a wavering of her lips, but moved outward to dimpled cheeks, spreading up until it crinkled her eyes. This was the face she’d used when she’d once sat in the back of a police car, the face she’d used when her probation officer read off a list of infractions. It was purity and innocence, and Indigo knew how to use every facet of it.

“Oh Cal, that’s so nice of you,” she said with a shake of her head. “But, I’m sorry, I can’t.” The flowers dropped down a notch. “You see,” Indigo continued brightly. “I’m meeting Jude for breakfast. And I’m already late.”

“Jude.” He snarled the word like a cuss.

“Yes, Jude. My boyfriend.” Indigo said, malice hardening the title. “I’m sorry I couldn’t introduce you last night, but your arrival was a little…” she rolled her eyes, “…dramatic. Didn’t want Jude getting the wrong impression or anything.”

Cal’s mouth opened and closed again like a fish. Behind him Shireese hooted.

“So, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” Indigo said, heading out the open door into the hallway and walking away.

: : : : : : : : : :

Elliot’s tiny Matrix hatchback whined in the cold air while they waited at the stoplight but Jude didn’t notice. His eyes were on the street ahead.

“That’s it up there,” Jude said, pointing. “The building next to the parking garage. Marq said to wait for him in front.”

The light changed and the car moved forward. Unhappy with the weather, the engine dropped to a loose-sounding growl, almost stalling, then bunny-hopped twice before catching its stride. At the end of the block was an entrance protected by a black-suited man with mirrored glasses. Marq stood beside him, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Shit,” Jude muttered.

“What the hell is this place?” Elliot breathed.

“I um, I dunno.”

On the street, Marq raised a hand, hailing them.

“This doesn’t feel good,” Elliot grumbled, as he headed toward the building. “You want to change your mind?”

“I can’t,” Jude said tightly. “Marq’s already seen us. Just pull over and park somewhere, okay?”

Elliot passed the entrance, locating a spot half a block down. He pulled over to the edge of the road.

“This guy you’re meeting,” he said. “It’s about the program you guys have been working on, isn’t it?” His lips were a slash of indignation.

“Yeah.”

“This is no good, Jude,” he growled. “No good at all.”

Jude sighed, irritation prickling at his chest. He was so tired he felt sick, and wasn’t in the mood for one of Elliot’s holier-than-thou speeches. They’d been best friends forever, but there were times when they were too different. A memory of years earlier intruded. Jude had been caught for hacking in high school because someone had called him in. Elliot had sworn it hadn’t been him, but at moments like this, Jude wondered.

“It’s fine,” he snapped, reaching for the handle. “I can handle it.”

“You need to get out of this before it’s too late.”

“Well, I can’t, Elliot!” He pushed the door open. “Not this time. We’ve done the work. I’m just bringing it in.”

“You always have a choice,” Elliot repeated. “Your dad used to tell you how—”

Jude slammed the door, cutting off the rest of what he wanted to say.

“Not always….”

Ahead, at the door, the man in the suit lifted his phone to his ear, speaking into it. Jude forced himself to walk forward, Elliot’s warning dragging him back into memory. A decade earlier, Jude had stormed away from home on a bright Tuesday morning, heading to Elliot’s house without saying goodbye. Jude couldn’t remember what he and his father had argued about that day: too much gaming likely, or maybe his waning grades. Whatever it had been, it had been their last conversation. That afternoon, a fire had broken out in a dockside warehouse. Kyle Alden, a firefighter, was one of the first responders to go inside.

He hadn’t come out.

Jude’s jaw tightened until his teeth hurt, fists clenched as he strode forward. When his father had walked into that building, he’d known that he had a son at school, and he’d known the situation was bad… so much so that he’d called his ex-wife to say so. Jude had spent years hating his father for that choice, for leaving him behind. Today, heading into the meeting against his misgivings, Jude had a new thought: that sometimes you didn’t have a choice about taking risks.

“You ready to go in?” Marq asked as Jude reached his side.

Behind them, a horn beeped twice. Elliot was waiting for him, but Jude refused to turn and look.

“Let’s go do this.”

: : : : : : : : : :

Indigo was halfway down the hall when Cal began to shout.

“Wait a minute, Indigo! Hold on! I need to talk to you!”

She walked faster, chest heaving. She’d almost reached the stairwell when footsteps echoed behind her. Her heart began to riot against the walls of her chest, breath quickening. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Cal,” she said coolly.

He had her slammed up against the wall in seconds, his body against hers. His hand, still holding the roses, was against her arm, the other on her neck, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. She gasped, and Cal moved in, kissing her angrily, teeth and tongue duelling, as she fought to keep her balance. For just a moment, she let herself revel in the feel of him. He tasted the same, smelled the same; the faint scent of aftershave inexplicably comforting. It was everything else she couldn’t handle.

Unbidden, his horror-struck voice appeared in her mind.

“When you said you had a secret, I had no idea what you meant!” he’d sneered. “God, Indigo, you can’t really think I’d just be okay with this…”

It had been raining that night, but he hadn’t asked her in. She’d stood on the front step, shivering.

“I told you,” Indigo had cried, “because you said you wanted to know.”

“Honey?” a woman’s voice had called out from inside the house.

“Just a minute,” he’d replied. “I’ll be right up, Fiona.”

Indigo had stared at him in horror, the realization a twist of the knife.

“Your wife never left…”

Indigo bit down on Cal’s lip, tasting blood, and he jerked back.

“Get away from me!” she shrieked.

He stumbled backward, panting. He dabbed at his lip, glancing at the blood on his fingertips.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he began, “I thought you’d—”

“You thought wrong!” she yelled. “You can’t just walk back into my f*cking life and think everything’s the same! You ended things, Cal! You!” She took a shaking breath. “And I don’t have time for this… this shit anymore!”

She spun away from him, heading to the elevator before changing her mind and taking the stairs. Cal followed, hands outstretched; the roses lay scattered on the dull floor like splashes of blood.

“Stop, Indigo!” he yelled as she stumbled down the first few stairs. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry about everything!”

The shouting followed her down to the third floor, then faded, disappearing by the time she reached the second. Only then did she stop. Breath coming in sharp gasps, Indigo slumped against the wall of the stairwell, blinking back tears. Shaking, her legs gave way under the shock and she slid down until she sat on the grimy linoleum.

‘If he takes the stairs,’ her mind whispered. ‘It’s meant to be. If he comes to find me, I’ll talk to him, and listen…’

She waited for the drum of footsteps, chest tight. One minute passed, then two. Cars passed on the street, a distant siren rising and then falling again. With an exhausted sob, Indigo leaned forward. She wrapped her arms around her legs, buried her face against her knees, and began to cry.

: : : : : : : : : :

Jude stood before the desk, his hands clutched tightly behind him, mind racing like a rat in a maze. He needed out. He needed away from here. But there was no way either was going to happen.

He was in too deep.

On either side of the richly decorated room stood two armed men, one short and lean, the other muscled and tall. Their faces were engraved in Jude’s mind: Luca, who looked like a Russian thug, Patel, a back alley shyster. Jude swallowed hard, feeling a trickle of sweat draw a line down the center of his back. His eyes skittered back to the man at the desk. King Fischer: the most vicious mobster in the city. Though the man sat, while the others stood, it was clear he was the one with the power. A handgun lay next to the laptop in front of him, the firearm incongruous amongst the hard drives and wires that cluttered the desk.

“It’s impressive,” King said, his scarred face twisting into a half-smile. “Better than I’d hoped.”

Jude nodded; he didn’t trust himself to talk.

“Thanks,” Marq said. “We checked it all. The code’s good. Jude came up with a secondary override program to mimic whatever existing virus protection or firewall a system might have. It tricks the computer into thinking it’s already protected, while the Trojan downloads. That’s why it took us a couple extra days.” He glanced over at Jude, smiling. “Wanted to make sure it worked right.”

King nodded, lifting his gaze to Jude. His eyes were flinty.

“So you’re the one who came up with the override?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

The mobster’s fingers drummed on the chair’s armrest.

“Risky to make changes I didn’t ask for,” he growled. “Makes me wonder if I can trust you.”

His hand moved off the chair, settling down next to the gun. Jude’s mouth was dry, a flush of heat rising over his shoulders, leaving him light-headed. The rat in the maze ran faster. He could remember footage of the dockside fire that had killed his father and four other men. They’d been trapped on the third floor when the stairwell collapsed, trapping them. His eyes flicked to the windows and back to King.

They were on the fifteenth floor.

“I j- just wanted to make sure it work,” Jude gasped. “I… I can’t get caught, sir.”

King leaned forward, scowling.

“Can’t?”

Marq stared at Jude with wide-eyed panic, his face almost comedic in its terror.

“Years ago, I… I got expelled from high school,” he stammered. “I work at the university now. I can’t get caught. I’d lose my job.”

“Your job,” King repeated, his lips twitching.

Jude nodded, and the other side of King’s misshapen mouth tugged up, a gruff laugh fighting its way out. Behind him Luca joined in. Suddenly all three of the armed men were laughing. Marq began giggling, though the sound had a crazed edge.

“Expelled from high school,” the mobster chuckled, pulling a silk handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbing his eyes. “Oh Sweet Jesus,” he sighed. “What’s the world coming to?”

He dropped the handkerchief on the desk, leaning back in his chair. He watched Jude with hooded eyes, as if calculating something, then peered over his shoulder.

“Luca,” he ordered. “Get my file.”

“Your file?”

King glared at him, and the guard jumped to comply. He shuffled through the top drawer of a filing cabinet, pulling out a yellow manila folder.

“Here you go, sir.”

“To Mr. Alden here,” King muttered.

Luca glanced at Patel in question, but didn’t speak. He held the folder out to Jude, holding it gingerly between two fingers, as if it might explode.

“What is this?” Jude asked.

King ignored him.

“Patel,” he barked. “Bring Mr. Alden here a chair. We need to talk.”

The guard nodded, carrying over a small folding chair under one arm. He set it next to Jude’s knees.

“Sit,” King said with a nod. “I want to show you something.” He turned, glaring at Marq. “Luca, if you could show Mr. Lopez out.”

Marq took two shaking steps backward, his eyes moving from Jude, to the man approaching him. Jude willed his friend to stay, but in seconds, Luca had shuffled him out the door. Jude’s mind flashed to other footage: the windows where his father and the others had been trapped, tongues of flames licking up the sides of the building.

“Sit down, Mr. Alden,” King repeated. It wasn’t a question.

Jude settled shakily onto the chair. He needed out of this room, out of this building. He felt like he was going to vomit, his whole body vibrating with fear.

“Open the folder,” King ordered.

Jude lifted the front cover, noting that someone had put a green tab on one corner, but other than that, nothing marked it. Inside was a photograph of the man sitting in front of him. A line of type marked the area under his photo.

Tyrone Marcellus Fischer, D.O.B. August 2nd, 1958.

The text continued on, year by year, filling the entire page. He lifted the corner of the first sheet. Beyond the demographics, there were lists of websites, company names, businesses and banks. Other pages had lists of addresses and school information dating back to the sixties.

“Why are you showing me this?” Jude gasped.

King leaned forward on his desk, and he fought down the urge to recoil. The gun now sat next to his elbow.

“You’re a hacker,” King said darkly. “That right?”

Jude nodded.

“And you think for yourself,” King added. He glanced over to the two men who waited at the side. “Obedience is something I expect from my employees, but someone who goes beyond it…” He tapped once against the side of his forehead. “That, is unique.”

Jude looked back down at the package. He didn’t want to be holding this. Didn’t want this kind of responsibility. The rat in the maze of his mind was a blur of motion, unthinking.

“I have a job to be done,” King continued. “One I need a hacker to do.”

“What kind?”

“The kind only someone like you can do,” he said with a short laugh. “You’re holding the public side of my dealings. With that, I want you to do your worst. Dig up any information you can. Try to get into my files. Hack those sites.” King’s face twisted. “Show me where the weak spots are so that I can fix them before someone else gets in.”

“Check how secure the information is,” Jude muttered.

“Exactly! Luca here will check in with you in a week or so. You can tell him what you found then.” The King nodded. “I’ll pay you twice what you made on the last project.”

Jude didn’t respond. He wanted a way out without agreeing to this, but his mind couldn’t get past his terror. One part of his attention was trapped in the room, another part of his attention on the third floor with his father as the walls began to buckle and come down around him.

King’s face sharpened knowingly.

“You said you were ready to do another job, Mr. Alden,” he snarled. “Have you changed your mind?”

There was something about the way King was watching him that had Jude’s heart going double time. King’s hand was next to the gun, his two armed thugs on either side, watching the interaction. The seconds stretched out impossibly long.

“So this is all I have to do?” Jude said in a strangled voice. “Just try hacking your computer systems, and report back?”

King’s lips twisted into an uneven smile.

“Of course.”