“The bottom line,” says Miranda in a shaking voice, “is that everything I’ve worked for and created over the last twenty years will be gone. So please—let her go to work!”
It’s so unusual for Miranda to show strong emotion that I’m momentarily distracted from Tabby. Next to me, Ryan watches everything with hawk-like focus, taking it all in. It’s one of the reasons I wanted him here. He can see whatever I might be missing because I’m too close.
Because I’m too emotionally involved, and can’t trust myself.
Harry says, “Chan, sit down at the desk. Miss West, you can tell him what to type.”
Tabby sends Harry a grim smile. “Don’t trust me, O’Doul?”
“Of course not. I don’t trust anybody, it’s bad for business. Now move.”
Agent Chan makes a sorry face at Tabby. When she rises from the chair, he takes her place. Fingers poised over the keyboard, he says, “Ready.”
Standing behind him, Tabby instructs, “Get rid of that shit on the screen. Take us down to the C prompt.”
Chan starts typing. The pictures of war flashing on the monitor vanish, replaced by a normal Windows desktop. A few more keystrokes and the screen goes black. A green cursor flashes at the top left.
Tabby says, “You know your stuff.”
“That’s why I’m the only Special Agent in this group, Miss West.”
As Tabby softly chuckles, Chan waits, eyes fixed on the screen.
“All right, then. Here we go. Type ‘What is divisible by zero?’”
Chan answers automatically, “No number is divisible by zero.”
“I didn’t say what number, did I? Now type.”
After a quick glance at Harry, who nods, Chan begins to type. He presses Enter, and waits.
And keeps waiting. The cursor flashes, but nothing comes back.
A minute passes. Then two. Harry says, “He’s not answering.”
Her gaze fixed on the screen, Tabby murmurs, “Wait for it.”
Then a message blinks up: To whom am I speaking, please?
Ryan snorts. “Pretty polite for a bad guy.”
“Manners make the man,” says Tabby thoughtfully.
Is her tone admiring? I want to reach through the computer and strangle whoever is on the other end.
Tabby instructs Chan, “Now type ‘What is the meaning of life?’”
The instant the question is entered, an answer flashes back: 42.
On the next line: I didn’t realize the FBI had a sense of whimsy. How refreshing. With whom do I have the pleasure of communicating, please?
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Does he always talk like this?”
“Not everyone has a dirty mouth,” says Tabby. When she slides me a smoldering look, my heartbeat goes arrhythmic.
Our gazes hold. Still looking at me, she says to Chan, “Type, ‘If you can answer my first question, I’ll give you my name.’”
After Chan complies, on the screen flashes an animated gif of a cartoon dog with its paws clasped, eyes closed, heart pumping wildly outside of its chest. Beneath the dog are the words Be still my heart! A challenge!
Then a T-Rex bursts onto the screen and devours the dog in one giant bite. Blood spurts from its grinning jaws. The dinosaur runs off, trailing intestines.
“What the fuck is wrong with this guy?” I bark, making Miranda jump.
Tabby says softly, “Everything.” She’s still looking at me.
When she looks away, it feels as if something tears inside my chest.
She instructs Chan, “Type ‘Your paleontology is as weak as your hacks.”
Harry says drily, “I don’t think poking the bear is the best strategy here, Miss West.”
“We need the bear distracted, and so we poke it with as big a stick as we can. Type, Chan.”
Special Agent Chan looks at Harry. “Sir?”
After a moment of thought, Harry nods and waves his hand, resigned.
Chan’s fingers fly over the keys. The response arrives at light speed.
Explain yourself.
Tabby’s smile is savage. “Canids didn’t exist concurrently with tyrannosaurus in the Late Cretaceous period, dumbass.”
“Leave out the ‘dumbass,’” says Harry.
Chan types.
There follows an interval of screen silence. Then: You are reckless. I enjoy that in an enemy. Toying with overconfident fools makes for excellent sport.
Tabby smiles. “You should know, having toyed with yourself so much. Tell me, how calloused are your palms?”
Before Harry can protest, Chan has typed it out and hit Enter.
If you are too much a coward to reveal your name, let me see your face, comes the immediate reply, so I may know what it looks like while still alive.
“Ooh,” says Tabby with bitter cheer. “Is someone miffed?”
I step forward. “That’s a threat on your life. Disconnect.”
“Back off, jarhead,” answers Tabby offhandedly. “The adults are handling this.”
Harry shoots me a warning look. Ryan clears his throat. Chan looks up at me sheepishly. And I turn away with my hands clenched in my hair so I don’t do anything stupid, like throw Tabby over my shoulder, bolt from the room, and find the nearest bed to tie her down to so I can fuck some sense into us both.