***
A few hours later, Max called back.
“Okay. So whoever sent those messages bounced their IP address through a whole bunch of proxy servers before they even made the email account. I had to go through and eliminate everything that I know for a fact operates as a proxy for the public.”
“For the public?”
“Yeah. Anyone who wants to can use a proxy. Whoever sent these messages used ones that were publicly available and accessible to just about anyone. Sloppy.”
I grunted. That was good. It meant that whoever was behind it was cautious, but not an expert. “Okay. Give me the rundown.”
“I don’t know what these emails are about to make an educated guess as to exactly where they came from, but I narrowed it down to three points of possible origin,” he went on, his voice professional. For all of his complaints, Max liked his work, and liked showing off. “One of them is a listening post operating in the middle of the Pacific. Listening to whales or whatever, I guess. Another is in the middle of Australia, somewhere in the Outback, I think. And the third is linked to an office building registered to Focus Incorporated.”
My heart just about stopped.
Focus. Oh God, no. I was right. Oh God, I wish I wasn’t right.
Max continued, but I wasn’t really listening. “I did a little digging, and I think this Focus outfit is probably what you’re looking for. They’re some kind of philanthropic organization, trying to save the planet or whatever. Like Green Peace. Or PETA. One of those stupid little places with more hope than funding, probably.”
“Max,” I said quietly. He stopped talking immediately. “Thank you. I want you to delete everything I sent you. Don’t mention this to anyone, please. And…” I sighed. “And you might want to take a quick vacation.”
He grunted in acknowledgement. “I guess this means you heard something you don’t like, kid?”
“Yeah. This could get ugly.”
“I’ve seen ugly before,” he said, his voice steady. I recognized the statement for what it actually was: an offer of help. Max liked to complain, bluster, and annoy just about anyone who worked with him, but he was both competent at his job and was more than willing to stand by your side if he liked you. He was offering to come and give me a hand with whatever came next.
But he couldn’t stand with me on this. Not against Focus.
“Not like this, you haven’t,” I said. “Consider us square, Max.”
He was silent for a few moments before he responded. “Okay, kid. Play it how you like. But if you need something… well, you know how to reach me.”
“Thanks, Max. I’ll keep it in mind.”
We hung up, and I just about dropped the phone as mind-numbing panic threatened to send me running into the street in fear.
Wizards. Freaking wizards.