Flicking

piercing into his arm. He didn’t take the time to look, and kept running. Finally he’d made it to the bottom, ran the short corridor to the back entrance, and shoved his way out, looking toward the cab to his left.

  He stood for a second, his mind reeling. The taxi was gone. Or just invisible?

  “Dorian,” he heard Andrea’s voice behind and to the right.

  He looked, and there she was, leaning out of the cab, a few feet away.

  He ran, his muscles taking control before his mind had decided what to do. She slid down the seat, and he slid in next to her.

  “Go!” she told the driver.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now, or we’re dead.”

  The taxi pulled away slowly into the street, accelerating. Dorian thought he saw two men come out of the hotel entrance, but he couldn’t be sure.

  He closed his eyes, covered his face with his hands, and started to cry, his whole body shaking. “I can’t. I can’t,” he sobbed. He felt Andrea’s hot hands around his neck and shoulders. “It’s too much. Why me?”

  Finally, when the sobs had left, he looked up, and realized that Andrea had been crying too. He reached his arms around her, and they hugged, until the cabbie said, “we’re here.”

  A man in a top-hat opened the door, allowing them to climb out. “Are you checking in?” he said.

  “Yes,” Dorian answered.

  The doorman’s eyes narrowed. “You look a frightful sight.”

  “Do I?” Dorian answered.

  The doorman pointed to his arm and leg.

  Dorian looked. A large splinter of wood stuck out of his arm, and a bloody scraped knee peeked through ripped pants.

  Anger welled up in Dorian. “I’m here from Italy, and I want to bang my girlfriend.” He pushed past the shocked doorman, and walked into the lobby.

  When Andrea caught up, backpack on her shoulder, she grabbed him by the chin, turning his face to hers. She kissed him quickly on the lips and said, “Fat chance,” and pushed him away. A small smile played across her lips.

  Who’s alive?

  “Did you see anything?” Colonel asked through heaved breaths.

  “Who me? I was behind you,” Lieut answered.

  Colonel’s arm tensed, muscles snapped into place, ready to fling his gun across the busy street. But he stopped himself. He looked around, belatedly realizing where he stood, and stuffed the weapon into his jacket. “Hide your gun, you dimwit,” he growled at Lieut.

  “Yeah,” Lieut smirked. “I’m on it.”

  They peered in a full circle. No one had noticed. Must be a New York thing, thought Colonel. He adjusted his pants so they weren’t twisted in knots around his crotch. They crossed the street, returning to the dingy café where they’d been stationed for the last few hours, reading the paper and working hard to look inconspicuous. “We should have been watching the entrance instead of counting on the electronics.”

  They stared glumly at their dishwater cold coffee. As Colonel opened his mouth to speak, his cell phone rang.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “It’s Mel.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. I’m pulling the plug if you don’t get results now.”

  “Sure. Now’s a good time. I think you’ve picked the perfect moment. We’re in excellent spirits.”

  “Fuck off you lowlife. Don’t talk back to me and don’t tell me you can’t. Or simply repay all those piles of money I’ve been sending you.”

  “No chance. When you pay, you’ve paid. Especially for this line of work.”

  “So, tough guy, prove you were worth it.”

  “Don’t doubt it.” And Colonel hung up. Screwed. He turned to Lieut. “It’s going to be a Plan B, mate. We’re going to have to do it without the fucking list.”

  “That’s the thing I was trying to tell you earlier,” Lieut said, touching his upper lip delicately, “when you weren’t listening.”

  “I will kill you when we’re done with this.”

  “You see, I, in fact, have a very good Plan B. And now I need to check if it’s worked.” He cracked his knuckles. “With luck, we’ve got a flight to catch.”

  As they arrived in the hotel, Dorian dropped onto one of the beds in the room. He looked down. “There’s nothing left to do. Without the DN list, we might as well give up.”

  Andrea looked at him quizzically.

  “The people that are after us are sure to find us soon.” He yanked the covers down, jumped in and before Andrea had said anything, fell asleep.

  He was weaker than he looked. The thought struck Andrea with a shock. It made her nervous. Very nervous.

  But then, he’d been through a lot. Hopefully he’d snap out of it.

  She watched him sleep, his body shaking at times with hidden frights. She busied herself thinking through all the options that remained. Best she’d not think about the life she’d thrown overboard with ridiculous abandon. Not that it seemed like ridiculous abandon at the time. This was what she was meant to do. Swashbuckle through New York like some chick in Pirates of the Caribbean. Ok, Tara looked more like Keira, in truth. But then, didn’t she look more like Jessica Alba? Sin City? Maybe?

  Swashbuckle? Who was she kidding?

  She should let this kid sleep, and when he woke up refreshed, and hopefully (that was a big hopefully) less scared out of his wits, maybe they could find these Deep Noders.

  She shifted to a comfortable position on the bed, feeling a moment of envy for Dorian’s ability to sleep. Every time she turned her head, or did anything, Tara’s dead staring eyes pushed themselves into her brain. Had she done the right thing? Did she even have a choice. At the time, it just almost happened.

  Andrea tossed her hair, flicked on the tube and watched HBO. She told herself it would all be fine. That was, as long as she never closed her eyes.

  What would her mother say?

  By the time Andrea succeeded in waking up Dorian from his monumental, almost comatose sleep, night had fallen, the sky illuminated by the orange glow of reflected streetlights. As Dorian rubbed his eyes, Andrea spoke to him, her eyes staring closely, slightly nervous of his reaction. “I’m worried,” she chose her words carefully, hoping he was back in control of himself. “Dorian. What are these people up to? What do they want? They don’t care about killing, and it seems they want all you Deep Noders, and your parents and family too.”

  “Yes.” Dorian stretched and yawned simultaneously. Then shivered.

  He had better be back, she thought. “So we have to get in touch with the Deep Noders, right?” she said.

  “But how can we do that? I don’t have any addresses.”

  “Dorian, you are seriously being a dunce. Get to them on IRC. That’s how you contact them normally.”

  “Duh, I know that.” He looked genuinely ashamed for being so stupid.

  He scratching his stomach, brain still on cotton candy. “But wait; there’s a mole on the IRC. Anything I say will give me away. All the warnings will be transmitted to the enemy. That’s why I’d discounted that option.”

  “You only need them to know they have to lay low and get off IRC.”

  “It won’t work.” Finally awake, he fixed her with a resigned stare.

  “They need to know they are in danger. That’s the least you can do. Otherwise they’ll most likely all die.” Andrea stared harder, willing her eyes to penetrate his thick skull. “Look, I’ll go online and warn them. Just they won’t believe me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “They trust you. They know you. Give them some facts. You could refer them to the killing in San Francisco.” She paused, thinking. How they’d connect the killing to squelch was still an open question. “In fact, let’s both do this. I’m the leading suspect. Together we have the best chance of overcoming the opposition.”

  “Yes. Great idea,” Dorian said, his voice full of sarcasm.

  “We are known to them. They know who we are, don’t you get it?”


  “True.” Dorian covered his face. “I just want to sleep. Let me go to sleep again.”

  “No you don’t, you big baby.” Andrea went to him, and pulled his hands off his eyes, gripping them in hers. His hands melted easily into hers. “We have to help. You said so a few hours ago.”

  “That was when I thought I could help.”

  “You still can.” She squeezed.

  “I still can?”

  “I mean it.”

  “How?”

  “Shut up, we’re going downstairs.”

  He never squeezed back.

  They arrived in the lobby, where Dorian went towards the concierge desk. “Get over here you dummy, they’ve got a business center,” Andrea pulled on his arm.

  Dorian stopped short. “You don’t know anything, do you? They’ll trace the contact and lock onto this place before I can say boo.”

  “Why? You’ve kept your location secret before this.”

  “With the crypto software I had on my laptop, yes. On a public computer, that will take too long. We need to get in and out. I’ll run a crypto program we can use without installing, the problem is we’ll be found out pretty quick.” He pulled her arm, tugging her outside. He flagged down a cab. “Upper West Side please. I need an internet café up there.”

  “Sure boss,” said the Cabbie.

  “At least you’re back doing something,” Andrea muttered, feeling a little encouraged.

  Forty minutes and much traffic later, the cab dropped them off at a seedy internet cafe near Fordham College. Inside, Dorian found the most protected computer possible, which still meant anyone could walk down the aisle and look over their shoulders. He set to work. He began by logging onto web sites via IP addresses, cryptic numbers. Pages flashed by