The Hatter and The Hare (Hacking Wonderland, #2) Page 4

  When Sawyer and Lisa started this, she let him take the lead. As she put it, I’m not a deal maker. Sawyer had been burned twice now, by Alex and then Blake. Lisa was the only person he trusted.

  “Remember we have a business to run.” Her comment jarred him out of his thoughts, and the edge in her voice caught him off-guard.

  He studied her for a moment and raised a brow. “What does that mean?”

  “If you spend your life pursuing Alice, you’re the one who’s going to fall down the rabbit hole.”

  Irritation snaked through him. “She hacked my fucking network. I’d like to know how, and stop her from doing it again.”

  “Our network.” Lisa glared at him. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Mr. Defensive; it’s a warning. Watch yourself.”

  “I get it.” He spoke through clenched teeth. The exchange climbed under his skin and settled in, along with the heavy mood in the room.

  He tried to focus on the new information about Alice’s activities, but Lisa’s comments nagged his thoughts. When his phone chimed, he grabbed it, grateful for the distraction.

  Hearing whispers about Cheshire Cat.

  When he read the message from Three, he realized he shouldn’t have been so eager. The Heart was in Tokyo, investigating a potential client.

  Keep an ear out. Let me know, Sawyer replied as Jabberwock.

  When Jabberwock agreed to work with someone, he’d already done his research. He reviewed every corner of a person’s life online. He had a knack for finding the subtleties in people and their digital interactions.

  It was the reason he’d trusted Blake when he let him into the organization, besides the bland past, which was apparently doctored. It took Blake years to work his way up the ladder, but when it was time for Sawyer to replace Alex, Blake had proven himself.

  Sawyer had still worked with Blake—Two of Clubs at the time, a simple grunt—over the course of several jobs before he named the trio Hatter, Hare, and Dormouse.

  It was also why he let Blake leave with Alice. It didn’t matter whom Blake worked for; he didn’t see the world in the black and white that would drive him back to the side of law enforcement.

  Speaking of Blake—Sawyer knew where he’d been for the last six months, and it wasn’t with Alice. So why was he at the diner?

  Another message chimed through from Three. They’re talking about some shooting in the US. They’ve said Jabberwock several times.

  So Knave’s itchy finger had gone international. “We need to do damage control PR on this shooting in Salt Lake,” he said.

  “You’re on that, then?” Lisa sounded annoyed. “Checking the traps.”

  His email pinged. It was a dummy account he’d set up for client interactions, and the message was from the same group Three was watching in Japan. Cancelling the contract.

  “Mother fucker.” Sawyer slammed his fist into the cushion next to him.

  Lisa jumped. “What now?”

  He reeled his reaction back in. “This isn’t right.” How did they know Knave was his? Pieces ticked against each other in his head, looking for a way to click. There it was. What were the odds that two different clients, in two different parts of the world, canceled on the same day?

  Knave’s mistake made the news, but the second instance just happened to be while Three was watching, and they just happened to be discussing that very thing within ear shot, and just happened to cut the contract moments later. “We lost Tokyo.”

  “What?” Lisa’s voice rose in volume and pitch. “Why?”

  “Do you want solid facts or my best guess?”

  She pursed her lips. “Clever. What’s your guess?”

  “Cheshire Cat. We need to know who the fuck it is.”

  “Alice.”

  He gave a dark laugh. “You think you’re funny, but you’re not. Cat has been around for years.”

  “Point to you.” Lisa sighed. “What do you need me to do? What are we going to do?”

  Sawyer hadn’t figured that out yet.

  Chapter Eight

  After a short call to Ephraim, Blake had the name and address of someone local who could get IDs for him and Reagan. He was happy to realize the contact was an old friend. A little while later, she parked in the rear parking lot of the photography studio he directed her to.

  She shut off the engine and settled in her seat. “I saw a local bookstore a few blocks away. I’ll be there when you’re done.”

  “You have to go in with me.” If every step a battle, accompanying her was a bad idea. That didn’t mean he was going to take back the decision. Sucker for punishment, or something.

  “I don’t know this person, and I haven’t had the best experience with your colleagues in the past,” she said.

  That was fair. He shoved down his impatience, to keep it from creeping into his voice. “This guy is from my pre-Hatter, pre-NSA days. We served together.”

  “Good. Catch up. Enjoy the reunion. Come find me when you’re done.” She rolled her head to look at him. “Unless you think I’m going to run. Are you going to handcuff me to the door?”

  “We’ll wait until we’ve been around each other at least a few more days before I explore this handcuff fixation of yours.” He kept his tone light, rather than surrender to irritation. “If we’re doing this together, you need to give me at least a little breathing-room, trust-wise.”

  “It’s your associates I have concerns about. You’ve got leeway.”

  For someone so intelligent, she was a bit dim sometimes. “We’re having IDs made, and that means we need a photo of you. My associate doesn’t care who you are.”

  She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again with a scowl.

  “You can keep the taser while we’re in there, if that helps you feel better. And you can linger someplace it’s easy to bolt from except when he takes your picture.”

  “All right.” She undid her seatbelt, climbed from the car, and walked with him through the front door. “Wow.” She looked around the lobby. “It’s actually a photography studio.”

  “A high-end one, just like the sign out front implies. Why does that surprise you?”

  She jammed her hands into her pockets. “I don’t know. I expected a pawnshop or a greasy spoon, or something low key and run down.”

  “You watch too much TV.” Blake nodded toward the front desk. “Besides, this is the last place someone will look for a person who’s making IDs with shitty photos on them.”

  The receptionist was watching them, brows raised. If Reagan and Blake hovered in the doorway much longer, it was going to get awkward.

  “You mean I won’t get a stunning glamour shot for this badge?” Reagan’s pout was exaggerated.

  “I’m sure you’ll be stunning no matter what, but no, this will be the same as any other crappy, official identification.” He rested a hand on the small of her back and guided her past the lobby.

  Blake turned a wide smile on the girl behind the desk. “Afternoon. I’m Lance. Is Theo in?”

  “One moment.” The receptionist dialed her phone, then spoke into her headset. “There’s a Lance here to see you. Of course.” She disconnected and looked at Blake. “Go on up. Second floor, last door on the left at the end of the hall.”

  “Thanks.”

  Blake glanced at Reagan as she headed up the stairs. She looked back, brows raised, and smirk on her lips.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Lance? Really?” She kept her voice low.

  “And?”

  “As in, Lance Corporal Allen?”

  It was his rank as a Marine. Since he was expected, it was the easiest way to indicate it was him, without giving up his real name. He shrugged. “As in.”

  She shook her head. “No wonder you’re incapable of keeping a low profile.”

  He didn’t have a comeback for that, but they’d reached Theo’s office. Blake knocked.

  “Come.” The voice carried from inside.

  Blake stepped into the ro
om, and his grinned when he saw his old friend on the other side of the desk.

  Theo returned the smile, and stepped forward to shake his hand and clap him on the shoulder. “Rumor was you bit it, working as a double agent.”

  “You know how rumors work,” Blake said.

  Theo looked past him at Reagan, who still lingered near the office entrance. “Ephraim told me what you wanted. He also said I should ask you why you’re not on a plane to Fiji. Do I want to know what that means?” He dragged his gaze back to Blake.

  “You really don’t. But it’s because I didn’t get the answer to my question yet.” Which wasn’t true and wasn’t supposed to be a factor in Blake’s sticking around. “We need to be locals for the next twelve hours or so.” He didn’t need to elaborate. Theo would understand he meant local cops.

  “One for each of you?”

  “Please.”

  Theo pointed toward the door they’d come in through. “I’ll need your photos. Step across the hall for that, and then give me half an hour.”

  Reagan protested when she saw the camera was digital. She didn’t want her photo stored. Theo pointed out that was the only way to create the ID so it passed all appropriate checks.

  “Besides,” he said. “In about twelve hours, I have to erase all traces of these from the sheriff’s database. The last thing you need is someone who knows the staff stumbling on them and wondering who the fuck you are. I’m only giving you that long, to ensure you’re through all security checkpoints before I wipe the cards and you burn them.”

  “I’m good with that.” Reagan seemed to relax.

  Blake wasn’t as comforted.

  “You can wait in here, and I’ll come get you when you’re set.” Theo led them to a metal, full-height cabinet at the back of his office, and pressed his thumb to a spot in back. The panel slid open without a sound.

  Blake stepped aside for Reagan, then followed her into a small room with a couple of chairs, a table, and a mini fridge. She wore a tiny smile as she settled into a plastic seat.

  “You spent the last half-hour bitching, and now you’re amused?” Blake teased.

  “It’s not Narnia, but I’d be disappointed if there wasn’t at least a little secret-agent subterfuge-type stuff going on. Room hidden behind a secret door? This gives me my fix.” And there was another glimpse of not-so-jaded Reagan.

  He chuckled. “I don’t have an argument for that.” He took the other free chair and leaned in to rest his arms on the table.

  “Of course you don’t, because it’s a valid point.”

  Silence settled between them, not as comfortable as what he was used to with her. Not that there was much history to have an expectation of normalcy, but he did.

  She drummed her fingers on the table. Blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. Settled her chin in her palms.

  It was odd to think this was the same woman who negotiated them the chance to walk away from a crime lord. Who, a few hours ago, stared down someone pointing a gun at her and didn’t flinch. Who was bitter enough to mean it when she said she wanted to watch Jabberwock’s empire burn.

  Maybe she was in a better frame of mind now, to give him more details. “This trail we’re following— Where did you get the information?”

  “I told you. Alex.”

  Not the kind of detail he had in mind. “He’s sending you notes from beyond the grave?”

  “As far as you’re concerned.” Despite the retort, her voice didn’t hold the edge it had earlier.

  “As far as I’m concerned, six months ago you didn’t even realize how deep he was in Wonderland. Now you have a path to deconstruct the entire thing, courtesy of him? I have to take a little leap of faith to go along with this, but really?”

  She sighed and slumped in her chair. “You don’t have to go with me.” The immature response was an odd contrast to the situation.

  “And you didn’t have to accept my offer to help.” He forced himself to adopt a less argumentative tone. “I get it; we don’t trust each other. But something has to give here, for things to work. Do you think I’m still working for my former employers?”

  “No.” There was no hesitation in her response.

  “Then who am I going to tell? Did Alex leave some sort of diary behind? That doesn’t really scream top secret.”

  “He left me a secret code that only I can figure out.”

  Interesting. “How does that work?”

  Her laugh was dry and humorless. “It would have worked a lot better if I’d figured it out a year ago. Before he died, Alex sent me a bunch of photos. It took me a long time to look at them, because... bad memories.” She drew in a shaky breath and sniffled. “I should back up. When I was a kid, I loved puzzles.”

  “You? Nah.” Blake winked.

  She quirked her mouth in a half-smile. “It’s true. I swear. Alex used to make up secret codes, to trip me up. When I cracked his code, he’d buy me an ice-cream sandwich. I would have made Pavlov proud—I’d practically drool each time Alex brought me a new riddle, partly for the sweets but mostly the challenge.” Her voice drifted, as if following her into the memories she shared with Blake.

  The combination of wistfulness and admiration on her face it made it painfully clear how much she cared about her brother. It helped give Blake a better insight into what set her on this path. “So he left you a code somehow? In the photos? Gang signs or something?”

  “Image tags. Harmless shit most people wouldn’t look twice at, but each image and its keywords has a new address or other piece of information in it.”

  “Why did it take you so long to see it?” Blake winced at the way the question emerged. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “You did, and it’s a fair question. I didn’t know there was anything to look for. I thought Alex was a grunt, subject to the whims of the man up top. Then Jabberwock made the comment about Alex stashing money for my education, and it made me wonder what I’d missed.”

  Blake saw one big, glaring hole in the situation. “If Jabberwock sent you down this path and gave you the photos in question, how do you know he’s not setting you up?”

  “I don’t. Not for certain.” Frustration crept into her voice. “But the code... It’s so much like what Alex did for me, and I discovered a journal written in his handwriting, and some of the other information I’ve found... I might have missed some things about my brother’s lifestyle, but there are other things I know that he wouldn’t have told almost anyone else. So I believe they’re from him.”

  Blake had his doubts, but if it was Jabberwock leading them, it would be interesting to see the results. He just hoped Reagan wasn’t chasing a ghost.

  Chapter Nine

  Sawyer had a rare few hours free to himself. Lisa stepped out to handle business, and he didn’t have anything scheduled until this evening.

  It would give him the time he needed to examine the Alice situation more closely. Seeing her again twice in such rapid succession had his blood racing. The meeting in Las Vegas, the single trespass on his servers, and then leading him to Salt Lake... What was she up to?

  He navigated the directory structure on his laptop and brought up her folder. He recorded all of his interactions, no matter who they were with. Audio when that was the only option—thank God for cell phones with good mics—and video when he could.

  It was insurance. Blackmail. Extortion. The term used depended on which side of the fence a person sat on.

  Alice’s videos had their own directory. The time she spent in his condo was disappointing, footage-wise, but he wasn’t surprised. She must have known by then that most of what she did was monitored. She wasn’t stupid. Not like most people.

  He rarely replayed his recordings. He knew what each contained, and that was enough. Once in a while, he needed to confirm a detail. Listen to a tone of voice. See if someone had given more information than they intended to.

  For the most part, however, people were rote and predictable. Emotional and melodrama
tic. It grated on his nerves to hear them a second time, if they hadn’t offered anything of use the first. He didn’t understand how they got worked up over insignificant things.

  Lisa wasn’t like that. She was cool. Removed. Blake hadn’t been like that either. Until he met Alice. Which was unfortunate for Blake, because Alice wasn’t the kind of person to get emotionally attached just because. She was an observer. She wasn’t one of the people; she kept herself distant from them.

  That was part of the reason he kept going back to her recordings. Especially the videos. She was on a different level than the average schmuck.

  He knew exactly where the footage he sought was. It was from the day he took her clothes shopping. He’d watched the video of her in the dressing room a dozen times, but it never got old seeing her yield to his touch. Watching how she surrendered to his command, without losing herself.

  He clicked Play and let the clip run again. It overlapped with his memories of what it was like to taste her. To make her moan. To see her kneel and take him in her mouth, but raise herself back to equal footing after.

  Sawyer stroked his cock through his sweat shorts as he watched. Caressing his shaft. Sinking into reminiscing, as if she were here.

  You don’t have time for this. The thought disrupted his enjoyment. It was true, though. He had work to do. He could save indulging fantasies for the next time he encountered Alice.

  Which would be under his terms, once he figured out what was going on in her head.

  BLAKE AND REAGAN STROLLED through the airport, toward the security checkpoint. He glanced at her, his experience working with other people telling him she’d be on edge. But there was no hesitation in her step.

  Perfect. If she kept her cool, and he did the same, they’d be on the plane in a few minutes, like he promised.

  They approached the agent standing to the side of the metal detectors, and Blake flashed her a smile. He was reaching his fake-friendliness quota for the day. He handed over the badge Theo gave him. “Evening.”

  She barely glanced at him. “Where you heading?”