Chapter 8
Tracker
Niko awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. Sunlight fought its way through the closed shades, brightening an unfamiliar room. This was Vyper’s home, not his. He would never see his own apartment again—the Last Jedi poster, his mug collection, or his favorite recliner. He would never see his friends, either.
He pushed the vision of the Action Center fire out of his mind.
The clock on the dresser said 11:45. After his disturbing dream, he’d slept soundly the rest of the night and all morning as well. A bathrobe lay across a chair and Niko slipped it on. After a quick stop in the guest bathroom, he followed the sizzling sound and inviting aroma to the kitchen.
Vyper stood at the stove, spatula in hand, apparently unaware he was there. Her beautiful black hair, still moist from a shower, flowed down the back of a gray sweatshirt. Her pants revealed little of her shape
Niko cleared his throat. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
Her breasts moved freely when she turned, but her hazel eyes never met his. It reminded him of last night, when her nipples had pressed firmly against her tee shirt.
Vyper placed a knife and fork on the table. “Yes, except when you started screaming about Sokolov.” She turned off the stove and slid two eggs onto a plate. “You should take a shower. I will make you breakfast when you are done.”
“Did you find out anything this morning? How many people survived?”
“Only the one in the ambulance last night. We can talk about everything after your shower.”
Niko walked back to the guest room and unpacked the only clothes he had in his “go bag.” He stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water, letting it run over his body while his thoughts drifted to Marko, Rocky, Gato, and the others.
One survivor. Who?
Later, refreshed and wearing clean clothes, Niko walked into the dining room.
Vyper sat at the table in front of her laptop. She looked up. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy.”
She stepped into the kitchen and began preparations. “Have a seat. How many eggs?”
“Three would be great.” Niko sat at the small table. “Do you know who survived?”
Vyper walked back to her laptop and located a picture. She rotated the screen toward him, then went back to the stove.
Niko recognized him right away. “Gato! That’s Gato!”
“His name is James Harper. He is in Sterling Hospital, being treated for smoke inhalation—no other injuries reported. The datacenter damage was not as extensive as the rest of the building, and James was found inside. Your friend will be fine.”
Niko read the report on Gato. He found two more articles by other news sources, but they added nothing. “I’m going to call him. See how he’s doing. See what he knows.”
“You cannot make contact. The Russians are still out there. They will try to find anyone who contacts James… Gato.” Vyper set a plate in front of him—eggs and three strips of bacon. “Do you want coffee or juice?”
“I’d love some juice.” Breakfast looked great, smelled good, too. But eating was the last thing on his mind. Only Gato survived, and Niko couldn’t even speak with him.
Vyper poured a glass of orange juice and set it before Niko. She took a seat at the table in front of her laptop. “Eat your eggs. We both need energy and clear heads to deal with the Russians. First, they must believe you are dead. I have already taken care of that. Do not let them know otherwise.”
“Dead? You took care of it? How?”
“All records in the action center were erased as required, following established emergency procedures. The only official records that remain are on the backup server in Beltway Recovery Systems. I modified the security data on the backup server. Records now show you entering the building before the attack.”
“Vyper, you’re amazing. I thought the Russians would never stop looking for me.” Niko bit off a piece of bacon followed by a forkful of eggs. “You’re a good cook, too.” That first bite reminded him of how hungry he really was, and he ate like he’d been starved for a month.
She smiled and turned away. “The Russians might still be searching for my Taurus to find out who was driving. I fixed that. If they ever find the car and look up the registration, one of the action center operators is listed as the owner. The security data shows the two of you returning to the center at nearly the same time.”
Niko finished the last piece of bacon. “You think of everything.” He carried his empty plate and juice glass to the sink. “Are you and I the only people monitoring the nation’s critical infrastructure now?”
“NSA engaged Cybercade to take over from Kozel Group. Their personnel have already begun downloading data from Marko’s backup server. Of course, it will take them a while to get up to speed, so the infrastructure depends on you and me for now. Remember, no one knows about us—not Russia, our government, or Cybercade. We cannot reveal our existence.”
Vyper selected a file on her laptop. “I downloaded the archived security video from Alpha World. It shows the person who poisoned Marko.” She pressed play.
Niko pointed to the screen. “There’s Marko. The camera’s above the end of the bar… and that’s the old woman.”
“It is a man.” Vyper pressed pause. “Facial recognition software from two video feeds agree. There is a 92% probability this is a man.”
“She… uh, he… looks like an old woman.”
“My software is not confused by a disguise. His head and facial data points strongly correlate to a man. The poor lighting and angles made it difficult to identify him. His face may not even be on file.” She pressed play. “Watch the purse.”
When the “woman” got close to Marko, the large purse bumped into his leg, causing him to turn suddenly. Niko felt sick. “Sonofabitch! She… he did it. Poisoned Marko… killed him! The purse… it hit his calf, same place as the sore spot. Marko showed me where it hurt.”
Neither of them spoke for a long time, even after the video clip ended. Sadness and anger paralyzed Niko until the logical part of his brain regained control. “No one will suspect murder. We can’t let the Russians get away with this.”
Vyper shook her head. “I can send this video to the police anonymously, but they may not see it as murder.”
Niko replayed the video in his head. “Something had to penetrate his pants leg creating a hole. It should line up with his sore spot. We have to tell them to look.”
“We cannot tell them. We do not exist. But last night, you agreed to be Deep Throat… or Trotsky. It is time for Trotsky to send out his first communication.”
Shit! She’s right. Mourn Marko later.
Niko stood up. “I’ll draft something right away.” He went to the bedroom, grabbed his laptop, and returned. “I prefer to use my computer. Can you help me set this up on your network?”
“Sure.” Vyper took the laptop from him, configured the network, and installed additional software before handing it back to him. “You are all set. Now you can be Trotsky.”
Niko had always known how to tell a convincing story. His mother had been a grifter, always working on schemes to con people out of their money. She taught her son well. Here in America, Niko applied his manipulative skills to social media—first to convince gullible victims to send him money, then later to do legitimate intelligence gathering for Marko.
He leaned on the arm at the end of the couch and began to compose Trotsky’s first anonymous leak, starting with the facts. He omitted the clandestine theft of Russian money and any reference to himself or Vyper. He read his first draft, made some changes, and read it once more. A good investigative reporter should feel compelled to follow the facts and expose the truth.