Hammond didn’t move.
“Please,” the intruder said. “I won’t ask you again.”
Hammond tentatively went to the chair and sat down.
“Put your hands through the plastic loops and then pull the tabs tight around your wrists,” the intruder said.
“I’m not going to do that,” Hammond said. “You want to talk, we can talk — I’m on your side here. We sent you that email to alert you. As a warning. But I’m not going to tie myself up in my own house.”
The Shrike smiled at Hammond’s resistance and spoke in a tone that suggested that Hammond was being a bit of a nuisance.
“You’re going to do it or I’m going to go over there and snap your neck like a twig,” he said.
Hammond looked at him, blinked once, and then started putting his left hand through the loop on the armchair.
“Now pull the tab tight.”
Hammond pulled the loop closed around his wrist, not even having to be told to make it tighter.
“Now the other.”
Hammond put his right hand through the loop.
“How do I tighten this one? I can’t reach it.”
“Bend down and use your teeth.”
Hammond did as he was told and then looked up at his captor. He waved his hands to show he was securely locked to the arms of the chair.
“Okay, now what?”
“Do you think I would bind you if I meant to harm you?”
“I don’t know what you would do.”
“Think about it. If I wanted to hurt you it would have already been done. But now we can comfortably talk.”
“I’m not comfortable at all.”
“Well, I am. And so now we can talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“The email you sent about this reporter — how did you know to send it to me?”
“See, that’s the thing. This is why you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t know who you are. We just have the email you used when you joined the site. That’s it. No way of knowing who you are, so this—”
He shook his arms against the plastic bindings.
“—is completely unnecessary. Really. I mean it.”
The Shrike stared at him for a long moment, then got up and went to a printer that was on a table in the corner. He pulled a stack of documents out of the printer tray. He had been printing things through the night that had caught his interest on the lab’s computer.
He returned to his seat and held the stack on his lap.
“You miss the point,” he said without looking up from the documents. “How did you arrive at the decision to send me an email?”
“Well,” Hammond said. “You were the only one who downloaded the ones who died.”
“At Dirty4.”
“Yes, at the site.”
“That is a problem. Your site promises full anonymity, but now you are saying you identified me through my interactions on the site. That is disappointing.”
“No, wait, we did not identify you. That’s what I’m saying. Right now I could not tell you your name to save my life. We looked for anybody who had downloaded details about those whores who got killed. There was only one client. You. We sent the email in good faith. To warn you because you have a reporter on your trail. That’s it.”
The Shrike nodded as if accepting the explanation. He had noticed that Hammond was becoming more animated as his fear grew, and that was a problem because his wrists would chafe against the plastic bindings and that would leave marks.
“I’m curious about something,” he said conversationally.
“What?” Hammond asked.
“Your operation is magnificent. How are you able to take the DRD4 samples and link them back to each woman’s ID? I understand just about everything else but that — and that’s the beauty of this whole thing.”
Hammond nodded in agreement.
“Well, that’s proprietary but I’ll tell you. We totally own GT23’s database, only they don’t know it. We got inside. Complete access.”
“How?”
“We actually encrypted a DNA sample with a Trojan-horse virus and sent it in like everybody else does. Once in, the sample was reduced to code and it activated and we were in their mainframe. Complete backdoor access to their data. I’m a second-tier buyer of their DNA. I buy it, isolate the DRD4 carriers we want, and match the serial number that comes on every sample to the flesh-and-blood bitch we then list on the site.”
“That’s genius.”
“We think so.”
“Who is ‘we,’ by the way?”
Hammond hesitated, but for only a second.
“Uh, I have a partner. I’m DNA and he’s digital. He runs the site. I give him what he needs. We split the cash that comes in.”
“Sounds like a perfect partnership. What’s his name?”
“Uh, he doesn’t want to—”
“Roger Vogel, correct?”
“How do you know that name?”
“I know a lot because I’ve been here all night. Your records are not encrypted. Your computer security is a joke.”
Hammond did not answer.
“So where can I find Roger Vogel to ask him for more details of your operation?”
“I don’t know. He sort of comes and goes. He’s a private guy and we sort of lead separate lives. We were roommates once. In college. But since then we don’t see each other in person too much. In fact, I don’t even know where the guy lives.”
The Shrike nodded. Hammond’s refusal to give up his partner was admirable but hardly a problem. During the night he had read numerous deleted emails still in the desktop’s memory. Posing as Hammond, he had then sent a message to Vogel setting up a meeting for later in the day. Vogel had responded and agreed.
It was now time to end this. He got up and started to walk toward Hammond. He saw his captive’s arms tense and push against the bindings on his wrists.
The Shrike held up a hand to calm him as he approached.
“Just relax,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. Not anymore.”
He walked behind Hammond, wondering how different this would be. He had never actually done this to a man. He quickly leaned down and wrapped his powerful arms around Hammond’s head and neck, his left hand coming around and over his mouth so there would be no noise.
Hammond’s muffled cries of “No!” died in his hand and soon there was the deeply fulfilling snap of bone, cartilage, and muscle twisting to the extreme limit. Hammond’s last breath flowed hotly through his fingers.
Jack
25
I got up early but stayed in bed watching Rachel sleep, not wanting to disturb her. I pulled my laptop off the bedside table and checked emails, finding the only one of note from Emily Atwater. It had been sent late the night before, asking me where the Deep Throat documents were that I had promised to send after our call. She then suggested that I had intentionally held them back.
I quickly wrote a return email apologizing for the delay and pulled up the documents to attach. I first gave each one a quick read so their contents would be fresh in my mind when Emily called later to discuss them. As I scanned the DNA report from the Orange County Sheriff’s Lab I saw a name I recognized.
“Holy shit!”
Rachel stirred and opened her eyes. I had jumped out of bed and gone to my backpack to retrieve the notebook I had used the night before while on the call with Emily. I came back to the bed with it and quickly opened it to the page where I had written down a name. It was a match.
“What is it, Jack?” Rachel asked.
“It’s Elvis in the box,” I said.