“I’ve seen those movies. But there’s a big difference between that and hacking the U.S. banking system.”
“Sure. Hacking is easier. You do it from home in your underwear while you’re eating trail mix. And then you announce it to the online community, so a few thousand friends are applauding you and watching your every move. Then they try to top you by going further, doing a little more. It’s a big competition. You can see the attraction to that.”
“I can see it, and I know it’s fun to break the rules. But the U.S. is already under attack from foreign powers. You’d think kids would want to defend against that rather than contributing to it.”
“I don’t think they see it like that,” he says. “Some people think of it more like a global government. Hackers vs. the establishment, us vs. them.”
“Us vs. them. That’s how Moore thinks of it.”
“That’s why you’ve been sent after him?”
“I never know why I’m sent. I don’t need to know. I’m a weapon.”
I think about the things I’ve seen in Moore’s camp over the last two days.
“But in this case,” I say, “I think I figured out why.”
I glance at my iPhone, checking the time. If I’m going to get back, I should try to get there before morning.
“You’re going back to the camp?” Howard says.
“I have a mission to complete.”
Howard smiles. He pulls an iPhone out of his bag.
“I bought this before I left New York,” he says.
“I can’t call you on a number that can be traced—”
“I know that,” he says, interrupting me. “I used a credit card number I snagged from Verizon corporate. It gets billed back to them as an internal department expense. It will take them months to figure it out. By then I’ll have wiped the data.”
“I’ll keep my phone on,” I say. “The same number I called you from the first time. There’s signal blocking throughout the camp, but if you need me, send a text and I’ll check for it when I can.”
“Can I have your special iPhone number, too?”
“My Program phone? Why do you need that?”
“If we lose contact. If it’s an emergency.”
I hesitate, wondering if I should trust Howard with my phone number.
Which, of course, is ridiculous, because I’ve already trusted him with my life.
I pass him the phone.
“Wow.” That’s all he says.
He handles it delicately, cradling it in two hands.
“It’s an iPhone, Howard, not a baby.”
“I’ve never held a baby,” Howard says, “but I know how to respect other people’s digital property.”
He gently taps open the Settings folder and takes a snapshot of the information with his own phone. Then he hands my Program phone back to me.
“I’ll let you know the second I’ve decoded the SDHC card.”
I smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Howard.”
“Your life would be considerably less awesome,” he says.
“That’s true.”
“Really?” he says, delighted that I’m agreeing with him.
“You risked everything coming up here.”
“I know,” he says softly.
“It means a lot to me.”
Before I can stop him, Howard rushes forward, squashing me in a bear hug.
I say, “I’ve got to be honest. It makes me uncomfortable when you do that.”
“Just once,” he says. “Then you can go back to being a tough guy.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
I LEAVE THE SILVERADO IN THE LONG-TERM PARKING LOT AT THE AIRPORT.
I don’t want to bring it into Camp Liberty on the outside chance the freelance team was hired and equipped by Moore. After considering what Howard told me about the SDHC card, I have to ask myself who has the sophistication to place an electronic device inside a card.
Moore’s people might be able to do it, but why would they invite me to stay, then try to take me out the moment I left the camp?
Still, it’s a risk I cannot take.
So I leave the truck in the long-term parking lot where it will not be scrutinized for days, and I look for a replacement vehicle, something with the engine still warm. If someone just dropped off their car in long-term parking, I can get at least forty-eight hours of use out of it before it’s reported missing.
I walk the parking lot in the middle of the night, making myself appear like a weary traveler who just got in and can’t remember where he left his car. It’s not tough to do. I actually stumble going up the ramp, a harsh reminder of how tired I am and the fact that even trained muscles will start to misfire at some point.
I find a new-model Honda Accord, open the Travel Channel app on my iPhone. It’s an app with a built-in database, and it should work without needing to contact a Program server.
I click on SELECT A DESTINATION. I find JAPAN on the scroll wheel, select it, then wait as the app searches its database for the master key code for the Accord. When it finds the right code, it transmits a remote signal.
I hear the familiar click of the locks being disengaged, followed by the engine starting up. I get in and drive out of the parking lot. I use the ticket I got a few minutes ago, explaining to the girl at the pay gate that I messed up and drove into long-term when I only needed short-term.
“You can charge me for five minutes if you need to,” I say with a smile.
She winks at me and opens the gate.
CHAPTER FIFTY
THE SUN IS COMING UP BY THE TIME I GET BACK TO CAMP LIBERTY.
I pull up to the roadblock outside camp in the Accord.
Rifles come up. A girl with a gun walks up to my window. She stares at me for a moment, and then her expression lightens.
“I know you,” she says. “I saw you at the community center the other night. You’re a legend.”
“I don’t feel like a legend. I feel like a guy who needs to go to the bathroom and get some breakfast. No offense.”
“Girls go to the bathroom, too,” she says.
“I don’t have a sister,” I say, “so I never learned these important details.”
She laughs. “They told us we might see you today. I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me, too,” I say.
“Always nice to have a new brother.”
I allow myself to feel what Daniel Martin might feeclass="underline" proud for persuading his parents to let him come back, nervous about returning here, excited about being a part of something new.
The girl signals to her partner at the roadblock to lower his weapon.
“By the way, you timed it perfectly,” she says.
“For what?”
“Breakfast,” she says.
She motions to the boy, and he opens the security gate and pulls the tire strip from the road, clearing a path for me.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
I PARK THE ACCORD AND JOIN A GROUP OF KIDS HEADING INTO THE MAIN HOUSE FOR BREAKFAST.
There is a large dining area off the main hall where Moore stopped me yesterday.
I follow the group through the double doors and I’m met by loud conversation and laughter. Members of the community sit at long tables with large shared platters of food running down the center.
Family style. That’s what this type of serving is called.
I look around the room for a free place to sit.
Where you sit, when you sit, how you enter a room like this is vitally important. If I were in a high school, I’d be concerned with status, social proof, defining myself through the hundreds of cues that create ranking. But a community like this has different standards of evaluation, and I have to recalibrate my thinking.