The Ghost Network (book 1) Page 2

  “Well, konnichiwaaa,” drawled the blond, donning what he obviously thought was a charming grin. “Hey, are you telling me it was you who tipped John off?”

  Akane glanced at the two faces who were now competing for screen space. John was grimacing in embarrassment. “I mentioned it, but he already knew,” she lied. “And we don’t say ‘konnichiwa’ at this hour of the morning.”

  “It’s after four in Fairbanks,” said the boy, with an easy shrug. “Hey, I’m Slack.”

  “That’s your name, or you’re just a slacker?” She sat back and folded her arms. There was something really irritating about this kid. At least John was smart and streetwise enough not to be led astray. At least I hope he is, she thought, narrowing her eyes.

  She had felt protective of John ever since she’d gotten to know him better—and since she’d learned of his past. It was true that he was super cautious about his computer and his phone, and even if he hadn’t been so focused and serious and even if he wasn’t one of the best hackers she knew, his father would have made sure he was on guard.

  Mikael Laine had been one of the most skilled brain surgeons in the world—but sometimes even the fastest and the best don’t have time to save all the people who need them. This was why he’d been so paranoid about desperate people taking desperate measures to access his skills—even perhaps tracking his kids and kidnapping them. And maybe this sounded far-fetched, thought Akane, but at thirteen years old she’d seen enough in her hacking career to know just how far people would go when they wanted something badly enough.

  Mikael Laine had been absolutely right to be paranoid, in her opinion. And now that Mikael was missing—presumed dead—it was her responsibility to keep malicious people away from John.

  Which was why, unbeknownst to John, she’d been tracking him for some time. The last thing she needed was some eager little noob finding out about this and telling John. She clenched her jaw and gave Slack a hostile glare.

  John shoved his new friend aside. “Akane, listen. Slack really wants to join the White Eyes. What do you think?”

  “He does?” He didn’t strike her as the type. Akane wrinkled her nose skeptically. “Is he any good?”

  John and Slack exchanged a grin. “Yeah,” said John. “He’s good.”

  Akane frowned, her instincts tingling. “You guys haven’t been doing anything stupid, have you?”

  “’Course not!” said John, a little too emphatically.

  He pondered for a moment and then glanced at Slack. “OK, so he’s been a bit of a bad guy in the past, right, Slack? But he’s gotten bored with that. I’ll vouch for his skills and his good intentions.”

  Akane sighed, looking from one boy to the other. She wasn’t convinced by Slack’s humble expression; she didn’t know him.

  But she knew John better than she knew her own sisters. He wasn’t the type to jump when he couldn’t see the ground—it was one thing she didn’t have in common with him, she thought wryly, but she couldn’t help admiring his sense of caution. The John she knew didn’t rush into friendships without thinking. He was so reserved he was almost aloof. She’d occasionally wanted to slap the computer screen and tell him that if he didn’t come across as so arrogant, he might not be so lonely. And since his father’s disappearance, she’d hated the sadness that hung over him. It hurt to see that, but it was difficult to help when she was half a world away.

  But sadness was not what she was seeing in John’s face right now. He didn’t look reserved or aloof either. There was a spark of real happiness in his brown eyes. He could use a friend. Somebody he could talk to without logging on . . .

  Akane rubbed at her birthmark. It was a long ridge of hard flesh under her hair at the back of her skull, and as much as her habit of scratching at it annoyed her sisters, it always helped her think.

  At last, she nodded slowly.

  “If you trust him, John, so do I. Let’s give him a chance.”

  “You’re in, Slack!” The boys exchanged a high five.

  John looked delighted, but Akane couldn’t repress the tremor of doubt in her spine. Maybe it was only a face on a computer screen, but there was something mischievous about Slack’s blue eyes. Anarchic, even.

  I hope I’m not going to regret this . . .

  “You haven’t mentioned my sister once since we spoke to Akane,” said John, nudging Slack with his elbow.

  “Don’t get me wrong.” Slack was confidently strutting down the school corridor, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. “Leona’s a nice girl from a good family, but I’m sorry, John. Your sister and I are not to be. My heart belongs to Akane—what’s her last name—Makono.”

  “Maezono,” John corrected him, laughing. “Better get her name right if she’s your true love.”

  Slack’s cocky grin faded a little as they turned the corner and the principal’s door came into view. He halted. “So what do you think Mrs. Long wants?”

  John found his jubilant mood draining away. He swallowed. “Dunno. But she can’t possibly know about . . . y’know. That. The doors.”

  “It’ll be about our grades,” said Slack, reassuring himself. “I actually studied for that last French quiz. She’s gonna congratulate us. You’ll see.”

  John was pretty sure that was not what was going to happen, but he said nothing as they trudged warily toward the office. He’d just raised his knuckles to rap on the door when it flew open.

  “Gentlemen,” said Mrs. Long, in that over-polite voice of hers that meant they were absolutely in for it. “Do come in . . . ”

  <<>>

  “John. Jake. I’m sure you both know what this is about.” The principal had laced her fingers together and was peering at them over the rim of her glasses. “But to save you both the trouble of creating a fantastical story that would be embarrassing for all of us, let me show you something.”

  John’s mouth felt dry as she swiveled her desktop screen toward them. Mrs. Long was taking her time; her eyes held a glint that told him she was enjoying this—a lot more than he or Slack was going to.

  He swallowed hard as she clicked her mouse. Yes, that was their video she was running on YouTube. Beside him, Slack was now choking back his laughter; his lips were pressed tightly together, and his eyes were starting to water. John wanted to kick him, but that would be a dead giveaway.

  He cleared his throat and said in an unintentionally high voice, “I don’t, um—”

  “Know anything about it? Of course you don’t, Mr. Laine.” With a severe glance, Mrs. Long clicked again.

  The new video was definitely not one of his and Slack’s. He knew because they were in it.

  The phone footage was a little wobbly, but the identity of

  the two boys crouched behind the truck was perfectly clear. Slack’s phone was pointed toward the mall doors, though he kept almost dropping it in all the hilarity. John could see his own long, dark, straight hair and his prized flea-market leather jacket. As for Slack’s warm-up jacket, that was an expensive one of a kind, and his distinctive hair straggled over the collar. The clincher came when they turned to one another and Mrs. Long froze the frame on their laughing profiles.

  The two boys sat in silence. John didn’t feel like Loki anymore; he felt like an idiot. Even Slack seemed to have lost the urge

  to giggle.

  “Now,” Mrs. Long leaned forward and clasped her hands, “I guess you can imagine that I’m not very pleased.”

  Slack stared at the desk. John swallowed hard. “Mrs. Long, I’m really sorry—” he began.

  “I’m sure you are.” She glared from one side to the other, from John to Slack, and then at her computer screen. “That’s quite a few humiliating views.”

  “We’ll take it down,” said Slack quickly.

  “I hope so. I hope you’ll also take down the footage you hacked from Madison Harper’
s phone. Not very nice, boys, was it? And while I’ve been investigating your antics, I’ve discovered your neighbor Mr. Brewster isn’t too pleased with you either.”

  John had no idea what to say. It was probably best to stay quiet.

  “By the way, it was one of your own classmates who caught and filmed you. I’m not going to tell you who it was.” Mrs. Long tapped her screen with a fingernail. “But perhaps you might reflect upon the fact that neither of you are quite as popular as you think you are.”

  “I don’t—” blurted John.

  “No, John, but perhaps you’re not quite as clever as you think. And maybe, Jake, your pranks lose their appeal when you play them on a few too many people.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Long.” Slack’s pale face had turned a dark shade

  of red.

  “Now, what to do with you?” The principal leaned back in her swivel chair with the air of a spider who couldn’t decide between two juicy flies. “I have a feeling that suspension would just be playing into your hands. You clearly have more than enough spare time as it is. In your case, Jake, it’s because you’re not remotely interested in your schoolwork—but John, I’m disappointed in you.

  “You were an outstanding scholar in Vancouver, and until the past few weeks, you’ve done very well here. I wonder what has changed?”

  She was glaring at Slack, but it was John who felt the pit of shame in his stomach.

  “However,” Mrs. Long sat forward again and said, “I know things have been difficult for you, John, since . . . what happened with your father.”

  The shame subsided, and a familiar little knot of grief surfaced in John’s chest.

  “And I’ll say this much for both of you,” she went on. “You are very imaginative. And you’re clearly talented. That’s why it’s taken me a few days to decide on an appropriate punishment.” Her lips tightened. “This hacking skill you both have—I’m not going to say I approve of it, because I don’t. But there has to be a way to—shall we say—turn it in a more positive direction.”

  “Go on.” Slack had perked up again. At her razor-sharp stare, he gulped and added, “Um . . . please tell us more, Mrs. Long.”

  “I’ve spoken to your parents, Jake, and to John’s mother, and we have all agreed that instead of getting the police involved”—she paused to let the real threat sink in—“a special education camp for a semester will do you both a world of good.”

  “Special education camp?” blurted John. That sounds ominous. “Isn’t that a bit . . . extreme?”

  For the first time, Mrs. Long actually laughed. “It sounds worse than it is, John. This is your first offense, after all. No, the only extreme part is the location. You’ll both be going to Little Diomede.”

  “I’ve heard of that island.” Slack’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing there!”

  John’s heart plummeted, and he thought he might be sick. Extreme? She wasn’t kidding. “One tiny settlement,” he said bleakly. “They can hardly even get deliveries, and that’s when the weather’s good. What are we supposed to do there, Mrs. Long? For a whole semester?”

  Mrs. Long seemed to be enjoying herself more than ever. She pulled open a drawer with tantalizing slowness and set a file on the desk in front of her. Very delicately, she opened it and began to set papers on the desk, neatly, side by side. Judging from the gleam in her eyes, a big part of this punishment seemed to be telling them about it. John had seen friendlier movie sharks.

  “What are you supposed to do there, John?” Her smile was broad. “You’d be surprised . . . ”

  <<>>

  “Are you ever going to shut up about this?” Leona rolled her eyes and stabbed her fork at her burger. “Mom, tell him it’s supposed to be a punishment.”

  John ignored his sister. “And it’s not just advanced computer skills,” he went on. “There’s sports too. A skate park, a pool, and climbing walls. I don’t know where they put it all—I mean, you should see Little Diomede Island on a map—”

  “Sounds like I’m more than happy seeing it on a map,” said Leona snarkily. “Suddenly, Fairbanks seems like a glittering metropolis.”

  “Leave him alone,” laughed John’s mother. “Yes, John, I know what’s available. Mrs. Long showed me all the details. To be honest, I don’t think it’s much of a punishment either, but it’ll do you a lot of good, I imagine. You’ve been cooped up with that computer of yours since we came to Fairbanks.”

  John sighed and lapsed into his best robotic voice. “John is the computer,” he reminded her.

  His mom, Tina, gave a rueful laugh. “I know, I know, but—”

  “Hey, the computing’s going to be the best part,” protested John. “The Wolf’s Den is only for the elite! The best technological students in the world.” He glowered at Leona. “Which includes me, apparently, so take that.”

  “Yeah, ’cause John is the pain in the computer’s butt.”

  “Hey!” Tina scolded. “Cut it out, both of you.”

  “You sure about this school, Tina?” John’s grandfather, tapping the hot pads against his palm, turned from the stove. He’d just gotten home from tending the university’s caribou herd, and his grizzled face was pink from the heat. “It’s kind of remote.”

  “I wasn’t sure to start with,” admitted Tina. “But it sounds like the most secure place you can imagine, Dad. And I know ‘John is the computer’ was a joke between them, but Mikael always said it wasn’t far off.” She looked sad for a moment. “John’s special. A place like this could really boost his skills.”

  “Hmph,” grunted Leona, her head down. “He’s certainly special.”

  Her mother tapped her head lightly with a spoon. “Don’t be jealous, honey. If you don’t make a fuss, I’ll take you on a shopping trip to Vancouver to compensate.”

  Leona brightened up instantly. “OK. Have a great time in the snowy wilderness, little brother! And don’t fall off any rocks again.”

  Tina’s eyes widened instantly with anxiety. “Yes, that’s one thing. Do be careful, John.”

  “Mom, every kid at the school will be doing these sports.”

  “Well, you don’t have to be the crazy guy. Leave that to your friend Jake.” She kissed the top of his head, and he winced. “You know I worry.”

  Since she couldn’t see his eyes, John rolled them. His mom certainly did worry. Of course, if he hadn’t been dumb enough to fall and hit his head and nearly die, she wouldn’t be so overprotective, but he’d only been five at the time.

  Tina gave him a quick, tight hug. “Remember your dad’s not around to save you again,” she whispered. “Please be careful, John.”

  “I will, Mom,” he muttered.

  “Mom, chill,” said Leona, ruffling John’s hair in her annoying way. “He’ll probably never go near a climbing wall. He’ll be way too wrapped up in his computing stuff.”

  “A bit of fresh air would do him some good,” grunted their grandfather, half under his breath.

  “Pfft!” Leona waved her fork dismissively. “There’s no way John’ll do anything dangerous!”

  “This is worse than I thought.” Slack was staring wide-eyed from the helicopter window as the craft swayed and lurched in the north wind. Clinging to the edge, his knuckles were white.

  “They do this all the time,” said John, trying to sound confident. “It’s not like they haven’t landed a helicopter here before.”

  “Who’s talking about the helicopter?” said Slack glumly. “I mean the school. I thought it was going to be exciting.”

  John leaned across him to peer out. What school? was his first thought.

  Little Diomede Island looked tiny from the air. It was shaped like one of his mom’s less successful meat loaves: sheer sides that plummeted into a foaming ocean and a broad, flat plateau, as if some giant had sliced off its mountaintop with a knife. The plateau
was bare except for a dusting of early snow, and as the helicopter dipped, John caught sight of the only buildings: a cluster of houses tucked around a peninsula.

  Swimming pool? Climbing wall? The island looked like it barely had electricity.

  “That’ll be Diomede City,” he remarked gloomily, pointing at the houses.

  “City,” echoed Slack, with a dismal face. “You think Mrs. Long pranked us back?”

  John couldn’t answer; the helicopter gave a sudden, violent lurch, and he clung tightly to his seat.

  “Going down,” yelled the pilot cheerfully.

  For a moment John thought that was some ominous warning. His heart was pounding so hard he barely heard the rattle of the rotors, let alone Slack’s yelp of delight. Only when his friend tugged on his sleeve did he finally gulp hard and lean across to look.

  Below them, the icy ground was moving. John blinked. No, it wasn’t just the motion of the aircraft. A whole section of the island’s rocky surface was sliding back, vanishing smoothly under the rest of the plateau.

  Dislodged snow tumbled down onto a compact helipad, and the helicopter swayed, lowered, and finally settled, its rotors slowing.

  “Welcome to the Wolf’s Den!” called the pilot, his grin making it obvious that he loved spooking his passengers.

  John’s legs were still trembling as he climbed down onto the helipad, and his fingers gripped his bag a little too tightly. When Slack slapped his back, he almost jumped out of his skin.

  “This is awesome!” yelled his friend.

  “It is,” said John with a slow grin. “The school’s under the surface!”

  Not only had the helipad been revealed as the plateau slid away but also there was a vast glass roof beyond it to the north. Beneath that, John could make out steel walkways, a cavernous, light-filled hall, and figures moving purposefully around. And that was only the limited section he could see.

  He turned, orienting himself. Clouds scattered across the sky, but there were enough patches of sunshine to make the heaving sea sparkle. Wind tugged at his hair, whipping it across his eyes, and the cold air tasted sharp and clear. Slack gripped his arm and pointed across the expanse of sea.