The Ghost Network (book 1) Read online

  Adam sat in front of a glowing screen; Leo stood behind him, leaning on Adam’s chair.

  “Ready to get your hides whupped, newbies?” asked Adam with a cold smile.

  John opened his mouth to make some cutting retort, but the words got stuck in his throat. Light glared off Adam’s hipster glasses, obscuring his eyes, and somehow that made him seem—just for a moment—less than human. Not that it unnerved John. Quite the reverse: he felt a tug inside him that was like a leftover from his earlier dream. Like he wanted to walk over to that desk and simply delete Adam.

  John shook himself. What am I thinking? They’re just annoying nerds. “Yeah,” he said. “Go ahead and try, if you think you’re up to it.”

  Behind them, the other club members were filtering into the room and shouting greetings and challenges, but John couldn’t take his eyes off Adam Kruz. Even his white smile was so irritating.

  “I’m gonna break your defenses so fast, backwoods boys.” Adam flexed his typing fingers.

  “Yeah,” agreed Leo, his scowl at Slack deadly serious. “Might as well go order your pizza early, Hook. You haven’t got a chance.”

  Delete him, too, thought John. He blinked in surprise at himself.

  After all, the pre-fight banter between the Hack Club students seemed to be a tradition. Adam and Leo’s version might have had an edge of real viciousness—but he didn’t need to take it quite so personally, did he? There would be plenty of chances here to take down these two arrogant kids. He and Slack hadn’t managed to do it over the past few Saturdays, but maybe today was their day.

  “I’m Adam Kruz.” The Russian-accented voice came from behind a screen farther back, and Eva Vygotsky rose to her feet, her black eyes sparkling with derision. “I’m not as smart as I think I am, but my daddy’s Rick Kruz, so I think that makes me very smart. Hmph!”

  It was not a bad impersonation, and John had to stifle a laugh. Eva wasn’t laughing, though; she was eyeing Adam with mild contempt. John, intrigued, watched them both. Adam’s father was Rick Kruz, the software developer, was he? No wonder the boy was so cocky. He must be worth a fortune.

  Leo was glaring at Eva on his friend’s behalf. “Yeah, Adam’s dad invented Ubicomp; your dad, whoever he was, dumped you on a train. That’s some competition.”

  The look Eva gave him was piercingly lethal. “I’ll show you competition.” She sat down and began to tap at her keyboard.

  Salome, who had just entered the room, was watching the standoff nervously. In fact, the whole room had fallen silent; the back-and-forth had clearly gone way beyond normal rules. From the corner of his eye, John saw Slack take his phone from his pocket and tap the screen.

  A resounding fart filled the air.

  Leo Pallikaris’s face went white, then crimson. The sound was coming from him. As it echoed over and over again, he fumbled for his phone, tugging it from his pocket. Finally, he stabbed the screen, silencing it.

  The club erupted with laughter; only Adam and Leo stood in silence, filled with fury.

  “Nice ringtone, Leo,” said Slack. “If it is a ringtone?”

  Leo jabbed a finger at him. “You’re dead,” he snarled. He yanked out a chair and set about typing furiously.

  John gave Eva a smile, but she was ignoring everyone again, typing intently, the light of her screen flickering on her pale face. Salome, though, was studying him and Slack, and there wasn’t nearly so much superior distaste on her face as usual. She was almost smiling, and John could have sworn she winked at Slack.

  Maybe, as Mrs. Long would say, Adam and Leo aren’t quite as popular as they think they are . . .

  John sat down at his own screen and began to work.

  “Vygotsky!” Adam Kruz sprang to his feet. “You’re going to regret that!”

  Eva smirked at him. “Don’t blame me for your poor peripheral vision, Adam Kruz.”

  “I never saw you sneaking up either,” admitted Slack, kicking his chair back from the desk with a defeated grin. “That hack was a beauty.”

  “I was nowhere near getting through your firewall by the time you got through mine,” said John admiringly.

  Eva gave a shrug, rose from her chair, and marched out of the basement. They heard the tap of her boots as she ran lightly upstairs.

  “She’s so fast,” sighed Salome, staring at the door through which Eva had vanished. “You know she just hijacked my system? That’s how she did it. Look.” She turned her screen to face John and Slack. “See? She launched her attack from here. And I didn’t know about it till thirty seconds ago.”

  John leaned over. “She owned your whole system. You weren’t having any effect at all?”

  “I thought I was doing so well, but I’ve been a zombie for at least twenty minutes.” Salome laughed. “I told you she was good.”

  “She’s not that good,” growled Leo, packing his laptop. “She’s sneaky. You just weren’t paying attention.”

  Salome sniffed. “Your jealousy is unbecoming,” she told Leo and Adam. “‘Sneaky’ just means she’s clever. Cleverer than you, by the look of it.”

  The pair left without another word while shooting venomous glares at Salome, John, and Slack. John couldn’t help but laugh as the door slammed behind them.

  “Touchy, aren’t they?”

  “They think a little too highly of themselves,” said Salome. “You must have noticed that in class.”

  “Roy seems to like them,” said Slack, “so they must be pretty good.”

  “Oh, they’re good,” Salome told him, “just not quite as good as they think they are. But they often beat Eva at Hack Club.”

  “Really?” Slack’s eyes widened as the two boys followed Salome out of the basement.

  Salome paused, a hand on the stairwell rail, and glanced at them. “Yes. Sometimes Eva seems to kind of . . . lose her way. She drifts off into another world, like she can’t focus. Like she’s forgotten everything. I think it’s a condition, some kind of intermittent amnesia. And those boys take advantage. But there’s another reason they get ahead of everyone. I’ll let you in on a secret, if you can keep your mouths shut?”

  The two boys nodded vigorously.

  “Eva is convinced Adam and Leo get help from outside.”

  John gaped at her. “Outside? You mean from a teacher, or . . . ”

  “No. The teachers don’t know about Hack Club.” Salome headed for the smoothie bar. “Well, except for Roy. He knows it goes on, but he wouldn’t help Adam and Leo. Why would he? They’re two of his favorites. He wants them to get better, not to get by with cheating.”

  It was true, thought John: that wouldn’t make sense. But if they weren’t getting help from a staff member, how were they getting backup from beyond the school’s security system? That didn’t make sense either.

  He shook his head. “But if they get help from outside . . . that would give any good hacker access to the school’s system and files . . . ”

  “That is why they’re idiots.” Salome shrugged angrily. “But Eva’s never found proof, and it’s a serious allegation. She can’t report it till she knows for sure.”

  Adam and Leo were lounging on beanbags at the other side of the broad hallway, basking in a patch of sunlight as they gnawed on pizza slices. Adam caught John’s eye, and malevolence spread across his face.

  “What’s up, backwoods boy?”

  John bristled. Adam had the nerve to call him names, when that kid himself was doing something so risky?

  “Don’t get involved, John!” whispered Salome, clutching his sleeve.

  He shook off her hand and marched across to the two boys. “You can quit being so smug, since you’re getting help from outside the school.”

  Adam rose to his feet and balled his fists. “Who told you that? It’s a lie!” He glared over John’s shoulder, in Salome’s direction.


  Instantly, John realized that Salome had been right: it was rash to confront Adam with no proof. He didn’t even understand why he’d done it, except that something had clicked inside his brain. What Salome says is true. And it’s dangerous. They could let anyone in.

  But now hadn’t been the time to bring it up. “Nobody told me,” he said, backtracking fast. “I guessed.”

  “Now who’s the liar?” Adam glared at Salome again, but then his eyes slid to Eva, who was slumped on a beanbag in the corner, her laptop propped on her knees. “It was Vygotsky, wasn’t it? She can’t stand that we beat her so often.”

  “It wasn’t Eva,” blurted John, wishing he hadn’t said anything. It didn’t matter that somewhere inside his brain, her accusation had been accepted. John might be the computer, but right now the computer was frozen, with a little spinning rainbow wheel where his thought process ought to be.

  “Yes.” Leo gave him a slow smile, his gaze flickering between John and Eva. “It is. Hey, Adam, it’s time to play.”

  Adam glanced at him, nodded, and grinned. Both boys picked up their laptops and bags, turned on their heels, and strode away. Leo turned back to grab his last slice of pizza, and then they were gone.

  “Shoot,” murmured John.

  “I told you not to get involved.” Salome was at his side, her arms folded, stiff with annoyance.

  “But it’s true, what you said.” John turned to her. “Isn’t it?”

  “I think so, yes. But you don’t mess with Adam and Leo, not without evidence you can take to the teachers.” Salome made a face. “I’d double-check all your firewalls over the next few days, if I were you.”

  “I’ll be caref—”

  John was interrupted by a yelp of horror from the corner. Eva leaped from her beanbag, her laptop clutched in her hands. She stared at its screen, her black-rimmed eyes wide.

  “Eva?” Salome hurried to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  Eva’s knuckles were white, yet she didn’t move. She was beyond rigid. She was absolutely motionless, except for her head. It jerked slightly, rhythmically.

  “Eva?”

  Eva’s head stilled, and a shudder went through the rest of her body. She blinked as if she’d only just woken up; then, without a word, she turned the laptop to face Salome. Salome’s face froze.

  John and Slack walked over to join the two girls. “What’s up?” asked Slack.

  “This.” Eva’s face had gone even paler, if that was possible. “This is up.”

  A GIF of a grinning velociraptor filled the screen, instantly recognizable to anyone who’d seen Jurassic Park. Across it ran a line of repeating red text: Clever Girl! Clever Girl!

  As they stared, aghast, the screen dissolved into pixels, then reassembled as lines of text way too heavy with exclamation marks.

  OOPS!!!

  YOU LOST YOUR FILES!!!!

  MAYBE YOU NEED “OUTSIDE HELP”!!!

  Better not rat even when your a clever girl!!!

  And back came the velociraptor and its mocking tagline.

  Eva tapped furiously at her touchpad, but nothing would shift the repeating message. Tears of frustration and rage brimmed in her eyes, but they didn’t spill over.

  “Oh no,” whispered Slack.

  Salome cleared her throat. “They can’t spell ‘you’re,’” she said, with an attempt at a cheery smile.

  Eva glared at her. “Don’t you get it? I’ve lost everything.”

  John patted her shoulder. “It’s OK, Eva. We’ll help get your files back.”

  “You don’t understand, do you?” She turned to him, glaring. “It’s not just my files. If I can’t fix this, I’ll lose my whole mind.”

  There was no way she could be reading this. It must be a hallucination. Akane took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes, and very, very slowly read the email again.

  She hadn’t tried to fool any of the Wolf’s Den directors: none of them would be clumsy enough to fall for even the subtlest phishing expedition. But the junior secretary who filed their records online—he’d been more gullible. Working through labyrinthine Chinese channels, Akane had posed convincingly as a corporate recruiter; once in possession of his password, she’d been amazed at how much of his employer’s correspondence he’d left unprotected.

  And now she wished she’d never looked.

  Mr. Laine is very happy with the patient’s progress but would like her to attend for further tests. Could you please call me to make arrangements as soon as possible?

  I enclose his letter with this email.

  I am pleased Akane is making such a good recovery!

  Akane’s mouth felt dry. She wanted to swallow, but when she tried, there was only a high clicking sound.

  She’d never been Mikael Laine’s patient. She’d never hurt herself. She hadn’t been born with some life-threatening condition.

  Had she?

  Maybe there was some other Akane Maezono. It was the most bizarre coincidence, but it was more likely than the other possibility.

  But that’s Papa’s email address. It is.

  Sagging forward, she pressed her forehead on the edge of the desk. It felt cool and sharp. I have to look at the attachment. I have to.

  I don’t want to.

  Pushing herself back upright, she gritted her jaw. Her finger trembled over the touchpad, but at last, she stabbed it.

  The letter wobbled and blurred in front of her eyes, as if her own retinas didn’t want her to see this. But still it came through, word by insane word.

  . . . Massive damage to the parietal and occipital lobes

  . . . repair should not have been possible . . .

  . . . however, I am extremely pleased with . . .

  . . . remarkable response . . .

  . . . continue to monitor . . .

  . . . optimistic.

  Optimistic.

  Akane felt as if she were learning to read for the first time. Silently, her mouth formed each word as she read them over and over again. There was no denying it. This had been written to her own parents.

  She read the whole thing again, right down to the signature line.

  Yours sincerely,

  Mikael Laine

  Akane realized she was trembling. Very carefully, she lifted her hand and touched her birthmark: that ridge of hard flesh under her hair.

  “It’s not a birthmark,” she whispered out loud. “It’s a scar.”

  A sharp rap on the door made her jump. “Akane?”

  “I’m busy, Obaasan!”

  She hadn’t meant to sound so sharp, but funnily enough she didn’t regret it. Her grandmother must have known about this all along. She kept this from me too.

  Closing her eyes, Akane took deep breaths to calm herself. She didn’t have time to meditate properly, but going through a few of the motions was enough. Cool determination flooded her, and at last she managed to stop the tremor in her fingers. Narrowing her eyes, she scrolled up to check the date of the letter again.

  I was four. It’s not surprising I don’t remember. But why would her parents have kept this from her?

  Akane typed and clicked furiously, digging up every email, every document, pausing only for a moment as the name Jake Hook slid past her eyes. She’d get back to John’s new friend later. Because nothing about this was a coincidence anymore.

  Maybe Okaasan and Otousan had had good reason not to tell her. Maybe they’d wanted her to forget forever that she thought she could fly. She swallowed, staring at one of her mother’s first emails to Laine. No wonder they didn’t approve of her BASE-jumping antics: it seemed she’d started as a four-year-old, from the roof of the Gotokuji Temple.

  Without a chute.

  Akane scratched at her head. She let her fingertips dance across the ridge of her scar, then tugged nervously at her
hair.

  All of her friends had told her. They’d told her, every time she’d let them see it. That’s a weird birthmark, Akane. And how she’d teased them. Of course it’s a special kind of birthmark, because I’m special!

  The email cache was scrolling down across her vision, almost unnoticed. Akane was barely paying attention, so she didn’t know why one of them caught her eye so suddenly. But her finger stabbed the touchpad as she did a shocked double take.

  Hi, Freki, yes. Experimental at this point, of course, but in the case of the Maezono child, I’m relatively confident.

  Akane sucked in a breath.

  If it does misfire, Mik, you understand that WD will be unable to take public responsibility. If you must know, I was unhappy with previous procedures which should have taken place under WD aegis. Control of subjects is not something to leave to chance.

  WD? Who was WD? The tone of the email exchange was growing increasingly curt.

  Not entirely happy with terminology, Freki, as I have clarified before. Children not property of WD.

  Akane swallowed hard.

  Mik. I repeat. Procedure is entirely property of WD, therefore subjects also.

  Frantically, Akane scrolled up the thread. Property? What procedure? What kind of medical intervention was the property of one individual, this WD? The person Mikael was talking to didn’t have those initials. It was just one name anyway. She looked at it again. Freki.

  Maybe it wasn’t a person’s name at all. Maybe it was a corporation. Frowning, Akane typed the name into Google. The headline result popped up.

  In Norse mythology, Geri and Freki (Old Norse, both meaning “the ravenous” or “greedy one”) are two wolves which are said to accompany the god Odin.

  With a grunt of impatience, Akane kicked her chair back. Mythology! That doesn’t help.

  Or did it? Wolves, she thought, her stomach sinking with dread. Wolves . . . is that a coincidence? John and Jake were in the Wolf’s Den right now . . . Akane clicked back to another email thread. Jake Hook procedure: details enclosed. She barely dared to look. But she had to.