Exposure (25 page)

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Authors: Kathy Reichs

BOOK: Exposure
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“You could be right,” I said diplomatically. “But the whole scene was just . . . off. I can’t explain it better than that. Even Ella agreed.”

Hi perked up. “Ella was there?”

“Did I not mention that?” My brain truly was deep fried. “We went together.”

“Oh.” Hi and Shelton at once. Ben looked away.

“Hey, wait.” I leaned closer to the screen. “You guys wouldn’t have wanted to go. I took Ella so I wouldn’t be paraded around like Whitney’s toy poodle.”

No one spoke. Nonplussed, I decided to change the subject.

“Anyway, on the way home I got an idea. Which is why I called this meeting.”

I paused. We needed Ben for this, and I wasn’t sure how he’d react.

“I want to investigate Rex Gable,” I said. “Something isn’t right. I thought the best place to start might be his phone records. That’s what the cops would do.”

“You want to hack Rex Gable’s cell phone?” Shelton pinched his nose. “Based on a hypothetical trip to South America?”

“If that was all, I’d agree this is rash. But I’m convinced Peter recognized his kidnapper in that ransom video. Put those facts together, and—”

“You think Rex Gable videotaped his stepkids locked in a dungeon?” Ben scoffed. “That seems plausible to you?”

“No!” I wasn’t explaining my thoughts well. “But what if the kidnapper Peter saw is
connected
to his stepfather somehow? A coworker. A drinking buddy. Someone close to the family that Peter recognized.”

“It’s a shot in the dark,” Hi said gently. “If that.”

“Okay,” said Ben.

I sat back, stunned. “Okay?”

“Sure.” Ben shrugged. “I assume you want Chang to do it, since we wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”

“Yes.” Thrown off. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“I’ll call him. Back in five.” Ben’s face blipped from the screen.

“Are we sure that was Ben?” Hi joked. “He’s never that agreeable.”

“Did you guys patch things up?” Shelton asked me.

“No. We haven’t spoken since our catfight in the Wando parking lot. I’m as stunned as you are.”

Ben reappeared. “He’ll do it for another five hundred. I have a PayPal address.”

“E-mail it.” Shelton pulled a notepad from his desk. “But we’re short on cash, people.”

A minute passed as Shelton executed the transaction. Once complete, Ben logged off again to confirm with Chang. The rest of us waited, fighting off sleep, unsure how long this process might take.

Less than five minutes later, a message appeared in my inbox. The sender was Variance.

Call logs and text messages for the last six months. Enjoy! V

Attached was an eighty-page PDF.

Ben returned to the chat. “You guys get the email?”

“Yep.” Shelton was skimming on his monitor. “This might take a while.”

“True,” Hi said, “but check out last weekend. Gable made thirty calls to a private number.”

“Thirty?” I skipped ahead to the dates in question.

Something occurred to me. I quickly scanned the rest of the call logs.

“Rex Gable never called that number on any other day,” I said. “Before or since. At least, not in the last six months.”

“Suspicious,” Shelton agreed, “but
not
proof. Maybe his car broke down somewhere, and he was talking to a mechanic. There are lots of reason why a cluster of calls might appear.”

“You’re right.” I rubbed my eyes, unsure what to do next.

Then a fifth box opened on my monitor.

Eddie Chang smiled at me from his mega-desk.

“Greetings, friends!” Chang was munching on a Twizzler. “Mind if I cut in?”

“How the frick!?!” Shelton sputtered.

“This chat group is totally private,” Hi fumed. “You can’t join without an invite!”

Even Ben looked startled.

“Guys,” Chang said breezily, “I just delivered a stranger’s phone records in less than ten minutes. You think hijacking a dinky little video chat was much trouble?”

Okay. Fair point.

“What can we help you with, Variance?” I asked, as politely as possible. Acquiring a computer-hacker enemy was not on my bucket list.

“Actually, I’m here to help
you.
I did some more digging into that file tree we found.”

“How?” Shelton squawked. “We took the flash drive home with us.”

“Yeah, I copied your data stick. Sorry, it’s what hackers do. Don’t stress, though, I found the decoded files super-boring—I couldn’t care less about veterinary medicine. But that ghost tree is cutting edge. I
had
to see if I could crack those B-Series files.”

My blood ran cold. Chang had read Karsten’s files. Could we trust him?

Stay calm. Nothing in those records ties back to us.

“Well?” Voice level. “Did you?”

“Not even close. There’s no way around it—in order to read
those
files, you’ll have to physically connect to their home server. I’m bummed, too.”

“Well, thanks for trying,” Hi said. “Even though you lied to us, and we asked you not to.”

“No problem. I
did
manage to locate the server, however.”

I sat straighter in my chair. “And you’ll tell us where?”

“Take this freebee as my apology.” Chang drum-rolled his fingers. “The B-Series files . . . are physically housed . . . on a server
at
 . . . the South Carolina Aquarium!”

An actual rimshot played on my speakers.

“The aquarium?” Ben looked as confused as I felt.

Chang shrugged. “I’m a hundred percent certain, hombres. The server in question is leased to the freaking aquarium. But get this, the hardware is
licensed
to another entity. A Big Pharma outfit. Who knew drug manufacturers are bankrolling all the little fishies?”

My heart dropped. “You have a name?”

Chang tapped a button. A logo appeared on my screen.

“Candela Pharmaceuticals. Sounds incredibly boring. Peace out!”

Chang’s grinning visage blinked from my screen.

 

Friday

T
hat night, I slept like the dead.

But when my alarm sounded early the next morning, I staggered to my feet, showered and dressed quickly, and hurried downstairs. I wanted to avoid Kit.

I needn’t have bothered.

“Your daddy already left for work.” Whitney was wrapped in a floral bathrobe, blending a smoothie. “He said your attendance at dinner is
required.

“Thanks.” Execution deferred.

“We can talk then about tomorrow’s block party. I’m going to need your help setting up, and getting the food all squared away.”

“Sure.” Grabbing a banana. “Just let me know.”

Twenty minutes later, I was down at the dock.

Hi and Shelton were waiting, Bolton jackets slung over their shoulders. The temperature was already eighty degrees, with the humidity on full blast, putting my deodorant to the test.

“You still wanna go this morning?” Hi asked.

I nodded. “The aquarium opens at nine. If we get there early, we can avoid the tourist rush.”

“There won’t be any
tourists
in the off-limits areas,” Shelton grumbled. “Just security guards, killer fish, and a maze of rooms we don’t know how to navigate.”

“We’ll manage,” I said simply. “We always do.”

“You missed two classes yesterday, chasing Ben.” Hi waggled a finger. “Another absence might catch Headmaster Paugh’s attention.”

My mood soured. “I know. And Kit’s on my case about our stunt at LIRI.”
Not to mention Whitney. Or Chance.
“But Chang has me spooked about those B-Series files. Candela being involved really freaks me out. I don’t think we can risk waiting.”

Tom Blue appeared from inside
Hugo
’s cabin and waived us aboard.

“Actually, I agree.” Hi led us toward seats in the bow. “We’re gonna go eventually, so why
not
today? The crowd should be small. No one visits the aquarium on a Friday morning in April.”

“Ben’s picking us up at eight forty-five,” I reminded unnecessarily. “A block from school, on Gadsden. We go to first period, then ditch second. Hopeful we’re back by lunch. Maybe sooner.”

Hugo
rounded Morris Island and slipped into Charleston Harbor. The downtown peninsula appeared, grew larger as we chugged for the city marina. Seabirds filled the air, calling and circling the stern. The breeze carried the twin perfumes of salt and seafoam.

Another beautiful morning in the Lowcountry.

I rose. Stretched. Tried to shake away my lethargy.

Get ready. Today is make or break.

• • •

“That’s just stupid, Tory! Quit being so damn stubborn!”

“Not a chance! You’ve got some kind of death wish! We can’t even
trust
our powers lately. They’re too erratic for a public heist.”

Ben thumped the steering wheel in frustration. “Maybe for
you.

I glowered at Ben from the backseat. I’d given Hi shotgun, having sensed this argument was inevitable. I didn’t want to be close. The urge to slap might become overpowering.

“Why don’t we all use our friendly words?” Hi suggested. “Let’s take five, and everyone can say something we
like
about each other. I’ll start. Shelton, you’re super at—”

“Shut up, Hi!” Ben and I shouted, the first thing we’d agreed upon all morning.


In any case,
” I continued, “we’re not flaring downtown, in broad daylight, inside a packed aquarium,” I repeated. “The risk is
way
too high. I can’t believe we’re even
discussing
this!”

“You want us to find the server room,” Ben shot back. “That means sneaking around where we’re not supposed to be, dodging guards, and generally trying to be invisible. You don’t think that our particular set of skills might come in handy?”

“Like Liam Neeson,” Hi offered to no one in particular. “He
did
find his daughter.”

“Tory’s right,” Shelton said from the seat beside me. “I love the edge that flaring give us, but it’s not something we can use
everywhere.
Never has been. What happens if we run smack into somebody, eyes glowing like a pack of werewolves?”

“We won’t run into anyone if we use our powers,” Ben insisted. “That’s the
point.

“No.” I crossed my arms. “Either we agree on this, or I’m walking back to Bolton Prep.”

Ben tensed. I could practically feel his exasperation. Then he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, the heat was gone from his voice.

“Fine. No flares. Happy?”

“Thank you.” I exited the vehicle before the argument could rekindle.

The South Carolina Aquarium is on the opposite side of downtown from police HQ, on the peninsula’s eastern edge. Opened in 2000, the building has approximately ninety thousand square feet of floor space, and is home to over ten thousand animals.

Not just tropical fish, either—the aquarium houses a vast array of aquatic-based wildlife. Alligators. Pythons. Hawks. All told, sixty exhibits are organized into five groups, each representing a region of the Appalachian watershed—Mountains, Piedmont, Coastal Plain, Coast, and Ocean.

The main draw is the Great Ocean tank, a 385,000-gallon, two-story behemoth that holds nearly a thousand sharks, sting rays, sea turtles, and other saltwater creatures. I’d seen it twice, and was amazed both times.

“Can we check out the dolphins before breaking and entering?” Hi asked as we crossed the nearly empty parking lot.

“None inside.” Shelton consulted a handout he’d printed. “It’s illegal to keep a dolphin or whale in captivity in this state. But there’s a viewing deck that overlooks the harbor. You can see a ton of dolphins from there.”

“Does that have a map?” I asked. The entrance was a few yards ahead.

Shelton nodded. “There are two floors, and a trail you’re supposed to follow.”

“I guess it makes sense to just go with the flow. Until we see a likely entry point.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Hi unbuttoned his collar and rolled up his sleeves.

We’d ditched jackets and ties in the SUV, but our matching outfits marked us as truants to anyone paying attention. Nothing to be done. If hassled, we’d make something up—I was confident Hi had an outlandish cover story prepped and waiting.

We bought four student tickets and stepped into the main lobby.

“According to this flyer, you start upstairs,” Shelton said. “Then you snake through the exhibits, working your way around the second floor and then back down.”

“Lead on,” I said.

We ascended a level, found ourselves in the Mountain Forest. A family of river otters welcomed us to their domain. Moving as quickly as possible without drawing notice, we passed through the Piedmont with no more than a few glances. At the Coastal Plain, however, we were forced to stop a full ten minutes while Hi ogled the albino alligator.

“You’re the coolest thing alive,” Hi breathed, as close to the bone-white reptile as he dared. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Crossing the building, we buzzed past the Salt Marsh’s birds and the Coast’s sea turtles. At each exhibit we searched for service doors and non-public areas, but found nothing promising.

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