Search (SEEK Book 1) (11 page)

“Relax. I have excellent pilots.” Jonathan’s easy tone sneaks up behind me.

“Oomph!” The grunt is involuntary like my body trying to leap up, only to have the lap-belt dig into my hips with such force I’m sure I’ll bruise.

“Sorry, I thought you heard me come in.”

“Normally I would’ve. I don’t like flying,” I mutter, wringing my hands.

And then we’re zooming down the runway. I squeeze my eyes tight, pressing my lips together. The plane pitches into the sky, tipping me sideways. I squeeze tighter.

“I can see that,” Jonathan’s voice says from a million miles away.

“Don’t laugh.” I choke on my words as the plane shutters.

“It’s just turbulence. It’ll pass in a minute. You can open your eyes.”

He’s right. A moment later the room doesn’t feel like I’m riding a missile anymore. I peek one eye at Jonathan; calm and comfortable in his luxurious plane, fiddling with a button on his stately recliner.

Within seconds, a pretty woman appears in the doorway in the rear of the jet.

“Keira, this is my assistant, Janet,” he says proudly, as though she’s someone to brag about.

Unfortunately, she is. I glance up the length of her—all six feet—kitten heels, perfectly molded pencil skirt, white blouse unbuttoned to her navel, and blonde waves resting neatly on her shoulders. I hate her immediately. 

“Hey,” I grunt, straightening the hem of this idiotic pinafore.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, her long false lashes fluttering at me.

I nod, turning to the window. Off the tip of the wing a layer of paw-print clouds dot the sky as the sun sinks low on the horizon. If I don’t think about the fact that I’m locked inside a fiberglass tube hurtling through the air, the flying part is almost relaxing.

“We’ll take our meals now. You’re hungry, Keira?”

“Hmmm?” I stir from the daydream.

“Ready for dinner?” Jonathan asks.

“Sure.” My stomach gurgles emptily at the mention of food.

“Right away,” Janet gushes, batting her eyelashes at Jonathan without even acknowledging my presence.

I watch her strut gracefully back to the door. A twinge of jealousy I’ve never known before burns in my chest.

“And get me Paul’s new address, please,” Jonathan adds.

Janet nods. “Of course.”

“Paul?” I ask, shaking off my feelings of invisibility.

“Paul used to be in the Brotherhood but now he’s in hiding. I’ve tracked him to Shrewsbury.”

Jonathan kicks his boots off, which still have traces of red mud around the soles, and tips his recliner back a notch. “Paul’s got more insider knowledge than I do. He can help us.”

As Jonathan’s making himself comfortable one thing becomes painfully clear, he belongs in this lavish setting. I do not. Even in his funny, ill-fitting peasant pants and puffy shirt he looks at home. I, on the other hand, look like a child lost in his aristocratic lifestyle.

“If Janet can find him, he can’t be doing a very good job of hiding,” I say, scooting to the edge of my seat so my feet reach the floor.

Jonathan lets out a rich laugh. “I’m going to tell you something. Something I’ve never told anyone else.”

“Why?” I crinkle my lip.

Confusion blinks in his eyes. “Because we’re partners.”

He says the word partners like it’s something we’ve already agreed upon. I sigh, sinking deeper into the chair. My world just keeps pressing against me from all sides, until there isn’t enough room in it for anyone else. “Look, Jonathan, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but you saw what happen to Cord, my last partner. I think it’s better if we, ya know, split up.”

“Keira, don’t you get it? I think we’re
meant
to do this—expose Kistall, expose Episteme, out them all—together. That’s why the Khayal paired us.”

It’s hard not to believe him. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be alone. Then I remember Janet in the other room—ready to pounce at the first chance—and how chummy he is with his pilots. This guy is likable, good-looking and rich—no way is he ever going to be alone.

Then why does he want someone suspicious, paranoid, moody and well…like me, around? I stare at him, deciding there must be something wrong with him. “I don’t think the Khayal paired us up together. I think Kistall did by accident. There’s no deeper meaning.”

Jonathan watches me, all the while smiling politely, and nods as though I’ve suggested getting ice cream. “Ah, thanks but no thanks, huh? Tell you what. Let’s go talk to Paul and if you’re still not convinced, I’ll have my pilot take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Anywhere?” All of my self-imposed determination circles the cabin, like a mosquito looking for a place to land. “All I have to do is hear this guy out and you’ll loan me your plane?”

“Yep.” He smiles confidently.

“Can I make a roundtrip?”

“Sure.”

I could get Lindy and my family. “Okay, I’ll go with you, but don’t expect me to change my mind.”

Jonathan’s grin fades. “Remember earlier, when you asked how I do things with my computer? Well, I don’t know how much SEEK’s Intel told you, but a couple of years ago I was just a high school geek who did Cosplay, computer club and marching band.

He laughs at my expression. “I know, I said I was a geek.”

“You did warn me.” I grimace, trying to picture it.

“Anyway, one of the websites I frequented had a game of spies and espionage, ironically, my favorite challenge. While I was creating my character’s personality, I guess I got a little carried away, because I ended up making this program, BackWatch. A whole program, just for a fictional character.” Disbelief with a hint of pride fills his eyes. “It was just a game. I never dreamed it would turn into a reality.”   

“I’m not following you.” I wrap an arm around my empty middle, wondering what’s taking the blonde so long.

“BackWatch was just a prop. The whole thing was made for fun, but when I realized it might actually work, I tried it. I made a website and advertised that people could download BackWatch for free to protect their computers from phishers, spammers, cookies, viruses, or anything that might infect their computers. The site exploded. I had three million hits in my first month. Businesses started making donations. Others began buying advertising on my site. Six months later I had offers from multiple security companies to buy BackWatch. I was a junior in high school when I accepted an offer of five-hundred million dollars.”

I blink.

“But, there’s another part to BackWatch I never told
anyone
about. The name BackWatch doesn’t describe what it does for the consumer. It describes what it does for me.” His hand comes up covering his face, just for a second, before his head whips up laughing. “It gives me a backdoor into every computer and security system that uses BackWatch. And no one knows I’m there. Like a ghost. Today, the Department of Defense uses my program. Although I have to be careful there, their security is trickier. Private contractors, hired by our government, also use it…”

“I’ve used it. SEEK uses it and Kistall too!” Both hands fly over my mouth. “That’s how you found my family.”

“Yes, Keira, listen to him,”
the same disembodied voice I’ve been hearing for days answers in my ear. I shiver, unbuckling the seatbelt, and draw my knees onto the chair. An effort to block it out. Pretend it doesn’t exist.

“Yep, and my access isn’t limited to our government. The Avery Corporation that bought BackWatch took it global. BackWatch is like a virus of breadcrumbs I can follow almost anywhere. I literally can get into any bank, police department, even the Secret Service or the I.R.S.’s most private documents. That’s how I found Paul. He’s well-hidden from Kistall and Episteme, but he sent an email from his phone.”

“What? How can you track…on a cell phone?” I choke, simultaneously mortified and awestruck.

“Paul’s been up to some pretty interesting activities. I think you’ll want to see.” The streaming rays of late morning sun glimmer in his unnaturally bright eyes.

“I can only imagine,” I whisper, absently picking at a jagged nail, my mind still reeling over Jonathan’s capabilities.

“It could help Lindy.” Jonathan’s lips curve upward.

Like a giant vacuum suddenly sucks the oxygen out of the room, I can’t catch my breath. Jonathan knows about Lindy. Of course he does. He probably knows what I wore to my winter formal.

“How can Paul help Lindy? She just needs a Khayal, right?”

Jonathan’s eyes lock on mine. “Yes, but not just any Khayal, her Khayal. According to Paul there’s only one Khayal that fits a person’s soul. Paul could help locate the right one for your sister by using a database his tactical team has developed.”

“What?” I gasp as all of my plans dissolve into a puddle of failure once again. Still, I can’t escape the nagging feeling that Jonathan is wrong on this one. “Only one match? That would mean her Khayal could be anywhere. What if she’s in the Boone right now and gets killed?”

“That’s not likely. Lindy’s Khayal would’ve been trying to find her in Florida. Now that she’s moved, the Khayal might be making her way north. But it’ll be easier to show you. The best part is Paul’s formed an underground army to save the Khayal by using Episteme’s technique.”

I study him, wondering if I should say anything or not, he looks so sure of his information, but for Lindy’s sake I have to know. “Army or not, Paul has to be wrong. I was bitten by two Khayal, the first one I shot, remember?”  

Jonathan’s silent shrug is louder than any denial he could utter.

“You already knew,” I say.

“Paul could be wrong, but so is the Brotherhood. The Khayal do have an order to how they chose a person. I’ve seen it firsthand. The Brotherhood tried to push their top people to be chosen by Khayal and failed. Paul’s using an algorithm to determine the likelihood of a Khayal-to-human bond.”

“But it’s not for certain. I mean, no one really knows for sure. What would happen if I took Lindy into a den of Khayal? A Khayal might choose her.”

“Essentially, but with Paul’s program her chances are phenomenally higher.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you don’t believe me? Or okay you’ll come meet Paul?” Jonathan asks, a hopeful spark burning in his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” His hands rub together.

“But if I don’t like the situation, I leave, with your plane. No questions asked,” I remind him.

Jonathan leans over the aisle with an outstretched arm, offering me a handshake. “Deal.”

I accept the gesture and it seems it’s done. Jonathan may have just answered all of my prayers. Or at least he’s solved the dilemma of how to get my family out of Washington State. Now all that’s left to do is get them out of a house under twenty-four hour surveillance.

“Hey, what other tricks can BackWatch do? Any chance you could help me—?” I begin to ask if he’ll make sure Cord is being buried with honors and see how Jackson’s doing. But my questions are interrupted by the appearance of the older, uber-sophisticated, leggy-blonde pushing a cart of still-steaming burgers and French fries. The smell alone leaves me drooling as Janet sets the plate in front of me. “Thanks.” I try not to think about how ridiculous I look next to her in this Amish prairie-girl dress as she moves on to Jonathan.

“I read your status while you were driving. You love gourmet burgers, right?” He beams at me proudly.

“I feel violated.” I wipe my chin and choke back a laugh. Jonathan looks like a rat caught in a trap. “I’m kidding. But you should know that my entire account is bogus. I don’t know any of my ‘friends’ and every single status posted on there is a lie except one. I do love a good burger.”

“I assumed SEEK didn’t let you go to concerts and raves.” He nods, scarfing down another steak fry. “But the post you wrote about missing The Hangout’s burgers couldn’t have been faked. That came from your heart.”

My face burns hot. My own family never suspected a thing about my social media posts. I mean, I took the time to be authentic. I even befriended people who actually go to Brown. I posted the same things they were posting. “How could you know that? Did your little backdoor tell you that?”

Jonathan chuckles into a fist. “No. I could just tell it was really written by you. You must’ve been feeling homesick last June.”

My stomach churns, the half-eaten burger looking for a sudden escape route from my stomach. June twelfth. Lindy’s accident anniversary. Two days before her birthday. We always went to the Hangout in Gulf Shores Alabama for burgers on Lindy’s birthday. I was homesick. I still am.

“You okay?” Jonathan asks when I push the half-finished meal away.

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” I rest my head against the chair, willing the memories of what can never be again to leave me in peace.

I drift to sleep.

Instead of tranquility, remorse rolls on like a scary movie boiled down to the pivotal points playing over and over in my dreams. June twelfth the police came to our door at three in the morning. My mom wouldn’t stop crying as we drove to the hospital. Lindy was more machines and bandages than human when we arrived. What little of her we could see was bruised and bloodied. My mom and dad were both crying.