Surveillance (Ghost Targets Book 1) (21 page)

"You're telling me an awful lot of your secrets, Martin." She tried to sound off-hand, but she watched him as she said it, hoping to gauge his reaction. For a long time he didn't react at all, and she was beginning to worry he hadn't heard her when he finally answered. He didn't meet her eyes.

"Katie," he said, "I don't like ghosts. I don't like being one. I'm... it's just...." He met her eyes then, begging her to understand. "Hathor could have been something new in human history. Think about it. For the very first time, we have the ability to see everything people do, to hear everything they say. For the very first time, we can demand immediate accountability. We're not talking about morality dependent on belief in some un-provable, horrifying afterlife. We're talking about human behavior, here and now, completely exposed and permanently recorded by the all-seeing eye."

He let out a long breath. "That potential is still there, but right now the system is corrupt. It's not
Hathor
 that's broken, it's the people who present Hathor to the world. While the system is trying to genuinely, honestly watch over the lives of men, someone at the heart of the system is selling indulgences to those rich or powerful enough to buy blindness. And those corrupt administrators—whether we're talking Jeremy or the system administrators at Hathor Corp.—they are making money hand-over-fist off of the sins of those people so small-minded that they don't
want
 a new age of man." His hands clenched in fists. "Today the database services are just soulless corporations, but they really could be gods tomorrow. All that stands in the way are the ghosts."

She shook her head. "If you believe that," and it certainly sounded like he did, "why—"

"Why have I been a ghost all this time?" He sighed. "Because I had the opportunity. Because I was a young man, offered extraordinary power, and it was fun. More than that, it's because I know there are other guys out there, guys like Jeremy, yes, who are short-circuiting the system for personal gain. And as long as that's going on, I thought, maybe the system needs someone else on the inside, someone equally powerful, to try to hold things together."

"I understand that," she said. "What you said about working with Jurisprudence earlier...Martin, I've been using that service all my life, to do real good. You have changed the world for the better. You can take some pride in that."

He looked out the window. "No, Katie. I was wrong. From the very first, I was wrong. I tried to play the game. I walked away from my family so that I could keep the power. I indulged in a life of privacy and authority most people will never know, and I have known for
years
 that it was wrong, and I've just gone along. At first it was loyalty to an old friend," his mouth twisted into a sneer, "then for a while it was complacence, and eventually, it was fear." His eyes met hers with a deep self-loathing. "I didn't
want
 to be on the outside, just a normal man. I wasn't sure I could live without the power. Instead, it was Janeane who died, for my pride and foolishness."

He blinked away tears. "It helps to have you," he said, and drew a shuddering breath. "I never trusted Rick, Katie. He's too driven, too ambitious. And he hates the system. He hates Hathor, not just the ghosts. I can't trust a man like that."

For a while after that, neither said anything. Martin stared out the window. Katie lost herself in her own thoughts, trying to grasp the depth of the old man's heartache. Ghoster had nailed it—Hathor had been a religion to Martin. He had built a life inside the system, protected, powerful, and now he risked everything in search of reform. What must it have been like to carry that burden through so many years?

And what about the man who had built the system with him? The man who broke Martin's god, corrupted Martin's religion? Jesus Velez, an ironic choice for an alias, and she wondered if it had been deliberate, almost two decades ago.

As if in answer to her thoughts, Martin said, "I'm going to kill him." There was no emotion in his voice, and he never turned from the window. "Jurisprudence can't touch him, so I will kill him. Then you can arrest me, Katie. You can take me back to your boss all tied up with string, like a present on Christmas, and I'll tell you everything you need to know, to fix Hathor once and for all. You'll be the FBI's little darling, and my Hathor will be whole. But first...." He turned away from the window at last, and Katie caught a glimpse of Velez's personal details on the handheld as Martin got back to work on it. "First I'm going to kill him."

She couldn't draw him back into conversation after that, to talk him out of it or even learn more of his plans. And she couldn't let him go alone, either. Katie didn't know if it was her responsibility to prevent Martin committing murder, or to protect this broken, defeated man from a monster who had already killed before, but either way, she couldn't let him go alone. When the train pulled into the station, Martin immediately jumped to his feet and headed out into the corridor. She followed along, three feet behind him, walking in the footsteps of her ghostly avatar.

The plane ride was eerily silent, too. Without a private cabin to seal off, every headset in the plane threatened to announce her location directly to the FBI if she so much as asked for a Coke. So she shook her head politely whenever a flight attendant spoke to her, and looked around the cabin at all the other passengers, busily working on their handhelds or watching movies, listening to music or recording voicenotes through their headsets. She had nothing. Her only connection to the world was Martin, so she sat close to him and watched over his shoulder as he researched Velez.

He wasn't watching the man's movements anymore. He'd probably long since learned all he could from immediate data. Instead he was digging back through time, looking up anything of significance Velez had done. There wasn't much to find, and Martin was apparently a rapid reader, because he often opened articles, scanned them, and then closed them out before Katie had finished reading the leads. He read up on Argentina, particularly its tech policy, over the course of the last five to ten years. At one point he glanced over and saw her reading over his shoulder. He looked down, then back to her again.

"We haven't been in touch for a while. I'm starting to think he left the states a long time ago. It's weird, though...." He trailed off, and didn't respond when she raised an eyebrow for an answer. He hadn't given her the pad of paper back, either, so she was left without a voice, while his thoughts carried him away, back into his research.

She couldn't keep up, so she finally fell back into her chair and tried to sleep. She dozed for hours at a time, but never really slept. Finally, after what seemed like days, the plane touched down in Buenos Aires, and they disembarked into a crowded airport. Martin leaned close as they bustled through the concourse, and shouted so she could hear over the noise of the crowd. "I've found where he's staying. It was tricky, but there's a shop in town with a ridiculous energy bill, and the bulk of it is getting paid on the sly by an anonymous account. I'd bet my last dollar it's Velez's hideout." He didn't smile, but there was a bounce in his step, and a dreadful determination in his face.

Then it hit her, with a dreadful force. He had her gun. He had to, to talk of killing Velez with such certainty. She'd given it over to him back in DC and just trusted him to drop it in the mail, with the rest of her stuff. She watched him stride toward the exit, full of purpose, from her place three feet back.

They left the airport and immediately a car called from the nearby curb, shouting out the alias Martin had used to board the plane. He reached for the door, and while his attention was diverted Katie hit him with both hands, knocking him back against the side of the car. He gasped in surprise, but she ignored him, intent on what she was doing.

She started at his shoulders, slapping the outside of his jacket, then reached inside to check under his arms and the inside pockets. She patted him down, top to bottom, but didn't find what she was looking for. He didn't have the gun on him. She did find the battered notepad, though, and pulled it out of his pocket with the pen, while he watched her in sheer astonishment.

Then she nodded toward the car door. He cautiously slid past her and ducked into its interior. She followed him a second later, and fell into the seat behind him, already scribbling on the pad.

"What was that about?" He reached around to prod at his side, where she'd hit him, and winced.

She shook her head, unwilling to voice her suspicions. Instead she showed him the questions she'd written. "Is it safe to talk? Can you secure the car's interior?"

He squinted at her penmanship, then shrugged. "I can, maybe. Probably. But it would take too long. It's not worth it. We could be at his place in ten minutes—" She held up a finger, a stern look in her eyes, and he stopped short. "What?"

She held the glare for a moment, then went back to the notepad. "If we're going to do this," she wrote, "we're going to do it smart. He seems like a dangerous man. We're not rushing straight to his house."

Martin frowned, considering. "Well, what would you suggest?"

She wrote, "market," and when he looked uncomprehending, she underlined it with some force. It seemed like the best way to catch him out of his element. He went to the same market every day, like clockwork. For all they knew, his house was fortified against intruders, but if they could catch him out in the open air, they could take him where they wanted. Maybe the local police station, maybe some dark alley. They would have time to figure that out later.

She didn't have time to explain any of that, though. Just as she put pen to paper, a delighted voice spoke from the driver's monitor. "Ah, Martin. I'm so glad you've finally come to visit me."

Martin stammered, "Ve—Velez."

Martin's eyes widened in surprise, then whipped to the monitor even as the same route from Martin's handheld appeared on it. Velez's lair. "It works out well," Velez said, "because I've reconsidered. I will accept your help, after all."

Martin met Katie's eyes and shrugged. "Umm...excellent. Good." Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Velez laughed. "I'm glad you brought the girl, too. I think I would have had to get her delivered, if you hadn't. You know what they say about loose lips, Martin."

Martin's face fell, and she could see the guilt and concern in his eyes as he said, "Velez, she'll be helpful. She's...she's trustworthy. I'd swear to it." He pulled himself up, tall in his seat, and said, "And besides, she's under my protection."

"Of course." She could still hear the laughter in Velez's voice. The driver said they had eleven minutes until arrival. She couldn't imagine what to expect. Velez said, "Enjoy your trip. I'll just get a place ready for you."

The monitor's audio switched off, but there was no way to know if he was still listening. Katie raised an eyebrow at Martin, asking permission to speak, but he took it for a different question.

"I don't know," he said. "Technically, he...he wrote everything. The actual code, it's all his. He could easily be listening in now. He knew you were here, when even your boss at the FBI couldn't know that. I don't
think
 he could listen in on my headset, because it all routes through my home server, but I don't even know that. He might have heard everything...." He looked down at his hands. "Maybe you should run, Katie. When we arrive, as soon as the doors unlock, just run for it. I don't feel safe bringing you to Velez like this. Not after what he said."

She shook her head, then touched his arm to get his attention and shook her head more forcefully. She touched her chest with one hand, then touched his. "I'm with you."

He caught the meaning of that, and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I...that's what I did to Janeane, too. But without your help, I never could have...." He took a deep breath, and let it go. "I'm glad you're here, Katie. I'm sorry for everything, but I'm glad we're here together."

She couldn't have answered him, even if he'd allowed her to speak.

The car stopped shortly after that, and Katie took a breath to calm her beating heart. She wished for the reassuring weight of her gun in its holster, or the lifesaving cinch of her watch on her wrist, but she was alone here. She opened the door and climbed out into the breezy night. The car zipped back into the traffic, leaving them standing on a sidewalk before a run-down electronics store. Most of the wares in the window were worthless, relics of a past when new gadgets dominated the market quarterly. For a moment she considered plunging into the store, purchasing a handheld that would look as old and battered as Martin's, just to have something to record some notes on. Just to have something to hold, really, but it was a fleeting thought.

It was driven from her mind at the sight of the man standing outside, waiting for them. Ghoster's description sprang immediately to mind: "the whitest kid you've ever seen." He was in his fifties now, but the description still seemed to apply. He was a couple inches past six feet tall, skinny and pale. Clean-shaven, balding, and wearing clothes that had been unfashionable when they'd been for sale decades ago. When he caught her considering him, he grinned.

"Katie Pratt. Charmed, I'm sure. Martin, you always picked the pretty ones."

Martin growled, "Stop it."

She expected Velez to carry on his patter, to throw some rejoinder back at Martin, but he actually seemed cowed. He flinched away and shrugged, looking hurt. "Fine," he said. "I'm just trying to be friendly. Come on." He waved over his shoulder, and led them to some stairs that descended below the sidewalk. "I've got a basement apartment."

The apartment was below the electronics store, dimly lit with a handful of dying light bulbs in a shabby living room decorated with the sort of relic electronics sold upstairs. Velez didn't stop in the living room, though, and didn't bother giving a tour. He headed straight toward the back of the house, down a narrow hallway, and Martin and Katie followed behind. Katie's fear rapidly gave way to curiosity.