Techno Crazed (Hacked Investigations) (4 page)

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Authors: Sarah Makela

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BOOK: Techno Crazed (Hacked Investigations)
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Ian wrapped his arm under her shoulders to help support her as she hobbled along. Right now, she really wished she still had a car as opposed to a burnt lump of metal.

Sighing, she looked up at Ian’s apartment building. She could so curl up in a ball in his bed and sleep for a few days.

CHAPTER FIVE

 

Silence filled the apartment, except for the occasional sound of raking drifting in from the patio, where a small garden had been set up for the gnome. Wow, a time when Bernard didn’t make trouble.

Ian locked the door behind them and resealed the ward. “We’re back. Hannah’s not doing too well. We had a couple people chase us.”

A red, pointed hat poked around the corner from the garden, and Bernard trudged toward them. “Yes, I see. While you were gone, we had some visitors. People were sniffing around in the hallway and looking at the door. They’ll be coming back.” He cocked his head to the side and stared way up at them from knee-height. “Come on, pretty girl, lie down for me!”

Hannah raised both of her eyebrows and shot a glare at Ian. She walked over to the couch reluctantly. “Fine.”

“Don’t forget to take off those CLOTHES.” Bernard followed her, watching her ass.

“I’m not taking off my clothes. Work around them.”

“But…”

“No, she doesn’t need to get naked, Bernard. Don’t be such a pervert.” Not that he’d mind seeing her undressed. Ian walked to his favorite armchair and slouched into it, supervising them. He wouldn’t leave Hannah vulnerable while Bernard worked his magic. He knew Bernard could be pretty pushy when it came to getting touchy-feely.

“Hrummmpft!” Bernard ran his hands near the blood-oozing wound. “Seems like you busted a few stitches. Exertion must’ve caused it.” The way he drawled out exertion made it sound almost vulgar. “I can fix this.” He chanted under his breath and held his hands over the wound but stopped. Glancing over at Hannah’s face, he chuckled. “Although, what do I get for helping, eh? Does Bernie get a KISS?”

Hannah’s eyes widened, and she pushed him away. “Hell, no!”

Sighing, he shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t hurt to ask. Unless, of course, pain is your thing!” Then he picked up chanting for a few more minutes. “I need my bag now.”

“Do I look like your nurse?” Ian sighed but fetched Bernard’s bag anyway. He might’ve resisted more if it had been anyone but Hannah. But he wanted her to be whole again. And he wanted that now. Especially with the danger they were up against. How had the men found them near the store? Nothing was coincidence with those guys.

Hannah’s new clothes. Shit! He should’ve paid for those as well. He knew there’d been a strong chance of them tracking her banking chip.

He dropped the bag next to Bernard and sat in the armchair, holding his head. A headache pressed against the back of his eyes. His field of vision narrowed a little, and jigsaw lines danced at the edges, forming, disappearing, and reforming in chaotic patterns.

Bernard paid him little attention, focusing mostly on his gnomish chanting while he stitched the wound up. Ian helped out by handing him various tools and talismans.

“That should do it. Come on, big girl, stop whimpering, you aren’t in my bed yet!” Bernard grinned wide and turned, seeing Ian push his palm into the side of his head. His smile faltered.

“What’s wrong? Why is everyone quiet?” Hannah lifted her head slowly from the couch pillow.

“Okay, girl, Ian needs peace and quiet. Ever hear of migraines? Ian has something similar, except it’s affecting his magic. Or maybe is triggered by it. He needs to lie down for a while. That means sleeping. No sex, you slut,” Bernard said in a low tone, his grin rebounding across his face. He toddled over to Ian and put a hand against his forehead, then mumbled a few words.

A moment later, Bernard moved away. Dull stabbing sensations still weighed on Ian, but at least the pain had lessened.

Hannah helped him to the bedroom. He felt weak, his normal sense of strength gone. Ian took the chips he’d retrieved from Rich and gave them to Hannah. “Set these farther away. I might do something to them without noticing. I need to rest for a while.” He rolled under the covers, watching her.

Setting the chips aside, she closed the bedroom door. A moment passed before he could hear Bernard say, “Feeling tired yet, pretty lady? Why won’t you lay down and take a nap with Uncle Bernie?” The gnome chuckled loudly.

The bedroom door opened again, and Hannah crept inside, her eyes wide and her skin a little pale. She locked the door behind her.

“And absolutely no sex!” the gnome yelled from the other side of the door.

* * *

The sound of constant tapping woke Ian. Hannah had snuggled up close to him, and his head felt somewhat better. He opened the bedroom door and saw Bernard sitting on the coffee table staring at the front door.

The gnome tilted his head and looked at him. “They’re here. With some strange tools. Do they think the door is going to give in like an old safe? Just shows what kind of people we’re dealing with. All muscle, no brain.”

Ian tiptoed to the door and looked into the hallway using the peephole. Two men in blazers and an older gentleman with a variety of lock picks were outside. The locksmith was sweating steadily, and the men behind him had impatience written in their rigid stances.

Touching the handle gently, Ian tried to estimate the power of the ward. The tinkering outside was good—excellent for human standards. The older gentleman had the latest lock picks on the market. He used tiny nanofilaments made from various types of metals and carbon, allowing the small wires to slip inside the lock and give an estimate of the actual shape of the key. The nanofilaments were reliable enough to provide an almost exact match, similar to an old, well-used key turning in a lock without a hitch.

Various oils and corrosive acids had already been added to clean dirt and other unwanted material from the lock. In addition, the acids made the lock’s surface more susceptible for picking, allowing the mechanism to slide more than it should have.

That is, if it had been a normal lock. Thanks to Bernard’s magic against these elements and increased durability, the lock simply ignored the acids. His own ward prevented any technology from working properly inside the lock without first disengaging the ward. His backup wards would repel any other regular force.

Paranoid? Oh, yeah!

Ian sighed with relief and stepped away. As long as they were using normal methods, he was perfectly safe. The fire escape and windows had similar-style warding on them, allowing them to remain protected against burglars.

He went to the living room, where Bernard sat on the coffee table, overly happy at the frustration coming from outside. Not only did his curse inflict frustration and negative emotions by his mere presence, but he was sensitive to others’ emotions and utterly enjoyed feelings of annoyance, frustration and despair.

“Come on, Bernard, you don’t need an emotional high,” Ian said, nudging the gnome gently.

“Please. You rarely give me a decent fix. Those out there are like the police burning a huge pile of weed next door to a rehab clinic. Besides, I put up those wards with you. This is my reward. Actually… let me get a little closer.” Bernard dropped onto the carpet and inched toward the door.

Ian grimaced at the gnome and took Rich’s ID and the banking chips Hannah had left on the end table. He sat in his office with its pile of electronics and computers. Once he figured out these chips, maybe they could decide on a plan of action. He placed Rich’s ID chip near an RF reader and let his magic do the work.

Within moments, his computer had a perfect copy of the chip’s contents on the hard drive, and most of it had been analyzed. Browsing the binary data, he tried to find messages Rich might have left in the normally unreadable areas of the chips.

Here and there, familiar door codes and access information to servers popped out. The irony wasn’t lost on him. The binary jokes in the chip pointed to MAX Home Security as a two-sided company. On one hand, they were strict and brutal, enforcing their policies and protecting their customers with zeal. On the other hand, they were too lax to change access codes to doors and servers on a regular basis and tended to cycle over similar codes when they did reset them.

He changed the chip and went over Rich’s banking information. Beyond regular gas purchases, rent, groceries, and a few adult-rated sites, something stood out at him. Every Thursday, Rich ate at a local Japanese teahouse. That wasn’t his type of place. He’d known Rich to eat a steak or hamburger and lasagna from a nearby Italian restaurant, but he always drank coffee. Never tea.

He leaned his head into his palms and sighed. “What did you get yourself into?” Staring back at the computer, he printed out the information for Hannah. He picked up the ID chip and took another look. It still had something in it he just couldn’t put his finger on.

Hannah walked out of the bedroom and crossed her arms under her breasts. “What’s that noise?” Her voice was sleepy and quiet.

“People trying to break in. Come over here. I checked out Rich’s chips. I’d like to go over them.” Ian frowned at Hannah’s stunned face. “What’s wrong?”

Hannah shoved her hands through her hair. “Breaking in? Shouldn’t we get out of here? Why didn’t you wake me up?” She looked around at the somewhat quiet scene. Bernard sat, eyes half closed, staring at the front door and humming to himself. Then there was Ian, lounging in front of his computers, unalarmed by someone trying to get into his apartment.

“There is a ward on the door. They can’t get in. Besides, you were fast asleep when I got up. I didn’t want to bother you. We’re perfectly safe here. We have food, water, and a very happy gnome. Anyway, read through this. I’ll go make us something to eat.” Ian stood and walked toward the kitchen.

Hannah grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Wait. What if they do get in? And what’s a ward? I don’t understand.”

His eyebrows drew together. What was with him? First, he’d had a migraine last night, when she’d never known him to have those, and now he seemed totally fine with someone breaking into his apartment? She rubbed her eyes and sighed.

“I promise everything will be okay. We’re safe here. A ward is a magical barrier that remains active until broken or disengaged. They have no way to break it. They don’t even know it’s there.” He smiled and walked into the kitchen, out of sight.

She frowned, staring down at Ian’s desk until her gaze zeroed in on the papers sitting on his printer. They had lots of details about Rich. Bank account information, among other things. She pinched the bridge of her nose, not feeling her best. Her world was crashing down. How the hell was she supposed to concentrate?

She snatched up the papers and walked into the kitchen to put distance between herself and the noise of whoever was trying to get into Ian’s apartment. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

“Anything else you’d like to share aside from all this information? It’s a little hard for me to pinpoint what’s odd when I don’t have much of an idea who Rich was.” She sat at the kitchen table and watched Ian grab a skillet from a drawer under the oven. For a technomage, his kitchen was decidedly low-tech.

He looked at her for a moment and sighed, setting the skillet on the stove range before sauntering over to her and slumping into the chair across the table. “Things I noticed were pass codes, door codes, etc. But his bank statement said a lot. He went to a teashop every Thursday. That’s not like him. He didn’t drink tea.” He pointed to different instances on the sheets of paper.

What had Rich done?

“Geez. This is pretty intense.” She stared into his eyes.

A gunshot blast came from the other room. She darted to the entrance of the kitchen, bumping into Ian.

There were no signs of entry. The only sign of anything off was Bernard leaning against the front door, caressing the wood lovingly.

“What’s he doing?” she asked.

CHAPTER SIX

 

“Oh, God. What did you do, Bernard?” Ian jogged toward the door and looked through the peephole.

One of the guards had killed the other. The tall man stared at the locksmith with fury in his gaze, but that didn’t look like something a normal person would feel. No, it seemed almost animalistic and raw.

Ian cut a glance at the gnome. “Get away from the door.”

Bernard blinked and shivered. “Too good. Too, too good. Can’t leave. Nuh uh. Won’t leave.”

“I’m cutting you off. I knew this was a bad idea.” Just then, another shot rang out. Ian ducked. His nerves were ragged. He shakily looked through the peephole to see the other guard dead.

The locksmith stared down at his hands. A fine tremble shook his entire body. He lifted the gun slowly, and Ian knew where he’d be turning it next, if Ian didn’t act.

He grabbed Bernard, feeling a sharp wave of emotion crash over him. The gnome’s power was blasting intensely. Normally, he could shrug the ill effect off with ease, but the strength of Bernard’s power right now was immense.

Desperation and the feeling of being alone crawled over him as he clenched his fists tighter. The colors in the hallway lost a touch of their warmth, turning slightly monochrome. Willing himself to let go, he tossed Bernard into his gnome-house and locked it. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the foul sensation that burned him so fiercely.

Hannah walked over to him, but he shook his head. “Not now. I’m a little unstable.” Her hand descended on his arm. Air rushed from his lungs that he hadn’t been aware of holding. His body relaxed more and more as she ran her hand up his arm. The toxicity of Bernard’s magic drifted away from him.

She stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.

He thrust his fingers into her hair and kissed her, feeding from her mouth. God, he wanted her. Everything within him screamed to claim her. Make her his own and not screw up this time. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled them toward the couch. But wait, he needed to check on the locksmith. Heaven forbid the guy took off before calling the cops, and he didn’t need the cops pestering him about the murders.

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