The Silence of Six (27 page)

“The CDN? I’m counting on it. Your backups have been rerouted to
these
servers,” Max said.

“Impossible.”

“They call Kevin Sharpe the Architect? Well I know the guy who designed your network in the first place.”

“Infiltraitor? He’s dead,” Vic said.

The phone on the desk rang. Vic stared at it for a long moment before answering. “Yes, sir. I’m aware. I’m on it.”

Vic hung up. His face was pale.

“You didn’t tell him about the worm,” Max said.

“He’ll figure it out soon enough, and I’m not going to be here when he does.” Vic glanced at his screen. “The server’s rebooting now. Sharpe isn’t going to get a chance to silence
me
.” Vic glanced at the guards. “Keep an eye on him. Both of them.
Everyone
.” He opened the door and walked out, right past his hacker team. They all watched him go with expressions of disgust.

“Shouldn’t we stop him?” PHYREWALL asked.

“Once we expose Sharpe and Panjea, he won’t have anywhere to go,” Max said.

Edifice poked his head inside the room. One of the guards swiveled and pulled a gun on him.

“Easy there, hoss. I just wanted to tell you there seems to be a large situation outside.”

PHYREWALL pressed a button on a remote and the screen switched to a view from a security camera outside. About two hundred people in masks were protesting in front of Synthwerks. They were carrying signs that said “Panjea: Everyone is
Collected
.” A Channel 7 news van was parked on the street behind them.

The guards glanced at each other.

Max grinned. In his video, he had appealed to the attendees of Haxx0rade to protest Panjea’s shady practices at Synthwerks. Apparently the small excerpt he’d provided from Evan’s files had been enough to convince them to mobilize, and they had come through just in time. He doubted Vic would be able to get around that crowd without attracting their attention and anger.

The guards rushed out of the office.

Max switched the monitor back to the browser. The other hackers filtered into the room and watched with them as Panjea came back online.

They were still logged in to Vic’s account. His Panjea Peers were all posting confused and annoyed comments about the site being down for so long. As far as Max knew, it was the first time it had ever been down for more than thirty seconds. But a few minutes was pretty good for it to turn into an all-new, truly transparent Panjea.

“They have no idea anything is different,” Max said.

The first news report about it would be going online now at
Full Cort Press
. Max had given Courtney a great story, along with Evan’s video, Max’s video, all the files, and an exclusive interview with Jem.

The desk phone rang again.

“Should we answer that?” PHYREWALL raised his eyebrows.

Max switched on the speaker.

“Hello,” Max said.

“Who is this? What’s going on over there?” a man barked.

“This is 503-ERROR,” Max said. “My friends and I just took down Panjea. You’re welcome.”

The other members of Dramatis Personai snickered.

“I assume this is Kevin Sharpe?” Max asked.

A short silence. “Where’s Vic?”

“He seemed to be in a hurry to leave,” Max said. “You wanted SH1FT, you got it. We were just returning stolen property, in better shape than we found it in, like good citizens.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself involved in.” Did Sharpe actually sound worried?

“You’re the one who had Ariel, Geordie, Sayid, Kyle, and Ty killed. And now it’s time to answer for your crimes.” Max swallowed. His blood pounded in his ears and he felt his muscles tighten with tension.

“I know who you are,” Sharpe said.

“Tell Governor Lovett she doesn’t have my support anymore.”

Sharpe hung up.

“Five-Oh-Three, what’s going on with Panjea?” GroundSloth nodded at the screen.

A new note had appeared on Vic’s feed—from Evan Baxter:

“When you buy the silence of six, everyone pays the price. For shame, Kevin Sharpe. http://small.panjea.truth.
”

“What the hell?” PHYREWALL said.

L0NELYB0Y had made a little tweak to the code for ST0P that would post a message like that to every Panjea user’s page. When they clicked on it, it would run the ST0P worm and take them to a site Courtney had set up to publish the e-mail archives Evan had collected. It also included a link to Evan’s full video on
Fawkes Rising
.

“Oh, it just made another update,” Edifice said.

Ariel Miller says, “I was murdered by Kevin Sharpe and Panjea.
http://small.panjea.truth.
”

A few minutes later:
Geordie Powers says, “I was murdered by Kevin Sharpe. The U.S. government owns Panjea, and it owns your personal information. ST0P government surveillance.
http://small.panjea.truth
.”

Max sat down in the desk chair as all the nervous energy that had kept him going suddenly left him. He felt shaky and exhausted. His shoulder had a dull ache. He wanted to sleep for a week.

Max’s cell phone rang. Plan(et)9 handed it to him. Max sighed with relief: It was Penny.

28

Max studied Penny from the
corner of his eye as he drove them to Granville Cemetery in his dad’s Impala. After a week of driving a series of unfamiliar stolen cars—which had all fortunately made it back to their owners, who were generous enough to not press charges—it felt great to be behind the wheel of a car he knew well.

Penny had been quiet since he’d picked her up from the train station half an hour ago. He couldn’t blame her—this was a somber occasion. But he hated to think they didn’t have anything to talk about now that Panjea and Sharpe were slowly slipping from front–page headlines to filler. Courtney was continuing to cover all the latest developments on her blog, which was now drawing national attention and keeping her busy.

Yesterday, Kevin Sharpe had been indicted on five counts of murder, conspiracy, and a range of other charges related to his illicit activities as the head of Sharpe & Company. Governor Angela Lovett—President-elect Lovett—had severed all ties with him as soon as his crimes came to light. That had been enough to drop her in the polls until she and Senator Tooms were neck and neck, but she managed to hold back the effects of the scandal, and won on Election Day anyway. Max still couldn’t believe it: The bad guy had become president.

The FBI was looking for Victor Ignacio.

Max and Penny hadn’t been charged with any crimes. Public sentiment was in their favor, but they were told in no uncertain terms that the FBI would be watching them more closely from there on out. Max couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder, expecting to see an unmarked car tailing him.

That hadn’t stopped him from doing the media circuit, granting TV interviews, trying to carry on what Evan had started and get the truth out. It was ironic that he had all but given up his own privacy in order to discuss it, but he was eager to return to a normal life.

Max was glad to be home, but even though he was back at school, he didn’t have his old life back. He didn’t think he ever would.

Instead, his life had become a very strange charade of pretending he was the same old Max. He and Courtney were no longer one of the school’s star couples, but they found they were even better as friends. Max had missed the end of the soccer season due to his shoulder injury, and while Isaac and Walter and the other guys tried to include him, the connection was missing. He couldn’t shake the feeling that despite everything he’d done, they didn’t trust him anymore.

Max had never felt more alone—even when he was on the run—and he’d been finding himself spending more time online, chatting with Risse and the tattered remains of Dramatis Personai, which seemed ready to embrace Max as 0MN1’s replacement.

The real difference, and the one thing he couldn’t do anything about, was that Evan was gone. No matter how much he hoped, no matter how many times he dreamed that Evan was still alive—better than the nightmares about him dying—his friend wasn’t coming back. People kept calling Max a hero, but Evan was the real hero. Even after making the ultimate sacrifice, people weren’t giving him the attention and praise he deserved.

Max still struggled to understand why Evan had chosen to deliver his message the way he had instead of fighting on. For all the theories he could come up with, he would probably never have the full answer. The only person who knew what had gone through Evan’s head in those final days and minutes was Evan.

And so bitterness mixed with Max’s grief. That’s why he had invited Penny to Granville. That, and he’d wanted to see her again. But she acted like she couldn’t even stand to look at him.

Max guided the car up the long driveway to the Granville Cemetery. He switched off the car and they sat in silence, listening to the click of the engine as it cooled.

“Is everything okay?” Max asked.

Penny turned her head slowly.
“‘
Everything.’ Everything will not ever be okay.”

“Fair. I mean with you.”

She pursed her lips. “We haven’t changed anything. Lovett is President. People are still using Panjea. After the controversy over the data leaks, they lost about ten million customers, but that’s only ten million out of two hundred million—and they’re slowly coming back.”

“I know. People think just because it has a new CEO that it’s safe to use it again. Just like with the NSA, they complained online, they made jokes and T-shirts about it, but then most of them didn’t want to change their habits. At least this time the people who tried to do something weren’t punished.”

“Except for the ones who died.”

“Yeah. But they’ll get justice.”

“We’ll see,” Penny said.

“I think we did a good job. Evan couldn’t have asked for better. Technology isn’t inherently dangerous. It only becomes that way when people misuse it. Panjea was a major threat, but then we turned it against itself to fix the problem. Think about what else it’s capable of.”

“You’re starting to get into this Dramatis Personai thing.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“What do you want, Max?” Penny met his eyes.

He couldn’t tell her what he really wanted. Not yet.

“I want to go to school, and hang out with my friends, and screw up and get in trouble, and graduate. I want to take . . . someone to prom. I want to do all the things we’re supposed to do when we’re young, because we’re going to grow up too soon as it is.”

“I think it’s already too late,” Penny said.

“You’re probably right.”

“You’ve said you don’t fit with that life though. You fit with me. With
us
. You’re a hacker, Max.”

“I still have some things to figure out. I can’t go back to my old life, I know that. But I’m not ready to dive into this new one either.” Max glanced at the street behind them. There’d been a car there a second ago, but it was gone now. “I’m thinking I might try to go abroad next year, take a break from all this. Start over.”

“Where?” Penny said.

“Granville High has an exchange program with France.”

“Isn’t that where your mom lives?”

“I don’t know, but now I know she’s out there. I need to find her.” If Vic Ignacio knew where Lianna Stein was, Max had missed his chance to ask him. And Max had done a thorough job of disabling the only tool that might have led him to his mother when he took down Panjea’s surveillance capability.

“They have internet in France,” Penny said.

“They do. It’s even better than ours. Except for it being in French.”

She smiled. “I know Dramatis Personai won’t be the same. Some things don’t recover from a blow like the one this group’s been through. Its own members working for the government, stealing information and working against other citizens, and even against themselves. Then there are the deaths . . . . Hacking isn’t supposed to endanger your life.

“I don’t blame them for not trusting each other. Sharing information and maintaining anonymity aren’t compatible anymore. But if anyone can make them a force for good again, it’s you. I’m just going to try working in the open for a while, as Penny Polonsky instead of DoubleThink. See how that goes.”

She flashed her fingertips at him. Her nails had a fresh coat of paint: Panjea-green with red letters. B-E-Y-O-U-R-S-E-L-F.

“Be yourself,” Max read.

She waggled her fingers. “Good advice for all of us.”

“What about Risse?”

“She can be DoubleThink without me. I might start a sort of side business. Infosec consulting,” Penny said. “It may not be entirely legal. Don’t tell Cort.”

“Uh oh,” Max said.

“Want me to keep you posted?”

Maybe he didn’t have to give up hacking, or try to keep his two worlds separate anymore. That would be impossible now anyway, with everyone aware of his past. He would like to keep using his skills to do something meaningful and positive, to help people more openly. To try to change the world the way Evan had.

“Yes,” he said.

“Look for an invitation from +g00d,” Penny said.

They looked out the windshield at the same time.

“I guess we should do this,” Max said.

“I guess so.”

They got out of the car and followed the directions Courtney had given him. Max soon found the grave they were looking for.
Evan Baxter, Beloved Son, January 11, 1997–October 21, 2014.

“Hey, Evan.” Max breathed heavily, his breath puffing up in front of his face.

He glanced at Penny, but she was looking resolutely ahead at Evan’s headstone.

He wasn’t good at this kind of thing. He didn’t believe in an afterlife, and even if he was wrong about that, he doubted his friend’s spirit was hanging around his grave.

Evan lived on as electronic bits scattered across the internet. He lived in Max’s and Penny’s memory, and in his legacy as ST0P, a worm that even now was still working its way through computer systems all over the world. Those parts of Evan would never die, and the digital world had always mattered more to him than his physical one.

But it would be rude not to say hello, just in case.

“Sorry it’s taken me a while to get here. Sorry for . . . everything. Uh, how’s it going?” He sighed. “This is stupid. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“Just say good-bye. And thank you,” Penny said.

He nodded. “I wish I’d had a chance to tell you this in person. Evan, you’re a freaking hero. Oh, um . . . also, thanks for introducing me to Penny. She’s great.”

The sun broke through the cloud cover and weak beams of afternoon light fell across Max and the gravestone.

Max looked up. “Is this for real?”

Penny giggled. And just like that, it wasn’t somber anymore. Instead of dwelling on the days he’d missed with Evan, he found himself remembering the good times they’d had. All the things they’d done together that had made Max the person he was and led him here, to this moment, with Penny beside him.

Max noticed something on the side of the rectangular headstone, shining silver in the sun. He walked closer to examine it, then hopped off the grave.

“Sorry!” he said.

“I don’t think he minds.” But Penny skirted the grave too and joined him by the headstone.

There was a sticker on the top corner: a barcode. Did the cemetery barcode their graves here to track its . . . occupants?

“Nice,” Penny said. “Freaking vandals. Who thought a grave was a good place to market their crappy product?”

Max grabbed his phone—a new one that his dad had given him as an early Christmas present along with his replacement laptop, Winston.

“I wouldn’t,” Penny said.

Max opened the barcode reader app and lined up the square reticule of the camera with the block of code. A red line blinked in the center and a web address flashed briefly before loading the page. It looked like an IP address, not a domain name, like a server on the Deep Web.

A password field appeared. Max sighed and showed it to Penny.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Evan,” Max said.

“But how? I mean. . . .” She gestured at the mound of dirt at their feet, decorated with a fresh bouquet of roses. Max hadn’t thought to bring anything.

Max was pretty sure Evan had something to do with this, because no one trying to advertise a product or service would require a passcode to access the website—and it wouldn’t be on the underground internet used for acquiring all sorts of illegal goods that was the Deep Web.

He quickly tried all the passwords Evan had used to-date, but none of them worked. In a fit of pique, he typed in
max
.

A black video window popped up with a swirling circle in the middle as it buffered.

“Come on, Evan. Three letters? That’s not very secure,” Max said.

Penny crowded close, her face inches from Max’s. They waited for the video to load, looking at their own faces reflected in the glossy black screen.

When red had inched about halfway across the progress bar, Evan’s face appeared in a burst of pixels.

Max clutched the phone tighter, thinking he was going to have to watch Evan’s suicide again. But even though this video was lit exactly the same, and Evan was wearing the same outfit from the night he’d died—hardly conclusive, because he always dressed that way—Max knew this was something different when he heard his friend say, “
Hey, Max.
”

Max paused the video.

“I need to sit down,” he said.

Penny sprawled with him on the grass beside Evan’s grave. She put an arm around him. He pressed Play.

“Long time no see, huh? I know you’re watching this after I’m . . . .”
Evan swallowed.
“After I’m gone. I’m sorry for what I’m about to do—what I’ve already done to you and my folks and my online friends. I’m sorry for
everything
.”

Evan’s voice broke. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed his fingers against his eyes.
“No, don’t do this,”
he muttered. Then he looked up again, and his eyes had lost some focus. He was looking past the camera.

“It has to be done, and if you don’t understand it yet, you will one day. God, that’s such a cliché, isn’t it? But you will.”
Evan shook his head.
“This sucks. I had big plans for us. We could have done so much together.”
He gave a weak smile that seemed somehow painful.
“We did do a lot, didn’t we?”