Undetectable (Great Minds Thriller) (14 page)

He had heard far worse.

After waiting for an acceptable interval, the Organizer gave a curt nod. “Friday next week. We’ll be ready.”

Jacob took a steadying breath. “I’ll expect your update tomorrow morning.”

The Organizer nodded again, and then he broke the connection. His face disappeared from the computer.

Jacob watched the dark screen for a moment in silence. Despite his bluster, he was now genuinely worried.

He didn’t like what the Organizer had said.

They learn fast.

Part 2 – Get Ready

Who The Fuck You Think You Are

Kevin was heading to his second day of school
, and
on his way up Park Avenue
he pulled his cellphone from his back pocket.
He hadn’t used
the phone
for anything since confirming the time and date with it yesterday morning, but now he had a moment to actually examine the device itself. It looked very similar to an iPhone, but it was noticeably slimmer, and the entire front face seemed to be one unbroken piece of glass. He pushed the single button on the front, and the phone sprang to life. The interface was similar to an iPhone’s as well, but there were very few application squares on the screen.

No matter; he wasn’t looking for a diversion. He needed something specific, and he found it: the “Contacts” square. He pressed it and a list came into view.

This is not the list I was hoping for.

None of the names were ones he recognized. There were no old high school or college friends, no former co
-
workers from the hedge fund. Not even the names of favorite restaurants or bars. Instead, he was looking at listings that seemed impossibly vague: “Work,” “Doctor,” “Assistance,” “Secondary,” “Central,” and “Tracking.” They looked like temporary listings, like names that had been filled in by the phone’s manufacturer as suggestions for how to set up your phone book.

What the heck does “Secondary” mean? Or “Tracking,” for that matter?

Kevin didn’t push any of them. Instead he brought up the keypad and dialed a number from memory.

After two rings, a groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sean. It’s Kevin.”

“Kevin
Brooks
?”

“Yeah. Sorry to call so early.”

An exhausted-sounding grunt. And then: “No problem.”

“Sean, when was the last time we spoke?”

“Um.” Sean paused, presumably giving his brain a moment to kick into gear. Kevin wished the same trick would work on his own memory. “I don’t know,” Sean said at last. “Maybe six months ago.”

Kevin nodded. “Right, that’s what I thought. Okay, talk to you soon.”

“Wait. Kevin, what – ”

“I have to go, Sean. I’ll call you back.”

He hung up and tried another number. There weren’t too many old friends he kept in touch with, but surely he had called at least one of them during the last three months. They’d be able to tell him something. Where he’d been calling from, or what he’d been doing.
Something
.

But he quickly proved himself wrong.

“You were working pretty hard at that job,” his high school roommate reminded him.

“It was like you were underground,” said the former tight end for the UNH football team.

“You’re right,” Kevin was forced to keep saying.

He had come to 74th street now, and he could see the entrance to the school half a block down the street on his right. Danny was already there, manning one of the doors. He was shaking hands with each student coming in, giving the boys a serious welcome. He looked, Kevin thought, like an extraordinarily kind night club bouncer who just happened to enjoy teaching English composition and reading comp
rehension
.

Kevin waited another minute before heading down the block to join him. He had one more idea first. Not an idea he had been eager to use, but he was growing desperate. His list of outside contacts was dwindling; soon there would be no one – no one
anywhere
– whom he could ask to give him information about the last three months of his life. And there was something very frightening about that.

Something very isolating.

He took a deep breath and dialed the main number for Tanner and Trevor. The pickup was immediate. “Reception.”

“Could I have Robert Warner, please?”

The receptionist did not bother responding to his request. The switch-over happened instantly. And then, a half-second later: “Warner.”

Kevin waited a beat before saying anything. Then he plowed ahead. “Rob, it’s Kevin. I know you’re not happy with me, but I just need to ask if – ”

“No,” Robert Warner said, without missing a beat. He was a 42-year old self-made billionaire with three separate hedge funds under his control, a seat on the board of five Fortune-100 companies, and two houses in the Hamptons. He had an ex-wife, five children spread out over fifteen years and
with
three different women (one of whom had never been acknowledged in any legal document associated with the Warner estate), two bad knees, and a severe case of tennis elbow. And this despite his hatred for tennis, a game he considered a bigger bore even than golf. He was not about to waste his time, his incalculably valuable time, listening to Kevin Brooks talk about what he needed.

“I’ll tell you what
I
need,” Warner said sharply. “
I
need to ask you who the fuck you think you are. Just because you’re good with a computer doesn’t mean you can act like an asshole.”

“I know, but – ”

“Shut up.” Ten seconds in, and Warner had already built up a full head of steam. Kevin almost felt nostalgic. His old boss had always been a force of nature. “
I
’m the one who started the fund,” Warner went on. “
I
’m the one who secured all the initial investments, and that means
I
’m the only one who gets to act like an asshole. Who do you think signed your checks for the last eight years? Who do you think secured that
insane
loan you apparently needed for that ridiculous new apartment of yours?”

“What?” Kevin tried to cut in. This was exactly the kind of thing he had been hoping for. “The apartment. When did I – ?”

But Warner was not going to let himself be interrupted. “No!” he said. “First you quit, you just
take off
with almost no warning whatsoever, which is bad enough. But then you say you’re going to come back, you get me to back you on a jumbo loan, and then you never even fucking
show up
for work? Are you shitting me?”

Now Kevin was genuinely excited. This was his first glimmer of hope. “Right, sorry,” he said quickly. “But do you remember exactly
when
I got that apartment?”

“Oh, yes,” Warner said, his voice
full of
spite. “I believe it was on the day right before you
fucked
me. Check that date on your calendar, I’m sure you have it marked. And then go fuck your
self
.”

As quickly as he had started, Robert Warner came to an abrupt halt. He decided the conversation was at its end, and he hung up.

Shit.

Kevin held the phone away from his ear and looked at it again. It had already turned itself off, as though it had a specific algorithm for detecting violent hang-ups.

If user is told to go fuck himself

Power down device

Else

Maintain device power at standby level

Kevin sighed. He knew there would be no point in calling back. At this very moment, the secretary would likely be receiving instructions
never
to allow Kevin access to Mr. Warner again. For all he knew, the secretary was also going over audio tapes of Kevin’s voice, so that she could screen him no matter what phone he tried to use next.

I guess Warner wasn’t the one who wrote a reference for this job.

Kevin put the phone away and headed down the block toward the school entrance. He passed two large white vans at the curb a few feet before the door, but he barely noticed them. Men in blue coveralls – painting jumpsuits – were climbing out the back of the lead van.

Danny was at his post, still shaking hands and saying good morning to the students passing through the door. He looked up and saw Kevin coming. And then something in his face changed. His smile faded by a few degrees.

“What?”

“Rough night?” Danny asked. “You look a little tired.”

Kevin puffed his cheeks out, then exhaled slowly. It gave him a minute to think of an excuse. “Stayed up too late watching television,” he said.

Close enough to the truth.

Danny didn’t seem convinced. He looked worried, and Kevin resisted the urge to try explaining himself.
You could try knocking me out with a haymaker to the jaw if you want,
he thought.
I wouldn’t mind. Promise.

Instead he put a reassuring hand on Danny’s broad shoulder
.
The students were still coming, more of them now as the start of school grew nearer
, and
t
he two men stood at either side of the entrance like sentries, splitting the duty.

“How was the kid?” Danny asked, nodding and shaking hands now on autopilot.

Kevin smiled, relieved that there would be no more questions about sleep. “Which one?”

“You know. The son of the big shot. Bee-o.”

“Right, Anselm Billaud. Very smart. Definitely his father’s son. Good kid.”

“You’re in
love
with that dad.”

Kevin nodded helplessly. “My degree is in computer science. Pascal Billaud is the
man
in that field. The rumor is that he might be close to an NP solution, and it doesn’t get any bigger than that.”

Danny looked skeptical. “I’ll have to take your word on that. Why would anyone else care?”