reach Keith’s room on the second floor. Like me, he had taken up residence with Jack and Nikki, relying on their hospitality and bankroll to stay hidden from—well, come to think of it, I’d never asked him who he was on the run from. I was most likely better off not knowing.
Keith answered on the third knock, wearing nothing but socks and boxer shorts. The bright red and blue stripes seemed especially garish against his pallor. There was a video game paused on the screen of one of the computers lined up against the wall.
He blinked, rubbing the back of his neck, when he saw me standing there. “Hey, Shia, what’s up?”
“I, uh ...” ... forgot what I was going to say at the sight of his skinny frame. For a second the belt had a twinge of reaction like I was confronting a vampire. That boy was pale.
“Look, I’m kind of busy here. Do you need something or what?”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Yes. I need to make a phone call. A secure phone call. Jack said I should talk to you.”
“Oh. Sure. One sec.”
He turned away and went to a closet. He pulled out a moving box that was literally full of cell phones. A couple fell out when he dragged the box closer. He kicked one of them toward me that I stopped with my foot, then knelt down to pick up.
“We have these for emergencies. The signal here sucks, but if you walk a few blocks north you should get a couple bars. Don’t turn it on until you’re ready to use it. I reprogrammed it to scramble the signal, but it can still be traced if the equipment is sophisticated enough. Keep your convo short, and make sure you pop out the battery as soon as you end your call. Bring it back to me and let me know if you need another one.”
“Thanks.” He returned my smile and turned away. I glanced down at the phone in my hand, then back at him. “Hey, Keith?”
“Yeah?”
“You know anything about the OtherNet?”
He scowled, then turned away to shove the box back into place. He didn’t bother to pick up the phones that had fallen to the floor or shut his closet before stalking to the rolling chair in front of his computer and plopping into it. “That place is full of flamers and posers. Hardly any Others use it anymore since some asshat on the West Coast hacked it and blew some other hunters’ cover. Goddamn wannabe black hats don’t know when to quit. The few legit Others who do still use the forum aren’t in our territory or aren’t one of our targets, and most of them are treading far more carefully about posting their plans and whereabouts these days.”
“Oh,” I said, though I wasn’t totally sure what he meant. Black hats? I wondered if there was any relation to the White Hats. “I don’t suppose you could pull it up on one of those computers for me, could you?”
“I guess. We have a sock puppet account. You can browse, but don’t post anything.”
I nodded, but he wasn’t looking, already sliding his chair over to another keyboard. He pulled up a browser and typed in a cryptic URL that made no sense to me, but it pulled up a Web forum with the heading “The OtherNet—Where Others Come Together.” Huh.
He moved aside so I could hunch over the keyboard and mouse. There were sub-forums broken down by territories. I clicked open the New York sub-forum, and was somehow unsurprised by the number of repeat postings that A.D. Royce Industries and The Circle were both hiring. I hardly noticed when Keith went back to his game, abruptly riveted by the sight of a recent topic— Sunstrikers.
My elation at finding a clue was short-lived. The topic was a few pages long, but the most recent posts were about the newspaper article Jim Pradiz had written—and a follow-up by another reporter that I opened in a new tab. Skimming the story chilled my blood. According to that article, I was the last surviving witness. The most recent posters were speculating whether or not I was dead since I’d gone missing after the last sighting by police a few
Keith answered on the third knock, wearing nothing but socks and boxer shorts. The bright red and blue stripes seemed especially garish against his pallor. There was a video game paused on the screen of one of the computers lined up against the wall.
He blinked, rubbing the back of his neck, when he saw me standing there. “Hey, Shia, what’s up?”
“I, uh ...” ... forgot what I was going to say at the sight of his skinny frame. For a second the belt had a twinge of reaction like I was confronting a vampire. That boy was pale.
“Look, I’m kind of busy here. Do you need something or what?”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Yes. I need to make a phone call. A secure phone call. Jack said I should talk to you.”
“Oh. Sure. One sec.”
He turned away and went to a closet. He pulled out a moving box that was literally full of cell phones. A couple fell out when he dragged the box closer. He kicked one of them toward me that I stopped with my foot, then knelt down to pick up.
“We have these for emergencies. The signal here sucks, but if you walk a few blocks north you should get a couple bars. Don’t turn it on until you’re ready to use it. I reprogrammed it to scramble the signal, but it can still be traced if the equipment is sophisticated enough. Keep your convo short, and make sure you pop out the battery as soon as you end your call. Bring it back to me and let me know if you need another one.”
“Thanks.” He returned my smile and turned away. I glanced down at the phone in my hand, then back at him. “Hey, Keith?”
“Yeah?”
“You know anything about the OtherNet?”
He scowled, then turned away to shove the box back into place. He didn’t bother to pick up the phones that had fallen to the floor or shut his closet before stalking to the rolling chair in front of his computer and plopping into it. “That place is full of flamers and posers. Hardly any Others use it anymore since some asshat on the West Coast hacked it and blew some other hunters’ cover. Goddamn wannabe black hats don’t know when to quit. The few legit Others who do still use the forum aren’t in our territory or aren’t one of our targets, and most of them are treading far more carefully about posting their plans and whereabouts these days.”
“Oh,” I said, though I wasn’t totally sure what he meant. Black hats? I wondered if there was any relation to the White Hats. “I don’t suppose you could pull it up on one of those computers for me, could you?”
“I guess. We have a sock puppet account. You can browse, but don’t post anything.”
I nodded, but he wasn’t looking, already sliding his chair over to another keyboard. He pulled up a browser and typed in a cryptic URL that made no sense to me, but it pulled up a Web forum with the heading “The OtherNet—Where Others Come Together.” Huh.
He moved aside so I could hunch over the keyboard and mouse. There were sub-forums broken down by territories. I clicked open the New York sub-forum, and was somehow unsurprised by the number of repeat postings that A.D. Royce Industries and The Circle were both hiring. I hardly noticed when Keith went back to his game, abruptly riveted by the sight of a recent topic— Sunstrikers.
My elation at finding a clue was short-lived. The topic was a few pages long, but the most recent posts were about the newspaper article Jim Pradiz had written—and a follow-up by another reporter that I opened in a new tab. Skimming the story chilled my blood. According to that article, I was the last surviving witness. The most recent posters were speculating whether or not I was dead since I’d gone missing after the last sighting by police a few
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