No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery) Read online

  It was clear I needed further expert assistance.

  I drove over to the Zimmermans’ and knocked on the door. Elvis answered this time and smiled when he saw me. He still wore the same clothes he had on last night and I wondered if he had slept. In fact, I wondered if he ever slept. Maybe geniuses didn’t need sleep. Funny how he didn’t look the worse for wear, whereas I was sure I looked like death warmed over.

  “Hey, Lexi. Long time, no see. Come in.”

  “Sorry to keep bugging you guys,” I said, stepping across the threshold. “But things are getting weird.”

  “Yeah?” said Xavier, coming out of the command room. “What kind of weird?”

  I went to the couch, picked up the blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. I decided to be straight with the twins and told them everything that had happened to me since yesterday evening.

  They listened with their usual intense focus, and when I finished, Elvis leaned back against the cushions, stroking his chin. “Bright Horizons is the name of the company, you say?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “You know anything about the people who work there?” he asked.

  “Only what’s in their bios on the website.”

  “Was the name of their IT guy listed?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, feeling as though I’d failed a homework assignment. “I didn’t check it.”

  But I instantly knew why they wanted to know. Elvis and Xavier would check to see how good the IT guy was—possibly tracing him to his home, finding out what kind of broadband service he was running and what kind of firewall and routers he had in place. It’s much easier to break into someone’s home computer, steal a password and then log on to the company’s server using that method. If not, they wanted to know if they’d heard of this guy and how capable he was. They would look and exploit any vulnerability, including personnel, without being detected. It’s what they did best.

  I liked the fact that the twins were careful and thorough; they did their homework first. I guess that’s what made them the best in the country, perhaps the world.

  “You say that the parent company CGM, Inc. is big,” Xavier murmured, speaking more to himself than to us. “And international. They’ve likely got lots of money. My bet is they’ve got a good IDS system.”

  Any company worth their salt had a good intrusion detection system, but some systems were better than others.

  “Unless they outsource for their protection,” Elvis said.

  “True,” Xavier acknowledged. “Only one way to find out.”

  “Let’s take a look,” Elvis said, standing.

  That’s what I love about these guys. No challenge too big, no company too impenetrable.

  The twins sat down at adjacent computer terminals. I hovered behind them, watching with awe as Xavier quickly accessed an account in Singapore, and Elvis one in Budapest. From there they hopped across the country, leaving a trail that would lead nowhere. Then they began their investigation of the computer security of CGM, Inc.

  At this point, the twins’ rapid and unconventional maneuvering left me in the dust. I knew theoretically what they were trying to do, but had no understanding how they were going about it. I guess that’s why they get paid the big bucks and I don’t.

  During the session, Elvis and Xavier brainstormed constantly in a computer language I didn’t understand, their fingers flying over the keyboard so fast they were a blur. I was afraid to speak in case I interrupted their flow of concentration. So I just stood there uselessly—ready to offer moral support if needed.

  After about ten minutes, Xavier suddenly slammed a fist on the keyboard.

  “Backspace, backspace!” he shouted to Elvis. “Abort!”

  Elvis’s fingers hammered out some rapid-fire commands. Then he swiveled around his chair and looked at me.

  “Abort what?” I said nervously. “What happened?”

  “Someone was scanning us back.”

  “Shoot. I guess that means the company has a good IDS system,” I mourned.

  Elvis frowned, looking slightly offended. “Good, yes. But it won’t keep us out.”

  I believed that one hundred percent.

  “No it won’t,” Xavier agreed, stretching his arms above his head like he had just run a marathon. In a way, I guess he had. “We’ll get in sooner or later. The question is—how much time do we have?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “Based on the fact that I’m being chased around by guys with guns and Basia has mysteriously disappeared, I’d say the sooner the better. But truthfully, even if you do break in to CGM, I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

  “How about a file called Acheron?” Elvis suggested.

  I glanced over at Xavier. “Find anything different with that code I gave you?”

  He shook his head. “No and it feels amateur, so I’m going with Acheron, as well.”

  That had been my feeling exactly. “Okay, then let’s stay with Acheron. Right now, it’s my only clue. I don’t know how it’s connected to what’s going on, but Basia wrote it on those documents for a reason.”

  Elvis sat back, thinking. I know he was thinking because he always puts his finger against his chin and taps it while staring into space. Even Xavier didn’t interrupt him, although I suspect he was thinking, too. I guess I was the only one in the room who wasn’t thinking. I was too busy worrying.

  “You know, Elvis, we could do this a lot quicker if we brought some help on board.”

  “Help? What kind of help?” I asked. I didn’t want to get anyone else involved, or for that matter, in trouble. I was already up to my neck in deep doo-doo for asking the twins to hack into a private company. And frankly I didn’t want to sink under completely and disappear into the dark void of criminal activity, dragging everyone else along with me.

  Elvis looked at his brother and shook his head. “No way.”

  “Why not?” Xavier said.

  “Too risky.”

  “I’ve been wanting to meet him.”

  “Not under these circumstances.”

  “Excuse me,” I broke in, exasperated. “Can someone tell me what the hell you two are talking about?”

  “Slash,” Xavier said simply.

  “Slash?” I repeated in disbelief. “As in the Slash? Come on, you guys really don’t believe this guy exists, do you?”

  They both looked at me as if I were a child. “Of course he exists,” Xavier said.

  I wasn’t so sure. There was a running legend at the NSA about Slash, who was supposedly a brilliant hacker and computer programmer. The story went that the NSA brought Slash aboard after the Zimmerman twins defected to the public sector. His duty—to modify the government’s security programs enough to protect them from the two young men who essentially created them. Most people believed Slash was really a team of thirty or more computer experts working around the clock on the best equipment money could buy. Others said Slash was a twelve-year-old genius kid who was protected 24/7 by the FBI like some kind of national treasure.

  I happened to be among those who didn’t believe this so-called Slash was real and suspected the government had made him up solely to provide an illusion of security to a system that was hopelessly compromised after the twins left. But I suppose that if the government could make the twins believe Slash existed, then half their job was done.

  “Have you two lost your freaking minds?” I said, aghast. “If he is real, he could turn us in. He’d be compelled to turn us in. We could go to prison. Forever.”

  Elvis looked amused. “Don’t be so macro-dramatic, Lexi. Slash is one of us.”

  Us was apparently the exclusive hacker club. To them, it was that simple. To me, it wasn’t.

  “I’m not kidding, you guys,” I said. “It’s not worth it. It’s not that important.”

  Elvis’s blue eyes focused on me thoughtfully. “Your life is at risk here, Lexi, and Basia’s, too. People are aiming guns at you and breaking into your apartment.
Slash could easily help us with this.”

  I was touched by their concern, but scared to death that I was going to get them into serious trouble. “I thought you just said this was too risky,” I pointed out to Elvis.

  “I changed my mind,” he said, shrugging.

  “Then change it back. I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I warned.

  “You’ve got to trust us, Lexi,” Xavier said. “You need a quick, thorough look at that company and this is the fastest way to do it.”

  “I do trust you,” I said emphatically. “But what if Slash is not trustworthy? What if he really is a consortium of federal computer experts ready to arrest our butts for hacking?”

  Xavier laughed. “You think we’d go into this without protecting ourselves first? Come on, Lexi. Have a little faith. We’ll just send Slash a message…drop an invitation, so to say.”

  “An invitation?” I repeated suspiciously. I had no idea what he was talking about. “In what way do you plan to do that?”

  “The right way,” Elvis said, his eyes softening. I guess he kind of had a soft spot for me. Especially when I was completely clueless, like now.

  “Do you even know how to reach him?” I said. “You just can’t send a message blindly.” I think I started to sound hysterical. “And what if this so-called invitation falls into the wrong hands?”

  Elvis sighed. He did that when he got tired of explaining things to me. Which, unfortunately, happened more often than I cared to admit.

  “I’ll leave a message that only Slash can read in a place only he would find it,” he explained. “If Slash is a consortium of experts, as you believe, they will neither find nor understand the message. But if he is one of us, he will. And I guarantee you, he’ll come.”

  He spoke with such confidence, I almost believed him. But by now my stomach hurt and was well on its way to developing an ulcer.

  Elvis gently touched my cheek. “You’re so cute when you’re worried. But you shouldn’t question our methods.”

  He turned back to the computer and typed for a few minutes. After a moment, he stood and stretched his lean form, arms over his head. “Done. We’ll see if he comes.”

  I looked from Xavier to Elvis and realized I’d been summarily dismissed. “So that’s it?” I asked uncertainly. “Now what?”

  “We wait,” Xavier said. “Either he shows or he doesn’t. And in the meantime, we keep looking for a way into the company.”

  Elvis walked me to the door. “You’ve got your car today?” he asked.

  “I do,” I said, pulling my sunglasses out of my bag and putting them on. “Thanks again for everything, Elvis. I mean it.”

  “For you, Lexi, anytime. You’re pretty optimum for a chick.”

  That was probably the nicest thing he’d ever said to me, even if it was in a backhanded sexist kind of way, and it made me feel better. Especially since guilt was eating away at me for having involved them in the first place.

  I left the house and hopped into my car. It was past noon and I decided my stomach hurt not because of nerves, but because I was starving. I drove to Taco Bell, went through the drive-thru and ordered three tacos and a Diet Pepsi. I ate one taco in the car at a stoplight, spilled some hot sauce on my T-shirt and sighed because now I really had to do laundry.

  I pulled into the parking lot at my apartment complex and picked up the bag with the remaining two tacos and my Diet Pepsi. I juggled the bag and cup while opening the complex door and then trudged up three flights of stairs. I unlocked my door and peeked in cautiously. I didn’t hear anything suspicious and no one reached out to grab me, so I stepped inside and breathed a sigh of relief. I closed and locked the door and then walked into the kitchen.

  Sitting at the table, drinking one of my Diet Cokes, was Beefy.

  “Hey, Lexi,” he said, smiling at me. “About time you got here.”

  Chapter 4

  I dropped the bag with my tacos on the floor and heard a sickening splat. Beefy waved a hand at the empty chair, motioning for me to sit. I didn’t see the gun, but I was one hundred percent certain he had it underneath his tacky polyester blazer.

  “Sorry to startle you,” he said. “You weren’t around, so I let myself in. You really need to get a maid, you know. You live like a pig.”

  My initial fright faded, turning into anger. I was tired of my apartment turning into Grand Central Station.

  “What do you want?” I snapped, picking my tacos off the floor and plopping into the chair. I opened up the bag and frowned at the mess that had once been my lunch.

  He feigned a hurt look. “Have you forgotten our little talk yesterday? And why didn’t you go to work today?”

  “What are you, my mother?”

  He held out his hand. “The documents.”

  “You’re too late,” I said. “Someone already stole them.”

  “What?” he exclaimed, leaping out of the chair. For a terrifying moment I thought he’d lunge across the table at me.

  “Someone stole them,” I repeated, trying to calm him. “I thought it might have been you, but now my money is on Mr. Middle Eastern Guy.”

  “Mr. Middle Eastern Guy?” He stared at me in surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I tried to act casual even though my heart was pounding. I stuck my fingers in the taco mess and licked off some sour cream. “I kind of hoped you were working together, but now I see that isn’t likely.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I work alone. Who the hell is Mr. Middle Eastern Guy?”

  “How would I know? He was here in my apartment waiting for me when I came home from my parents’. He wanted the documents from Basia just like you. He held a gun to my chest and had evidently tossed the place searching for them.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Dark hair, dark skin, dark clothing. Accent. Big gun.”

  “And from this you extrapolated Middle Eastern descent?”

  “Hey, I’ve been to college. I took world geography.”

  Beefy didn’t look convinced. “So you just gave him the papers?”

  “I didn’t give him anything. I didn’t have the papers. My neighbor gave them to me after he left. They were apparently delivered while I was at my parents’. He must have doubled back and stolen them after I went to sleep.”

  Beefy slammed his fist on the table, causing me to jump. “You went to sleep without calling me to tell me you had the papers?”

  “It was the middle of the night,” I said, a little of the fright coming back. “I thought you’d be asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you. I had planned on calling you first thing in the morning. But once I discovered they were stolen, I was too afraid. I didn’t want to make you angry.”

  He growled, his gold tooth looking like some kind of weapon that could shoot out of his head. He had started to turn red, too, which wasn’t a good sign.

  “I told you to call me before you did anything,” he yelled.

  “I know, I know,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep. Sue me. It had been a long day.”

  He swore under his breath. “And this man just stole them from you while you slept? You didn’t hear anything?”

  “Not a peep.”

  “You left them out in the open? Didn’t you at least have the foresight to hide them?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “I tried.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I, ah, put them under my pillow for safekeeping.”

  He stared at me, clearly flabbergasted. “You mean to say he stole them out from under your head while you slept?”

  “That would be the winning scenario.”

  He shook his head. “And you call yourself among those who protect America’s security and freedom? How in the world did you get a job at the NSA?”

  I lifted my shoulders. “Can I help it if I take tests well? And might I mention that appearances can be deceiving? Ronald Reagan made movies with chimpanzees
and he still led us out of the Cold War.”

  Beefy stood and started pacing in my tiny kitchen. It meant he took two steps forward and two steps back. It started to make me dizzy. Finally he stopped and looked at me.

  “Did this Mr. Middle Eastern Guy say why he wanted the papers?” he asked.

  “He wasn’t exactly chatty. But, like you, he knew Basia had sent them to me.” Apparently everyone else in the entire universe had known except me.

  He stared at me for a long moment, assessing, weighing his options. “Did you take a peek at the papers?”

  “No way,” I lied. “After my encounter with you and then Mr. Middle Eastern Guy, I didn’t even want to know what was in there.”

  “Are you telling the truth, little girl?” he asked, bending down close to me. I smelled garlic on his breath and tried not to gag. “I can tell if you’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing because I had this weird feeling that my life depended on it.

  Before he could say anything else, the doorbell rang. Startled, I looked at him, unsure what I should do.

  “Answer it,” he said. “And no funny stuff.” He patted his blazer and I got the message loud and clear.

  I opened the door. A young, skinny guy about nineteen stood there. He had a bad case of acne and reeked of High Karate aftershave. I knew it was High Karate because my brothers had once drenched me in it as punishment when I told my dad they’d been sneaking out. The scent of it haunts me to this day.

  “Hello, Miss Carmichael,” he said, looking at a piece of paper attached to a clipboard. “My name is Jesse Kirkpatrick and I’m with SuperProtect Alarm Systems. You requested a system to be installed?”

  “That would be me,” I said, trying not to wrinkle my nose. “Jesse, would you mind waiting here just a sec?”

  He looked puzzled, but shrugged. “Sure.”

  I shut the door and walked back to the kitchen. Beefy was standing with his back against the refrigerator, his hand resting beneath his blazer. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Home improvement,” I said. “Look, would you mind if he came in and did his thing? It will only take a few minutes and I really need to get this done this afternoon.”