Legacy(82)

“J.J ...” I said, trying not to be too menacing but probably failing. “Why don’t you save Ariadne the trouble and just tell me what you found?”

“Um, right,” he said, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses as he turned back to me. He kept his head down, staring at the carpet. “I, uh, was combing airline reservation computers along with some NSA PRISM intercepts, and I caught a little bit of a pattern.”

I wanted to thump him on the head or throw a stapler at him, but I refrained. “And?”

“And, well, I found some receipts for a credit card,” he said. “And a couple plane tickets under different aliases.” He still wasn’t looking up.

“Lots of people travel every day,” I said. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Right,” he said, and looked up at me furtively, just for a second. “The names were Richard Snow and Edgar Stark.”

“So, other than both being from Winterfell, what do these names have in common?” I asked with blunted irritation. I looked over at Reed, but he already looked stricken, a sick look engulfing his face.

“They’re aliases generated by our travel department at the Directorate,” J.J. said. “Well, not really the travel department. They were generated by me, when I was doing work for the travel department—”

“J.J.,” I said, catching his attention, “if you don’t cut right to the point with your next sentence, I am going to stick you in a heavy bag and beat the living snot out of you to work out my frustration. I may or may not take your glasses off first.” I slapped my hand against the table hard enough to make him jump at the sound. “So. Speak now.”

He adjusted his glasses with shaking hands. “These are vintage.”

“J.J.!”

“Um, sorry. Uh.” His hand left his glasses and fell to his side, leaving him supporting the laptop with one hand. “I generated the IDs myself, for a specific person, and the names were, um ... well, they were kind of an in-joke,” he laughed a little then swallowed heavily. “I tracked them from Los Angeles to Denver, and the next leg brought him here, to Minneapolis, yesterday.” He licked his lips. “So he’s here, in town. And, uh ... it’s, uh ... well, you know, it’s ...”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t need to. I just stared coldly into the distance, feeling the wild, heart-pounding sense of rage, the desire for revenge that hadn’t left me in the last six months. It hadn’t left at all; it had just faded slightly into the background.

Winter was here.





Chapter 34




Are you going to kill him? Zack’s soft voice asked later that night when I was alone in my room. I hadn’t really paid much attention to anything said after J.J.’s little revelation, because nothing else needed to be said. We were in a holding pattern and would remain there until something broke loose and gave us a sign of the direction we needed to head in. It was not my chosen method of conducting business, being reactive instead of proactive, but waiting for someone to screw up was all I was left with. I just hoped when the time came it wouldn’t be me.

“I don’t know,” I answered Zack quietly. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, a lit candle filling the room with the faint aroma of vanilla. I wasn’t really a candle type of person, but Kat had bought it for me as a peace offering or a friendship gift or something along those lines, and I had accepted it without gnashing my teeth too much. Now it was burning silently in the corner, filling the room with something that was supposed to help soothe me. It was an open question whether it was actually working. I could almost taste the vanilla, heavy, waxy, filling the air.

I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable backlash from Zack, the angry reply shouted in my head, the snappish remark about how I didn’t care enough about him to bother killing his murderer even when the man was in town. It didn’t come, and after a moment I opened my eyes again to see the darkness outside my expansive window. He’s not a threat at this point, Zack said.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I whispered. “We underestimate Erich Winter at our peril. He’s a dangerous man in any environment. Just because the government has impounded most of his assets and he’s had his organization cut out from under him doesn’t mean he’s a toothless, clawless tabby.” I sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to drop back into vengeance mode and forget ... everything that’s really important.” I hesitated. “Not that you’re not important—”