“Where?” I asked, standing up so fast I nearly overturned my chair.
“At the hangar, still,” J.J. said, looking up at me like I was at least a little crazy. “I looked in on the reports filed thus far, from the comm traffic and whatnot. Looks like it’s encrypted, so their field guys didn’t want to mess with it—”
“What are the odds that Century has something on that computer worth a look?” I asked, thinking it over.
“I don’t know?” J.J. said, his voice sounding a little lost. “12.3 percent?”
I frowned. “Where the hell did you get that number from?”
He shrugged. “I made it up. It’s not like I know enough about these guys to know what they do with their computers. For all I know, he keeps it because of a Solitaire high score he got three years ago.”
“But it probably has something on it,” I said. “Weissman was a truly nasty piece of work. I can’t imagine he’d have brought a laptop to town with him just to game on.”
“You never know,” J.J. said. “He could’ve been really into World of Warcraft, and maybe he didn’t want to miss raids while he was traveling.” I gave him a look. You know the one. “Well, he could,” J.J. said, a little reproachful.
“I want a look at that laptop,” I said, thumping my hand on the desk. “Can you hack it from here?”
“What?” J.J. said, almost verging on a scowl. “It’s turned off, presumably not near a wi-fi hotspot, and about to be checked in to the FBI as evidence.” I looked at him blankly until he explained further. “No, I cannot hack it from here. I’d need it to be on and connected to a network that’s on the internet, and neither of those things is happening anytime soon.”
“So we go to it,” I said, straightening my back. I was still standing, like it was some sort of declarative statement. “We go get you a look at it.” For me, it kind of was a declarative statement. I’d been reeling from punch after punch from Weissman, Sovereign, and all these Century flunkies.
Now it was time to seize on the first opportunity to come our way in a little while—and go on the offensive.
Chapter 13
That thrill, that feeling of being on the attack, faded as we left the gates of the Agency behind. Sitting in the back seat of an SUV as it headed down the freeway toward the western suburbs of the Twin Cities, I felt a strange, nervous, creeping sensation that tickled my stomach.
It probably didn’t help that Kat was sitting next to me. Right next to me. In the middle of the back seat, with J.J. boxing her in on the other side. She smelled faintly sweet, like she’d dabbed on a little perfume that morning.
I tried not to look at her.
Reed was driving and Li was sitting in the passenger seat up front, helping put the kibosh on any conversations that might have taken place. The drive to the 494 Highway loop that encircled Minneapolis and St. Paul was a tense affair, marked mostly by silence and the occasional clearing of a throat.
The sun hung high overhead, shining down through the glass moon roof. It was near noon, probably getting hot outside, and the air conditioner coupled with the car’s engine was producing a soothing thrum in the vehicle. I found myself wishing I’d brought some of the pizza along with me for this jaunt, instead of leaving it behind on my desk. By the time I got back, it would be spoiled. Bleh.
I couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling, and I couldn’t quite attribute it just to the awful silence that was filling the car, either. Part of me wanted to say something to break it, but I really hated talking to Li. And J.J. And Kat, come to think of it—though it was bound to be even more awkward now that I knew killing her was the key to me living a normal life.
You know what? Given that I was surrounded by people I regarded as problems, it suddenly occurred to me, not for the first time, that I was probably the problem.
Before I could accept this fact with the humility and grace that was due, however, I saw something black buzz by overhead.
“What was that?” Kat asked, as if she were reading my mind.
“What was what?” Li volleyed back. I was no expert on the FBI agent’s state of mind, but he sounded tense. Which was something of an indicator in and of itself, because he was one cool customer most of the time. Li had been in government service for a while, and I got the feeling it had jaded him a little.
It might also have been the fact that he was forced to work with me, a person he considered a murderer and responsible for the death of his buddy and college roommate, but still … jaded. “I saw something, too,” I said. “Like something just shot by overhead.”