“What did he text you?”
“I need to know who you are first.”
“I’m the person who alerted your father to the problem in the first place.”
“Look,” said Astor, “I’m tired of talking in circles. If you’re not going to tell me your name, at least tell me what this is all about.”
But again the man refused to answer. “What did your father text you?”
“One word. Palantir. I told Penelope Evans, and she seemed to know what I was talking about. Now she’s dead.”
“So you spoke with Penelope?”
“Briefly. She wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone. She said that they were listening and that they knew everything I did.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Not at first.”
“And now?”
“Yes.”
“What changed your mind?”
“When I learned that she had been working with my father, I contacted her to see if we might meet. She told me to come to her house. She asked me to hurry. The only way anyone could have known I was going there was to have hacked my phone and used it as a microphone to listen in on my conversation. I didn’t know that was possible until last night.”
“What convinced you?”
Astor explained about the doctored voice mail luring him to his garage and his near fall into the elevator shaft. “If they could do that, they could easily use my phone as a mike.”
“They’re getting desperate. An incursion like that will leave tracks a mile long. It must be happening soon.”
White noise mottled the screen.
“Is that them?” asked Astor.
“They’re trying to listen even now.” The voice had lost its natural timbre. It sounded robotic, the words strangely modulated.
“What’s happening soon?” demanded Astor. “Who are they? Why did they kill my father?” He had too many questions, and Cassandra99 offered too few answers.
“They killed your father because he knew. I’d venture to say the same about Penelope Evans. I told her to leave. I’m not responsible for her death, too.”
“She was packing a suitcase. She was waiting to speak with me.”
“I told her to leave this alone. I’m telling you the same. It’s too big for you. Do as I say. Leave the premises now and forget anything your father told you.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I won’t be responsible for you, too.”
“I’m a big boy,” said Astor. “I can look after myself. Tell me why Penelope Evans was looking into Silicon Solutions and Britium.” Astor listed the names of the other companies whose reports he’d discovered at Evans’s home.
“It’s too late, Mr. Astor. No one will listen to you anyway.”
“But you know?”
“That’s my job.”
“Who killed my father? What are they planning?”
It was then that Astor saw the reflection in the monitor.
A man was standing three feet behind him.
“Go home, Mr. Astor,” the voice on the computer went on. “You were brave to check on Miss Evans and braver to come to your father’s house after the attempt on your life. If you want to live, leave now, go back to work, and forget about this matter entirely.”
The man in the reflection came closer. It was him, Astor knew. It was the phantom who had killed Penelope Evans. Astor willed himself not to look over his shoulder. To look was to die.
“You can’t just let it happen,” he said. “I’m his son. I deserve to know.”
“Oh, you’ll know soon enough. We all will.”
“But—”
A door slammed inside the house. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, echoing through the foyer.
“Bobby!” shouted a female voice. “You in there? It’s me.”
51
Astor spun in the chair, raising an arm in an effort to protect himself. “Alex,” he shouted, “run!”
A sharp pain radiated from his forearm to his shoulder. His eyes rested on the man standing a few feet away. He was slim and menacing, a dark forelock falling across almond eyes colored a robin’s-egg blue. He wore black pants and a tan T-shirt that revealed arms corded with muscle. The blue eyes were not on Astor but on the knife protruding from his forearm.
“Bobby!”
The man darted a glance over his shoulder. Astor ignored the knife and lunged for the pistol. Something struck him in the solar plexus. A blow delivered so quickly he had not seen it. A phantom’s blow. The pistol dropped to the floor. Astor could not breathe. He could not move.
The phantom advanced on him, hands and arms extended in a classic martial arts pose.