The Revenge of Seven
Page 8
Sam shakes his head, not buying it. ‘How would Mark possibly know all this? I mean, Sarah, you went out with him. Did he even know how to read?’
‘Yes, Sam,’ Sarah replies, rolling her eyes. ‘Mark could read.’
‘But he was never, uh, journalistically inclined, was he? This is like WikiLeaks over here.’
‘People tend to change when they find out aliens are real,’ Sarah responds. ‘It looks to me like he’s been trying to help.’
‘We don’t know for sure that it’s Mark,’ I say, frowning.
I look over at Adam. He’s been quiet since we started exploring the They Walk Among Us website, listening to us with a hand on his chin, thoughtful.
‘Could this be some kind of trap?’ I ask him, figuring it’s best to consult the expert.
‘Of course,’ he says without hesitation. ‘Although if it is, it’s an elaborate one. And, even for the sake of trapping you, I find it hard to believe Setrákus Ra would admit to being driven off from Dulce Base.’
‘Is it true?’ Malcolm asks. ‘What he’s written about the secretary of defense?’
‘I don’t know,’ Adam replies. ‘It very well could be.’
‘I’m going to email him,’ Sarah announces, opening up a new browser tab.
‘Hold on,’ Adam says quickly, a bit more polite than when he slammed my idea to try rescuing the others. ‘If this Mark person really does have access to all this highly secret intel –’
Sam chuckles.
‘– my people will almost certainly be monitoring his communications,’ Adam concludes, raising an eyebrow at Sam. He turns back to Sarah. ‘They’ll also definitely be monitoring your email.’
Sarah slowly lifts her hands away from the keyboard. ‘Can’t you do anything about that?’
‘I know how their cyber-tracking systems work. It was something I … excelled at during my training. I could write an encryption code, reroute our IP address through servers in different cities.’ Adam turns to me, like he wants permission. ‘They’d unravel it eventually. We’d have to leave this place within twenty-four hours to be safe.’
‘Do it,’ I tell him. ‘Better that we keep moving, anyway.’
Adam immediately begins typing commands into his laptop. Sam rubs his hands together and leans over Adam’s shoulder. ‘You should reroute them to as many crazy places as possible. Make them think Sarah’s in Russia or something.’
Adam smirks. ‘Consider it done.’
It takes Adam about twenty minutes to write some code that will reroute our IP address through a dozen far-flung locations. I think back to the elaborate computer system Henri always had set up and the even more complicated grid that Sandor built in Chicago. Then, I imagine a hundred Mogadorians, just like Adam, hunched over keyboards, stalking us. I never doubted our Cêpans were justified in their paranoia, but seeing Adam work I finally realize just how necessary it was.
‘Whoa,’ Sarah says when she’s finally able to open her email. The list of boldfaced unread mail consists entirely of messages from Mark James. ‘It really is him.’
‘Or the Mogs hacked his email,’ Sam suggests.
‘Doubtful,’ Adam replies. ‘My people are thorough, sure, but this seems kind of … roundabout.’
I glance over the email headings – lots of exclamation points and capital letters. A few months ago the idea of Mark James spamming my girlfriend would’ve gotten under my skin, but now it seems like our rivalry was something that happened to someone else, something from another life.
‘When was the last time you checked this?’ I ask.
‘Weeks ago? I don’t really remember,’ Sarah replies. ‘I’ve been a little busy.’
She opens the most recent message from Mark and we all lean in to examine the contents.
Sarah –
I don’t know why I keep sending these emails. Part of me hopes that you’re reading them, using them to help the Loric, and can’t reply for your own safety. Another part of me worries that you aren’t even out there, that you’re gone. I refuse to believe that but …
I need to hear from you.
I thought I had a lead on you in New Mexico. All I found there was a deserted military base. It looked like a major battle went down. Way bigger and nastier than what happened in Paradise. I hope you guys got out safe. I hope like hell I’m not the only one left to fight these assholes. That would suck.
A friend of mine set up a safe house for me. Way off the grid. A place where we can work on exposing those pale freaks to the world. If you can get in touch, I’ll find a way to send you the coordinates. We’re on to something big. Something international. I don’t even know what to do with it.
If you’re reading these, if you’re still in contact with John, now would be a really good time to show up. I need your help.
– Mark
Sarah turns to me, her eyes wide with sudden passion, face set determinedly – I’ve seen that look before, know it well. It’s the look she gives me right before telling me she wants to do something dangerous.
Without her even saying anything, I already know that Sarah wants to find Mark James.
The dashboard clock reads 7:45. We’ve got fifteen minutes until the bus leaves for Alabama.
I’ve got fifteen minutes left with Sarah Hart.
Fifteen minutes was about how long it took Adam to encrypt Sarah’s email against any Mogadorian hackers. She got off a quick note to Mark, who replied almost immediately with an address for a restaurant in Huntsville. He told Sarah he’d watch the place for the next few days and, if she really was Sarah Hart, he’d pick her up there and spirit her off to his secret hideout. At least Mark’s being careful, I told myself. That gives me confidence that Sarah will be safe. After that brief communication, Adam immediately wiped both email accounts from the internet.
‘Yes, Sam,’ Sarah replies, rolling her eyes. ‘Mark could read.’
‘But he was never, uh, journalistically inclined, was he? This is like WikiLeaks over here.’
‘People tend to change when they find out aliens are real,’ Sarah responds. ‘It looks to me like he’s been trying to help.’
‘We don’t know for sure that it’s Mark,’ I say, frowning.
I look over at Adam. He’s been quiet since we started exploring the They Walk Among Us website, listening to us with a hand on his chin, thoughtful.
‘Could this be some kind of trap?’ I ask him, figuring it’s best to consult the expert.
‘Of course,’ he says without hesitation. ‘Although if it is, it’s an elaborate one. And, even for the sake of trapping you, I find it hard to believe Setrákus Ra would admit to being driven off from Dulce Base.’
‘Is it true?’ Malcolm asks. ‘What he’s written about the secretary of defense?’
‘I don’t know,’ Adam replies. ‘It very well could be.’
‘I’m going to email him,’ Sarah announces, opening up a new browser tab.
‘Hold on,’ Adam says quickly, a bit more polite than when he slammed my idea to try rescuing the others. ‘If this Mark person really does have access to all this highly secret intel –’
Sam chuckles.
‘– my people will almost certainly be monitoring his communications,’ Adam concludes, raising an eyebrow at Sam. He turns back to Sarah. ‘They’ll also definitely be monitoring your email.’
Sarah slowly lifts her hands away from the keyboard. ‘Can’t you do anything about that?’
‘I know how their cyber-tracking systems work. It was something I … excelled at during my training. I could write an encryption code, reroute our IP address through servers in different cities.’ Adam turns to me, like he wants permission. ‘They’d unravel it eventually. We’d have to leave this place within twenty-four hours to be safe.’
‘Do it,’ I tell him. ‘Better that we keep moving, anyway.’
Adam immediately begins typing commands into his laptop. Sam rubs his hands together and leans over Adam’s shoulder. ‘You should reroute them to as many crazy places as possible. Make them think Sarah’s in Russia or something.’
Adam smirks. ‘Consider it done.’
It takes Adam about twenty minutes to write some code that will reroute our IP address through a dozen far-flung locations. I think back to the elaborate computer system Henri always had set up and the even more complicated grid that Sandor built in Chicago. Then, I imagine a hundred Mogadorians, just like Adam, hunched over keyboards, stalking us. I never doubted our Cêpans were justified in their paranoia, but seeing Adam work I finally realize just how necessary it was.
‘Whoa,’ Sarah says when she’s finally able to open her email. The list of boldfaced unread mail consists entirely of messages from Mark James. ‘It really is him.’
‘Or the Mogs hacked his email,’ Sam suggests.
‘Doubtful,’ Adam replies. ‘My people are thorough, sure, but this seems kind of … roundabout.’
I glance over the email headings – lots of exclamation points and capital letters. A few months ago the idea of Mark James spamming my girlfriend would’ve gotten under my skin, but now it seems like our rivalry was something that happened to someone else, something from another life.
‘When was the last time you checked this?’ I ask.
‘Weeks ago? I don’t really remember,’ Sarah replies. ‘I’ve been a little busy.’
She opens the most recent message from Mark and we all lean in to examine the contents.
Sarah –
I don’t know why I keep sending these emails. Part of me hopes that you’re reading them, using them to help the Loric, and can’t reply for your own safety. Another part of me worries that you aren’t even out there, that you’re gone. I refuse to believe that but …
I need to hear from you.
I thought I had a lead on you in New Mexico. All I found there was a deserted military base. It looked like a major battle went down. Way bigger and nastier than what happened in Paradise. I hope you guys got out safe. I hope like hell I’m not the only one left to fight these assholes. That would suck.
A friend of mine set up a safe house for me. Way off the grid. A place where we can work on exposing those pale freaks to the world. If you can get in touch, I’ll find a way to send you the coordinates. We’re on to something big. Something international. I don’t even know what to do with it.
If you’re reading these, if you’re still in contact with John, now would be a really good time to show up. I need your help.
– Mark
Sarah turns to me, her eyes wide with sudden passion, face set determinedly – I’ve seen that look before, know it well. It’s the look she gives me right before telling me she wants to do something dangerous.
Without her even saying anything, I already know that Sarah wants to find Mark James.
The dashboard clock reads 7:45. We’ve got fifteen minutes until the bus leaves for Alabama.
I’ve got fifteen minutes left with Sarah Hart.
Fifteen minutes was about how long it took Adam to encrypt Sarah’s email against any Mogadorian hackers. She got off a quick note to Mark, who replied almost immediately with an address for a restaurant in Huntsville. He told Sarah he’d watch the place for the next few days and, if she really was Sarah Hart, he’d pick her up there and spirit her off to his secret hideout. At least Mark’s being careful, I told myself. That gives me confidence that Sarah will be safe. After that brief communication, Adam immediately wiped both email accounts from the internet.
