of five minutes to access the IRS database. Peter searched for every 1099 form filed by Pike & Dolan. His heart sank when the computer returned more than 5,000 records. He narrowed the search to anyone making over six figures from the company; Mason liked nice suits, after all, and he couldn’t afford those on chicken feed.
That cut it down to a few hundred names. Peter scanned them quickly; he could eliminate the women immediately, along with anyone too old or too young. He just had to write a program that would filter the results down to a manageable number.
Feeling fried, he closed his laptop and turned the key in the ignition. He could write the program at home in the comfort of his bedroom, then run the results through the filter tomorrow. If he got lucky, he’d find Mason hidden somewhere in there, along with all his personal information: real name, address, social security number. Everything Peter needed to destroy him.
Satisfied, Peter checked his watch; he wanted to call Amanda before it got too late. He slowly drove up to the house; with the new snowfall, there wasn’t enough room in the driveway to easily turn the car around.
As he circled in front of his neighbors’ garage bays, he noticed a light on in a downstairs window. They must be on timers , he told himself.
Still, it was hard to shake the sense that the light hadn’t been on the night before. Peter slowed as he passed the front door, but there was no sign of movement inside the house.
Just paranoia , he thought, running a hand through his hair. If this kept up, he was going to give himself an ulcer.
Noa sat in the shadows, watching their prisoner. He was sleeping well, considering the circumstances. His mouth gaped open, and for such a large man, he was issuing surprisingly delicate snores.
She, on the other hand, was wide awake. After dinner Zeke and the others had crashed, still exhausted after yesterday. Noa had taken advantage of the silence to go over the blueprints Peter had emailed. It would be another couple of days before she’d need sleep again; she’d have to time the Phoenix raid so that it didn’t conflict with that.
Now it was three a.m. The only illumination came from a few camping candles scattered around the living room. They’d hacked into the local utility company to provide the house with light and heat for a few days, but Noa’s eyes had always been extraordinarily light sensitive, and seemed to be getting even worse since the operation. She preferred candlelight.
They’d moved the guy in here after dinner. There was no heat in the garage, so keeping him there made it hard on whoever was designated to keep watch. Which, since she didn’t need sleep, mainly meant her.
So far, the guy hadn’t given them any trouble. In fact, she hadn’t even had to bring out the needle again. He’d willingly provided more information than she’d ever hoped for: the names of other mercenaries, the way they received their orders, how often they were paid and how much. That sum had staggered her—these commandos made twice what she’d pulled in as a top computer security consultant.
In fact, Noa worried that he’d been a little too obliging with the information. It seemed odd that he was so rattled by the threat of a virus that might not even affect him. The P&D mercenaries should be experts on PEMA, after all.
She’d discussed it with Zeke after dinner. In his opinion, this was the lucky break they’d finally been waiting for. Relax, Noa , he’d said, awkwardly rubbing her shoulder. It’s normal for us to think things are messed up when they work out. But that doesn’t mean they are.
Maybe he was right. Still, she wanted to know more about what the guy had meant, calling her the “golden goose”; this was the second time she’d heard that expression, and she wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. Why was she so important, among all of these kids? Zeke had a theory that she was their only successful experiment, and
That cut it down to a few hundred names. Peter scanned them quickly; he could eliminate the women immediately, along with anyone too old or too young. He just had to write a program that would filter the results down to a manageable number.
Feeling fried, he closed his laptop and turned the key in the ignition. He could write the program at home in the comfort of his bedroom, then run the results through the filter tomorrow. If he got lucky, he’d find Mason hidden somewhere in there, along with all his personal information: real name, address, social security number. Everything Peter needed to destroy him.
Satisfied, Peter checked his watch; he wanted to call Amanda before it got too late. He slowly drove up to the house; with the new snowfall, there wasn’t enough room in the driveway to easily turn the car around.
As he circled in front of his neighbors’ garage bays, he noticed a light on in a downstairs window. They must be on timers , he told himself.
Still, it was hard to shake the sense that the light hadn’t been on the night before. Peter slowed as he passed the front door, but there was no sign of movement inside the house.
Just paranoia , he thought, running a hand through his hair. If this kept up, he was going to give himself an ulcer.
Noa sat in the shadows, watching their prisoner. He was sleeping well, considering the circumstances. His mouth gaped open, and for such a large man, he was issuing surprisingly delicate snores.
She, on the other hand, was wide awake. After dinner Zeke and the others had crashed, still exhausted after yesterday. Noa had taken advantage of the silence to go over the blueprints Peter had emailed. It would be another couple of days before she’d need sleep again; she’d have to time the Phoenix raid so that it didn’t conflict with that.
Now it was three a.m. The only illumination came from a few camping candles scattered around the living room. They’d hacked into the local utility company to provide the house with light and heat for a few days, but Noa’s eyes had always been extraordinarily light sensitive, and seemed to be getting even worse since the operation. She preferred candlelight.
They’d moved the guy in here after dinner. There was no heat in the garage, so keeping him there made it hard on whoever was designated to keep watch. Which, since she didn’t need sleep, mainly meant her.
So far, the guy hadn’t given them any trouble. In fact, she hadn’t even had to bring out the needle again. He’d willingly provided more information than she’d ever hoped for: the names of other mercenaries, the way they received their orders, how often they were paid and how much. That sum had staggered her—these commandos made twice what she’d pulled in as a top computer security consultant.
In fact, Noa worried that he’d been a little too obliging with the information. It seemed odd that he was so rattled by the threat of a virus that might not even affect him. The P&D mercenaries should be experts on PEMA, after all.
She’d discussed it with Zeke after dinner. In his opinion, this was the lucky break they’d finally been waiting for. Relax, Noa , he’d said, awkwardly rubbing her shoulder. It’s normal for us to think things are messed up when they work out. But that doesn’t mean they are.
Maybe he was right. Still, she wanted to know more about what the guy had meant, calling her the “golden goose”; this was the second time she’d heard that expression, and she wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. Why was she so important, among all of these kids? Zeke had a theory that she was their only successful experiment, and
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