Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games #2)(45)

In a tight voice, I ask, “You don’t want him to know it’s you?”

Miranda says, “No enterprise is more likely to succeed than one concealed from the enemy until it is ripe for execution.”

Tabby looks at her in surprise. “I see someone other than me has read Machiavelli.”

Miranda’s smile is pinched. “Yes. I’ve studied his writings extensively.”

I don’t know what to make of the expression on Tabby’s face. She says, “‘It’s double pleasure to deceive the deceiver.’ That was always my favorite of his lines. You?”

Miranda locks eyes with Tabby. “‘Nothing great was ever achieved without danger.’”

Some unspoken understanding passes between them. Tabby murmurs, “Indeed.”

Harry is irritated with the interruption. “If we’re done quoting a dead guy to each other, ladies, can we get back to the situation at hand?”

Tabby turns her attention back to Harry. She leans forward in her chair. “Give me a chance to engage him, distract him, play with him a little. He won’t let it last long, but once he’s shut down his servers, we can analyze whatever data my program has scoured from his system.”

“And if your program comes up with nothing useful?”

Tabby leans back in her chair and lifts a shoulder. “Then we can make a phone call. But once we do that…once he knows I’m involved in this…” Her voice darkens. “The game will change.”

“How?” I ask, my voice hard.

Tabby looks at her hands when she answers. “We’ll no longer have any control whatsoever.”

My throat is tight, crowded with every question I want to ask her about S?ren, but won’t. Not here. Not now.

Harry, however, has no problem getting straight to the point. “Why not? What will he do?”

Tabby looks at me. She says softly, “He’ll end it.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest. “Miss West. Please. I don’t have the patience for puzzles. What will he do?”

It’s Miranda who answers, her voice strained. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’ll release all the data he stole from me to the press and my competition—including my proprietary software—cut the power to the entire studio, and destroy my business. Every production will be shut down. Every office and soundstage will go dark, possibly permanently, depending on how much control he has over the Department of Water and Power’s computers.”

“We’ve got agents working on that,” says Harry. “The DWP has been notified there’s been an intrusion into their network—they’re executing breach protocols as we speak.”

“If they block one hole, he’ll find another,” says Tabby. “There’s always a way in. Also, there’s the possibility he has people inside the DWP assisting him.”

Harry nods. “We’re working on that theory too.”

“The bottom line,” says Miranda in a shaking voice, “is that everything I’ve worked for and created over the last twenty years will be gone. So please—let her go to work!”

It’s so unusual for Miranda to show strong emotion that I’m momentarily distracted from Tabby. Next to me, Ryan watches everything with hawk-like focus, taking it all in. It’s one of the reasons I wanted him here. He can see whatever I might be missing because I’m too close.

Because I’m too emotionally involved, and can’t trust myself.

Harry says, “Chan, sit down at the desk. Miss West, you can tell him what to type.”

Tabby sends Harry a grim smile. “Don’t trust me, O’Doul?”

“Of course not. I don’t trust anybody, it’s bad for business. Now move.”

Agent Chan makes a sorry face at Tabby. When she rises from the chair, he takes her place. Fingers poised over the keyboard, he says, “Ready.”

Standing behind him, Tabby instructs, “Get rid of that shit on the screen. Take us down to the C prompt.”

Chan starts typing. The pictures of war flashing on the monitor vanish, replaced by a normal Windows desktop. A few more keystrokes and the screen goes black. A green cursor flashes at the top left.

Tabby says, “You know your stuff.”

“That’s why I’m the only Special Agent in this group, Miss West.”

As Tabby softly chuckles, Chan waits, eyes fixed on the screen.

“All right, then. Here we go. Type ‘What is divisible by zero?’”

Chan answers automatically, “No number is divisible by zero.”

“I didn’t say what number, did I? Now type.”

After a quick glance at Harry, who nods, Chan begins to type. He presses Enter, and waits.

And keeps waiting. The cursor flashes, but nothing comes back.

A minute passes. Then two. Harry says, “He’s not answering.”

Her gaze fixed on the screen, Tabby murmurs, “Wait for it.”

Then a message blinks up: To whom am I speaking, please?

Ryan snorts. “Pretty polite for a bad guy.”

“Manners make the man,” says Tabby thoughtfully.

Is her tone admiring? I want to reach through the computer and strangle whoever is on the other end.

Tabby instructs Chan, “Now type ‘What is the meaning of life?’”