The Oracle Year(91)

“Get them to the goddamn hospital!” Will shouted at the driver, who nodded, his eyes wide.

“Will!” Hamza managed. “Get out of here.”

“I can’t leave you two.”

“Yes, you can. You have to. It’s . . . safer. Just go.”

Will looked into his friend’s face, realizing that “safe” in this context meant as far away from the Oracle as possible, and understanding, and agreeing.

He stepped back and closed the car door. The Town Car peeled out from the curb. Will turned back to face the crowd. In the distance, he could hear sirens approaching, and apparently so could they. People were glancing at one another, awakening to what they’d just done, drifting away down the sidewalk in small, shamed groups.

“How dare you?” Will said. He looked from face to face. Not one of them would look him in the eye. “What are you people?”

“God is with us,” a man with long, gray hair said. “That’s all you need to know, monster.”

If Will had been holding a gun, he would have shot the man dead. As it was, he used the weapon he had.

“I am,” he said. “I am a monster. You’re all going to die. Horribly, and in pain. Every single one of you. You’re dead. Trust the monster. The Oracle never lies.”

The crowd recoiled, shock on every face. Will turned and walked away, toward the first car. He could see Leigh waiting for him.

Behind him, shouts of confusion and apology spiraled up from the crowd. Will didn’t look back.





Chapter 35




The Town Car moved north along Ninth Avenue, inching its way through heavy traffic on its way to the George Washington Bridge.

The Oracle was hunched down in his seat, his arms clenched around his torso, sunglasses on and a baseball cap pulled down low over his face. He presented like a pill bug curled up into an armored ball after being poked.

Leigh wanted to talk to him, but the man in the front seat was a problem. Every driver in New York City understood the beautiful illusion of privacy offered by the backseat of their ride, be it a cab, limo, or Uber—that sacred trick of solitude. But this particular driver currently had the Oracle as his passenger, and the minute he learned that, all chaufferly codes of honor were likely to fly out the window.

So Leigh sat quietly, thinking about how much danger they might be in—attempting to calculate her personal threat level versus the Oracle’s. She wondered where they were headed at that moment, and whether Hamza and Miko were all right, and what could possibly happen next, taking thorough mental notes toward the moment when she might be able to write it all down.

Will unclenched, sitting upright in a quick, convulsive movement. He looked around the backseat, his hands casting across the leather until they found his shoulder bag, forgotten since they had first entered the car. He ripped it open, fumbling inside until he pulled out a cell phone. He swiped it on, cursed, then flipped it over.

“What is it?” Leigh asked. “What’s the matter?”

Will didn’t answer. He popped open a small compartment on the back of the phone and levered out a small chip of plastic—the SIM card, Leigh realized. He pressed the control to pull down the car’s window and tossed the SIM card out onto Ninth. Then, he removed the phone’s battery and, a block or two farther north, threw that out too. The last item to go was the phone itself.

Leigh noticed the driver was watching the Oracle through the rearview mirror—but he didn’t say anything. The holy veil was holding, at least for the moment.

She understood what Will had done. Hamza had done the same thing, back in the apartment. Phones could be tracked, easily, and the device Will had gotten rid of probably had some connection back to his actual name. She thought about news offices all over the world, and trending topics, and hacker collectives, all, finally, with something to work with. Two words: Will Dando.

Leigh tried to imagine it, tried to put herself into Will’s shoes. She couldn’t. Privacy, even the illusion of privacy, was too central to how she viewed herself. The ability to decide what parts of you were shared with the world seemed like it should be a basic human right—no longer an option for Will Dando. Everything he’d ever done, or thought, or bought; everyone he’d ever slept with; every choice he’d ever made . . . within a day, all that would be public knowledge.

Will reached back into his bag and pulled out a second cell phone. It looked cheaper than the one he had destroyed, less sleek, maybe a prepaid burner. He powered it on and thumb-typed for a moment, then showed the screen to Leigh.

Will: Let’s talk this way?

She reached into her own pocket and removed her cell, opening a similar program and typing for a moment.

Leigh: I get it. Where are we going?

Will: Private airport just outside city. Chartered jet was supposed to take me, H, M to a safe house. Can’t go now.

Leigh: Why?

Will: Paid for plane with Oracle accounts. Don’t know if bad guys made connection—can’t take chance.

Leigh thought about this for a little while before responding.

Leigh: Chance of what? Everyone already knows you’re the Oracle. Why worried now?

Will read her screen, then looked at her, frowning. He typed for a moment, then held up his phone for her to read.

Will: Best friends just almost got killed. Maybe just beginning. You forget?