Down to the Liar(19)

I look over at Murphy’s empty desk chair, imagining Sam sitting there instead of Murphy. I can see him so clearly in my mind, even from the back. He’s slouched over the keyboard, rubbing his ear while he’s working out some obscure technical problem I wouldn’t even know how to express, much less solve. I blink to cut off the mental image. But the guilt polluting my chest is harder to alleviate.

It takes less than a second to dial his number. I hold my breath while it rings.

“Hey,” he says.

Holy crap. He actually answered.

“Hey yourself.” I am nothing if not articulate.

“I was just picking up the phone to call you.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s what they all say.”

“No, really. I need your help. With a—” He pauses. “With a job.”

Ouch. He’s working without me? I guess I thought he just existed in limbo, doing military things while waiting for me to sort myself out. I didn’t think he’d actually move on. Now I feel like dirt. And like an idiot. And like I need to get my act together if I’m going to salvage this conversation.

“What a coincidence. I need your help with a job, too.”

“Oh.”

What the hell am I doing? Why did I call him? About a job, no less. This is not how I wanted our first conversation post-cataclysm to go.

“Are you busy? If you’re busy, I can call back,” I say. Lame. I am so lame.

“No, no. This is a good time. What do you need?”

So I explain about Skyla’s problem. I even tell him about the abusive childhood caretaker. But mostly I talk about the shutout. About how I need to get the attacker to pop his head out of his hole so I can chop it off.

Sam listens with his usual attentiveness, asking all the right questions. And for a minute, it’s like the last five months never happened. It’s like he’s my Sam and I’m his Julep and everything is as it was. And in that minute, my heart soars and burns to ash at the same time, though I absolutely lock my voice down to as measured and normal as I can make it.

“What about St. Agatha’s computer lab?” he says when I’m done.

“What about it?”

“You have to log on to the computers to use them, right? It’s easy enough to get those logs from the tech team if you can get the attacker there. Then just cross-check the log-in log with the site link you’re using as the honeypot.”

“But what would make them use a school computer instead of their own? It’s not like we can disable all the computers in Chicago and force them to use the school’s.”

“Just change the error message on Tog’s web page to something like ‘This site is only accessible from the computer science lab at St. Agatha Preparatory School.’ Maybe add a random string of numbers and letters to make it look more legit.”

I stare at my desk, floored by his brilliance. “That’s—that’s diabolical, Sam. And I mean that with the utmost respect.”

He laughs. “I know.”

I’m still reeling, my brain already spinning the details of the shutout. But something clicks over in my new-Julep psyche, reminding me other people have needs, too.

“What about you?” I say. “You said you needed help?”

He tells me about his job. It’s another wire game. I almost comment on the strangeness of both of us running a wire game at the same time, when neither of us has ever successfully pulled one off before. But I don’t. It’s his turn to talk.

When he’s done with his story, I sigh. “You can’t con a selfless person, Sam.”

“I know. But I have to do something. I can’t just let her lose all her hard work. She’d be devastated.”

I’m silent for several seconds, thinking. I know what I’d do, but it’s nothing short of a nuclear option. I hate even suggesting he put himself at so much risk. I hate not being there to keep him safe. And yes, I realize what a hypocrite that makes me. But even if I ignore my own arguments, I can’t help him. He left. He left me, and he’s successfully moving on without me. I have to let him, if that’s what he wants. It’s what you do for someone you love, right? You let them be happy no matter how miserable it makes you.

I take a deep breath. “There is one thing you can do. But it’s a big risk.”

“Tell me.”

So I do. I give him the only way out with any chance of him salvaging the situation. And as I do, I’m praying to every god I’ve ever heard of that my dicey solution doesn’t take him down in the process.