Hidden (Nicole Jones #1)(35)

‘But I thought they said he wasn’t on the flights that went out yesterday. Or was he?’ And then I have another thought. Is that how Carmine ended up here? The ferry wasn’t the only way people got onto the island.

‘Frank thinks you should stay here, inside, not go out, until they find him.’ Steve has answered my question in a roundabout way. Frank Cooper does not think Ian was on any of the flights if he thinks I should stay with Steve.

‘But what if they don’t find him?’ My imagination starts to go a little crazy. I think again about Carmine.

Ian had not come up with the plan on his own. While I had been under his spell, I wasn’t so far gone to know that he wasn’t all that savvy. He had been greedy and desperate, which made him dangerous and careless.

When he first came to me with his idea, acting so innocent (‘You could do this, couldn’t you? I mean, with your skills, you could hack into anywhere, right?’) I’d suspected that something else was going on, but once the plan had taken hold of me, I couldn’t shake it. It was a challenge, something that could put me on the map. And it did, but with all the wrong people.

Steve smirks. ‘What do you think – that he’s swimming with the fishes?’ He chuckles, but the sound dies in his throat when he realizes I am not laughing with him. ‘Nicole, you don’t think someone—’

‘I don’t know what to think,’ I say. ‘There were some very bad people involved. People I didn’t know about until after.’

‘After what?’

I take a deep breath. It’s time. ‘I hacked into a bank and transferred money to accounts in other places.’

There, it is out. And I see from his expression that he has not looked me up on the Internet, that he has waited for me to tell him. That he trusted me enough to tell him myself.

‘How many accounts?’

He doesn’t need me to tell him. Just from the little I’ve told him, he knows there were a lot.

I hadn’t thought about right or wrong, only how I was going to do it.

It wasn’t anything dramatic, either. It wasn’t very different from anything else I’d done. Ian had given me the list of account numbers, but first I had to get into the bank’s system and find them – and find the portal that would allow me to move the money out without alerting anyone right away.

I liked the sneaking around. My ability to be invisible behind the firewall, changing the source codes so I could access the passwords and, with just a few clicks, transfer millions across the oceans, thousands of miles away. Something intangible became tangible, although it never felt like stealing. I didn’t make that connection right away. It was merely a puzzle to be solved. I wasn’t slipping a bracelet into my pocket at the department store.

When I saw the transfers go through, I felt the thrill ripple through my body. I suppose I should have wanted Ian with me, but I didn’t. I wanted to feel my success by myself, because even if I’d tried to explain to him how I’d done it, he would never have understood the technicalities.

The only person I yearned for at that moment was Tracker. He understood me like no one else. He knew what I was capable of and encouraged me. He was the only one I ever truly trusted.

‘How many accounts?’ Steve is persistent.

As he repeats the question, pulling me out of my memory, my thoughts begin to race. Ian gave me one username and password when we were at the Blue Dory. Just one. Not multiple accounts. One.

‘A lot,’ I say. ‘There were a lot of accounts.’ I glance at the clock. It is five to seven. I get up, my coffee cup in my hand. ‘I have to use the computer,’ I say, ignoring the look of disbelief and shock on his face.

Steve starts to get up, too, but I put up my hand. ‘I have to do this myself. We can pick everything up from here when I’m done.’ I see his expression change; he isn’t happy about this. ‘Please, Steve.’

Maybe it’s something in my tone, but he backs off. He starts clearing the breakfast dishes without a word, leaving me to head into the den. The computer sits on the desk, and I turn it on. I’ve seen this computer here a hundred times and never touched it, never had the urge to touch it, before yesterday. Well, maybe that’s a little bit of a lie. Sometimes when Steve wasn’t looking, I’d run my hand across the keyboard as I passed by, just to get a little thrill. Knowing what I could do, but choosing not to. I’d been proud of myself for that, feeling that I’d changed.

What a fool I am.

I log into the URL that Angel has given me for the chat, and I get into the room easily. No one else is there, and I hope this isn’t some sort of trap. And then …

Est le soleil? Is the sun shining?

I feel my heart quicken, my fingers moving quickly.

Non, le ciel est nuageux. No, it’s cloudy.

Tiny. So you’re alive.

You, too. Tracker is here, using the French phrases that we’d devised to make sure that both of us were who we said we were.

Angel said you need help.

I’ve been offline since then. I don’t know my way around anymore.

Like riding a bike.

It’s what Ian had said.

Can you help navigate? I type.

You know I will. You’ve got your safeguards in place?

Yes.

Good girl. See, it’s not so hard.