Page 27 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)

NINE

So much for Emberly’s attempts to forget who she was.

“I am absolutely going with you.” She paced the family room of the Airbnb Nim had gotten while the fire department assessed the damage to her house.

A.k.a. the entire thing.

Emberly still couldn’t believe that Nim’s beautiful cottage had burned, almost entirely, to the ground, just the shell remaining, her beautiful kitchen charred, her porch blackened, and her living room smoke-damaged.

How it started, the fire chief didn’t say, but he’d found a broken bottle in the remains and suggested it might have been an improvised incendiary device.

She added the Russian part and came up with Molotov cocktail, lit and left burning while she slept.

Nim’s tech room, however, had survived with remarkably little damage, so she’d reassembled her system in the main room of the rental. Now she sat in front of the array of screens, wearing her computer glasses, her pajama bottoms, and an oversized T-shirt she’d picked up on their shopping run.

Outside, the last of the day receded along the palmy horizon, the ocean outside darkened, the stars scattered overhead. A half-empty box of Oceanside pizza lay on the counter.

Steinbeck’s mouth had been a tight, almost angry line for the better part of the day.

Yeah, well, Emberly was mad too. And it might have been worse if she hadn’t stopped him from charging , without a thought, into a burning building.

After her.

It turned her a little weak, not to mention the way he’d held on to her.

Oh, Austen was probably right.

And he wasn’t going anywhere without her. “I can’t believe you thought you could just ditch me for Declan.”

Steinbeck’s eyebrow rose. “I wasn’t exactly going to ditch you. But I didn’t see you necessarily jumping to protect a guy who, just a couple months ago, you called a terrorist.”

“The shoe seemed to fit at the time.”

Nimue picked up a half cup of coffee, took a sip, and made a face. “Oh, that’s bad.”

“Because it was brewed two hours ago,” Emberly said, taking the mug. “Should I nuke it? And your sad piece of pizza?” She picked up the plate.

“No. I can’t eat when I’m chasing something through the dark web. Grab me an Arnold Palmer.” She gestured to the fridge, where a case of her brain drink—a lemonade-sweet-tea mix—chilled.

“What are you doing?” Steinbeck asked.

“I got curious when you mentioned the UN General Assembly,” Nim said.

She turned her screen. “This is a list of the exhibitions. The UN General Assembly meets every year, with the goal of discussing and trying to solve a wide range of international issues. Like peace and security, economic growth, human rights, and sustainable development.” She pointed to the screen.

“Spectra Cybernetics is on the agenda. They’re exhibiting a search-and-rescue android for use in earthquakes, as well as minesweepers equipped with Axiom. ”

Steinbeck nodded, his arms crossed. “How does that connect with someone trying to burn your house down?”

“Or kill Emberly.” Nim glanced at Steinbeck. “They had to have set the fire after I left.”

His mouth pinched, and he nodded.

“They’ve been after me since Portugal,” Emberly said. “Tomas was sure that I had a copy of Axiom.”

“Which is why they let you go,” said Steinbeck. “I’m convinced they were hoping you’d flush out Declan. And maybe Luis.”

“Why Luis?”

“We never got to the bottom of who hacked Declan’s bots at the fair.” He shook his head. “I’m worried it was a test.”

“I think it was,” Nim said. “I did some dark-web sleuthing, searching some forums known for cybercrime and mercenary services with a custom script to flag terms like droids , and Axiom , and UNGA .”

Emberly sat down on the sofa.

“Then I created a fake user and joined the conversation. And I tapped a Russian hacker I know. He works for a security team in Europe. Artyom and I work together sometimes, and he created a different user and we started up a conversation. I posed as a buyer. And then this guy showed up.” She pointed at the user: @ZeroSum42.

“He claims he has a copy of Axiom and is ready to sell. I asked him for a demo, and he sent me this.” She pointed at the message: 40. 756870, -74.001762.

“In case you’re wondering, that’s the lat and long of the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center, New York City. And where Declan’s exhibition is in three days.”

“You think they’ll hack the droids?” Stein asked.

“Maybe,” Emberly said. “We have the virus, though. So?” She lifted a shoulder. “Feels like a failed play.”

“How is the virus delivered?” This from Nim.

“It’s stored on a cloud and downloaded. The problem is, we can’t infect the droids if they’re not corrupted.”

“Who is @ZeroSum42?” Steinbeck had gotten up, walked over to stare at the screen, as if he could use his X-ray vision to reach through the computer and strangle Mr. Zero Sum by the throat.

“Down, boy. You’ll like this part. I told him I’d pay a deposit to secure it until the demonstration. He sent me his wallet information. I used a blockchain analysis to identify past transactions and other linked wallets. This guy has been paid by the Petrov Bratva.”

“And Bob’s your uncle,” Emberly said.

Nim pointed at her.

“So, what—this guy developed the hack that infected Declan’s security dog droids?”

“Maybe.” She turned her screen back. “I was able to hack into the cloud storage of the Russian Bratva a few days ago, and I downloaded the contents into my cloud. I spent the last couple days going through it, ran some malware, and found this.” She opened a file and clicked on an image.

A woman stood in the shadows, the light from the street just barely illuminating her and her backpack.

Emberly stilled. “That’s me. In Lisbon.”

“What are you doing?” Stein asked.

“I’m buying your dinner.” And she was on the phone. “I was calling you, Nim.”

“Maybe they tracked the cell call to me,” Nimue said. “And when I hacked into their server a few days ago, they found the trace and put it together.”

“So they did let you go,” said Steinbeck.

Emberly scrubbed a hand down her face. “All this time, they were following me? Why?”

“You’re the only one who knows what Tomas looks like.”

“No—Mystique knows him too.”

Steinbeck considered that.

Wait. She turned. “What if they followed me to Minnesota?”

“And meanwhile, they took Luis and forced him to create the virus.”

“How’d they get Axiom?”

“I don’t know!” He held up a hand. “I don’t know. Did you make a copy of it?”

“No. Like I said—I was on an island without Internet. And then on Declan’s boat... Oh no.”

He stared at her, and just like that, she saw the same answer click in his blue eyes. “The captain.”

“Yes. Captain Teresa. From Portugal. You don’t think...” Her mouth opened. “I had it with me on the boat. Maybe she took it. Or copied it.” She drew in a breath. “And sent it to Luis.”

“How can you?—”

“Luis’s lock screen had a picture of her. I thought something about it seemed familiar.”

“He’s been working with the Bratva the entire time,” Stein said.

Nimue glanced at Emberly. “There’s more.” She clicked on a photo. “Is this you petting a pig?”

Steinbeck folded his arms.

“And eating ice cream.”

“I’ve seen enough,” said Steinbeck. He pulled out his phone.

“Okay, but you’ll want to see this.” Nim clicked on another file. It opened to a grid of five levels.

Emberly leaned over her. “What is that?”

“That is a floor plan of the entire Javits Center. There’s another file for each floor.”

“This was in a file on the cloud.”

“Okay, that’s enough for me.” Steinbeck stalked across the room, pulled open the sliding glass door, and stepped outside.

“He’s a little scary when he’s mad,” Nim said.

“He’s not mad. This is his operator persona.” But Emberly watched him, an outline in the darkness, pacing the balcony. She turned back to Nim. “You can’t stay here.”

Nimue raised an eyebrow. “I certainly can.”

“No. Nim. They didn’t get me. And they’ll be back, I know it.”

“I’m in a hotel. What are they going to?—”

“This is the Russian mob! Name it!”

Nimue held up her hands. “Calm down.”

“I’m not in the least calm.” Emberly pressed her hands to her head. “It could have easily been both of us sleeping in that cottage today. And what if they’d decided not to burn it down but just to walk in and drop us with a couple shots to the head?”

Nimue blinked at her.

“Sorry, but... I did mention the mob , right?” She pulled out her most recent burner phone. “I need to call Mystique and warn her. You need to burn your dark-web trail.”

Nimue turned back to her computer.

Mystique’s phone went to voicemail. Emberly pulled open the balcony door and stepped outside. Caught Stein on a call.

“Listen, Colt, you need to tell Logan. Luis can’t be trusted. And Declan may have a tainted virus. I don’t know—right. Yes. I’ll be there.”

He glanced at Emberly, drew in a breath. “No, she’s safe.” He stilled. “No way.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He turned away. “No. They just tried to kill—I don’t care!”

“Steinbeck.” She touched his arm. It tensed under her grip.

“Over my dead—I know!”

“I’m going with you.”

He glanced at her, his eyes narrowing. “Hold on, Colt.” He pulled the phone away. “No. You’re not.”

She laughed, shook her head. “You’ve met me, right?”

His mouth tightened and he shook his head, turned back. “You still there?”

He sighed, listening, his mouth pulling.

“Tell him—and yourself—that Mystique isn’t answering,” Emberly said. “Which means I’m the only one who can identify Tomas.”

Steinbeck turned, leaning against the balcony, a knot of frustration. “And you should check on Logan. Mystique isn’t answering.”

He met her eyes as he nodded to something Colt said. Then, “No, I’ll call Declan. I’m going to need a plane anyway.” He shut the phone almost violently.

She stood there in the darkness, just the light from the moon and the glow from inside illuminating his scowl. “You remind me of a very upset sailor I once met.”