Toxic Influence Read online

  "Well, next time I'll bad cop for you."

  "Next time, I'm hoping it's just some terrorists and we don't have to good cop anyone." He massaged his jaw, then nodded and headed out. "Meeting room. It won't take long."

  Because we didn't have much. Unfortunate as it was to say. The information we gathered so far was slight. But hopefully that computer and those communications would crack this shit a lot more open.

  Chapter Eight

  No one was particularly pleased to be called back into the meeting room again. Agent King scowled, and Swift walking in didn't change her overall disposition in the least. So…I guess she at least wasn't out to be disingenuous. Everyone knew how she felt about this.

  "We have what could be a good break." Swift leaned over, hands splayed out on the tabletop. "It could be the biggest break of the case, and if we're exceptionally lucky with it, it might be the only major break we need."

  "You sound like you're trying to sell yourself on this shit, Swift." King snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just lay it out or clam the hell up."

  Swift just nodded at that and straightened up. "We got the live streamer, and we have access to his laptop."

  "Which I'd like to get to, if it's not too much trouble." Kimmy was looking only slightly less perturbed than Agent King about the whole thing. "I'm assuming this case-breaking information might live on the laptop?"

  "It might. And I have so much faith in your skills, I'm sure we can take five minutes to discuss things." He cracked his neck side to side before continuing. "Whoever actually is behind all this bullshit paid our livestreaming friend there to make the video. If we can track that payment back to something real—"

  "Sounds good." Kimmy jumped to her feet. "I'll get the fuckers if anyone's going to."

  "I'm sure you will. That's why I hired you. But sit."

  "Sit on this? The hell, Swift?"

  He took everything in nice, easy stride instead of ranting about protocol like Carlson probably would have. "The longer we sit here arguing, the longer until you can get in and do the actual work. It's not going to take long to get everyone up to speed."

  He held eye contact with her until, finally, Kimmy walked back over and leaned over her chair. Not sitting. "Fine. Fucking go."

  "They used a local hobgoblin to get the job done. He was struggling to make ends meet from the sounds of things. That means they're hitting the vulnerable in the community to get their work done."

  "That's standard operating procedure for terrorist groups." It may have been pretty common knowledge, but they brought me on to talk counterterrorism. So I was earning my keep. Woohoo.

  "I know it is. But it gives us a better idea of the rules these terrorists are playing by," said Swift. "Preet terrorism isn't all that common."

  "There hasn't been a major terrorist threat in the Kingdoms since the Seven-Fingered Hand disbanded eight-hundred years ago," said Gutt.

  Swift nodded. "Which was always part of our problem in working on this case. Not enough direct precedent to work with. It's also why I was fine bringing in someone as green as you, Dash. No offense meant, of course."

  "None taken."

  "I figured you'd know enough about this shit, especially with the national security degree, but wouldn't have quite the same amount of worn-in preconceptions as someone like Jeff. We couldn't assume the same playbook as Al Qaeda or Aum Shinrikyo. But I think we can at least consider it after seeing this. Or part of it."

  "Great. So glad I had to stick around for that." Kimmy clapped her hands. "We fucking done here?"

  Swift nodded, tilting his head to the side. "Yep. We're done. Get me into that computer. Tear it apart and show us what we've got."

  "Finally." She bustled out.

  Everyone else got to their feet until it was just me, Swift, and King. I headed for the door.

  "Just a minute, Dash." Swift's voice caught me. "I just want to run something past you. Terrorism shit."

  "Then you don't need me." King rose instead. "I want to talk to you after you're done with whatever this is, Swift."

  "Nope. You stick around, too. I need the best adviser I've got to work with on this."

  I turned back around and headed to the table. "What's going on?"

  "Does anything about this situation seem off to you? Using someone like Eirbolg, yeah, that's all well and good. But does anything else not settle right with what you know about these kinds of terrorist groups?"

  "Anything?"

  "Way to ask him a nice vague question there, Swift." King huffed. "I seriously needed to be here for this?"

  "Yes you did, Abigail. Maybe you can get some brilliant explosion of inspiration from whatever he says. You've been OPA longer than anyone else."

  "There is one thing." Something I'd been mulling since Madison Square Park, and that came to a head with the video. "Nothing about them is consistent. They attack, what, a bunch of private locations, then a public park, and then they're delivering a mission statement through some random hobgoblin out of Alphabet City? Nothing about their prior attacks said 'we're trying to separate humans and preets,' but now that's the core of their message? It doesn't add up to me."

  King actually nodded. She didn't, like, look at me or smile or anything. But she nodded. That was approval of the idea, right? "It's bugged me too. There's definitely something we're not privy too with their motives."

  "Agreed," said Swift. "Would we normally have a clear idea what they were actually after at this point?"

  I nodded. "Four attacks in?" Five, if you counted both rounds at the Rise and Shine Motel. "Almost certainly. A lot of the time, we have an idea what's going on well in advance of the first attack. Terrorist groups don't just spring up out of nowhere and decide to start launching poison gas attacks. That takes some deep-seated conflict." I shook my head. "Honestly? It doesn't feel like any kind of terrorism I've ever heard of. There's no clear political or societal motivation."

  "Great," said King. "Now, my office, Swift. If it's not too much trouble."

  "You? You're never trouble, Abigail."

  They walked off, and I was alone with no actual purpose to pursue, but a lot of ideas that were suddenly taking hold of me. Was this terrorism, or was there something else going on? Motive was always hard to nail down, but if they were trying to make a real point…they weren't doing a great job of it.

  I didn't make it all the way back out to the cubicles before Kimmy stuck her head out of the doorway. "Gutt, Bancroft, I need some eyes on this shit. Maybe you can make actual sense of it."

  Sure, she didn't call me over, but it seemed to be where things were actually happening. So I filed my happy ass into the vault right behind Bancroft. Kimmy didn't say anything about me following, so I stayed put.

  Gutt and Bancroft leaned over the screen of the bulky laptop. I had just enough space between Gutt's shoulder and Bancroft's frizzy hair to see what was splayed out across the LCD, but that didn't mean I could make heads or tails of it. It was a lot of symbols, and some of them had the same angular look as the Norse runes. But they were all over the screen, and I swear they were moving. Not a lot, but just sort of wiggling in place. Vibrating.

  Bancroft ran his fingers through his hair. "Is this what it appears to be, Gutt? Or am I simply jumping to conclusions on this?"

  "It's a barrier. A strong one. It appears that it was put into place to bar access to this computer. Fascinating."

  Kimmy snorted. "Great. Fucking perfect." She finally turned her attention to me, joy of joys. "You and Swift couldn't figure that out before wasting my god damn time?"

  Gutt shook his head, leaning in closer. "I saw that hobgoblin. He was young, and it looked like he hasn't had a hearth for several years, now. He's sickly. He didn't do this, I would bet money on that."

  Okay, that seemed kind of important. "Because he didn't have a hearth?"

  "Hobgoblins wilt unless they're able to regularly expose themselves to an active flame." Bancroft slipped off his glasses and squ
inted at the screen as he spoke. "Honestly, there should be publicly available hearths for them to visit, as a matter of public health, but such is the way of our world at the moment."

  Kimmy groaned. "Jesus Christ, fine. He didn't do it, but someone fucking blocked off this computer from me, and I'm not having it. So fucking fix it."

  "I'm working on it." Gutt cracked his knuckles, then pulled over an office chair and sat. "It's not particularly complex, luckily. But it is certainly well-made. Someone experienced in this sort of magic created this barrier. And combining it with technology in this way. Truly, truly fascinating."

  "Yeah, I agree with you there." Kimmy sat back in her chair next to him. "If we can figure out how to use it ourselves, then great. But first, maybe we should break this one and get it the hell out of my way?"

  "I think I can manage that, Kimmy." Gutt was talking to her like she was just an insolent child, which was sitting great with her, if the daggers flying out of her eyes were any indication. Gutt scanned back and forth across the screen as he carried on. "I don't think it'll take much. I just need to be careful not to trigger the magic binding onto the kenaz runes." He gestured to what looked like an angular C. There were a couple more I could make out in the jumble as well. "Those would most likely destroy the computer, or the files. One of the two."

  Kimmy rolled her eyes, a nice toned down response for her. "Fine. Don’t trigger those. Let's just get this moving, okay? Poison attacks. Dying people. Bad news."

  "Normally I find your gently boiling rage tolerable, if not occasionally charming. But at the moment, I'd appreciate a bit of a chance to focus. Unless you think you'd like to handle it on your own." After a couple seconds of her not responding, Gutt reached a hand out to the screen, stopping just short of actually touching it.

  The runes stopped moving altogether, snapping into a grid pattern. A few of those kenaz runes glowed brighter than the others.

  "No, no, no." Gutt brought his other hand up and contorted his fingers into some knot I'm pretty sure would dislocate all of my joints if I tried it. "I need help. Zar, Rothiel, Unna. Just someone. It's…I can't handle this on my own." His voice strained. "Go!"

  I ran for it. I wasn't sure I could find my way to R and D, but I knew where Remote Transport was. I winged in, apparently making enough noise to wake up Zar. "Gutt needs help. Quick."

  She jumped to her hooves, zero hesitation. "Where?"

  "Computer vault."

  And she was off. Surprisingly nimble and fast for a narcoleptic demon. I was able to keep up, but hell, I was an FBI agent. She was a technician I'd never seen all the way out of the office. Only bits of her peeking through a portal.

  She flung herself into the vault just ahead of me, the tips of her horns barely missing the top of the door frame. "What's going on?"

  Gutt groaned and shifted his fingers a little, never once taking his eyes from the screen. "If you can just…reseal the runes around the five kenaz and I should be able to do the rest. I can't hold them and undo the locks on this."

  It sounded…shitty as hell. Not a very good plan. A bad idea. A great way to lose all the evidence we could have potentially gotten from this damn computer. But it also didn't seem like we had any other recourse.

  "This isn't my specialty, Gutt." Her claws ticked of each other with nerves, and her tail flicked back and forth. "Perhaps Unna—"

  Gutt shook his head. "I can't hold it that long, Zar. I know you can pull this off."

  She chuckled nervously. "That certainly makes one of us, doesn't it?"

  "You ship us all over two dimensions without a second of hesitation. You can do this. But hurry."

  I didn't even dare breathing as Zar finally struggled and worked her fingers into a pattern like Gutt's. I just stared at the screen and tried to…I don't know, tried not to subconsciously fuck it up. I kept good thoughts, in case that would actually help. Even Kimmy had quit her constant beratement and slew of angry commentary so they could actually attempt to focus.

  Gutt nodded. "Good, Zar. Just keep it like that. I'll be fast."

  "It's volatile magic, Gutt." As she stood there, I watched Zar kind of deflate into herself. She didn't look well, and her voice had roughed on the edges. "It's a struggle." Her skin paled and her knuckles pressed out hard, bones plainly visible in her hands.

  "Just hold out." Gutt worked his fingers into jagged pattern after jagged pattern, and slowly, chunks of the runes disappeared, flashing off the screen and leaving what looked like a factory-included beach scene of a desktop. Another chunk disappeared and showed the recycling bin.

  They were actually getting through.

  Zar was sweating, her skin now a rust orange instead of brilliant red. "Gutt, I—"

  "Just hold on. I'm close." Gutt had about half the screen uncovered, and was picking up a little bit of speed.

  Zar shook her head. "I'm going to…it's not…"

  When you're a cop, you see some shit. Some of that shit you see often enough to know the signs. I could just barely see enough of Zar's face to see her blinking rapidly, and blinking hard. Her knees locked backward. Her body quivered.

  "Gutt, she's passing out, hurry."

  "I am hurrying."

  Three quarters of the screen had been cleared, including some of those weird kenaz runes. I rushed to Zar and caught her just as she slumped into dreamland. Her horns weighed heavy on my shoulder. "Shit, shit, shit."

  Kimmy rolled to the computer. "What do we have to work with?"

  Gutt yanked his hands back and the rest of the runes vanished. But that wasn't a happy troll-face I was looking at. "I can't say for sure. I wasn't able to fully get the barrier down before we lost it."

  "Well, shift that ass over and let me see the damage."

  "Yeah, and you could help with Zar." She was still pale and limp, although breathing. Breathing was good. "What the hell happened?"

  "The magic in that barrier was complex. I was barely able to hold onto it. And with Zar being so specialized in her field, it seems she couldn't hold onto it for an extended period. But I can bring her around." Gutt wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. "She'll be fine." Gutt's hands glowed a pale blue as he reached for Zar's face. "I shouldn't have called anyone in. We should have waited…I was foolish and didn't know what I was getting myself into."

  Even though I was more than happy to agree with him that we should have waited, and that he was rash, right now wasn't the time to jump on that.

  Kimmy raised a hand high. "We didn't lose everything, that's for sure. I've already got shit."

  Gutt pressed his hands to the sides of Zar's face. Immediately, color rushed into her cheeks. After a few seconds, she blinked up at Gutt. "Please don't ask me to do that again." Her voice was still ragged. "I don't know that my heart could take it."

  Gutt helped me get her to her feet and led her to a chair. He sat next to her as soon as she was settled. "I can call Casey for you."

  Zar held up one clawed hand. "No, no. I'll recover. And if not, then I'll see him myself." She still looked weak and tired, but a hell of a lot better than she had a few minutes ago. Score one more for magic.

  I figured they had magical things to do and talk about, so I silently excused myself and headed back into the vault. Bancroft and Kimmy were both watching the laptop screen intently. I was pretty sure they didn't even notice me walking in.

  The face someone makes when they see some shit? That's also something you get to know pretty well as a cop. Kimmy was making that face. "What is it?"

  "Bad. It's bad." She pushed back from the laptop. "We lost some of it, but what I've gotten so far isn't good at all."

  "It's not helpful?"

  She whipped around and jumped to her feet. "Does this face say 'not helpful' or 'mortifyingly awful' to you, Wonderhunk? Jesus Christ. Anything I can get from this is helpful. That's why I'm imaging his fucking computer right now. But this shit…I need Swift."

  "He's in King's office last I heard."

  Kimmy buzzed p
ast me without another word, irate or otherwise. I glanced at the screen to see what exactly had gotten her so worked up.

  I saw a lot of shit over the years as a cop. Never saw a man stretched out by magic and gutted open, that was for damn sure. Not until that computer screen forced it on me.

  "What the hell is this shit, Kimiko?" We all squeezed into the computer vault, barely fitting. Swift sat right in front of the goriest snuff I'd ever had the misfortune to stumble across. And the dude was a rock, not showing so much as a quiver in his constitution as he scrolled through the images.

  Unlike me. I could tell without even looking that I had no color left in my face, and I was barely holding my shit together. A saucer full of eyelids or a chair upholstered in human skin is kind of creepy-cool, serial killer fascination kind of shit. It stays that way right up until you actually walk into Ed Gein's house and realize that the armchair has a fucking face.

  Well, whatever this site was that Kimmy found through this computer, it was the face-armchair of this case. She'd found herself a gallery of images—and even worse, some videos that it was going to be somebody's job to watch—of nice brutal murder.

  All humans.

  Swift turned around, and everyone backed up to give him whatever room could be squeezed out of the cramped room. He locked eyes with Kimmy and, for at least that moment, there was a harshness and rage in his gaze that hardened his entire face.

  But it passed before he spoke. "I need to know what's going on with this, Kimmy. Everyone does. Before we let the hobgoblin go, in case we need a more extreme line of questioning."

  "It's a website, not something on his computer. I doubt there's any connection to him directly."

  Swift nodded, steepling his fingers. "Then where did we run across it? Why is it important?"

  "Well, aside from all the incontrovertible proof that preets are murdering the shit out of some humans?" She tapped a couple keys and a new screen loaded. Much less bloody and much more spreadsheety. "This is what I could recover of the payment information I got out of his email. Whole chunks of his data got wiped out by the magical firewall, but luckily I was able to snag the client information."