James Patterson - Blindside

Before Oscar could even flop onto the ground, Janos caught him with his left arm and redirected his weight. He slipped the computer programmer into the casket with hardly a noise.

Oscar was still breathing for a moment inside the casket. A rough rasp that didn’t seem to give him much air. The bullet must have just nicked his heart. Blood was really spreading across his crazy hacker shirt. You couldn’t even read the word democracy through the dark stain.

Blood bubbled up onto Oscar’s lips and suddenly it felt like he understood exactly what was happening. Somehow, through the shock, it had dawned on him that he was inside the casket.

Alice stepped closer. The shot had come so fast that she had been as surprised as Oscar. The noise had barely bothered her as it dispersed across the room. She took a quick look at the floor of the truck to make sure no blood had dripped down.

She also looked in the casket and caught the last couple of twitches from Oscar. It was the cleanest shooting she’d ever seen. Even she hadn’t expected it. She was a little disappointed she hadn’t gotten to use her garrote.

On the bright side, it was one more loose end handled. Tomorrow they would go to Brew and see if they could find Jennifer.

The more Alice thought about it, the more she wanted to use her garrote on Jennifer. She didn’t care what Henry thought. Maybe it would teach him to show her some respect.

Besides, it would take away the sting of not being able to use it on Oscar.

Janos carefully closed the casket. Then he took the plastic wrap and ran it around the sides of the four caskets just like on the other pallets.

He looked at Alice as he said, “No one will remember if they wrapped the caskets yet or not. This way, it will be days, maybe weeks, before anyone finds Oscar. By then we’ll be back in Europe collecting a fat paycheck from that asshole Henry.”

Alice liked the sound of that.

CHAPTER 35

IT WAS DARKby the time I got home. But it felt good to shed the stress of the day as I walked through the front door. The place was its usual beehive of activity. I said hello to Mary Catherine and the older kids, who were doing their homework at the dining room table, and it sounded like Ricky was working in the kitchen. No doubt my little chef was making us some kind of Cajun delight. Whatever Emeril Legasse said, Ricky made happen.

Neither Mary Catherine nor I had the guts to tell Ricky we weren’t particularly big fans of spicy Cajun food. But he had a passion, and I intended to support him. Even if it cost me the lining of my stomach as I got older.

I ran over in my head the visit I’d made to Jennifer Chang’s apartment. Something about it still felt odd to me. Indescribable. Just a weird tingling on the back of my neck. Was she trying to avoid me? If that was the case, she wouldn’t have gone back to the apartment above the casket warehouse.

Fiona, Chrissy, Bridget, and Shawna were all huddled around the coffee table in the living room. I walked into the room to a chorus of “Hi, Dad” in unison.

I clapped my hands together as I approached and said, “What have you girls got cooking over here?”

Shawna smiled and said, “Monopoly, and I already have houses on three properties. I also own all four railroads.”

I caressed the cheek of my beautiful daughter. We had no information about her biological parents. When she first came to us, I had assumed both her parents were black. But now, as she got older and her hair fell down in long curls, I suspected she could be half Hispanic. Every one of my kids was as different as could be; even the twins, Fiona and Bridget, had entirely different personalities. It just made our lives that much more interesting and exciting.

I made my way to the computer in the corner of the living room. As usual, Eddie had commandeered it, and we were far enough away from everyone else that no one would hear our conversation.

I tried to sound casual. “What’s going on, buddy?”

“Usual.”

“You follow some of the hackers online, right? I mean, staying up with the trends.”

“I guess.”

Computer prodigy or not, he was still a teenager. No conversation was that easy. I said, “You talked to me a couple times about networks and some of the different programs you use. If I had the MAC address of a computer, is there any way to pin down where it shows up on Wi-Fi?”

Eddie hesitated. I could see him working the question over in his mind.

I said, “This is unofficial, not Dad asking. If you can do it, I really need to find someone. You won’t get in trouble, no matter what sketchy websites you have to visit for this.”

Eddie said, “There are different programs out there. Or, I should say, networks that keep track of that kind of stuff. I’m sure there’s someone at the police department who knows how to do it.”

“Let’s say I was just trying to keep my distance from the office. And that time was a little bit of an issue. If I gave you the MAC address, do you think you could find some leads for me? No questions asked about how you do it.”

The kids knew that when I told them they wouldn’t get in trouble, nothing would happen. Once you start hedging on promises, it’s a slippery slope. The kids won’t trust you and can’t come to you with real problems. Eddie knew this.

He smiled and said, “This could be a good little test.”

I gave him the twelve digits my odd contact from Columbia University had provided, the MAC address for Jennifer Chang’s computer.

Eddie said, “I might need a while to find this. I have a couple of websites I can look at.”

“It won’t show a name or anything that gets out on the internet, will it?”

He just gave me a little condescending laugh. I mostly deserved it.

I watched him for a few seconds, then turned to head into the kitchen. Before I made it five steps, Eddie said, “Got it.”

He spent another minute or two finding more information. He looked up at me and said, “It looks like this computer regularly signs on to a Wi-Fi network run by a coffeehouse kinda near Columbia. The place’s name is Brew.”

CHAPTER 36

I DROVE Alittle north from our apartment to the area around Broadway and 123rd, to a short street called La Salle. I had a feeling deep inside me that things were not nearly as they appeared. This case was turning weird fast. The fact that one of the witnesses I needed to find, Tommy Payne, had been murdered made it more immediate.

Whatever had happened to Natalie Lunden, I no longer thought she was just a spoiled kid acting out. I’ll admit, like any human being, I’d approached this with a little bit of an attitude. Maybe it was because of my feelings for the mayor. Maybe it was experience. I’d thought after digging around for a day or two I might find Natalie hiding at a friend’s apartment. Just another kid who basically ran away from home.

Now, the more I looked into it, the more concerned I became. I’d had some guys from the NYPD Intelligence Bureau see if they could find out anything about her or her friends. So far, it looked like she hung out with mostly computer people, and it looked like some of them didn’t follow the rules. That worried me even more.

I had to start considering the possibility that she’d been kidnapped. But there had been no ransom demand or any other contact with her parents. That was weird if it was a true kidnapping.

I wondered if it had something to do with the mayor’s unpopularity. But the fact that he’d approached the police about his daughter made me believe he would’ve told us about a threat.

Add in the element of computers and programs like the one Eddie had used to find this coffeehouse, and my mind had started to swim. I don’t consider myself an old guy, but I was beginning to feel like one. Technology had left me behind. Sure, I could text and send an email. But when Eddie started talking to me about the things he did on the computer, it was like he was speaking another language.