Page 52 of The Primary Pest
“I knew that.”
“Well, under these new circumstances, the police, maybe even the FBI, will be taking over the investigation. In the meantime, you’re going to go for a cruise, and Iphicles will try to smoke your bad guy out.”
Ajax shook his head. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“You got a better one?”
Even if he’d planned to answer, Peter didn’t give him the chance. He was one of those guys with energy to burn, and Ajax had to practically sprint to keep up with him.
“I’ll have the IT guys tell you what we need from you once you board. We can get started tonight. The gist is Ajax Freedom rides again.”
He said the words like that was a good thing, which—Ajax narrowed his eyes. “You know that was all fake, right? The Ajax Freedom persona got blown, and not in the fun and spanky way. Hecan’tcome back.”
“Aw… I know. But”—Peter smiled brightly—“we’re betting at least some people in the angry mob don’t care about that. Or they figure there’s some conspiracy driving your transformation. We’re betting we can engage your stalker because he wants to punish you for telling lies. He’s furious. He feels betrayed. He’s going to want to air his grievances against you, and we’ll be right there, monitoring your feed, when he does.”
Ajax agreed, in theory, that it could work. “I’m told I can make anyone angry, if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, I got the memo on that too.” Peter shot Dmytro a fond look. “Zhenya wants you to go live as if Ajax Freedom never left. We’re set up to route you through the fake safehouse servers. When you’re done being obnoxious, you’re free to knock off. Let us monitor the stream. You don’t need the aggravation, all right?”
“Okay. But if you think a good hacker won’t be able to see through a basic reroute—”
“Iphicles is the best, Ajax,” Peter said. “Trust me.”
Ajax didn’t. And he resented being coddled. “I’m not exactly shabby at this technical shit either. Whoever is doing this has chops. They were using multiple accounts, multiple VPNs, they bounced messages through obscure servers in countries I’ve barely heard of.”
Peter shrugged. “Of course they did.”
“Yeah. Well. I wrote a pretty efficient patch to filter dubious accounts. Whoever this is, they got around it. I was running a Wireshark packet sniffer, though. If I could just get my hands on my computer, I’m sure I could run down—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Peter grinned like a wolf in a fairy tale. “We have some proprietary tricks up our sleeve, baby. I tell you what, if you can find this asshole before we do, we’ll hire you.”
Peter’s words made him search out Dmytro’s gaze. Their eyes met for far too long. No man had ever looked at him like that. Was that only Dmytro’s protective instinct? Or was it more?
“Challenge accepted. Happens I quit my day job recently. Get me a brand-new laptop. I’ll need time to tear it apart, scrub it, and then we’ll see who gets there first.”
He had to force himself to think about his Freedom persona. While he was rattled now, uncertain, afraid to take up the mic again and rant as he’d once done daily, he knew the secondhe started speaking on air, it would be effortless. One of his therapists told him Ajax Freedom wasn’t an outlet, it was a compulsion. Whatever the reason, things were different for him when he was able to channel his alter ego. He knew actors who got over crippling stage fright the moment they walked on stage. Maybe it was something like that?
He could blink away nerves when Freedom was the center of attention. He was able to get a grip, not because he was fearless or confident but because Ajax Freedom didn’t suffer the same fears he did.
Peter apparently skippered the cruiser, and he introduced Ajax to Chet, his first mate. Chet ran a digital wand over everyone, looking for transmitters, before they climbed aboard.
The crew—which included two well-armed, athletic women in Iphicles gear—made their final preparations.
Dmytro found him later to slap a scopolamine patch on him. They stood on deck together, watching water foam against the bow. Dmytro dug through his pockets. “Here’s your watch. You left it behind in the restaurant.”
“Thanks.” Had he? Ajax frowned at his watch. He was glad to have it back. If he’d lost it, he’d have had to buy another for scuba diving, which reminded him. Sport was the only reason he ever got on boats. The Iphicles boat was gorgeous and well maintained. She carried the clean scent of teakwood but also engine oil and the inevitable aroma of mildew in the cabins.
He hoped he wasn’t making the worst mistake of his life, staying aboard. He missed his parents. He was afraid he’d never see them again. Why, oh why, had he agreed to go along with their request?
“You all right?” Dmytro already wore his own patch, but he looked as green as Ajax felt.
“I’m hanging in there so far.”
“Don’t you start,” Dmytro warned. “I’ll get sick if you get sick.”
He gave Dmytro’s beefy arm a slap. “Don’t you start either.”
Dmytro’s gaze fell on him and warmed. Not all the way to blue, precisely, but they weren’t the winter gray of disapproval either.
