The Walls of Jericho

Architect

“Charles Daniels hardly seems the kind of guy to run off with insider secrets.” My comment is met with silence from Damien, Ferdi and Channing. Then again, it might be that it doesn’t merit anything else.

We watch the former KDS database architect through the camera of the laptop supplied in the safehouse where he and his family are hidden, but also from different angles with concealed cameras from other places in each room. He’s a dumpy, late thirty-something obvious computer-nerd with sallow skin, a receding hairline and a lopsided nose with one nostril noticeably larger than the other.

“We’re not interested in insider secrets,” Damien says flatly. “We’re interested in how he found Avernus.”

There’s a subtle edge to his voice that implies my question offends with its monumental stupidity. Immediately, I take offense and seek a way to return the favor.

“That’s driving me crazy.” Uncrossing my arms from over my chest, I gesture to the nearest display screen in front of all of us and point out Mr. Daniels’ nasal abnormality quickly.

Seated in the chair at the keyboard, Damien exhales an exasperated sigh. “Thanks for that, Jer. I will never unsee it now.”

I flick a quick sidelong glance at Channing, looking for a reaction to my catty immaturity before replying. He doesn’t look my direction, but his lips press together tightly in a vain attempt to stifle his grin. It's all the encouragement I need. Initiating project payback.

“Want me to point out a few other things I’ve noticed?”

“No. No, I do not.” He swivels his chair towards me.

Only by sheer force of will do I manage to keep myself from laughing at Channing’s private compliment. “What?” I ask innocently, deliberately provoking Damien some more.

His mousy colored eyes narrow behind his spectacles. “You know, for someone with the kind of raw superpowers that you have, you sure take to the dark side awfully quickly.”

Channing eggs me to an even greater display of wickedness.

“Fine.” I shrug and arch my brows. “If it bothers you that much, I won’t tell you— about one of Ferdi’s earlobes sitting a centimeter lower than the other.”

On either side of me, both Channing and Ferdi crack up with riotous laughter.

“You are a bad woman.” Damien rises from the chair, gesturing to Ferdi. “Get serious, you goon. You’re up.”

Recovering himself, Ferdi gives one last snicker before flopping into Damien’s chair and twirling it to face the computer. “Did you set the background?”

“Of course I did,” he snaps back. “This isn’t my first rodeo. Just get to discussing with the guy already. I want the peace and quiet of my office back. Soon.”

Donning the wireless headset, Ferdi puts his hand to the flip-up mic. “Remember, the mic’s only muted when it’s in this upright position. It’s high-sensitivity any other time. Wolfspeak if you have something you want me to pursue.”

“Seeing as how I’m the noob here, you might’ve just told me that,” I retort. “And for the record, I guarantee that mic has mute whenever I want it to.”

Ferdi tosses me a droll look over one beefy shoulder. “It actually wasn’t for you, Jericho. Boss-man over there forgets all the time and blows it if I don’t remind him.” He jerks his chin towards Channing, delivering with typical Ferdi efficiency his silent, insolent ‘get bent’, challenging his Alpha to deny it.

“I haven’t said a single word,” Channing points out. “How am I involved in this little spat at all?”

On the opposite side of me, Damien hides his “Candyass” insult inside a faked cough. In response, Ferdi faces the computer and fakes a sneeze as cover for his snide “Pussywhipped.”

 “You can keep that to yourselves,” Channing warns. “Or Damien will spend his next few days Sweatin’ to the Oldies with Mr. Adriani and Ferdi, you’ll find yourself parked in this dark, smelly hole watching surveillance video twenty hours a day.”

Both men groan.

“That's what I thought you'd say. Then get on with it already.”

Ferdi lowers the mic. “Good evening, Mr. Daniels.”

Charles Daniels’ startled jerk to attention is plainly visible in the camera’s view. Not that I can blame him. Ferdi's baritone is softly menacing. Plus, we'd left him sitting on the video conference waiting for kind of a long time.

“Um. Hello?”

“Are you and your family comfortable?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The database architect's brows draw together. Whatever he was thinking, he talks himself out of it, then asks, “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but do you think we could cut to the chase here?”

“Man after my own heart,” Ferdi replies genuinely, leaning back and settling comfortably in Damien's chair. “When you reached out to us, you said you had information that would be useful to us.”

“Yes!” Excited as he is, he looks like a golden retriever whose owner just agreed to play fetch. “I have it here.”

In the camera’s view, he raises a portable USB drive.

Ferdi’s mic flips up and he glances over his shoulder again. “I know Damien isn’t going to want me to have him upload that. In the interest of caution, I’d have to agree. Is there any way you can tell what’s on it, Jericho?”

Ooh. Now things are getting interesting. Quashing my eagerness, I school my voice to project disinterest. “If nobody here is going to have a fit if I go through the Avernus stronghold, sure. All he has to do is plug it into the computer.”

“Tell him we’ll come back to that,” Channing orders. “I want to know how he found us.”

I seethe a little inside, chaffing at the bit. If he isn't going to let me open things up and explore my abilities, I'm going to find somewhere else that I can.

The mic flips down. “Thank you. We’ll come back to that. How did you find us, Mr. Daniels?”

At the other end of the connection, Charles looks like a deer caught in headlights. “I—I,” he stutters, then draws a steadying breath and releases it over a five count. “I’m certain you already know that I was appointed the project lead for the Heritage deployment, but there were others who were assigned the job before me.”

“At KDS, we were required to keep what are called program notes. Electronic records of anything we encounter during a project that alters the anticipated completion date.” He stares directly into the camera. “Each of us knew something on the Heritage side was preventing the database installation. One of my predecessors had the idea that it wasn’t a quirk of their system or some security program we’d forgotten or missed—it wasn’t a something—but that it was deliberate—a someone.”

He pauses for a long fatherly second, giving those responsible for his both his rescue and his need for rescue time to own up to his accusation. When no confession is forthcoming, he continues. “That database architect broached the topic to the KDS’ president, Drake Kemp. If you’re unaware, Mr. Kemp is frequently—volatile. Apparently, during their heated discussion, he mentioned the name ‘Avernus’.”

“What else can you tell us about Mr. Kemp?”

“He’s a jerk to work for,” Charles Daniels states irritably. “Everything else anyone knows you can read online.”

Ferdi flips the mic up for a few seconds, deciding on his approach, then the mic is flipped down to his mouth again. “How did Mr. Kemp mentioning Avernus lead you to us?”

“Not easily, if that’s what your concern is.” His tone is no less dismissing than his words and his eyes drop to his lap. “It was serendipitous more than anything. I wasn’t certain, just desperate. I wrote a query for the current Heritage database—the criteria I used are on the USB drive I brought you, along with all the program notes for the project. When I ran it, the query returned one name.”

“What name?” Ferdi asks.

“Esteban Alvarez.”

I toss Channing a threatening glare. My God, he’s been meddling with absolutely everything in my life. If someone had found him as a result of it, his comeuppance was long overdue.

“Yes. Out of twenty-three million profiles, it couldn’t be coincidence that the single name the query returned was for a man who lived and operated a diner in Crossroads for the last thirty years. It couldn’t be coincidence that the first mention of the gang ‘Avernus’ started circulating about the same time,” Charles Daniels explains. 

“How did you know we weren’t exactly what the press portrays?”

“I didn’t. It was risky seeking you,” he shrugs, “but it was riskier not to. No one with oversight on the Heritage project has lived to tell. I don’t want to die and I don’t want my family hurt either. Something isn’t right inside KDS. Which makes the enemy of my enemy into my friend.”

“Mr. Daniels, what can you tell me about the KDS community outreach program?”

“Oh.” He tips his head back, staring at a blank space on the ceiling, then exhales loudly. “It was a KDS bonus program. A reward for the employees and a tax write-off for the company.”

“Do you know how it came about?”

The database architect stares at the camera, his brows drawn together as he wracks his brain. “Well, there’s always been community pressure for KDS to give back. That program was the first one Drake Kemp initiated when he inherited the company from his father. It was rumored to be a suggestion from one of the employees.”

Ferdi flips the mic up and fixes his icy eyes on Damien. “How many employees are there at KDS?”

“Over ten thousand,” I answer before Damien can.

Twisting the chair, Ferdi looks his question at Channing. He rubs his fingers along his jaw, and his five o’clock shadow makes a rasping sound like a hoarse cricket.

“What he's given us isn't enough to pinpoint the dragon. Not without someone on the inside to do some more sleuthing.” He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, thinking. “Narrows it down. At least that’s helpful. I think it’s reasonable for Damien to spend some quality time looking into the KDS employees.”

“What about what he brought on the USB drive?”

I can tell by the look on Channing’s face, he doesn’t want me involved in this at all. 

“I resent you trying to shelter me,” I bite out in an indignant huff. “Whatever’s on that thing is electronic data. It can’t hurt me. If you bring it here and let Damien try to access it, something dangerous on it could potentially hurt Avernus.”

“Jericho—”

“She’s got a point, boss,” Ferdi interrupts.

“I have to agree with Ferdi and Jericho too,” Damien adds his two cents quickly.

There’s a long minute that passes while Channing considers some more. “Only to confirm there’s nothing harmful on it.”

Before he can change his mind, I tell Ferdi, “Have him plug it into the computer. Then, I’m going to need that chair.”