17. Chapter Seventeen
847 Words
17
Chapter Seventeen
Bryar Rose
Hours later, my eyes sting with the need for sleep. I’ve been hacking away all night, posting on hidden message boards to find someone who has the Codex Mechanica. Back around 3 a.m., Elle fell asleep on the couch. I didn’t wake her. Now it’s a little after 5 a.m. Considering how school starts at 8:30, it’s good one of us had a decent night’s sleep.
Pounding onto my keyboard, I access another chat room on what’s called the Magiweb, which is basically a secret internet for shifters, fairies, and witches/warlocks. Sure the name is cute and all, but the Magiweb is a place to find all sorts of illegal and nasty stuff. I’ve tried all the above-board places to locate the Codex Mechanica. Now, I’m going to the illegal side of the internet.
The chat board fills my screen. Every time I reach one of these rooms, I do the exact same thing. This board will be no exception. I start typing away under one of my dozens of aliases.
Looking4Goods: Hello, I’m searching for a particular historical item for a client of mine. Specs: created about 2000 BC, wooden box with three discs inside. Any ideas or leads? Willing to share part of the buy price.
I see the triple-dots that mean someone is typing a response.
Selling3000: Don’t have anything like that in stock. Will keep an eye out for you. I take it this is a sensitive buy?
Looking4Goods: Yes. Keep me posted.
I wait a few more minutes and get a few more replies just like the first one. This is the same routine I’ve been going through for hours. I post about the device. They say they’ve never heard about anything like it and will keep an eye out. It’s super-disappointing. I’m about to log off and try another board when another user pops onto the screen.
WaterGirl: Join me in private chat.
My heart kicks at a faster pace. Private chat means that WaterGirl may have news for me and doesn’t want any of the other sellers stealing her deal out from under her. I open up a secure and direct chat room. Before I can even invite WaterGirl, her name pops onto the screen. On reflex, I start running my latest tracer bots. These programs can always figure out where someone is really typing from. More small dots appear as WaterGirl types away. A moment later, her text appears on the screen.
WaterGirl: I have the Codex Mechanica and am willing to sell.
My breath catches. I didn’t even say the name of the device and WaterGirl goes right to Codex Mechanica? This is looking good.
Looking4Goods: How much?
WaterGirl: Free. To the right person.
I roll my eyes. It’s a total red flag when someone says they want to give you something for free. No one works for free, especially on the Magiweb.
Looking4Goods: What’s the catch?
WaterGirl: None at all. Why wouldn’t I want to help you, Bryar Rose? After all, it’s not everyone who can take down the undead version of Julius Caesar and live to tell the tale. Perhaps I merely wish to have someone as powerful as you who owes me a favor.
My heart, which had already been going at double speed, charges right into palpitation territory. How does this WaterGirl know who I am? Even so, I know enough not to make things worse by confirming that she’s blown my cover.
Looking4Goods: I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you willing to sell or not?
WaterGirl: Meet me at the Boucle-Roux. Tonight. Midnight.
I open a new window on my computer and start searching like mad. Turns out, Boucle-Roux is a deserted farm outside Paris. While I’m searching, the three little dots appear on the screen. WaterGirl is typing away once more.
WaterGirl: You can still catch the 6:20 a.m. out of JFK and be at Boucle-Roux well before midnight. I know you think this is a trap. It’s not. I have the device and only want to help. It’s in perfect condition, including the three discs inside that are made of silver, gold, and ruby. Can you really afford to ignore me?
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I need to get WaterGirl typing some more about herself and what she’s up to. If I know enough, I can determine if this is really not-a-trap. Elle has taught me all sorts of techniques to keep folks talking. I’m about to type a question about the glyphs on the device when WaterGirl leaves the chat.
Damn.
I check my tracer program. Nothing there, either. All of which means that I have no clue who this person really is and what they’re after.
Even worse, I have about half a minute to decide whether to hightail it to JFK and catch that plane to Paris.
The thirty seconds tick away slowly as my mind runs through all the reasons not to meet WaterGirl. This is dangerous. I met her on Magiweb, for crying out loud.
Then, I picture Knox’s pale skin and how his frame trembles with pain. I grab a duffel from my closet and stuff a bunch of clothes inside.
Looks like I’m going to Paris.
- Writer
