Mastermind: A Theo Cray and Jessica Blackwood Thriller Page 12

  “Careful, snakes,” I warn.

  “I’ve learned that one the hard way. If you ever get bit, just call me. My blood can be used as antivenom.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nods. “Wait. What have we here?” Theo’s hand emerges with a syringe-like object that has a fuzzy end.

  “Tranquilizer dart?” I ask.

  “It would appear so. They probably put some kind of cage over the top and took them one by one. Although I don’t see how they’d coax the mothers with infants out of the tunnel.”

  “You might be able to do it with sound. And whoever the inside man was could have sealed the grate shut.”

  “We should ask Jack who he doesn’t trust,” says Theo.

  “Or we could ask ourselves why we should trust the son of the owners of the zoo, who pretends to like apes but clearly doesn’t.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Did you notice his shoes? Dolce & Gabbana. Thousand-dollar shoes don’t seem like a good idea for walking around in monkey poo. Also, the sunglasses were kind of pricey and not the kind you’d want a spider monkey to grab and run off with. He was late meeting us because he wasn’t even at the zoo. He wanted to intercept us first. Notice how he didn’t have a walkie-talkie?”

  “Not until now,” admits Theo. “So, Jack helped arrange the theft right under his parents’ noses? I still think he had one or two people inside helping him. We’ll need to talk to staff and find out who Jack just sent home.”

  I see Jack running in our direction from across the street. I wave to him, pretending we don’t suspect a thing.

  “Hey, guys. What did you find?” Jack asks in his most helpful tone.

  “This syringe. Theo pricked his finger, and I want to call a friend to make sure he doesn’t need to go to the hospital. But I can’t get a signal here,” I lie.

  “Oh, here, you can use my phone,” says Jack, trying to be superhelpful while having an internal freak-out.

  I take his phone and pretend to dial while I actually open the recent-call list. “Theo? What’s your friend’s number?”

  He’s already ahead of me and has his camera app open. Theo pretends to look up a number while he surreptitiously videos Jack’s recently called contacts and numbers.

  “Here you go,” he replies and calls out a number.

  I go through the motions of dialing the number Theo gave me.

  A recorded message from a young-sounding woman answers: “This is Hailey. You better have a damn good reason to call my private number or I’ll have you murdered.”

  Aware that Jack is probably listening, I continue the charade, “Uh, hey, um, I’m with Theo Cray, and he appears to have been pricked by a syringe that was used to inject a chimp with a tranquilizer. Uh-huh. Typical Theo. The syringe? Stainless steel. About three weeks old. Is he okay?” I glance at Theo for an answer, because god knows I have no clue.

  Theo doesn’t pick up on what I’m asking.

  “Yeah, that’s right, three weeks ago. Does Theo need to go to the hospital?” He still doesn’t get it. How can a man this smart be this dumb? “What? You want to talk to him? Okay.” I shove the phone into Theo’s hands.

  “Hello?” Theo looks confused for a second, then he gets it. “No. Not deep. Yeah. I shouldn’t be worried? Uh-huh, I’ve had my tetanus shot. Okay. Thanks.” He hands the phone back to me.

  “Hey, thanks.” I hand Jack his phone back. “Looks like we’re okay.”

  Okay, except I need to give Theo some lessons on improvising with a partner. Well, that and we’ve got to get Jack to a police station or somewhere we can interrogate him before he takes off and we can’t find out whom he sold the chimpanzees to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  NEW LOGISTICS

  Jack refused to talk at first. The Thai police captain screamed and yelled in his face, and then his mother came into the interrogation room and started slapping her son. This startled him even more than the threats of the captain.

  Even then, he held fast. That is until, at my suggestion, the police took the two zoo workers Jack had recently called from his phone and walked them past the open door to the interrogation room. Also at my suggestion? Neither was handcuffed.

  This convinced Jack that they’d reached some kind of plea deal, and suddenly he was ready to try to bargain his way out of the situation. Which ultimately, depending upon his relationship with his parents and their willingness to bribe the whole affair away, could mean him walking.

  But I don’t want him thinking that now. I want him thinking he’s going to be locked into his own cage with no hope of daylight.

  While Jack was being yelled at, Theo and I read the police report, using Google Lens to translate it into English.

  When the chimps first went missing, suspicion immediately fell upon park employees, specifically the two men that Jack used. Because Jack was considered a victim and had an alibi for them, they were released and the case only lived on in the news.

  “Who did you sell the chimpanzees to?” I ask when the Thai police let me take my turn asking questions.

  Jack glares at me. “I thought we were friends.”

  “I thought you weren’t a thief and a liar,” I reply. “Who did you sell them to?”

  “I’m not saying anything.”

  “Your chance of getting out of this will increase considerably if you can tell us. We’re after the people that bought them, not you. I can make sure the cops go easier on you if you help us.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Let me put it this way: if those chimps are being used for what we think, you’d do well to cooperate now . . . or be charged with murder later.”

  “Murder?” he scoffs.

  “You realize that if any one of those chimps harmed somebody, you’d be accountable. If one of those people is an American, we can have you extradited to the United States. You think you love animals—wait until we get you in front of a California jury.”

  “He said they were going to private zoos,” Jack says defensively. “Good places. My parents put on a show, but the chimps were getting expensive. People only like them when they’re babies. We have thirty. Who needs thirty chimps?”

  “Who was this man?” I ask.

  “Some American. I met him at a club. He asked me about the chimps. I complained about how expensive they were. We came to an arrangement.”

  “And he said they were going to America?”

  “He didn’t say that. He said private zoos. I was curious if he was double-crossing me or selling them to the Chinese for more money. After they loaded the chimpanzees, I followed the trucks all the way to the port.”

  “So where do you think they were bound?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I saw the name of the ship. The MV Arcturus. I wanted to make sure it didn’t have a Chinese name. Then I’d know he was screwing me over.”

  Theo’s typing the name of the ship into the burner phone I gave him. He shows me a web page with shipping tables. He taps the row showing the arrival of the Arcturus in Long Beach.

  It already arrived.

  I type a text message to Gerald, telling him they need to search the port, although I doubt the chimps are still there. Whoever shipped them probably arranged to have them smuggled out of customs as well.

  Damn. If we’d come here a day sooner, maybe we could have intercepted the ship before they unloaded the chimps. There’s still hope, but I’m not counting on it.

  “What can you tell us about the man that bought them?” asks Theo.

  “Thirties. Average-looking American. What can I say?”

  “Do you have a photo of him?”

  “What? No. All I knew was his name was Dave and he had a Hong Kong number I could reach him at. It’s dead now.”

  “Could I have that number?” asks Theo.

  Jack shrugs. “I know it by heart. He wouldn’t let me put it in my phone.” He recites the number for Theo.

  Theo types something in
his phone notes and shows it to me: Is this the number that flagged your friend’s phone search for the Warlock?

  I open a calculator app on my phone and enter a code that opens a secret file. When I search for the number, nothing comes up. I show Theo.

  He nods, then accesses a website that looks like a private server. He types in what looks like some kind of programming language, and numbers scroll across the screen. He sets his phone down and looks up at Jack. “What about the men with David? Thai? American?”

  “Filipino, I think. Maybe crew from the ship.”

  “Harder to trace,” I note.

  “Did they seem comfortable around the chimpanzees?” asks Theo.

  I wish I’d thought of that question. Your average deckhand would be rightfully terrified of chimps.

  “The Filipinos, yes, but two didn’t: an older Chinese guy and his helper. They knew how to tranquilize the chimps and move them.”

  “You didn’t mention the Chinese before,” I point out.

  “What? It doesn’t mean they were Chinese nationals. I’m a quarter Chinese. Welcome to Thailand.”

  Theo picks up his phone and squints at something. He writes another note and shows it to me: Telephone calling card databases are very insecure, FYI. That Hong Kong number made three prepaid calls to another number, which called a public number belonging to this company: Pacific Data Storage Systems.

  I look up at Theo. “Another server farm?” It occurs to me that we should check it against the numbers connected to Heywood’s law firm.

  “Yep.” Theo pulls up a web page for the company. There’s an image of row after row of servers, like in the Seoul data center. The address has it just outside Bangkok. “Want to get there before IDR finds out?”

  “What’s IDR?” asks Jack.

  “None of your business,” I reply. “If you think of anything else, let us know.”

  Theo and I get up and leave Jack to the Thai police. Having literally missed the boat on the chimps, we don’t want to let the chance to catch a data heist slip through our grasp.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  SYSTEM MALFUNCTION

  “For a high-tech facility, this sure is in the middle of nowhere,” I say as I drive us down a desolate, jungle-lined road outside Bangkok.

  “Data centers are often located where power is the cheapest. If you ever look on satellite images, you’ll find them in some surprising locations. And some of them aren’t exactly public. There are a number of companies that run shadow colocation facilities in case of disasters or attacks,” says Encyclopedia Theotannica.

  He’s far from annoying. He’s flat-out interesting.

  There’s the Theo who says whatever comes to mind, and then there’s the Theo who tries to self-censor. The more obsessed he is by a problem, the less capable he is of keeping his mouth shut.

  As we drive, his eyes wander to the flora and fauna around us. Asking him what he’s thinking can lead to a graduate-level dissertation on how microbiomes can be more revealing about an ecosystem than the macro environment. One explanation typically leads to another—like how you can tell more about the level of industrialization by looking at the contents of our stomachs than satellite photos . . . or something to that effect.

  A question leads you down a rabbit hole, and then suddenly you’re discussing the rabbit hole itself.

  And every answer, it seems, leads to two more questions.

  Still, not once in our time together has he asked me a personal question. Nothing about boyfriends, relationships, kids, relatives, or anything else. I don’t think it’s indifference; I just think there’s mind stuff and there’s human stuff, and Theo prefers to live in the world of the mind.

  I check the GPS on my phone. “We should have seen it by now. At least the road leading to it.”

  I’m not sure what he was expecting, but I was thinking we’d find a big sign or an industrial park. All we’ve seen so far has been the occasional farm and patches of jungle.

  Theo takes out his phone and looks at a satellite map. “I think it’s a kilometer back.”

  I turn the car around, careful not to land us in a ditch. I have no idea how reliable the Thai version of AAA is out here.

  We continue back and pass a few small side roads, but nothing that says DATA CENTER THIS WAY, DUMMIES!

  I bring up a thought I’ve been trying to avoid. “You don’t think it’s possible that the website is fake and the address isn’t real?”

  “It’s occurred to me,” replies Theo. “Still, let’s look a little further.”

  “Anything on the map?” I ask.

  “There’re a lot of sections with construction. It could be one of those. Often these images are quite old.”

  We continue for another kilometer with no sign of the facility. “Now what?”

  “Stop the car,” says Theo.

  “Okay. Need to take a leak?”

  “A look.”

  Theo gets out and walks up to a concrete telephone pole and squints up at the wires and cables. He then gets back into the car. “That’s a fiber-optic junction. Let’s keep going.”

  We continue driving with Theo craning his neck to look at the cables. Occasionally the wiring will lead down another road, but he doesn’t say anything until we’re almost back where I first noticed that we hadn’t noticed anything.

  “Turn right,” says Theo, pointing out an almost-invisible side road.

  I oblige.

  “The fiber-optic goes this way. It’s our best bet,” he explains.

  “At least we know we’ll get good Wi-Fi.”

  A fraction of a second later, he smiles. God knows what kind of process my little joke went through in his brain. Did he consider telling me that fiber-optic internet doesn’t necessarily equal a wireless internet connection? Or did he get it was a joke right away? Do words appear in his field of view like the Terminator? Has he been sent from the future to kill me?

  The road is narrow but paved. Trees line either side, but they’ve been cut back to allow cars and trucks through. Occasionally I run over a branch, which tells me the road hasn’t been maintained in the last few days.

  We reach the end of the road and a large metal gate blocking the entrance to a dirt parking lot. At the far end stands a three-story, metal-sided building with no windows and only the numbers 88077 on the side.

  “I think we found where they hide the aliens,” I remark.

  “Yeah,” says Theo, studying the building. He gets out and walks up to the gate. There’s a small guard shack to the side, but no guard inside. He looks back at me, shrugs, reaches into the shack, and presses the button that lifts the gate.

  I drive in, and he hops into the passenger seat. We park next to an old Toyota and a pickup truck that are in front of the entrance, where a set of metal doors with a keypad and a camera face outward.

  “Now what?” I ask.

  “I guess we see if anyone’s home.”

  We get out and approach the doors. Theo knocks, then presses the intercom button.

  No response.

  I pound louder. Still nothing.

  Theo walks over to the keypad and stares at it for a moment, then picks up a handful of powdery soil and gently blows it at the buttons. He takes out his phone, aims the light at the pad, and then looks at it from a side angle.

  Theo presses four of the buttons. Nothing.

  He presses them in a different sequence. Bzzzt.

  The door unlocks.

  “Well done.” I consider whether and how we should enter, but Theo already has the door open and is walking into the lobby.

  I follow, trying to come up with an excuse for why we’re trespassing.

  Nobody is at the reception desk, which is literally a metal desk in a room with unfinished drywall and electrical cables hanging out of the ceiling.

  Theo walks to the next set of doors. These have a traditional lock. He tries the knob, but they don’t open.

  He produces a strip of metal I never saw h
im acquire from his pockets and feeds it into the gap between the lock and the doorframe.

  Click.

  “Maybe they’re throwing a birthday party in the back?” he whispers.

  We’re both dreading finding the bodies of the data-center technicians. I nod.

  “But let me go first,” I say, pulling my gun out and holding it to the side.

  Theo doesn’t stop me. That’s when I notice he has a gun drawn, too. Where the hell did he get that?

  No time now. I’ll have to ask later.

  We’re in a long corridor with half the lights out. The nearest door to our right is another set of double doors.

  Theo turns the knob and opens the one on the right. Inside is a large room. The only light comes from skylights high above. Underneath them stand row after row of server racks. Except these look only partially installed. Cabling still lies on the floor, and the cabinet doors are open, revealing empty racks.

  “Are we too late or too soon?” I ask.

  We walk along the wall, deeper into the huge room. I go down the center aisle, getting a closer look at the cabinets, trying to see if any of them are functional.

  Something feels strange, but I can’t put my finger on it. I stop walking and turn around to look at Theo.

  He has a finger to his lips.

  I nod. He points to the ground. At first, I don’t understand.

  Then I’m revolted.

  Now I’m terrified.

  It’s a pile of crap.

  Not just any crap.

  Chimpanzee shit.

  Theo is still staring at it.

  That’s when the real horror strikes me.

  Embedded in the dung is a bone with a wedding ring on it.

  PART FOUR

  DARWINIST

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  PAN TROGLODYTES

  The first chimpanzees brought to medieval Europe confused learned men and caused endless speculation as to whether this was another form of a human—a not altogether unreasonable position at the time, given that every group tends to see themselves not as equals but as pinnacles of the human species, with every other race falling further down the line.