Change of Climate

Untitled Part 4

"Um," said Quinlan, as they stood in his bedroom doorway. "I should have just gotten the computer and brought it out to the living room."

"It's fine," said London, because the least of her concerns was that Quinlan's bedroom was covered with rumpled clothes and dirty dishes.

"I swear to you that I do not live like a pig all the time," said Quinlan, kicking stuff out of their way so they could get over to the laptop on the desk. "Just, like, ten percent of the time or something but that ten percent of the time is when other people see me."

"It's fine, Quin," London said again.

"Okay," said Quinlan, and gestured to the desk chair.

London sat, and Quinlan took the USB drive and plugged it in.

It was password-protected. Of course it was.

"What's the password?"

"I don't know," said London.

"Your name, maybe?"

"This isn't a movie," said London, in disgust.

"Try it," said Quinlan.

London typed it in. Incorrect password.

"Try it with zeros instead of o's," Quinlan suggested.

"This isn't going to work," London said, in frustration. "My father died over this and I don't even know what it is and we're not going to be able to figure it out."

"Okay," said Quinlan. "It's okay—"

"No, it's not okay," London snapped. "Do you see anything about this that's okay? My father is dead, someone killed him, in his lab, and they destroyed all of his equipment, and I walked in and found the body, me, because I was looking for him, and you know why I was looking for him? Because that day at school when I took out my laptop this USB drive was in it. I thought he left it there by accident. I thought...I went to the lab to give it to him and he was dead. And that can't be a coincidence, Quinlan. It can't be. But what am I supposed to do with this?"

"We'll figure it out." Quinlan was looking a little quizzical. "London, remind me: your father was a professor of meteorology, right?"

"Yes. He was a weatherman." Her voice was scathing, because she'd been teased about this before.

"Right. What would a weatherman be researching in his lab that someone would kill him over?"

London typed her birthday into the password box. Incorrect password. "I don't know," she said. "Why were we always moving all over the place? Who were we running from? Why are both of my parents dead before my eighteenth birthday? I don't know." London tried her mother's name. Incorrect password. "Quinlan. In the seven years since we've seen each other, have you turned into a genius computer hacker?"

"No," Quinlan admitted.

"Damn," said London. "I guess that would be too convenient, huh?"

"But I might know somebody who can help."