Invisible Death

Art Work

"One, two, and three... Go!"

The door to the small studio apartment shimmered and blurred, fading away under Jesse Kilmartin's hand. Together, Brennan Mulwray, Shalimar Fox and Jesse himself passed through the phased atoms, feeling the now familiar tingling sensation as their solid matter encountered the modulated structure.

The only light in the main living area that dubbed as sitting and bedroom came from the dirty windowpanes. The sofa bed was open, sheets scattered about, pillows tossed around, some on the floor. Pieces of clothing could be found all around the tiny apartment.

"How messy can this girl be?" Shalimar, wrinkling her nose, picked up a pair of less than fresh panties from the side table with the very tip of her fingers.

"In a scale of one to ten Brennan Mess Capacity points, how would you grade her?" asked Jesse, checking Charlotte Cooke's computer for messages.

"Hey, I'm not messy! You know I hate clutter!" protested the elemental, opening drawers, cupboards and cabinets.

"Yeah, right! I always end up cleaning the dojo after you work out and I know how you leave it." Jesse opened software after software. "As for your room, thank God we have perfectly working doors in Sanctuary." He popped a floppy in the slot and started running a full diagnostic of the system.

"Amen, brother! Thank Heavens for doors." Shalimar had her eyes glowing feral and her nostrils flaring, sweeping the entire place, searching for blood spatters on the walls and furniture. So far, nothing.

"This is interesting!" exclaimed the molecular hacker.

"What did you find?" Brennan was closing the bathroom door, a disgusted look on his face. Cat, as a good feline, had been an absolute neat freak. She would never live like that, not in a million years.

"My Alias anti-spy script found a trapdoor code hiding in the hard disk, in the supposedly empty area. When you delete stuff from your computer, even if you destroy the data, it leaves traces in the unused areas of storage. That's how we usually retrieve data you thought would never be found. You have to know how to properly clean the hard disk. Problem is, only code slingers can do that. Civilians don't even know it is possible. Damn!!!"

"What happened?" Shalimar came and leaned over Jesse's shoulder, looking at the monitor screen.

"The damn code self-destructed, turned itself into garbage!"

"Can you recover it?" Brennan joined them at the small desk.

"No, the suicide safeguard is built into the script," sighed Jesse. "The moment it knows it was detected, it blows itself up into cyber gibberish."

"What does it do, anyway?"

"It is a kind of Trojan Horse virus, only nastier. It gives the hacker access to everything you have in your computer. He can read your emails, eavesdrop in your Instant Messenger conversations; read anything you've written in any message board you visit. Not to mention passwords, usernames, the works. It can read your shopping list in your word processor. He knew exactly when and where it would be easier to snatch Charlotte up."

"It wasn't here," informed Shalimar. "Let's check the car."

&&&

"Yes, that's her all right."

The Cascade PD's sketch artist made the computer image of a chocolate colored, almond eyed woman in her mid-thirties, her dark hair tied up firmly in a bum, rotate on the screen. Then, she hit the "match" key. The screen split in two, with the sketch to the left and, on the right side, the fast changing images of Washington State's known female criminals in the system.

"I'm sorry," said the old lady artist. "No match. I will run it through VICAP and other databases."

"Do that," nodded Capt. Simon Banks, "but I'm not holding my breath on that one. I don't think she is in the system at all. The way she acted, her MO... The way she controlled the thug, the way she cleaned their tracks... She seems to be a highly trained operative."

"The thug, on the other hand..." Blair Sandburgh was perched on the edge of his desk. "Ms. O'Hare..."

"Alina, please," corrected the psychometric psionic.

"Alina, you said the man had deformed ears? Deformed... how?"

"His ears looked like small cauliflowers." Alina Mathias O'Hare's eyes shone as she called up the image of Donna's abductor.

From the sketch artist's station, Adam picked up a drawing pad and two crayons. Ambidextrous, he drew on the paper with both hands while all the others looked on. "Like this?" he asked, turning the pad around. The drawing showed an ear with bumps and scars, barely recognizable as human.

"Exactly!"

Blair took the pad from Adam's hand. "Street fighter," he mused, "and he might even be local. Mrs. Hawthorne, call up mug shots of felons with these features: dark hair, dark eyes, dark Caucasian skin, possibly Latino, over forty years of age, with deformed, street fighter's ears. Let's see what you can find."

The old lady tore her eyes from the sketch, blinked, nodded, punched a few keys, and filled the requirements in the search form. God, that was amazing! The mug shots started to pop up on the screen. Alina's eyes shone as she studied each image.

While Alina looked at mug shots, Jesse's disembodied voice rang inside Adam's inner ear. "We found something interesting at Charlotte's."

"Tell me."

"There was a self-destructing trapdoor virus in her computer. Whoever abducted her also cyber stalked her. We are at the Benedict's right now and I found the same virus in all three computers they have in the house."

"Brennan, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Adam. This was a very well planned operation."

"Brennan, order an immediate shut down of all Underground computer system. Jesse, I want a full sweep and diagnostic. Change passwords and check firewalls. I want our systems secured."

"Will do. Brennan out."

"Also, Jesse, run a full sweep and diagnostic of Sanctuary's systems. Better safe than sorry." And, as an afterthought, "Warn Riley at Haven. Have her check all the Ring's systems too. Lux must be informed of the situation."

Jesse's voice sounded again. "Already on it. So far, Revolution says there have been no suspicious mutant disappearances in the West Coast."

"Good, might mean their operation is restricted to the East. I'll run a copy of Alias through Donna's computer. I bet I'll find the bug in her system."

"They cover their tracks pretty good. Charlotte's apartment was clean, if we could say that." Adam heard Jesse cluck his tongue. "Her car was locked, but Brennan opened it with a piece of wire."

"Brennan's talents..."

"Come in handy, sometimes." The molecular chuckled softly. "Anyway, Shalimar smelled blood immediately. It was on the steering wheel and the panel. Shal saw pieces of broken glass under the carpet. They smashed the window, but had it replaced."

"Stop!" Alina was pointing to Major Crime's computer screen. "Go back!" The sketch artist obeyed and made the image return to the previous picture. "That's him!"

All eyes were fixed in the mug shot of a certain Herman Muñiz, aka Hermann Munster. His long rap sheet listed assault, robbery, assault and battery, domestic violence and a bunch of other felonies and misdemeanors. The man was a common thug, working on and off as a bouncer at a local strip club. Blair called Jim Ellison, already in the streets leaning on his snitches and informants, and gave him the heads up. Maybe the kidnappers had made their first mistake by hiring local muscle instead of importing a second operative.

Adam turned the screenaround and looked closer at the man who dared attack someone as special to himas Donna Gryphon. With a wolfish grin, he flicked his commring on again."Jesse, I want Emma on the first flight to Cascade."