I sit alone in the parking lot in my car after giving the police my statement. The car's frame barely holds my panic in check. Dad's watch is clutched in my palm, and I stare at the stars swirling over its surface. A weird part of me believes that as long as the stars still move, Dad is still alive. It's silly and stupid, but I want it to be true.
Everyone else has headed back home after giving the police their report. Except I can't seem to get my act together and turn on the car. Not with all the horrors of tonight raging through my mind. The technician's blood pooling out of him, staring at Dad in the casket and then watching them roll Dad up the plane's ramp.
I lean onto the steering wheel and let the sobs escape.
Someone knocks on the window, and I literally jump in my seat and scream. It's Jake, standing outside of my car door. I bristle and frantically search the car for a tissue. Here I thought everyone had left. How long has he been standing out there?
Once I blow my nose, I lower my window. He's got his arms crossed, back to me as if he's uncomfortable.
Fabulous. He probably heard me crying.
"What?" I ask. I know I sound curt and annoyed, but this hasn't been a stellar day.
"Listen." He scuffs at the ground with his shoe and then turns to look at me. There's pain in his eyes and all my defenses fall away. Okay, so maybe this hasn't been a good day for either of us. "I wanted to wait until the others were gone because I know this sounds stupid after you totally entered my brain and spied on my inner secrets, especially since I nearly killed you, but I trust you more than the others."
I run my finger along the edge of the windowsill unsure how to respond. What he says is probably true. I was the one he let into his Vault. Dad's theory is that only when a dreamer really trusts someone do they let them in there.
"Okay," I say hesitantly.
"I think with a little work, I can figure out where the money went."
"How does that have anything to do with me?"
"Ever heard of War of the Realms?" When I don't respond he sighs. "I actually do more than just play video games. I also design them. War of the Realms is one of my best sellers. I'm not trying to brag here, but I'm on my way to being one of the best game designers in the world. And not such a bad hacker either. I might be kind of awkward around cute girls, but computers and I are tight." He crosses his fingers, and if I weren't so upset, I might have actually smiled. "Wherever this money went, I'm willing to bet I can find it, and that it will also lead us to your dad."
"Now you've got my attention."
"You want your dad," he says. "I want to extricate my father from ties to this mess and clear my family's name. My dad is a jerk for leaving my mom and me, but sometimes he's a pretty cool guy. We have this love-hate relationship. It's... complicated. The reality is if I hadn't stuck my nose in where it didn't belong and gotten the codes from my dad, none of this would've happened. I don't know what you saw in that dude's dream back at MaxLife, but maybe with a little digging, I might find something. Then you can tell me if it rings any bells. What do you say?"
I don't have to think this through. I'm desperate with no leads whatsoever. "I'm in."
"Cool." His face shows surprise like he hadn't been expecting me to so quickly agree. "But all my hacking has to be done on my computers and server."
"You want me to go to your house?" I eye him suspiciously. "Are you going to try to kill me at your place?"
"Listen," he says. "Back there at MaxLife, I didn't know what was going on or exactly what you were doing. I shouldn't have overreacted. I get it if you can't trust me. I'm just trying to help my dad. Somehow someone used me to get this data. I need to make this right."
It's the earnestness and believability in his expression that wins me over. Or maybe it's the fact that I've been in his dreams and know him better than I should. "Let me just tell my mom and then I'll follow you to your place."
Mom wasn't too happy about me not going straight home, but since she's on her way to the police station, she was a distracted mess. Not that I blame her.
At Jake's house, I expect to head to his room where we studied, but instead, he goes to the back of the house and steps outside to the pool deck. The water glows a Caribbean blue and the bushes around it are lit in soft yellow spotlights. The warm air settles heavily on us as I hurry after him.
"Where are we going?" I ask. "Isn't your room back there?"
He stops suddenly, his shoulders tense. "What I'm about to show you, I've never shown to anyone else. Well, except for my mom, but she doesn't count since she's always too busy checking her phone to really notice anything. And my dad hasn't stepped foot in this place since he walked out on us five years ago."
"You're freaking me out," I say.
He shakes his head and presses his lips together. "It's not a big deal. Well, what I mean, it is for me. For you to be there. And I'm an idiot." He chuckles lightly to brush off the honesty of what he just said, but even in the semi-darkness, I can make out a blush burning his cheeks.
"No." I reach out and lightly touch his arm. He jerks slightly and I wonder how long ago it has been that someone touched him. I mean, like really touched him. "You're brilliant. I know that from when we worked on the project together, and of course, everyone at school thinks you're some kind of hacker legend. I don't know about this place of yours, but if it means it can get my dad back, you can one hundred percent trust me."
He stares deeply into my eyes, and then, as if he sees something that confirms my words, he turns and strides down the stone path to another building that looks like the pool house. This one is designed just like the main house, but it's smaller. He pulls up a plate revealing a keypad and presses his thumbprint against it. A scanner blinks green.
"Paranoid much?" I say overwhelmed at the amount of security he's got.
"Very," he says and opens the door. "The tech in here costs a fortune, but it would take years for me to recover what I've done to the systems."
AC hits me as we step inside, instantly cooling the layer of sweat on my skin. The air smells clean and free of any one particular smell. Automatic can lights flicker on, filling the hall with a cozy glow. Framed and hung on the walls are posters of superheroes. I study them as I follow Jake down the hall.
"What are these?" I ask. "They look old."
"They're classics. Part of my collection."
He motions me down the hall and we step into a wide-open room. The walls hold shelves filled with all kinds of paraphernalia of superheroes. A figurine of Batman leaping off a building. A Superman cereal box. Action figures of every Marvel comic I could possibly imagine and then more.
"Wow," I mutter. "This place is like a sanctuary to Marvel and DC Comics."
"You could say it's a passion. My dad might never see me, but he sends enough cash to keep me busy."
Screens black out the windows and a glance at the ceiling reveals more windows above except these aren't covered. Stars blink through from the skylights.
Jake moves to another section of the room. Three giant TV screens hang on the wall, images of a world that looks fantasy-like are on them for screen savers. He heads to a long desk where three large computer monitors are positioned to form a half-hexagon. A large plush chair on rollers sits in front of the entire system and he plops down into one and starts typing, his fingers flying over the keyboard. Code pops up on the screen, numbers and letters all in rows.
He's a king in a kingdom I don't even understand.
As he works, I wander to the far side of the room. Sketches of people, hand-drawn maps, printouts of geological charts, and photographs of people are tacked to the wall.
"What is all of this?" I ask.
"It's the brainstorming wall for my newest computer game. What do you think?"
One of the drawings catches my eye. Jagged snow-capped mountains, a verdant green valley, and thatched huts. The hut looks like the spitting image of the one where Tony ate hot dogs. I've been here before. In his dream.
I step away, a little freaked out.
"It's pretty impressive," I say. "I like the creatures you've created."
"Yeah," he says vaguely. "They all have different powers. Still trying to figure out what the one beast with the horns can do."
"What if a person who harvests them can grind the horn up for strength, but the negative is once it's ingested in a player's system, they become wild and untamed like the beast."
"Nice!" He turns away from the screen to look at me. My face burns under his admiration. "So it's like a punishment for tampering with nature."
"Exactly." I edge to his side, trying to figure out what he's doing. "Is that the hacker's code?"
"This is the SWIFT code the hackers used to trick the National Reserve Bank's system," he explains.
"What exactly is swift?"
"SWIFT stands for the Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunication. It's a communication network for banks worldwide to transfer money. I've been trying to piece it all together so I could be wrong. But my best guess is that on Thursday, February 7^th^, someone from MaxLife took the images from my dream showing them my dad's access codes later that morning.
"Then using those codes, someone on the inside at the Federal Reserve was able to plant custom malware. When I last talked to my dad, he said that the malware contained sophisticated functionality to interact with local SWIFT Alliance Access software to transfer money without anyone knowing."
"So this was not just a small operation," I say. "It was all well-planned and thought out."
"Well, what do you expect when we are talking about stealing millions without leaving a fingerprint?"
"Good point."
"Whoever developed the malware-enabled software had excellent coding skills and clear knowledge of how SWIFT codes work. No red flags were raised. My dad said the only reason we know about this is that the Bangladesh printer wasn't working properly. When they restarted it, all these red flags showed up saying a critical system file was missing."
"I just can't process how they couldn't have left a trail to a person's account or to someone who withdrew the money."
"They definitely covered their trail, but no one is that good. With a little poking about, I'm determined to find their digital fingerprint. What I'm doing now on these two computers is trying to hack into the National Reserve Bank again and try to see where the money went."
"You can do that?" I ease onto one of the rolling chairs. "Is that safe?"
"They've got the whole system on a heavy lock-down. I've had my servers on search since before I went over to MaxLife. See this here?"
"That line?" Everything I'm seeing doesn't really make sense. My expertise has always been studying brain waves and reflecting on how the mind operates and its inner workings.
"Yeah." He taps the screen where a bar is moving up and down on the right side. "It's been searching for a breach in the security walls. So far, no luck. I've also reached out to a friend of mine on the Dark Web. He owes me a favor."
"You trust people on the Dark Web?"
"You have a better idea?"
"Point taken."
He gets up and opens the refrigerator. It's packed with Coke bottles and water on the top two shelves. The bottom is full of chocolate pudding.
"Thirsty?" He holds out a Coke.
"Sure."
He pops open the bottle's screw top and passes it to me. Then he takes one for himself and downs a swig.
"It appears as if you're a Coke connoisseur." I take a sip.
"It's the only true soda if you ask me. And it has to be in a bottle, not a can."
"Picky. Next thing you're going to tell me is that it has to be at a particular temperature."
"Coca-Cola recommends that it be kept at 38 degrees F for ideal drinking satisfaction."
"Wow. You are serious." I suppose it's a little strange, but there's something quirky and compelling watching him lean against the frig so sure of who he is and what he wants.
"To hackers and heists." I clink my bottle against his.
"And being smarter than the best."
But then his expression grows serious. He grabs another chair and sits with his body facing the back of the chair. "This is the thing." He stares at his bottle. "I don't want to get your hopes up. We might not be able to get inside their server, and even if we do, it could take hours, weeks even, and then the money trail will grow cold."
"I get it. No guarantees. So we just sit here and wait?"
"Pretty much."
"Or we could play with Batman and Superman." I cock my head to the side, smiling.
"When I was a kid, I wanted to be a superhero more than anything. Every time we had a career day in my elementary school, I said I wanted to be a superhero. Until 5^th^ grade when my father said that wasn't a real occupation. I had to be more practical like a teacher or a fireman, but ideally a businessman."
"Growing up sucks," I say.
"You seem to be in an awful hurry. Taking advanced classes. Working a full-time job while going to high school."
"Maybe it's being an only child to two brilliant scientists and trying to live up to their expectations. Everyone's expectations. When Dad got the Neuroscience Research Prize for his Memory Recall Therapy, one of the neurosurgeons came up to me and said there was no way I'd ever live up to my dad's reputation. I don't know why, maybe just being stubborn or wanting to prove him wrong, but that's when I decided I would be a neuroscientist."
Both of us sit there as if unsure of what to do with all of our new understanding of the other. I fidget in my chair, wondering if I've shared too much, but it's out there now and I can't take it back.
Suddenly a beeping fills the large room. Jake rolls his chair over to the computer, pushing aside the large leather one as he stares intently at the screen.
"We're in," he says, reverently. "My underground hacking buddy came through."
I rush to his side and watch as a 3D rendition of a door opening fills the monitor. Jake's fingers fly over the keyboard and the screen takes us down a hallway and then stops at another door.
Access code requested, the screen reads.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
Jake doesn't respond, instead, he types. LX11822OP5991*.*
Then he lifts his hands and holds them midair as if frozen. We wait as the computer reads, Requesting access.
And then: Access granted.
"Yes!" Jake high-fives me. "We're in!"
I literally do a little jump like I'm a kid who got a secret pass into the candy shop.
I'm going to find you, Dad.
"Okay," he says. "We've got to move fast. In and out before I leave too long of a trail."
"How do you keep your trail hidden?"
"I'm bouncing off servers like every 14 milliseconds," he says as he types furiously. "Even if someone tried, it would take them months. But I'm not taking any chances."
I drop into my chair, crisscrossing my legs while hugging my Coke bottle. Mom always told me that observation and patience are supposed to be a scientist's best friend. But it's not a natural skill of mine. I'm more of the girl who leaps into the throes of something and thinks about the consequences later on.
"I just need to go through the system and see which accounts the money was deposited and if it's been transferred or withdrawn." After a few minutes of him scanning the three screens and typing some more, he finally logs off and exits the system. "We're out."
He leans back in his chair and despite the cool of the room, a trail of sweat trickles down the sides of his face.
"So? Where did the money go?"
"Bangladesh."
"Bangladesh?" I ask. "But why? And who? Who took it out?"
"Don't know." He rubs the side of his face in thought. "It was withdrawn Friday morning from Bangladesh Bank before they had any clue of what was happening. Or at least it looks that way. I guess it makes sense. It was Bangladesh Bank who alerted us to the red flags when they noticed their printer failure. Maybe someone there purposely turned off their printer so the money could be transferred through."
"So they must know who withdrew the money."
"Maybe." He tilts his head to the side and his fingers fly over the keyboard, his forehead scrunched in concentration. I lean closer to see he's on the Bangladesh Bank's website. "Well, this isn't good. They've got an internal security system and I have no way of accessing it remotely. It would have to be done there. My guess is the feds will be getting involved once they discover what I have. Then they will begin working with the bank to discover who took the money."
"But what about my dad? We could be waiting weeks for them to apprehend this person and the trail might go cold by then."
"It's Saturday afternoon there and the bank is closed. Everyone is probably freaking out. $81 million is a whole lot of cash to lose."
"Bangladesh," I mutter again. "Maybe that's where the plane went to. Can you access the airport's computer systems to see if any planes went there?"
He purses his lips and leans his head back as if surprised I asked. "I'm afraid that's out of my expertise. The only reason I was able to get into the National Reserve is that I learned all the access codes. I've been in and out of their system for years thanks to my dad."
"So I have to fly out to Bangladesh and find out for myself?"
"Wait a sec. You're not actually thinking of going to Bangladesh, are you?" When I don't answer he says, "Sounds dangerous. I don't like it."
"If that's where Dad is, that's where I need to go."
"You need to leave this up to the feds. They're the pros. What if I'm wrong and the money and your dad aren't linked? What if I'm completely off base on this?"
My mind feels like it's whirling a million miles faster than the 268 miles per hour in which the brain can actually move information. While he begins his mad hacking skills, I pull out my phone and call the team on video chat because I think Jake is right.
My dad and the money are connected.