The Big Bad Wolf - James Patterson [72]
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Chapter 83
A DOZEN OR SO AGENTS were sitting around eating thick roast beef sandwiches and German potato salad and drinking iced tea when contact with the Wolf’s Den was made again. “Roast beef” had a special meaning inside the FBI, but that was another story. The Wolf was calling.
Potter. We’ve made a decision on your request, the e-mail said. Get back to us.
The group continued to eat. We agreed there was no need to get back to the Wolf instantly. It would raise his suspicions if Potter was there waiting for the call. An agent was already playing the part of Dr. Homer Taylor in Hanover. We had spread a lie that the professor had the flu and wouldn’t be conducting any classes for a while. Occasionally, “sightings” of Professor Taylor were arranged at his house—sometimes looking out windows or sitting out on the front porch. To our knowledge, no one had inquired about Taylor at Dartmouth or at his house in Webster. Both locations were being watched closely by agents.
I hoped that the agents in the field knew what the hell they were doing. At this point we had no idea how careful the Wolf was or whether his suspicions had already been aroused. We didn’t know enough about the Russian. Not even if he had someone in the Bureau feeding him information.
It was agreed that I would wait an hour and a half, since I hadn’t been on-line when he established contact and the Wolf would know that. During the past day we’d been unsuccessful in trying to connect the Wolf’s Den to an owner or even to one of the other users. This probably meant that a high-level hacker had protected the site well. The Bureau’s experts were confident they would break through, but it hadn’t happened yet.
Homer Taylor had been transported to D.C. again, and we used his eyes for the retina scan. Then I sat down at a computer and began to type. I was following the model of communication to the Wolf’s Den provided by Taylor as part of our deal.
This is Mr. Potter, I began. Can I have my lover?
Chapter 84
I WAITED FOR the Wolf to answer Potter’s insane question. We all did.
No response came. Shit. What had I done wrong? I’d gone too far, hadn’t I? He was clever. Somehow, he knew what we were up to. But how?
“I’ll stay on for a while,” I said, as I looked around the room. “I want what he has to offer. He knows it. I’m supposed to be horny.”
This is Potter, I typed again a few minutes later.
Suddenly words began to appear on my screen.
I read, Wolf: That’s redundant, Potter. I know who you are.
I typed some more words in Taylor’s strident “voice.” UR rude to make me wait like this. U know how I feel, what I’m going through.
Wolf: How could I? You’re the scary freak, Potter, not me.
I typed: Not so. UR the real freak. The cruelest of all.
Wolf: Why do you say that? You think I take hostages like you?
My heart raced. What did he mean by that? Did the Wolf have a hostage? Maybe more than one? Could Elizabeth Connolly still be alive after all this time? Or some other hostage? Maybe one we didn’t even know about?
Wolf: So tell me something, faggot. Prove yourself to me.
Prove myself? How? I waited for more instruction to come. But it didn’t.
I typed: What do U want to know? I’m horny. No, not really. I’m in love.
Wolf: What happened to Worcester? You were in love with him too.
The chat was heading into uncharted waters. I was guessing, hoping I could maintain continuity with things Homer Taylor might have shared before. The other question made me edgy: Was this really the Wolf I was speaking to?
I typed: Francis was incapable of love. He made me very angry. He’s gone now, never to be heard from again.
Wolf: And there will be no repercussions?
Mr. Potter: I’m careful. Like U. I like my life; I don’t want to be caught. And I won’t be!!!
Wolf: Does that mean Worcester rests in pieces?
I wasn’t sure how to answer. With a cruel joke of my own? Something like that, I typed. UR funny.
Wolf: Be more specific. Give me the bloody details, Potter.