"Jesus, man! You scared the shit out of me!"
Kepler shook his head in mocking disappointment at the man's language and smiled, taking in Sam's face and all its rapidly changing expressions. Realizing the man couldn't see his smile, he just let his eyes adjust to the lighting.
"If you don't want masked men in your living room, you shouldn't keep that schedule of yours so religiously. What's the deal? You'll get fined if you don't appear at that burger house every day at the exact same hour?"
Sam grimaced as a faint blush spread over his features. He had added a new piercing—a lot of new piercings actually—and every grimace resulted in them changing angles or chains swinging between them. If Sam's goal was to be intimidating, he had failed miserably. Despite his almost shaved head, nothing could change the man's soft brown eyes. Kepler recalled what Spencer had called them: Bambi eyes. He was right.
Kepler emerged from the shadowed corner where he had been standing and approached the man.
"And that security system you've installed—"
"Come on, man! That's to keep normal burglars away. How long did it take you?"
"Five minutes, including the second alarm hidden indoors."
Another grimace, one of surprise and disappointment this time, stretched the chain that connected the ring on Sam's ear to another on his eyebrow. Kepler watched it with interest as it underlined the man's emotions. Since the last time he saw him—years ago—he'd gained a few pounds. All those burgers had a cost.
"I'd hoped it'd take at least half an hour."
Kepler shook his head. In reality it had taken fewer than five minutes, which had made the rest of the hour Sam was away seem unbearably long especially in that house. Not exactly a mausoleum, but it had certainly left its prime years a few decades ago. The whole neighborhood was dying of neglect and mortgages paid with effort, not that money was a problem for Sam. Kepler eyed the uneven seats of the discolored floral print couch and once again avoided it. Sam followed his stare.
"I'd bet anything that you can afford more than that." Kepler's voice was serious, with a hint of amusement. The house belonged in a time capsule.
"Hey! This is my grandmother's furniture!"
And it looked like it. Kepler reminded himself that insulting the man would not help his cause. After all, he needed to ask a favor. The limits of his politeness extended far enough to repress a retort. That was the best he could do.
"How's your grandmother?" he forced himself to ask while Sam took off his coat and his boots. He walked on the stained carpet in his surprisingly clean socks.
"She's great, man. Thanks for asking. I got her a house in Florida a few years ago. She says that now she only needs a man for her happiness to be complete but I told her that's her job to find, not mine! Of course, I check every scumbag in her book club. Even the nurse who visits her weekly—she wanted a male nurse. You know…their bank accounts, police records, if they're married, divorced, their online orders. You can't imagine what you can make out about a man from his browsing history on Amazon—"
Kepler nodded, deeply thankful for his mask. "And you live here."
Sam looked around and a smile transformed his face into that of a happy child. Kepler took in the indecipherably-colored wallpaper on the wall on his left. It was in bad shape now but maybe better-looking than the first day it was installed—did it really have Zodiac signs on it? With the lights on, he could make out a Sagittarius with his bow and a faded goat, if that was the sign for Capricorn.
"It's home, man. I'd never let her sell it."
Kepler let the smile reach his eyes so that Sam could see it.
"I saw you in that video, Sam. You should be more careful."
The dark-haired man's smile bloomed into a flashing grin and then into a wholehearted laugh as he turned his back to hide his flushed, cocky face from Kepler.
"You recognized me? I told Smith…son of a bitch—" He was facing Kepler again, still smiling, his expression that of sheer satisfaction.
"You can't expect to fool people just because you toss on a mask and sit in front of a camera, Sam. At least not people who know you. You should be more careful of your body language."
"You talk from experience, huh?" Sam's self-satisfied smile couldn't be shaken. His eyes gleamed. "I wonder what my neighbors thought seeing a man in a full-face white mask breaking in."
"Nothing, because I wore a full-face black knit ski mask the way any 'normal burglar' would. I doubt they even picked up the phone to call the police."
"And where is it written you can only wear a mask, huh?"
"I wear it out of necessity."
"We wore it out of necessity, too. To protect our identities."
"And picking that particular hero was what? Social revolution? Do you know that the rights to that particular design are owned by a media company that collects every time a mask like that is sold? It's the same as starting a revolution wearing a Mickey Mouse mask. Not to mention that the smiling man represented by your mask had a very unhappy ending in real life." Sam shrugged his shoulders in indifference. He still looked very happy with himself.
"Slapping on a mask doesn't make you invincible. And you can't threaten terrorists or declare a worldwide war against organized crime thinking you're protected behind a piece of smiling plastic." Kepler hadn't seen Smith in any of these videos and he had a hunch the man played it safe while leaving the rest to take all the chances. It wouldn't be the first time. "I watched the latest one, last week. It was Steve, wasn't it? He's left-handed and he even left that ring on his index finger. What was he thinking?"
"The man's an idiot. What can I say?" Sam's face sobered a little.
"And that 'we'll neutralize anyone who attacks—'…. That was Smith's script, no doubt. What will you do, Sam? Hack a few Twitter accounts or log them out of their email? What does this 'neutralizing' have in store this time?"
"You know we have our ways. We did it before. It's harder now but how can we watch all that shit going on and do nothing?"
"I don't suggest you do nothing. I just urge you to be careful. Do more, talk less. You don't need to advertise it so much."
"What if we did it on purpose? What if we need more people? Manpower. The scale has changed, man. Will you help us?"
"You know Spencer deals with networking. I can speak only for myself."
"So, will you help us? We already use your decryption. Do you know they use encrypted apps for trafficking? We caught them negotiating prices in real time. Slavery is back, man, full force. Women, children, whatever gives the money they need. You could do so much more. We need to take a stand, man. Smith says it's time to take a stand, to say 'that's enough'. He wants to change the whole fucking world, man." His eyes gleamed.
Kepler snorted.
"If you had the power to do it…wouldn't you do it? What's your excuse, man?"
"The world doesn't change overnight." He waved a hand in frustration. He didn't need this.
"Okay, maybe you can't change the world, why not start throwing some stones? Break their goddamn wall?"
"Are you a Pink Floyd fan now?"
"If you could do it…a brick at a time, why not try it?"
"Just be cautious, Sam. This is not a game."
"You're getting old, man. You have the most potential of us all, Smith included, but he has the drive and that makes all the difference. You could change the world—" There was disappointment in his voice. As if Kepler had sold out or worse. The idea hit a raw nerve. He had a lot of those lately.
"What if I don't want to change the world?" he asked, irritation lacing his voice. He couldn't believe he was wasting time on this useless conversation. Once, he had been like Sam but he had outgrown it. It wasn't the age difference—there was hardly any.
"What? You like this shit as it is?"
"No, but I don't believe it's one man's job to change the world. If he succeeds, then he'll form it according to his will, his whims and wishes. If the world changes because of one man, it's not change. It's tyranny."
Sam's shoulders hunched and Kepler felt as if he'd just burst a young boy's balloon. When had realism become cynicism? For a tiny fragment of time, he envied Sam. He wished he was doing something he believed in, that served a greater cause even if that meant being a bit deluded at times. But could he exchange clarity for idealism? Even if that were a much better motive…. Better than damage control, retribution or deep guilt. And he had Gallagher to thank for that.
It didn't take long before the frown disappeared from Sam's face as a new thought, a new light glinted in his Bambi brown eyes.
"Is Spence with you?"
"No. That's why I'm here. To find him. I think he's in trouble."
"Holy shit. Worse than he's already in?"
"Worse."
"What can I do for you, man?"
"Let me use your equipment. For just a few days. No more. Or help me buy stuff."
"Anything, man. Anything. I'll help you myself. Just tell me what you need—"
"I don't want to drag you into this. Thanks anyway. Just using your Lair will be great."
"You know I'd do anything for you. And for Spence…how can you reject my help?" He sounded hurt.
"As I recently discovered, rejection is a bottomless pit, Sam. Just when you think you've hit rock bottom, new depths are revealed—" he mocked the bitterness of his own words. "But don't take it to heart. I'm only trying to protect you."
"I don't need protection, man. I've been on my own for years. I take care of my gran. That was in the past. A one-time thing—"
"I know, Sam. That's why I'm trying to keep you out of this mess. You don't need it."
The man's shoulders hunched in acceptance. "You two are a shit-magnet, aren't you?"
"You could say that. The image though…it's disgusting." Kepler grimaced behind his mask.
"Smith says you worked on Stuxnet. That's why you disappeared."
"I don't work for governments, Sam. You, of all people, must know that."
"I told him, man, I told him, but he said the sophistication of the code reminded him of your work."
"Well, it wasn't!"
"But you say it was government work. So the rumors are true? Did the US and Israel collaborate to create it as a cyber-weapon against the Natanz nuclear plant?"
"I don't care about Iran's nuclear program and what I said is common knowledge. Google it. You can find it on Wikipedia."
"But you wouldn't say it just because you read it on Wikipedia. You have sources. You know people."
"What I know is that I haven't worked on Stuxnet! Neither did Spencer."
Sam looked at him, doubting his sincerity. Kepler was certain that fifty per cent of their notoriety was due to rumors about their dubious accomplishments rather than the truth. Once you made a name for yourself, people rushed to add to it, comment on it with flourishes of their own, extract conclusions that multiplied the effect. And that had always been part of Spencer's strategy. He thrived on his fame, the Achilles' heel Gallagher had aimed for in order to hurt Spencer the most.
Kepler shifted his weight onto the other foot and crossed his arms over his chest. If Spencer were here, he'd never deny his involvement with something so big. He would not openly admit it but he wouldn't deny it either, allowing his…"myth" to grow. On the other hand, Kepler had a hunch that his adamant denial acted more as an encouragement to Sam's beliefs than anything else.
"What about Careto? Was it your doing?"
"Geez! Is this another rumor Smith circulates?"
Sam's silence spoke volumes.
"It seems I've been busy over the years! And in both cases my lousy work was revealed by Kaspersky Labs. I should be insulted, you know. Or perhaps I worked for them, too, to raise their stock value. As for Careto, do you honestly believe that I'd name something like that, even in Spanish? How stupid do you think I am?" He waved a hand at his face.
"I told him that was too far-fetched—" Sam offered a guilty smile.
Kepler doubted he could persuade the man standing before him he had nothing to do with anything attributed to him, no matter what he did. But who cared? The truth was irrelevant as long as it was useless. And he needed Sam's equipment and his Lair.
Sam was the most trustworthy of his old friends, who—he had to admit—were not that many. That gave him around a week—give or take—before the word was spread that he was not dead, that he was not still working for secret projects or aliens, that whatever bridges he had burned now mocked him to his face as he tried to use them again since he had come back with an agenda very open to everyone's speculation much like anything else in his life.
"For what it's worth, man, I never believed Spence did…what he was accused of—" Sam's voice faded again. He lowered his eyes and his eyebrows' piercings cast long shadows on his eyelids. He looked honest and sincere. After all, he knew Spence from way back.
"Anything you need is yours. Anything. Just ask! I'll always have your back, man, you know that. I owe you. Both you and Spencer."
"I'm not here to collect, Sam. You owe us nothing. I'm just asking."
"I still owe you. I'll always have your back," Sam said in his own passionate way and Kepler nodded in uncomfortable gratitude.
"I may not know about Stuxnet and Careto but let me tell you the latest about quantum cryptography—" he started as he followed Sam into the other room.
Kepler had scarcely a week to locate and find Spencer. A week before everyone knew he was back. Everyone.
TOWDNWTBN, Vale: thank you!