Chapter Eleven
"I don't understand this. Not at all," Kitty said, bent almost double over her computer console as she tapped away at the controls.
The manor's main computer lab was noticeably cool and rather dimly lit, most of the light coming from the room's busy monitors, viewscreens and holoprojections. Kitty's station took up most of the far wall, while Doug and Forge worked at opposite sides of a complicated-looking control center that filled the sunken space in the middle of the lab, Doug mumbling to himself in computer code as his fingers flew across the keypads.
"What's all that?" Logan asked, gesturing with his rough chin toward the very technical-looking graphs and charts that filled most of the computer screens.
"That up there is data from the forensics teams," Forge told him, preoccupied with his work. "We've been compiling all their scans and findings as they come in."
"And…?" Logan prompted.
"And it doesn't make any sense," Kitty said, sitting back and spinning her swivel chair around in frustration. "There's just too much going on in this case! I hardly know where to start!"
"Then, take me through it," Logan said. "From the top."
Kitty shot him a dark look.
"You must be kidding. We don't have time to—"
"To what, Half-Pint?" Logan grunted. "Stand here spinning your wheels?"
Kitty sighed through her nose, and nodded.
"All right, you've made your point," she said. "I'll explain what we've got so far to you and, in the process, we just might find that link we need to bring this mess into focus."
"Now you're talkin' smart," Logan said and sat back in one of the rolling office chairs. "So, shoot."
"OK, OK," Kitty said, running her hands through her short hair in an attempt to calm down and focus. "We've got three main tasks here. First, I have Forge and Doug working on trying to reconstruct that virus some hacker implanted in our systems to turn poor Forge into a zombie. It would help to know exactly what that program was designed to do and just how long it was lurking in our systems. And, though it's a long shot, sometimes some programmers like to code their signature into their work. If we can find that signature, we can send it through the IX-MO, police and government databases to see if this guy's hacked anyone else."
"Sounds good," Logan said. "What else?"
"Over here, like Forge said, we have a program busy reconstructing the entire crime scene in 3-D, based on the forensics teams' findings so far," she said, gesturing to another panel of computers. "We're trying to determine just how those holo-emitters were modified, but Forge still can't figure out how our Training Room was turned into a mechanical teleporter. Until we figure that out, we have no way of tracing the coordinates of the teleport – no way of finding who snatched Marti, Suzie, Cessily, Tessa, and Betsy!"
She closed her eyes and took in a long, deep breath, her hands fisted tightly at her sides.
"Sorry," she said.
"We're all on edge, Half-Pint," Logan said, and stood, moving to the nearest panel of monitors. "What's going on here?
"I've linked up with Moira's computers in the medical lab," Kitty told him. "The parasite she and Rahne have isolated is genetically engineered, which means it was most likely developed and grown in a lab. If it was stolen, some lab somewhere may own a patent, or have published a paper, or something… God!" she exclaimed, and kicked her own office chair until it spun around in a full circle. "I hate all these missing pieces and speculation! I just need something real – some rock-solid trace that might, just might, lead us to a name!"
BAMF!
Everyone jumped at the explosive sound, but Nightcrawler was already moving past the lingering teleport smoke, making a bee line for the nearest available keypad.
"Kurt!" Kitty exclaimed, a hand pressed to her chest.
Logan stood.
"Hey Elf," he said, "what—"
"I need a phone trace, now!" Kurt said urgently, his yellow eyes glowing like cinders in the dimness as he tapped at the touch pad with his thick fingers. "Did anyone pick up a package on the day of the explosion? It would have been addressed to me, from Germany."
"Yes, actually," Kitty said, moving beside him to watch as he pulled up his own phone records for the past week. "I think Marta was saying something about a package arriving from your parents."
"Do you know where she put it?" Kurt demanded, finding the right date and time and initiating the trace with a fierce jab of his finger.
Kitty bit her lip, her large eyes tight.
"I'm sorry, Kurt, I don't remember much about it," she said. "We were on our way to the train station, and Alice told her to stash it somewhere until you had a chance to look at it."
"Why all this about a package?" Logan asked, crossing his arms. "Those CSIs find something out there?"
"This."
Kurt shoved the evidence bag containing the singed shipping label the forensics team had found at Logan, who held the damp, blurred paper to the monitor light and frowned.
"Karl and Marta Wagner," he read grimly. "You think the bomb was in this box, then?"
"What?" Kitty exclaimed. "Oh, Kurt—"
"My parents had called my private number several days ago to tell me they were sending me some things from my childhood," Kurt told them, his eyes still fixed on the screen, which was rapidly filling with lists and lists of numbers and locations. "If the bomb was in that box, either someone was listening in on that phone conversation and mined the box in transit, or—"
"The call may have been a set up," Logan grunted.
"It was," Doug said, coming up behind them. The blond boy ducked between Kitty and Logan to point at Kurt's screen. "Just look at that crazy list!"
"What is all that?" Logan demanded. "No one could call from all those places."
"No – that's just tracing where the caller's signal bounced off of towers and satellites," Doug said and started to smile, just slightly. "You know, this makes me think someone was using a website to fool Mr. Wagner's caller-ID. Some sneaky program designed to mask their own location, number, and identity, and make it look like the call came from his parents' number."
"But, I heard my parents' voices," Kurt said. "Not just their accent, but the way they talk. If this call was phony, how could these hackers mimic them so perfectly?"
"It could be done by computer," Forge said, looking up at them from the central control well just below. "All they'd have to do was run a sample of your parents' voices through a vocal masking program – like a super sophisticated version of those voice changer Darth Vader toys kids play with. Then, anything they said would come out sounding like your parents said it."
"How would a hacker get that kind of sample?" Logan asked.
Forge frowned.
"Given all that's happened, I have to believe that Excalibur has been under very close surveillance for some time," he said grimly. "Now that we've started to get a feel for what to look for, the evidence is cropping up everywhere. Kurt, you talk to your parents at least once a week. It wouldn't take much for a good hacker to record a few samples."
Kurt swore darkly, and turned his burning eyes to Doug.
"Phone conversations must have a caller and a receiver, ja? What would it take for you to find out exactly where this call originated?" he asked, stepping aside to allow the young computer expert access to the keypad.
"Just give me a few minutes," Doug said. "This hacker's clever…guy's got the signal bouncing all around the world, as you can see. But, I should be able to narrow it down…"
While Cypher worked, Kurt regarded his three friends, his long tail lashing.
"With that box, and this call, we may finally have found some material evidence directly linking us to these criminals," he said. "If Doug can track the true source of this call, having that location may help us source the coordinates of whoever used our Training Room to kidnap my girls, Betsy, Cessily, and Tessa."
"You might have something there," Forge said, turning back to his own complex task. "I've been working to reconstruct the teleportation program, but with so little left to build from, it's been very slow going."
"The forensics team told me they think this package, sent with my parents' address on it, was the epicenter of the explosion," Kurt said. "They are currently working to piece together the contents of that box, in case they may have some significance. Perhaps something symbolic, something that might be a message…"
"Or, something with fingerprints or even some trace DNA," Kitty said, a narrow ray of hope starting to shine through her voice. "If whoever is behind this tangled mess is in the system—"
"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," Logan grunted. "Sounds to me like we've all still got a lot of piecing and puzzling together to do before we can point to something solid."
He looked up at his haggard friend, his own rough features darkening at the sight of Kurt's sunken eyes and gaunt, unshaven face.
"Kurt, we've got this," he said. "Why don't you take a few minutes to get cleaned up. I promise to call you the second we find something."
Kurt rubbed his rough, bristly chin, and pursed his lips.
"Go on," Kitty said, giving his arm a sisterly squeeze. "You haven't taken a moment for yourself since all this began. If we do get a lead out of this, we'll need you to be sharp, fresh, and ready to go." She smiled. "Besides, Logan's right. We've got this."
Kurt shook his head.
"Nein," he said. "I must call my parents first. I must know that they are all right."
"Fair enough. But, given this latest hack, we can't trust the phones here," Logan said, reaching into his jacket pocket. "I've got this burner cell I keep in case of emergencies. Untraceable."
He held it out, and Kurt took it gratefully.
"Danke, mein Freund," he said, grabbing a nearby pencil to help him tap the numbers on the narrow screen. After a brief, but emotional, conversation, Kurt handed the phone back to Logan, and straightened his shoulders.
"I could not bring myself to tell them about the girls," he said, his voice rough. "Not yet. Not until I know more. But, my parents are fine. They have no intention of moving house after all. Marti will be glad to hear that..."
He sniffed a little, and wiped his eyes with his tail.
"I believe I will go wash up now," he said, and clapped Logan's shoulder. "Thank you, Logan."
"Hey," the gruff man grunted. "We're all family here."
Kurt smiled and nodded, then disappeared in a flash of smoke.
"All right, kids," Logan said, turning back to Kitty, Forge, and Doug. "Back to work. Where do you need me?"
To Be Continued…
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