Page 46
“Yes way.”
Clay shakes his head again.
“Why not?”
“Because if I call him, he will come.”
“That’s generally what happens when you call someone and need their help.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I’ve met him, remember?”
When I first moved to the island, there was a security breach in their system, and Clay had to call in outside help. Someone had accessed all their private client profiles, and it was not a good look for an island that lets people pay for sex.
Clay exhales and looks toward the ceiling. “Fuck.”
He looks back at me again and reaches for his phone, hesitating before scrolling through his contacts. Then he presses call and holds the phone to his ear.
I stare at the drive. I don’t know what I expect to be on it, but whatever it is, Jensen believed keeping it was worth dying for, and that bothers me.
“Where are you?” No hello, nothing. Only silence while whoever is on the other end answers. “Good, I need you on the island.” Another pause. “No, it can’t wait.” Clay looks at me. “Yes, I’m sure.” His eyes close. “I don’t fucking know—bring everything.”
Clay hangs up, and I raise a brow. “He’s coming?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Whenever he fucking feels like it, apparently.”
I don’t understand why Clay is acting as if he just invited a wild animal to the island. But 404 is strange, I remember that much.
We sit and wait for what feels like forever, and about two hours later 404 arrives. Khodi radios in that there is an Australian man at the gate with enough computer equipment to start his own electronics store.
I take a piss while Khodi brings 404 to Clay’s office, and by the time I get back, he is unpacking his equipment. 404 is somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties, of average height, lean rather than skinny, with dark hair that looks like he shoved his fingers through it on the way here and forgot to brush it. He’s dressed in black jeans, worn sneakers, and a dark T-shirt.
He has a backpack beside him, two laptops he puts on Clay’s desk, and a small case on the floor with an assortment of cables and adapters in it. 404 glances up as I stand over him, his eyes moving over me once.
“Rue, nice to see you again.”
“404.”
He nods, and that is the end of our greeting.
Clay is standing near his desk with his arms crossed. “You couldn’t just bring one computer?”
“I could have.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Clay snaps.
“Because you told me to bring everything.”
Clay looks at me, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
404 reaches into the case and pulls out another cable.
“I didn’t mean it literally.”
