Embrace Me Forever (Hartley Brothers #3)

35. Blake

35

BLAKE

The IT room at Hartley Marine was once just another room at headquarters. Now, it carries two opposing reminders. It’s the site of my greatest failure with Georgia-May when she needed me most, and it’s also my beacon of hope. I won’t make the same mistake again. With the stakes higher than ever, I’m confident that with Thomas, Rob, and Clayton by my side, we will find her.

We start with the very thing that brought Georgia-May into Hartley Marine and into my life.

“So, QEOPA,” I begin. “When we were fending off Bertram’s attacks, there were pings originating from various locations across California. Am I right?”

Thomas keys in my request and brings up those locations. The screen floods with hundreds of potential sites.

“There are too many,” Rob comments, knowing time isn’t on our side. “We need to pinpoint an exact location.”

I rub my temples, my mind sharpening. “Bertram took Georgia-May for two reasons. Firstly, to repair their actuarial systems, which were compromised by her late boyfriend’s tampering. And secondly,” I pause, aware this is the reason that will make me lose her forever. “They want her to complete Project Mock, a sophisticated actuarial algorithm she initially designed. So scarily accurate that even Abner Bertram himself used it to predict his own life.”

“This means all her work will be digital,” Thomas chimes in.

“Exactly,” I reply. “That’s precisely why I need you, Thomas. Consider this—I’m no expert, but if I were Georgia-May, I’d use whatever access I had. Didn’t she say the pings originated from connected devices? Bertram is under pressure. Their systems are crumbling bit by bit, even as we speak. They wouldn’t risk moving her far. I’m betting she’s online right now, no doubt under Bertram’s supervision. And Georgia-May is smart.”

Thomas furrows his brow in thought. “I’m on board, Blake.”

“What if the system she’s currently using is also sending and receiving these pings?” I propose. “Or maybe she’s intentionally manipulating it to send signals?”

Rob gives a convincing nod while Clayton slaps my shoulder in approval. “You’re picking this up fast!”

“Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” I smirk.

“Rob, can you authorize reactivating that protocol?” Thomas inquires.

“You’ve got the green light, buddy,” Rob responds promptly.

Thomas gets to work immediately. Soon, the digital silence breaks as pings start appearing on the screen.

“It seems the other signals have ceased. But one is still active,” Thomas notes, his voice laced with curiosity. “It’s encoded but resembles what could be Georgia-May’s digital signature.”

“Is it really her?” I ask, barely containing my anxiety.

“Possibly, though we must verify it isn’t Bertram fabricating her signature,” Thomas cautions, pausing to analyze the data further. “She knows we’re monitoring. She’s transmitting a message. ‘CO2.’ What in the world does that mean? Carbon dioxide?”

“Could she be near someplace with that gas?” Clay throws in a guess.

“No, no,” I realize. “She’s asking about Coco! Confirm she’s safe.”

“Brilliant, Blake!” Rob exclaims, impressed by the deduction.

Thomas quickly types in a coded response, which he says translates to ‘Subject secured’ in their established encryption language.

Then, amid the flurry of characters, a peculiar code appears.

“What the hell is that?” I blurt out.

“Well, it’s odd. It seems to be a code for the color navy blue,” Thomas explains. “Could that be the color of the building she’s in?”

“Or maybe somewhere near a naval base?”

I sigh joyously. I’d bought her so many clothes and things in navy blue. “She’s asking about me. Reply that I’m coming for her and find out where she is.”

Thomas sends another message, followed by a query that’s beyond my understanding. “She doesn’t know where she is,” he informs me after a pause.

“Damn. Can you pinpoint the location of that ping?” I press, hoping for a breakthrough.

“It’s scrambled, but I can try something.” Thomas opens another application. Moments later he reports, “It’s coming from Driftwood. That’s all I can decipher.”

“Driftwood? That place is a ghost town!” Clay exclaims, squinting at the map displayed on the screen.

“Yeah, about a hundred and fifty miles out,” Thomas confirms. “Hold on, she just sent something else. USMNP. Ring any bells?”

Rob leans forward, peering at the code. “That’s a port code.”

“Nailed it!” Thomas shouts triumphantly. “It’s Maravino Point. Basically, Driftwood’s forgotten backyard.”

Resolved, I announce, “I’m heading there!”

“It’d be faster by boat,” Rob suggests with a knowing grin.

“Then let me use the P, Rob,” I say, hinting at the Peregrine, Rob’s record-breaking hyper-speed vessel. Bertram won’t anticipate a rapid and stealthy approach from the water.

“You don’t know how to drive that beast,” Rob protests.

“But I do!” Clayton interjects. “I’m coming with you, ready or not.”

Rob adds, “It’ll be a bit snug for both of you and a tad slower with extra weight, but still ten times faster than anything else on the water or land.”

I accept Clay’s company as Thomas interrupts, “Guys, we’ve lost her.”