Dead Links

By Nigel G. Mitchell

What if the Internet could control you? 

African American investigative journalist Amanda Katt's engagement takes a strange turn when her fiancee becomes obsessed with Araknee, one of the most popular websites ever made. As she investigates, Katt discovers others have fallen under the spell of the website, and the owners of rival websites are dying under mysterious circumstances. When Amanda tries to uncover the secret of Araknee, she finds herself drawn into a conspiracy that could threaten the world. 

Fans of William Gibson and Michael Crichton will appreciate this exciting thriller. 

"Bold heroine choice and palpable sense of place" - James Blakley 

"I really enjoyed it, could hardly put it down" - cog11 

"The action fairly good, realistic and coherent" - SGL 

"An exciting and engaging thriller that hooked me from beginning to end." - BJ Fraser 

Length: 134,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Platypus Publishing
• Release date: Dec 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519969378

Nigel G. Mitchell

Nigel G. Mitchell was born in Brooklyn, NY. He earned a Bachelor's in English from Arizona State University in 1999. In addition to fiction, he is also a writer for the popular sci-fi blog, The Geek Twins. His work has been featured regularly in Slashfilm, Blastr, io9, CBR and Screenrant. His short stories have been published in Lost Worlds, 365 Tomorrows, and Black Hole Magazine. His latest novel is "Enter the Nexus." He currently lives in Phoenix, Arizona with his wife and three children.

Book preview

Chapter 1

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AMANDA KATT lay on her back, trying to keep her breathing as low and soft as possible. The dry odor of wood and dust tickled her nose, bringing the threat of a sneeze with it. Her whole body trembled from the fear that clutched at her stomach like an icy fist, but she fought to keep herself under control.

She lay on top of a very narrow shelving unit in the West Chandler Library, and the slightest twitch could send her toppling off onto the floor below. The fall itself didn't bother her too much. Her terror came from knowing the sound of hitting the carpeted floor would draw attention to her location. The men and women Amanda hid from would find her, and they would kill her.

She knew that as surely as she could hear the rustling of clothes and soft thumps of footsteps moving along the aisles surrounding her. The whispers of her hunters echoed through the dead library's halls, blending into a low moan that seemed to call out her name in one voice.

She thought of screaming for help, but knew that would bring nothing but death. The library had been closing down when they came for her. By now, there would be no one left to rescue her. Those who remained had probably been knocked out or killed, just like Vicki Paige. Amanda shuddered at the thought of what had happened to Vicki just a few minutes earlier, then clenched her fists to strengthen herself again.

A glowing circle cast from a flashlight crawled along the white ceiling tiles above her. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut. She hoped the angle of the beam would keep it from exposing her. Her heart strained to pound inside her chest all the same.

Stay strong, stay focused.

She had to. She seemed to be the only one who knew the truth about Araknee and could do something about it. She had to escape the library, and stop the plan before it was too late.

Araknee. Just the thought of it made her jaw clench so hard her teeth ached. If she had only known last week what she knew now, she would never have let this happen. Her mind raced over all the things she could have done differently. She would never have trusted so many people. She would never have underestimated the power Araknee had over its users. Maybe she would never have written the article that had made her a target. She certainly would have kept her fiancée, Lesley Grant, away from Araknee. She would have recognized the signs that something was wrong and gotten him away before it was too late.

The tour had been where it all started. If she had only known what Araknee truly was, after everything she had seen on her tour, she would have left Araknee's offices and gone straight to the police. But of course, she had never dreamed of the truth behind Araknee's power. It had seemed like a harmless website that inspired an unusual loyalty in its fans. Now, knowing those same fans prowled beneath her armed with crude weapons and a thirst for her blood, the full impact of Araknee seemed obvious, but it hadn't then. No, that was the point that led her here. That was where it all began.

It had all begun with an innocent little tour of the most popular website ever.

Chapter 2

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NINE DAYS earlier, as she stepped out of the gate of John F. Kennedy Airport into Manhattan, Amanda Katt felt prepared for her tour of Araknee. She had researched Araknee as much as she could, and memorized a list of questions to ask during her interview. Amanda felt prepared for whatever minor problems that could get in her way. Even jostled by other passengers moving down the velvet-roped path, Amanda felt a thrill arriving in New York, and at the prospect of a successful article.

At five-foot seven, Amanda Katt made a striking figure as she emerged from her plane. Her cocoa-brown skin gleamed in the florescent lights. Her full lips pouted beneath rich, brown eyes that flashed with curiosity and excitement. Her red sundress, while not tight enough to be immodest, still hugged the curves of her body, which stayed toned with regular exercise that included jogging and martial arts. Her skirt caressed long legs the color of chocolate that carried her forward with a bold stride. A tiny silver cat dangled on a chain around her neck, a gift from her father that she never took off.

Amanda caught a glimpse of her name in the crowds, printed on a white cardboard sign. A thin man in army fatigues stepped to one side, revealing a man holding a sign over the chest of his black suit. He shifted from one foot to the other while scanning the people streaming out of the plane. Amanda ducked between two blond children crying in German to make her way over to him.

The man in the suit focused on her and smiled while brushing his hand over the lapels of his jacket. In that brief moment, his eyes wandered over her shapely legs where they showed from beneath the red skirt of her dress. She could smell mint on his breath as he spoke. Are you Amanda Katt?

Amanda spread her hands wide, allowing her green tote bag to dangle from her right arm. The one and only. And you'd be?

The man lowered his sign and touched the brim of his black cap with his freed hand. Name's Randy, I'm from Gordon Limousines. They hired me to drive you to the headquarters of Araknee.

She dodged around a heavy man in a green I Love New York T-shirt jogging towards the gate she just left, puffing with exertion. Then she blinked up at the driver. Man, they sent a car down for me, too?

Sure did. You have any luggage?

Amanda pushed the tote bag under her arm up higher as she smiled. Just this. I travel light.

Okay. This way, ma'am. He threaded his way through a group in white sweatpants murmuring in Korean as they studied an unfolded map of New York City.

As they made their way down a long hallway jammed with shops and newsstands, Amanda called out to her driver. You know, when I told them I wanted to do a story on Araknee, they sent me a first-class plane ticket and promised me a tour with the president of the company. Now I get here and I'm headed for a limousine ride. These guys sure roll out the red carpet.

Randy yelled back over his shoulder to be heard over the intercom system announcing the delay of a flight to Tokyo. For journalists such as yourself, they sure do. I been driving for 'em for a few months, and it's always the same. They treat the press real good.

Amanda Katt nodded while glancing over the Essence magazines in the racks of a newsstand they passed. I guess that's why Araknee always gets the good reviews.

The driver glanced back at her, and one of the florescent lamps above burned over the frown deepening his mouth. "It gets good reviews 'cause it is good. You ever seen it?"

Briefly, yeah. As they moved down another long corridor built like an indoor strip mall, Amanda admired a four-foot inflatable Statue of Liberty in the window of a souvenir shop they passed. Are you a fan?

They approached the luggage carousels rumbling beside the exits, and driver began to dig through his pockets with his fingers. Sure am. After a couple months o' driving fellas back and forth to Araknee's offices, I thought I'd check it out for myself, and I never looked back.

As he walked through the sliding doors leading out of the airport to the street, Randy ducked his head to give Amanda a wink. Got my Araknee T-shirt on under this.

She smirked as they headed out into the summer air that carried yelling and blaring horns. "In this heat? You are a fan."

New York heat felt like an autumn breeze compared to the blistering weather of Phoenix, but the humidity made her feel pasty. She and her driver passed through frantic clusters of people to a Lincoln Towncar Sedan idling at the curb. Randy moved to open and hold the rear door so Amanda could crawl inside. Once she had settled in, he closed the door and jogged around to the driver's side.

The cool air inside the sedan carried the buttery scent of warm plastic, and drove a sigh out of Amanda. She watched the street twist by her windows as Randy pulled the vehicle away from the curb, and into traffic headed for the south end of the Van Wyck Expressway.

The muted hum of the engine filled the sedan, lulling Amanda, until she realized she could begin her article with Randy as a starting point. She leaned towards the divide between her and the driver. Hey, do you mind if I ask you a few questions for my article?

No problem.

Amanda fished her notebook out of her tote bag and snapped its cover open to a blank page where she could begin her notes for her article. What would you say is the best thing about Araknee?

Randy glanced away from the road to look at her over his shoulder. What's not to like? It's great. Once you've seen it, you'll never go anywhere else.

Amanda rolled her eyes at Randy's last sentence. Once you've seen it, you'll never go anywhere else.

As the slogan for Araknee, she had heard it many times in her research. She leaned an elbow on the back of the passenger seat to get closer to Randy. Okay, I heard that one before. But really, to you as a regular guy, what's so great about Araknee?

Randy faced forward again, but the rear-view mirror reflected his eyes back to her. Within the black frame surrounding the glass, his brow lowered as he spoke. Well, if you don't know, then I can't tell you.

She heard his seat creak as he lapsed into a silence broken only by the honking horns and thump of wheels as the sedan steered onto the Van Wyck Expressway. The sedan slowed to a crawl as it eased its way along the four-mile stretch of almost nonstop traffic. She settled in, wondering why the admission of her indifference towards Araknee had triggered such a strong reaction. The way Randy hunched over, glaring out the front windshield at the cars roaring by, you would think she'd insulted his best friend, not an inanimate website.

Since it didn't seem like Randy was interested in talking anymore, Amanda decided not to push it further. Besides, she felt too exhausted from the early flight from Phoenix to bother getting into an argument. She just dug out her notebook and added the phrase fanatical devotion inspired by fans to her notes on Araknee.

It wasn't an original observation. Amanda had noticed that in fans of Araknee. Even when she had first seen it with her fiancée, Lesley Grant, the effect had been obvious. Randy didn't seem any more eager to talk to Amanda than he had before, so she passed the journey into Manhattan going over her notes on Araknee.

In a little over a year, Araknee had come from nowhere to become one of the top ten most popular websites on the Internet. Its creator, Jonathan Seer, had become a billionaire almost overnight. Legions of fans all over the world visited Araknee with almost religious intensity.

In her research, the sheer number of articles already written about Araknee discouraged her at first, since she thought there wouldn't be much left for her to cover. After a few minutes, she realized that all the pieces on Araknee sounded the same. They all gushed praise about Araknee, covering its broad range of areas and subjects and attractive design, but none of them could or even tried to explain why Araknee was so incredibly popular. There seemed to be a lot of ground that needed to be covered, and she could be the one to do it.

Her sedan finally cruised to a halt in front of an open square ringed by high-rise office buildings. Randy climbed out and held the door open for Amanda. As she stepped out into the cacophony of the street, she asked, Is this it?

Randy slammed the door behind her and kept his eyes down on the sidewalk as he murmured, Yeah, Ripley Place. Araknee's in that building straight ahead. Top floor, can't miss it.

Before she could thank him, Randy stalked off to climb behind the wheel of the car again. That seemed to be the end of their relationship, so Amanda shifted gears into her reporter mode.

As the limousine slipped off into traffic behind her, Amanda dug her notepad out of her bag. The building Randy had pointed to formed a U with the ends extending like arms to embrace the open square. A tower of steel molded in the shape of a human being formed a centerpiece, gushing water into a blue pool.

This late in the afternoon, the square swarmed with people going about their business in the heart of Manhattan. A man hurried down the staircase out front, yelling into a cell phone held to his ear to be heard over the howl of traffic. A woman in a pantsuit perched on the edge of the fountain, fanning herself with one hand while consulting a stack of paperwork in the other. The heat seemed even worse this deep into the city, and the building housing Araknee vibrated in the haze rising from the hot asphalt and concrete sidewalks. Amanda jotted down details about the entrance for her article, then hurried to join the river of people flowing into the building.

* * *

In the penthouse of the building, an old man named Jonathan Seer sat at his desk, surrounded by light and little else. Silence filled the brightly-lit room, yet he heard voices in his mind. The voices belonged to minds that he had studied and analyzed until their thoughts became audible to him. They formed the core of the gift that he had spent his life nurturing and developing through decades of psychiatric training.

Only one mind eluded Seer – the mind of Amanda Katt. He knew she had arrived on the Delta Airlines flight from Phoenix, Arizona, which had departed at eight-thirty. It arrived a half-hour ago. Judging by the usual speed at which the Gordon Limousines driver, Randy Stapley, ferried passengers from John F. Kennedy Airport to Araknee's offices, Amanda would arrive in ten minutes and forty-two seconds.

Seer faced his desk and began to prepare himself for her arrival. He felt an unaccustomed feeling of nervousness over this meeting. He had escorted dozens of reporters and journalists into the dark web of Araknee, and none had ever escaped him. He knew his plans to be flawless and immutable. The wheels had been set into motion over a decade ago, and now drew him to the end of the long and arduous road. With Araknee at the peak of its success, and Senator Price under his control, no one could stop him from his ultimate goal that would come in just eleven days.

But something about Amanda Katt disturbed him. He heard her voice in his mind, followed her train of thought, and found it oddly confusing. He knew her to be a strong and highly intelligent woman. He knew she had faced many enemies in the past, including a group of anti-technology terrorists in South America, a band of Neo-Nazis in California, and a toxic waste scandal spanning five continents. Amanda Katt would pursue any injustice with the ferocity and determination of the beast that bore her name. Seer knew that if she suspected the truth about Araknee, she might be the only one capable of toppling his plans.

Jonathan Seer calmed himself as he returned to work, dismissing himself of being too cautious. Katt would be his very soon, and once she fell under his control, her meddling would be at an end. Nothing could stop that. But if she did indeed threaten his plans, then she could not be allowed to leave the building alive.

Chapter 3

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THE REVOLVING front doors gave off a persistent squeal as their rubber scraped on the floor from constant turning. Amanda emerged from one of the glass compartments into a bustling foyer. Footsteps of the hundreds of workers moving through it caused an echo like thunder resounding off the high ceiling and walls. The flow all seemed to converge on a line of people feeding the skeletal mouth of a metal detector's entrance. An X-ray machine droned alongside it, swallowing the bags and briefcases being fed into it as two security guards looked on.

Amanda took her place in the line, but as she came to the X-ray machine, held up her bag to one of the guards. Excuse me, I have my laptop and some disks in here. Can you just search it by hand?

No problem. The guard unzipped and began rummaging through it. By the time she had passed through the metal detector's arch, he was ready to return it. You're all set.

She slung the bag over her shoulder again. Thanks. Araknee's on the top floor, right?

The guard hooked one thumb on the belt of his pants while he jerked the other over his shoulder. Can't miss it. It's the penthouse. You wanna take that elevator over there, the third on your left. Make sure you don't get off on the floor below it, though, they're doing construction up there.

Okay, thanks. Amanda's skirt swirled around her legs as she hurried to the one elevator that no one else seemed to be using. This proved an advantage, because the door opened the moment she pushed the call button.

Red velvet decorated the interior of the elevator. As the guard had mentioned, she found the last button on the console inside. She pushed it, then felt her stomach sink as the car rose to begin its journey.

The elevator jerked to a halt and opened its doors to unveil the office space of Araknee. Blue and green designs splashed the walls in wild patterns, making it seemed more like a circus than a place of business. A plastic replica of Araknee's logo, a stylized spider web with an A at the center, spun lazily from the ceiling by a white cord. It dangled over a network of interconnected cubicles that gave off hushed conversation, laughter, and clicking of keys on keyboards from the workers inside. She could smell hot buttered popcorn. It all confirmed what she had heard about Araknee, that Seer kept the atmosphere for employees light and fun to promote creativity.

Amanda headed down an aisle that surrounded the cubicles, past a woman in a pink Araknee T-shirt who glanced up from a churning copy machine to smile as she went by. Amanda returned the smile, while noting the glasses the woman wore. The woman studied the console of the Xerox machine through semi-transparent lenses colored a deep shade of purple, even though huge glass windows and florescent lights brilliantly lit the entire office. At first, Amanda thought it nothing more than a fashion statement. Then Amanda noticed that almost everyone wandering the halls of Araknee wore the same purple glasses.

Even the secretary working at a circular desk built into the wall by the entrance looked up at Amanda through purple lenses. Morning, how can I help you?

She squinted a little to try to see through the woman's glasses. Hi, my name's Amanda Katt. I think I talked to you on the phone. You're Isabelle, right?

The woman pulled off her glasses to smile up at Amanda, and a small red heart tattooed below her left eye became visible. Oh, yeah, hi. I remember you.

Amanda swept her gaze over the room, taking in the bustling activity of the floor, set against the backdrop of Manhattan outside the windows. So is your boss ready for the interview?

Not yet. Mister Seer is a little busy right now. It should only be a few minutes. I can give you a quick tour, if you'd like.

Sounds great. Amanda reached into her tote bag to pull out her micro-cassette tape recorder, then followed as Isabelle stepped out from behind her desk.

The secretary tilted her head to watch her. So you're a journalist? Who you work for?

Nobody, really, I'm freelance. But this story right here's gonna go to NR-Net Magazine.

NR-Net. Isabelle snapped her fingers. Oh, yeah, I know that one. It's on the Web, right?

Amanda slipped the cord of her tape recorder around her shoulder to keep it accessible. Biggest computer magazine in the world, the hottest tech website on the Net.

Together, they walked out onto the main floor. Amanda cast her gaze around the room once more, taking in the crowds of people with dark lenses over their eyes. I like your glasses, by the way. Seem to be popular around here. Thought I'd wandered into Hell's Angels technical support or something.

Isabelle giggled as she tapped the frame of her sunglasses. Yeah, we got kind of a loose dress code, so Mister Seer thought these would tie us all together.

Amanda raised an eyebrow at her. I assume you sell them in your gift shop? You seem to sell everything else.

I wish we did, but these are special. Mister Seer says it's for employees only. Kind of a company perk.

Amanda made sure to hold her tape recorder at an angle that would capture their conversation. Okay, first question – what's up with the name?

Isabelle chuckled. Always the first question, but the answer's not quite so interesting. In Greek mythology, Arachne was a woman changed into a spider by the gods. We thought that went well with the whole 'world wide web' theme. We just changed the spelling so we could copyright it.

Fair enough. Okay, second question – why do you think people love Araknee so much?

As Isabelle headed down the aisle, a storm of rubber bands popped out of the cubicles to bounce off her arms. Before the giggling could die down, Isabelle swept up three of the rubber bands, hooked them on her thumb, and snapped them off with pinpoint accuracy to hit the ones who had shot at her.

She never stopped talking. Well, we work hard to make this website what it is. Mister Seer wanted it to be the ultimate website, the only one you'll ever need.

She moved on to pause before a picture window that showed a breathtaking view of the city surrounding the building, including the colorful lights of Times Square. Then she whirled around to face the rest of the office, spread beneath the shadow of the plastic Araknee logo that dangled overhead.

Amanda could tell from Isabelle's voice that she had switched into tour mode as she pointed at a woman typing up an article on her computer. We hire journalists from every field, and some of the world's leading experts on a variety of subjects to serve as consultants. Sports, movies, health, games, and news. You can find it all at Araknee.

Isabelle stepped over to the picture window again, and this time Amanda noted a plush Garfield doll clinging to the glass with suction cups on its furry feet. Isabelle didn't seem to notice as she spread her arms. The wide variety of entertainment and information available at Araknee's made it one of the Top Ten sites on the Web. And all these people right here are the secret of our success. Right, gang?

The dozens of employees cheered so loudly that the floor trembled under Amanda's feet. She winced, hoping that the microphone on her recorder hadn't blown out.

When she opened her eyes again, Isabelle giggled at her. Sorry. That's kind of a tradition around here. We call it our war cry.

Amanda rubbed her ears. Yeah, I agree Araknee's been very successful, and you do a good job, but what's your website do that no one else can? I mean, there's lots of sites out on the Web. What do you think pushes yours over the top?

Well, Araknee isn't just a place to look at and read about stuff. We try to build a sense of community with chatrooms, games, and original content. Our fans are very loyal.

Yeah, I noticed. Amanda followed her around a corner to a small kitchen area with a refrigerator and vending machines. So your fans are what make you a big success?

Isabelle headed over to the row of vending machines against a wall. Our stocks do pretty well on the markets, but more important is our advertising. Our visitors don't just go to Araknee. They usually buy the stuff we advertise there, too.

One soda machine showed a cartoon Native American in full headdress, guzzling from a soda can. Spiky word balloons yelled Pow, Wow, and Cola over the man's head.

Isabelle pointed to it. "The success of Powwow Cola, for example. The company's sales have gone up five hundred percent in the last month since we started running their ad banners. In an article in last week's Wall Street Journal, they said they owe it all to us. Since that issue hit the stands, our phones have been ringing nonstop. By the way, we always give a free can of Powwow to our visitors."

Amanda knew Powwow Cola and the legal battles they'd suffered over the racial overtones of their mascot, Big Chief Bubblewater. She had heard the company teetered on the verge of bankruptcy before signing up with Araknee, but now was going strong. Thanks, but no thanks. Not a big fan of that stuff.

Isabelle seemed taken aback by her comment for some reason, frowning and turning away. Oh, sure. Okay. Well, can't say I never asked.

Amanda jogged to catch up with her as Isabelle began moving along the aisle again. She pressed her bag against her hip so she could run to catch up to her, but the sight of a glassed-in room caught her attention and held it. She could see rows of black computer cases five feet high, all stamped with a name she recognized instantly.

Isabelle came jogging back to her again, smiling as brightly as ever. Hey, you get lost already? I didn't think this place was that big.

For the moment, Araknee's secrets took a back seat in Amanda's mind to an even greater mystery. Are those Crane supercomputers?

Isabelle squinted through the glass. Yeah, I think that's what someone said.

Amanda continued to stare in awe through the window at the computers tangled within a web of green and red wiring. What she saw seemed as out of place as a nuclear bomb in a child's toy box.

Amanda whispered, What're they doing running a website?

The muted roar of the fans inside the computer room seemed louder than all the chatter and movement in the main floor as Isabelle shrugged. Nothing special, really. They're hooked up to the servers. You know what servers are, right?

Sure. That's a computer that just sits around and sends people files, like waiters of the Internet. She turned her gaze back onto the supercomputers humming in the next room. But any computer could run a server, even my desktop at home. Supercomputers do billions of complex mathematical calculations every second. The government uses them to design new weapons or for decrypting classified information. And Crane supercomputers are top o' the line, the best of the best, most powerful computers on Earth. And you have ten of them. No way a server's workload could be strong enough to need that kinda power.

Isabelle rubbed her cheek with a palm. Sorry, I'm not a computer expert. That's just what they told me, that we just use these to run stuff on Araknee. Games, diagnostics on the systems, that sort of thing.

Amanda slipped the cord of the tape recorder around her neck as she tilted her head to one side to smirk up at her. One Crane could handle all that and more.

Amanda prepared to ask a follow-up question when Isabelle stiffened. Her head rose up to look at something behind her. Whatever she saw caused the smile to melt off Isabelle's face. Her glasses slipped down to expose eyes that widened and even twitched in one corner. Her lips contorted as they fought to hold back the curl of anger that seemed to threaten them.

Even the atmosphere of the office had changed. The buzz of conversation that had lingered in the background during her visit died until the entire floor fell silent. A Hispanic woman wearing overalls had stopped photocopying documents to stare over Amanda's shoulder. In other cubicles, heads came up over the walls to follow the path of someone coming down the aisle.

She could hear it now. A steady footfall that came with such regularity that at first she mistook it for the drumbeat of a machine under the floor. It grew louder with every step as it came up behind her, and she felt like turning around to see what caused it, but something inside her cried out against it. She had never been a big believer in intuition. But in that moment, Amanda Katt felt that the sight of the approaching stranger would somehow change her life from that point on, as if she balanced on the edge of a high cliff, and the slightest movement would send her toppling over into a dark abyss. When the footsteps finally came to a halt right behind her, she could almost feel someone there, like the barely perceptible touch of fingers running along her back.

But Amanda refused to let any fear or inhibition stop her from doing anything. She bunched her hand into a fist around her tape recorder to strengthen herself, then spun around on one of her high heels.

The man standing in the aisle sent chills through her like the pillar of ice that he appeared to be.  His gray shoes, pants, shirt, jacket, and tie all blended together into a solid white block. The only break came from his thin pink face, which glared down at her from gray eyes under clouds of white hair on his head. Those eyes seemed to penetrate hers, and looked straight into them. Amanda had always thought of the saying that the eyes were a window to the soul as just an expression until that moment. Now, as this man used those windows to gaze directly into her heart, she blinked, wishing she could close them permanently and keep him out of her mind.

A moment passed in which the hollow roar of the air-conditioning seemed to be the only living thing in the room. Then the old man's lips parted to release a voice barely higher than a whisper, but with a British accent that carried a heavy intensity. Miss Ross, I told you that I wished to meet with Miss Katt the moment she arrived.

The authority in his voice shocked Amanda. His was the voice of a king commanding his lowest servant. She looked back at Isabelle, who hadn't moved at all, except to clench her fists. Now her lips curled up in a snarl that somehow produced the words, Yes, Mister Seer. But you said you were busy. I just wanted to show her around a bit first.

The old man's eyes finally broke their hold on Amanda's to shift to Isabelle's, and Amanda caught her flinching on contact. I know what you wanted. You have wasted enough time. This tour is over. Come with me, Miss Katt.

The man pivoted on one white heel, then headed back down the aisle again at the same slow, even pace as before.

As the stranger moved away, Amanda noticed that Isabelle remained rigid in place, watching the old man's back as if hoping her angry glare would make it burst into flame.

Who is that? Amanda whispered.

The further the old man moved away from the area, the higher the conversation rose as Isabelle growled under his breath. That's Jonathan Seer, the founder and CEO of Araknee.

Amanda cast another look at the retreating man, who still held the attention of everyone in the room. Wow. Not the friendliest guy in the world.

Isabelle's smile died quickly, and the scent of her cologne grew stronger as she leaned close to whisper in her ear. Be careful in there. I got a feeling that he's not too happy to meet you. Isabelle straightened and never looked back as she marched away, back to the front desk.

At the other end of the room, Jonathan Seer stepped into an office, then paused in the doorway. She assumed that meant he wanted her to follow, so she began to walk down the aisle. It followed the perimeter of the cubicles, and she felt dozens of eyes on her as she passed them. It seemed as if she had the attention of the entire room. The weight of their collective gaze pressed down on her. The murmur of conversation remained low. Her heels striking the carpet formed a regular thump that mirrored the pounding of her heart in her chest.

Seer's cold gray eyes followed her as she came towards him. Amanda smiled, but the deep lines in his face never moved in response. His presence crowded against her as she passed him to enter his office.

Chapter 4

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THE ENTIRE floor of Araknee's offices felt cool, but Seer's office seemed twenty degrees colder than anywhere else. It might have been the all-white décor that made the office look like the inside of a refrigerator. Or maybe the roar of the vent over the desk that seemed deafening in the cramped room, pouring out cold air that caused her skin to sprout goose bumps.

Almost everything in Seer's office had the same off-white color. The walls blended with the snowy carpet, on which perched a lean metal desk that supported a single compact computer. A single red wire running from the back of the computer into a hole in the wall served as the only contrast. No window or other door broke the icy interior.

Amanda hugged her tote bag close to herself as she walked inside, then jumped as the door thumped shut. With the door closed, the room's soundproof walls cut off the noises of the rest of the floor like a knife, plunging the office into an icy stillness.

Seer moved out from behind her to approach his desk. His white suit, tie, and shoes blended so well with the walls and carpet that she could easily imagine him as a chameleon slinking his way across surfaces, leaving only a vague impression of a man crossing the room. His light pink face stood out even more in the monochromatic scheme, making his gray eyes more prominent as they followed her.

Amanda glanced around herself for somewhere to sit, but the only chair was the one Seer lowered himself into. Jonathan Seer sat up straight in his white cushioned chair. Only when he raised his head from where it hunched over the computer's monitor, and exposed the light pink face lurking beneath his curls of gray hair, did he break the monotony of the room. She contented herself with shifting her stance into a more comfortable position as she faced him.

Seer sat watching her for a moment. She tried to match his glare to keep from showing any weakness, but his eyes were like spotlights, while hers flickered like a candle in a draft.

When Seer finally spoke, the air-conditioning made the whisper of his voice even harder to make out. It's difficult for you to be a black woman in a white man's field.

Amanda blinked. Excuse me?

Only Seer's lips moved, leaving his entire body rigid as he watched her. Journalism is a difficult field, and you tend to write more technical articles, especially in the area of computers. The computer industry is still regarded as a man's domain, and African-American women are even rarer. You have to fight very hard to gain the respect of those you interview and deal with.

She looked down at her tape recorder, pretending to check if it recorded properly, but mainly to avoid his eyes. Yeah, it's kinda tough, but you know how it is. Glass ceiling in every job. I get by.

You chose this field because you knew how hard it would be to succeed. You are that way in everything. Aggressive, domineering, constantly challenging your boundaries. You get that from your father.

As the last word fell from his lips, the cold in the room intensified until she could almost see the breath that burst from her lungs in a gasp. She forced herself to straighten and face Seer sitting behind his desk with his hands resting lightly on the arms of his chair. She had tried to ignore the sense of dread she felt since first hearing Seer's footsteps outside. Now she allowed the feelings to rise to the surface, and accept them for the warning that they were.

This has nothing to do with my father.

Seer's lips parted. "I did some research on you when I heard you were coming, Miss Katt. I like to know a little something about the people I meet, what drives them. Your father was Abraham Katt, an investigative reporter for The Manhattan Examiner. He worked the crime beat with a particular leaning towards organized crime. He made some powerful enemies, and one of them finally caught up to him. You became a journalist as well to honor his memory by fighting the injustice that he died to expose. You had brief stints at the Examiner and The Phoenix Times as a crime reporter as well, but you didn't stay, even though you easily could have. I wonder why."

She folded her hands over each other on her lap. I just felt like going in a different direction. I didn't like the chains holding me down when I worked on staff. And I'm more interested in computers than mobsters. Besides, I'm not my Dad.

No, you're not. But that gunshot wound those Neo-Nazis inflicted on you frightened you very much. You came very close to reliving your father's own murder. You've left criminal investigation, but still long for the thrill and danger. You also feel guilt for abandoning your father's way of life. I wonder if you seek out danger for that reason, as a way of getting close to the father you lost.

Amanda reached the limits of her patience. Her fingers grew numb against the marble desktop as she leaned on them to move closer towards him. "Look, I'm here to interview you, not the other way around. I'm here to find out about Araknee. If you don't have anything to offer there, then I'll just be saying adios and moving on."

One corner of Seer's mouth pricked up in something close to a smile. You respond to aggression with aggression. Very well. I am sorry if I upset you by talking about things you try to suppress.

Amanda cocked her head to one side. I don't suppress anything. I just think it's none of your business.

Perhaps you are right. Seer's eyelids floated closed as he bowed his head. You've observed the power I wield in this office, and it has made you frightened of me. We shall move on to more pleasant matters.

Seer raised his left hand off the desk to rest his index finger on one corner of his computer's monitor. The finger pushed the monitor on its base until it faced Amanda instead of him. The finger moved to point at the screen. You have seen Araknee, I assume?

She let his comments about her go unmentioned while glancing the web page displayed on the glowing screen. Yeah.

Good. Seer brought up his other hand