The Ghost Network, 2/?. A/A. NC-17
Title: The Ghost Network
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. I like making his toys do naughty, naughty things.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the
inception_kink meme prompt: Serial killer or Assassin Arthur, victim or FBI agent Ariadne, and Stockholm Syndrome. It's an AU fic, folks, but I tried to keep them as IC as possible! Also written for the "wild card" box on my
hc_bingo card.
Summary: Someone has been killing people involved in sleep labs. As part of the Sleep Crimes Unit of the FBI, Ariadne has to help track down the Dream Killer. Things go very wrong very fast, and she's exactly in the last place she wants to be.
Prior chapters:
One - Entering The Dream
Yusuf was given a certain amount of leeway as a consultant with the SCU. Cobb managed to finesse it so that the charges against him didn't stick, and he was signed on as an official FBI consultant. He had to remain in the DC area and refrain from any further work in illegal sleep labs, but he was able to begin work with Stephen Miles at Quantico. That gave him more than enough opportunity to ply his trade as a chemist and tinker with his versions of somnacin. Miles seemed to like him well enough, and there was some talk about how he was willing to help Yusuf get grants to tailor the somnacin formula.
"So a happy ending goes to the turncoat," Eames commented to Ariadne with a slight smirk. "We have a bit more information than we had before, but I'm willing to bet my entire hotel stipend that Yusuf's information will dry up soon."
"As soon as they realize he's gone legit, you mean," Ariadne murmured. Eames nodded. "I've thought of it. I've been logging in from home after hours under his login. I've been looking for anything that might fit the profile to go after. Nothing yet."
"This definitely explains the gaps in between killings."
"I was thinking about putting in a false complaint to trap the UNSUB," Ariadne began slowly. "But that would compromise Yusuf on the network, and it would expose our interest in it if they realize it's us."
"Then the floating server gets pulled." Eames sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fucking brilliant, he is. Annoying as bloody hell, to be sure."
"I almost mentioned my plan to Cobb this morning."
"So why didn't you tell him?"
"He'd jump on it in a heartbeat. He wouldn't even think about Yusuf's well being or if it even worked. I feel responsible for this. I dragged Yusuf out of his little hidey hole, you know?"
Eames laughed. "Oh, darling. You're such a dear heart, I wonder how you even got into this mess." Ariadne shrugged, but there was a vague sense of the uncomfortable about her. He sobered instantly. "I didn't mean anything by it, if you don't feel comfortable enough to tell me."
Ariadne shook her head. "It's not that. I do trust you. I wouldn't even react like that if I was around anyone else." It was quiet in the SCU area, and no one else was in earshot. "I was put under as a kid. The somnacin made me sick."
Eames could tell there was more to the story but didn't press. "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to trigger anything."
She flashed him a smile. "Oh, don't be like that. I'm fine. I mean, it's part of my psych profile and everything. They're aware of it." Ariadne shrugged. "I think that's why they referred me to the SCU. I know my way around the dreamscape really well. I can always tell when something's real, even going in blind."
He looked impressed. "I didn't even know that was possible without a totem."
"Well, apparently they couldn't lose me to the general population because of that." She flashed Eames an impish smile, which went far in convincing him that she was truly fine. "Maybe we should talk to Yusuf first. If he's willing, we can talk to Cobb about it."
"Sounds like a plan. You pitch it. I'm the interloper around these parts," he said, giving her a charming smile.
Yusuf of course was willing to try. For someone that wasn't supposed to go into the field, he was willing to see what it was like to be an agent. Just as Ariadne had suspected, Cobb jumped at the chance to spring a trap for the Dream Killer. One of the senior SCU agents would pose as the sleep lab director Yusuf was complaining about. After that, it should only be a matter of time.
***
Ariadne hit the button on her alarm to shut it off. It was 5:30 am, and she stretched. She got ready for her morning run, then walked down from her fourth floor apartment. That helped warm her up a bit, and she did a few stretches in the stairwell before hitting the sidewalk and beginning to run. She liked running early in the morning. It helped to clear her head a bit, and listening to music helped the time to pass. She generally ran for about forty minutes or so, getting back to her apartment by 6:30 am. She had invited Eames along to go running, but the Brit had goggled at her as if she was insane. "I'm a pumpkin until 9 am and that's with coffee, darling," he had teased with a smile. "No, keep your running to yourself."
She tended to vary the route she took, and found her mind wandering as she ran. It had been a month since Yusuf had posted his message. Agent Robert Fischer had posed as the corrupt sleep lab employee, and they had even converted a seized illegal lab into Fischer's workspace. Yusuf had coached him on what his role would be as front man, and Fischer was more than able to pull off the cold and callous behavior that Yusuf had described in his post. Cobb was getting antsy, and they were going to have to meet Assistant Director Saito soon if their ploy didn't pan out. AD Saito didn't like the idea of failed jobs, though he was willing to write off the expense of the cover lab. They had even taken on a handful of sleepers for Fischer to care for, so that other posts could back up Yusuf's on the Ghost Network.
Still, no sign that Fischer was being watched, let alone about to be picked up by their UNSUB.
Ariadne hit the button to take the elevator back up to her apartment. She usually took the stairs, but she had run a little harder than usual that morning. "Hey!" came a voice behind her. "Hold the door!"
She stuck her arm out so that the ancient elevator wouldn't close before the man behind her could get in. He was carrying two heavy shopping bags with groceries, and flashed her a grateful smile as he slid into the elevator beside her. She didn't recognize him, but she didn't know all of her neighbors. She hit the 4 button for her own apartment. "What floor?" she asked, turning to him.
"Six," he said. "Thanks. I was hoping to get some stuff done early."
Ariadne nodded. "I haven't seen you around before," she said after a moment.
He was a clean cut sort of man, with short, well groomed hair, brown eyes and an easy smile. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and beige slacks. "I'm staying with my friend for a while. I was thinking of going back to school, so he's letting me get a feel for the neighborhood."
"That's nice of him." The elevator doors pinged. "That's me. Good luck with school."
"Thanks," he replied with a smile, watching as she turned left.
There were five apartments on each floor, their entrances arranged in a semicircle around the main elevator bank. That narrowed her apartment down to one of two. She left her apartment approximately an hour later, dressed in a dark gray pantsuit and low heels, her hair tied in a tight bun instead of loose and messy ponytail. Watching from the stairwell, he missed the flamboyance in her step. She was calm and controlled now, every inch a serious businesswoman with a laptop bag. She took the elevator back downstairs and left for the day.
He removed the lock pick kit from inside the box of cereal he had hidden it in and eased on a well worn pair of black leather gloves. It was easy enough to take care of her door; this was an old building, with mediocre security. He stood inside her domain once he shut the door behind him, breathing in the scent of her. He kept his eyes closed, absorbing the feel of his surroundings. He opened his eyes after a moment to add the visuals. Calm, peaceful, with crisp and clean lines in the sitting room. There was a small plant on a table near the window, with little red flowers in it for a pop of color. There was a low table near the front door, likely for keys or to rest her bag or mail when she came home. The counter top in the kitchen was clean, a bowl and spoon soaking in the sink along with a glass. The counter top in the bathroom had various bottles and makeup items on it, though most were in a little mesh container to keep things neat. He most definitely approved of that, and took out his notebook. He noted brands and shades of the foundation bottles before checking on her shampoo and toiletries.
Ariadne wasn't the type to make her bed in the morning. The covers were thrown back and the pillow still had the indent of her head in it. He bent over and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her. There was a vague order in her closet, so that similar kinds of clothing were hung together. There was no rhyme or reason to the colors there, though most of the suits and dress pants were in darker shades. She would look so very much like a corporate clone in any of those suits. The only color in her outfit would be the blouses or scarves she wore along with her suits, though apparently she didn't usually wear scarves to work. He touched the fabric of one, liking the feel of it between his fingers. He made note of that, as well as sizes and her color preferences. Her shoes were lined up neatly at the bottom of her closet, except for her running shoes. Those looked as though they had been tossed aside or kicked off so she could shower after her run. There was a hamper in the corner of the bedroom, nearly full. She would likely go to the basement laundry room soon.
He was tempted to take something from her closet or from her dresser, once he rifled through that. He knew better, however. He hadn't gotten this far by being sloppy.
He carefully let himself out of the apartment and picked the lock shut behind him. Altogether, today was a productive day.
***
AD Saito was not a happy man. He had worked his way up the ranks, and was comfortably in control of several departments. He fully expected work to be done and reports handed in on time. It was neater that way, like a well oiled machine running smoothly. He liked creating order out of chaos, and the former AD had been a creature of chaos. He had terrific output from the agents working under him, and he subtly influenced the Director on occasion without needing to take responsibility for the Director's failings. The Director wasn't nearly as good at running things as Saito was, and would likely retire soon. That would leave Saito as the most likely replacement. Thinking about that made him happy; there were more divisions and units that needed a firm hand to guide them and make sure the details were all taken care of.
Today, however, he was not a happy man.
Six weeks after planting a false post on the Ghost Network and setting up an illegal sleep lab that they monitored, there was still no sign of their Dream Killer. Agent Fischer diligently did his job, being nasty and condescending to the sleepers, insulting their need for the dreaming. Though other agents tailed him, there was no sign that anyone else was doing so.
"I don't think he's mean enough," Yusuf admitted when Saito had calmly and firmly asked what was going wrong with the plan. He generally didn't raise his voice; his presence was usually more than enough to inspire loyalty and devotion to service.
"What do you mean?" Saito asked. Cobb looked ready to yell and lay the blame at Yusuf's feet. Honestly, this was why Cobb wouldn't rise beyond SAC level. He was able to bully his agents to do a better job, but very few were actually inspired by him. He was a man obsessed with completing the mission, all too willing to tread on others to get what he wanted or needed. Saito had met his wife once, and she was much more understanding and mild mannered than Cobb usually gave her credit for.
"The ones I sort of knew about on the Network were more than just dicks," he said, using blunt language to get his point across. He had realized early on that Saito was perhaps a bit more cultured in language than Cobb, but Yusuf didn't feel like dancing around it. "My cousin molested a girl he was supposed to be helping. Henry Alton went into a man's dreams to sodomize him. Michelle Grey tortured a family while she had them under sedation because they couldn't afford the fees. Being a dick to your customers is nothing compared to what these people did."
It was silent in the conference room, and Ariadne looked at her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Yusuf had a point, though no one wanted to be the one to ask Fischer to cross any lines for this.
"We'll have to create a victim," Ariadne said quietly. "We can't subject someone innocent to that kind of thing, and he won't believe it unless there's actual harm." She could feel Eames' eyes on her. Cobb had this intense look on his face, and she suddenly regretted her words.
Saito sighed. "I would never ask anyone in this room to undertake risk that I am not willing to undergo as well." He steepled his fingers in front of his face, elbows perched on the desk. The SCU agents didn't often interact with him, but the VCU ones did. They knew this was his thinking pose. "We should have multiple agents in this role. I will assist as necessary. I can't tell you enough how important it is that we get this under control. Older murders were easily brushed off. Our killer has had much experience in working his craft. This is no easy thing, to become the perfect snare for him."
"The SCU team should be the one to go under," Cobb said in even tones. "We have the experience necessary to tolerate the dreaming, and we would know what to look for if he goes into the dreams."
"We don't even know if he has to," Eames interjected. "If he goes by reports on the Network-"
"We would have caught him already," Cobb said icily, cutting off Eames' objection. "He must be personally investigating these places before deciding if it's worth his time and effort." He looked around the room, letting that sink in. "We're going to have to go in as if we're sleepers, as if we're trying to get these treatments."
"There's nothing that says the Dream Killer was in any of those clinics," Eames insisted. "We have found nothing in common regarding any of the patient profiles, addresses, payment methods, nothing. You could be putting your entire team at risk for nothing."
"There's no risk if Yusuf is the one dosing the somnacin," Cobb replied stiffly. "As he keeps saying, his stuff is better than government grade."
Of course all eyes swung toward Yusuf, who shrugged nonchalantly. "It does what it says on the tin," he replied. "Less gastrointestinal issues, less hangover. It's still somnacin and it's still heavy sedation. Same risks apply."
"Hardly serious risks," Cobb replied with a dismissive wave. "We're all trained in dreaming defense, evasion and attack. We'd be in a safe facility and Fischer wouldn't seriously damage any one of us. I understand the concern," he added when Yusuf and Eames both opened their mouths to speak. "It would be minimal in this case."
"Then it is agreed," Saito said, drawing the meeting to a close. "We will start Monday."
Everyone filed out of the room and returned to their workstations. Eames' was right next to Ariadne's. "Will you be all right with this?" he asked in a low tone.
She glanced at him from her laptop screen. "Of course I will. Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's going to be a tough situation. How much of it would remind you of earlier...?"
He was trying to be sensitive to something he didn't know about. He was automatically assuming the worst had happened, and was trying to protect her from it. His behavior was simultaneously endearing and maddening. She patted his hand even as she snorted. "I'm a big girl now, Eames. I can handle a few nasty side effects to medications."
"Is that all it was?" he asked, entirely too perceptive for his own good.
"It'll be all right. This is what we do, remember?"
Unhappy, Eames agreed and watched Ariadne log into the Ghost Network as Yusuf to go through the message boards. "You check that thing so often now."
"Yusuf's right. His complaint is the only one lodged. It probably didn't attract his attention. But there hasn't been anything else, so at least our UNSUB hasn't gone off somewhere else. He might still be around."
"Might be," Eames said with a sigh. "I suppose we'll find out by next week."
***
Terrie stared at the two bottles of blue nail polish in her hand and tried to pull on the bangs she had dyed. She should have tried it with a longer lock of hair, but hadn't thought about it at the time. She had just managed to get dressed in one of those outfits with all of the chains her mother despised before getting the dye in her hair, and she had to race out of the house before her mother caught her with all that black makeup on again. The stupid store didn't have any stupid mirrors to look at, so she had to roll her eyes up as high as she could to see which bottle matched her streak best. Her wrist cuffs had spikes on them, so she had to be careful not to poke herself in the eye or smear her eye makeup. She could always buy them both, but her mother would pitch a hissy fit if she spent anything on the credit card again, and she only had five dollars in her wallet. Only one bottle of polish for today, and she couldn't make up her mind.
"Excuse me, miss?"
Terrie turned to see a man in a crisp suit and button down shirt in the makeup aisle. He was fairly tall, with brown eyes and close cropped hair. She supposed he would have been at home in an office somewhere downtown. He had a shopping basket with a few items in it, and some looked suspiciously like women's underwear, socks and bras. He looked very, very straight, not even a bit metro. He also looked a little sheepish.
"I'm sorry. I forgot to write down which type of lipstick my girlfriend uses, and there are too many things in these aisles. Do you have a minute?"
Ah. That explained it. "You know what she usually uses?"
"Well, I got her foundation and the powder stuff," he said, indicating the basket. "It looks like a little wand thing in a tube."
"How come you're getting her all new stuff?"
His shy smile was painfully cute. "She's had a rough time at work lately, so I'm surprising her with a weekend out in Maryland. I want to have a bag packed and ready to go as a surprise."
Terrie chuckled. "Lucky girl. Does she do glossy lip stuff?" The man shook his head. "What kind of colors does she like?" Terrie eyed the basket, noting a distinct lack of eye shadow or pencils. "I take it she's a minimalist?"
He laughed a bit. "Yeah. A more natural look usually, but she can get dramatic sometimes. It's great when she does."
She grinned at him and selected a coral lip stain. "There ya go. Try that one. Multiple coats darken the color, so it'll be versatile for the weekend."
He accepted the stain. "Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it."
"No problem."
Terrie turned back to the bottles of polish when the man stopped her. "Were you trying to match colors?" he asked, curious.
"Yeah. I got only enough for one bottle today."
"The one on the left looks close," he offered with a shrug. He gave her a careless smile. "You know, as a thank you."
"Thanks, mister."
They parted ways; the man headed towards women's clothing and Terrie headed to the checkout counter. It was nice to know that there were some nice guys still left out there, even if her own boyfriend was a perfect tool and pothead.
***
Going under with a team was much different than going in solo or with one other person. Cobb was the dreamer for this one, and Ariadne could see his children streaking by, their blonde heads turned away as they laughed and sang at each other. His wife trailed after them, a soft expression on his face. Ariadne wondered why they were there. As trained as Cobb was, he should have been able to keep them out of the collective dream. She thought she saw Eames, though sometimes his face seemed to shimmer and become someone else's. She knew without looking down at herself that she was young, perhaps eight or nine or ten. Her memories were fuzzy for that time period, and she felt impossibly young. It was bad enough she was petite, but now she was practically a child in the dreamscape.
Each of them did their own thing, and the dream's details were hazy. Bored, Ariadne began to shift things around. The buildings soon had crisp, clean lines. There were curtains in the windows, plants on the sills and skyscrapers in the background. A train whistled past on tracks. It didn't resemble the Metro at all, but more like a vague, half remembered memory of a train ride she had taken to her aunt's home one summer when she was twelve. People were startled around her, and she resisted the urge to cackle. Trees sprouted beyond the train tracks, and there was a meadow behind it with little wildflowers here and there. The flowers were purple, and almost seemed to be the outline of a maze, with its exit in the forest beyond the meadow.
"What are you doing?" someone hissed, grabbing hold of her shoulder. She thought it was Justin Cobol, one of the senior agents in the SCU. He sounded angry.
"I'm bored," Ariadne said with a careless shrug. "You know we have to be around here for an hour real time. Have you done the math? You remember that it's going to be something like ten hours in dream time?"
Cobol frowned at her. "How are you even doing all of this?" he asked, letting go of her shoulder.
"I don't know. I don't really think about it. Haven't you ever liked making models or building things with blocks when you were a kid?"
"That was too long ago," he replied, his frown deepening. He wandered away, leaving Ariadne wondering if some people couldn't handle the dreamscape as well as they said they did.
She found Eames in a bustling cafe she created. She sat down across from him. "Is everyone else just wandering around aimlessly?"
He smiled and stirred the tea he had in front of him. "Well, they don't do this regularly, darling."
"I thought I saw your face shift for a minute before."
Eames winked at her. "Can't be giving away all my secrets, can I?" He sipped his tea. "I must say, I'm very impressed by all this. I didn't think this was part of the training they gave all of you."
"It isn't. I was just bored."
He laughed. "Sounds just like you, yeah." No one was around; everyone had been so focused on what was going to happen in the real world, they had forgotten that they had to figure out what they would do in the dream world for ten hours. Cobb seemed to have conjured up his wife and child to go play with; Eames had seen them heading toward the meadow maze that Ariadne had created. "Dreams are amazing things, aren't they?"
"You can do whatever you want in a dream," she said with a half smile. "Anything at all."
"Why did you need dream therapy, Ariadne?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"Bad things happen," Ariadne replied gently, patting his hand. "And therapy helps to give you a little perspective."
"Not all of us had that benefit, darling. Some of us had to muddle through as best as we could without it."
She gave him a soft, understanding smile and nodded. "Maybe that's another reason why we get along so well."
"If they yank my hotel stipend and I head back to the Yard, come visit me anytime." Eames gave her a playful grin. "I promise I'll still be a gentleman."
"But what if I don't want a gentleman?" Ariadne asked, leaning forward slightly with a teasing lilt to her smile.
His gaze darkened slightly, pupils blown wide. "Darling, perhaps it's another reason why we're such good friends."
For a moment Ariadne didn't know what to say. Her hand tightened over Eames'; people thought they were sleeping together anyway. What would be the harm in a dream? She opened her mouth to speak, not really knowing what she would say, but a low sound, almost like a foghorn, came blasting through the air. "What the hell?"
Spell broken, Eames shot to his feet. "Not your doing, then?"
"Not at all." She frowned. "It's... It sounds like something slowed down. It's from the outside." She looked around quickly, trying to track the others. "Where are they? Why haven't they figured out what's going on? Goddammit, they've been working in the unit for years! They shouldn't be acting this green!"
Ariadne spun around when Eames didn't answer. He wasn't there beside her anymore, and everything was calm and still. Someone was standing in her line of sight, far enough away that features were dark, indistinct and blurred. It was male, she could tell that much, and suddenly her heart seized.
"Wake me up!" she screeched, backing away and knocking over the cafe chairs around her. "Wake me up!"
She came to in the illegal sleep lab that the FBI had created. She couldn't breathe, and she clawed at the needles in her hand. That fucker, she thought, thinking of Fischer. He should know better than to use the back of my hand!
Most of the others were milling about and looking confused. "What the hell was that?" Cobb demanded, shouting at Fischer. They would go into it in a moment, and it would be useless. Half of the argument would be for show, if the Dream Killer was about, and half of it would be to vent Cobb's frustrations.
Eames was talking to Yusuf, concern etched on his features. Two of the agents had left already, Cobol one of them. Ariadne pulled the elastic from her hair, releasing the ponytail she had put it in. She hadn't had something like this happen to her in years. It had to be the conversation with Eames in the dream cafe. She hadn't even thought about that abuse in years either. She had put it behind her like so much detritus. It didn't define her or who she was, but it was there, still lurking. It probably always would be, and they had warned her and her parents about that. The sleep therapy helped her put it into perspective, but it didn't eliminate the past.
She approached Eames and Yusuf, ignoring Cobb and Fischer arguing. "They should just fuck it out their systems," Eames snarked, defusing the tension in their trio. Ariadne chuckled as she was meant to, and Eames relaxed a fraction. "Today was an utter bust."
"The nature of labs," Yusuf replied with a shrug. "The work isn't always steady."
"You are completely unflappable," Ariadne remarked. "Nothing bothers you."
"Not true," Yusuf replied. "You should've seen me the first time I got caught. I thought I would piss myself," he added with a sheepish grin. "Someone like me in prison? Not a good thing."
"Yeah, you're way too pretty for the general population," Eames teased.
"You could've claimed to be suicidal," Ariadne piped up with a smile. "You would've been in solitary, then."
"You both are evil," Yusuf responded, shaking his head to hide his smile. "Just as well I didn't get to prison then."
"What did happen? There was a noise?"
"Someone pulled the fire alarm upstairs. The thing's like a fog horn." Yusuf turned to look at Fischer's and Cobb's argument. "That's winding down. You'll probably head back to the office."
Eames frowned. He was in chinos and a loud orange shirt, not exactly work appropriate. Ariadne was in tight jeans, a loose top and had a bright yellow scarf on. Also not work appropriate. "Might as well take the rest of the afternoon off," Eames told Ariadne. "I have a few errands to run, anyway." She accepted that, and Eames paid a visit to a friend of his. "Max," he said by way of greeting. "You have the file for me?"
Max was a tall, thin black man with piercing light eyes. His head was shaved completely bald and he was dressed in denim and leather. He had a flat Received Pronunciation accent. "Mate," Max began, handing over the file, "I wasn't the first to go in and get this."
Eames stilled. "What do you mean?"
"Three weeks ago, someone hacked the system. Copied her entire file without a trace of who or what he was. I assume he, anyway. Most birds I know aren't as good wiping their trails clean. This one was nearly perfect. If not for a slight deviation, I would've thought it untouched."
Eames' blood ran cold. "I'll need you to go in and check the SCU..."
Max grinned, teeth flashing brilliant white against his dark skin. "Already ahead of you mate. I even checked the VCU blokes you've been working with. All SCU staff got a cursory look. Her file got an extensive search and everything was copied. Yours too, as a matter of fact." Max sobered. "He got it all, mate. Your work at the Yard, for MI6, everything. Even that cockup in Mombassa two years ago. Everything."
"And no sign where he hacked from," Eames murmured.
"I'm sorry. Bloke's better'n me, and that's saying something. He's a bloody ghost, he is."
Eames held Ariadne's file in his hands, and it felt too heavy. He hadn't planned to go this route, but too many things had been disturbing her recently, and they couldn't afford to let anything stop the investigations. Now he was starting to understand why it was this investigation that was bothering her and not any of the side jobs they were assisting with.
The ghost was yanking her chain, likely to distract them. They had to be close.
Eames leaned forward slightly. "Max, any word on the floating archive I told you about?"
"The Ghost Network, you mean?" Eames nodded. "I'm almost convinced it's the same bloke. It's an elegant, elegant setup. I wish I'd done something like it." Max shook his head regretfully. "Unfortunately, I go tno farther than the FBI sods. There really is nothing to find. Even the servers that housed it in the past don't think it exists."
Eames sat back heavily in his chair. "Fuck."
"Exactly. I wish I had more to tell you, mate. I really do."
"There's something I'm missing, I'm sure of it. He wouldn't go through all this trouble unless we found something to make him nervous."
"I'll tell you something, Eames. A setup like this is expensive and will suck up a lot of juice. It won't be easy to hide, feel me? This bloke has to be rolling in cash to keep his identity a secret. This is skill and money."
Eames thought of the patient lists for all of the sleep clinics. They were exactly covered by insurance, either. Any disgruntled patient bearing a grudge could be the Dream Killer, and no one would be the wiser. This was, of course, assuming the Dream Killer was the one running the Ghost Network and not simply a user.
There was no way to isolate the user ID's and information on the network. Nothing else about it was static, but the server didn't even recognize it was being used at all. Eames didn't know what kind of tech could do that, but it had to be advanced if Max and the FBI were unable to crack it.
"I wish I had better news for you, Eames," Max told him apologetically. "I tried, but I just don't have anything to give you."
Eames rose and clapped a hand on Max's shoulder. "It's okay. I know you did your best. Give Nancy my love," he added, referring to Max's wife.
"When are you crossing the pond again?" Max asked.
"When Queen and country require me to," Eames answered with a shrug. "They think I can best serve their interests here."
"Recruiting or honestly assisting?" Max asked shrewdly.
Eames grinned. "That would be telling, mate."
"True. But I no longer exist, remember?"
Eames nodded. "Yeah. But I have enough trouble with the ghost I've got, Max. Save the curiosity for another time."
"Be safe, Eames," Max said, levity gone from his tone. "This entire thing smacks of a trap."
"I know. The hard part is figuring out whose it is." He clutched Ariadne's file closely.
He could only hope that he figured it out in time.
***
***
To Chapter 3!
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. I like making his toys do naughty, naughty things.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the
inception_kink meme prompt: Serial killer or Assassin Arthur, victim or FBI agent Ariadne, and Stockholm Syndrome. It's an AU fic, folks, but I tried to keep them as IC as possible! Also written for the "wild card" box on my
hc_bingo card.
Summary: Someone has been killing people involved in sleep labs. As part of the Sleep Crimes Unit of the FBI, Ariadne has to help track down the Dream Killer. Things go very wrong very fast, and she's exactly in the last place she wants to be.
Prior chapters:
One - Entering The Dream
Yusuf was given a certain amount of leeway as a consultant with the SCU. Cobb managed to finesse it so that the charges against him didn't stick, and he was signed on as an official FBI consultant. He had to remain in the DC area and refrain from any further work in illegal sleep labs, but he was able to begin work with Stephen Miles at Quantico. That gave him more than enough opportunity to ply his trade as a chemist and tinker with his versions of somnacin. Miles seemed to like him well enough, and there was some talk about how he was willing to help Yusuf get grants to tailor the somnacin formula.
"So a happy ending goes to the turncoat," Eames commented to Ariadne with a slight smirk. "We have a bit more information than we had before, but I'm willing to bet my entire hotel stipend that Yusuf's information will dry up soon."
"As soon as they realize he's gone legit, you mean," Ariadne murmured. Eames nodded. "I've thought of it. I've been logging in from home after hours under his login. I've been looking for anything that might fit the profile to go after. Nothing yet."
"This definitely explains the gaps in between killings."
"I was thinking about putting in a false complaint to trap the UNSUB," Ariadne began slowly. "But that would compromise Yusuf on the network, and it would expose our interest in it if they realize it's us."
"Then the floating server gets pulled." Eames sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fucking brilliant, he is. Annoying as bloody hell, to be sure."
"I almost mentioned my plan to Cobb this morning."
"So why didn't you tell him?"
"He'd jump on it in a heartbeat. He wouldn't even think about Yusuf's well being or if it even worked. I feel responsible for this. I dragged Yusuf out of his little hidey hole, you know?"
Eames laughed. "Oh, darling. You're such a dear heart, I wonder how you even got into this mess." Ariadne shrugged, but there was a vague sense of the uncomfortable about her. He sobered instantly. "I didn't mean anything by it, if you don't feel comfortable enough to tell me."
Ariadne shook her head. "It's not that. I do trust you. I wouldn't even react like that if I was around anyone else." It was quiet in the SCU area, and no one else was in earshot. "I was put under as a kid. The somnacin made me sick."
Eames could tell there was more to the story but didn't press. "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to trigger anything."
She flashed him a smile. "Oh, don't be like that. I'm fine. I mean, it's part of my psych profile and everything. They're aware of it." Ariadne shrugged. "I think that's why they referred me to the SCU. I know my way around the dreamscape really well. I can always tell when something's real, even going in blind."
He looked impressed. "I didn't even know that was possible without a totem."
"Well, apparently they couldn't lose me to the general population because of that." She flashed Eames an impish smile, which went far in convincing him that she was truly fine. "Maybe we should talk to Yusuf first. If he's willing, we can talk to Cobb about it."
"Sounds like a plan. You pitch it. I'm the interloper around these parts," he said, giving her a charming smile.
Yusuf of course was willing to try. For someone that wasn't supposed to go into the field, he was willing to see what it was like to be an agent. Just as Ariadne had suspected, Cobb jumped at the chance to spring a trap for the Dream Killer. One of the senior SCU agents would pose as the sleep lab director Yusuf was complaining about. After that, it should only be a matter of time.
***
Ariadne hit the button on her alarm to shut it off. It was 5:30 am, and she stretched. She got ready for her morning run, then walked down from her fourth floor apartment. That helped warm her up a bit, and she did a few stretches in the stairwell before hitting the sidewalk and beginning to run. She liked running early in the morning. It helped to clear her head a bit, and listening to music helped the time to pass. She generally ran for about forty minutes or so, getting back to her apartment by 6:30 am. She had invited Eames along to go running, but the Brit had goggled at her as if she was insane. "I'm a pumpkin until 9 am and that's with coffee, darling," he had teased with a smile. "No, keep your running to yourself."
She tended to vary the route she took, and found her mind wandering as she ran. It had been a month since Yusuf had posted his message. Agent Robert Fischer had posed as the corrupt sleep lab employee, and they had even converted a seized illegal lab into Fischer's workspace. Yusuf had coached him on what his role would be as front man, and Fischer was more than able to pull off the cold and callous behavior that Yusuf had described in his post. Cobb was getting antsy, and they were going to have to meet Assistant Director Saito soon if their ploy didn't pan out. AD Saito didn't like the idea of failed jobs, though he was willing to write off the expense of the cover lab. They had even taken on a handful of sleepers for Fischer to care for, so that other posts could back up Yusuf's on the Ghost Network.
Still, no sign that Fischer was being watched, let alone about to be picked up by their UNSUB.
Ariadne hit the button to take the elevator back up to her apartment. She usually took the stairs, but she had run a little harder than usual that morning. "Hey!" came a voice behind her. "Hold the door!"
She stuck her arm out so that the ancient elevator wouldn't close before the man behind her could get in. He was carrying two heavy shopping bags with groceries, and flashed her a grateful smile as he slid into the elevator beside her. She didn't recognize him, but she didn't know all of her neighbors. She hit the 4 button for her own apartment. "What floor?" she asked, turning to him.
"Six," he said. "Thanks. I was hoping to get some stuff done early."
Ariadne nodded. "I haven't seen you around before," she said after a moment.
He was a clean cut sort of man, with short, well groomed hair, brown eyes and an easy smile. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and beige slacks. "I'm staying with my friend for a while. I was thinking of going back to school, so he's letting me get a feel for the neighborhood."
"That's nice of him." The elevator doors pinged. "That's me. Good luck with school."
"Thanks," he replied with a smile, watching as she turned left.
There were five apartments on each floor, their entrances arranged in a semicircle around the main elevator bank. That narrowed her apartment down to one of two. She left her apartment approximately an hour later, dressed in a dark gray pantsuit and low heels, her hair tied in a tight bun instead of loose and messy ponytail. Watching from the stairwell, he missed the flamboyance in her step. She was calm and controlled now, every inch a serious businesswoman with a laptop bag. She took the elevator back downstairs and left for the day.
He removed the lock pick kit from inside the box of cereal he had hidden it in and eased on a well worn pair of black leather gloves. It was easy enough to take care of her door; this was an old building, with mediocre security. He stood inside her domain once he shut the door behind him, breathing in the scent of her. He kept his eyes closed, absorbing the feel of his surroundings. He opened his eyes after a moment to add the visuals. Calm, peaceful, with crisp and clean lines in the sitting room. There was a small plant on a table near the window, with little red flowers in it for a pop of color. There was a low table near the front door, likely for keys or to rest her bag or mail when she came home. The counter top in the kitchen was clean, a bowl and spoon soaking in the sink along with a glass. The counter top in the bathroom had various bottles and makeup items on it, though most were in a little mesh container to keep things neat. He most definitely approved of that, and took out his notebook. He noted brands and shades of the foundation bottles before checking on her shampoo and toiletries.
Ariadne wasn't the type to make her bed in the morning. The covers were thrown back and the pillow still had the indent of her head in it. He bent over and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her. There was a vague order in her closet, so that similar kinds of clothing were hung together. There was no rhyme or reason to the colors there, though most of the suits and dress pants were in darker shades. She would look so very much like a corporate clone in any of those suits. The only color in her outfit would be the blouses or scarves she wore along with her suits, though apparently she didn't usually wear scarves to work. He touched the fabric of one, liking the feel of it between his fingers. He made note of that, as well as sizes and her color preferences. Her shoes were lined up neatly at the bottom of her closet, except for her running shoes. Those looked as though they had been tossed aside or kicked off so she could shower after her run. There was a hamper in the corner of the bedroom, nearly full. She would likely go to the basement laundry room soon.
He was tempted to take something from her closet or from her dresser, once he rifled through that. He knew better, however. He hadn't gotten this far by being sloppy.
He carefully let himself out of the apartment and picked the lock shut behind him. Altogether, today was a productive day.
***
AD Saito was not a happy man. He had worked his way up the ranks, and was comfortably in control of several departments. He fully expected work to be done and reports handed in on time. It was neater that way, like a well oiled machine running smoothly. He liked creating order out of chaos, and the former AD had been a creature of chaos. He had terrific output from the agents working under him, and he subtly influenced the Director on occasion without needing to take responsibility for the Director's failings. The Director wasn't nearly as good at running things as Saito was, and would likely retire soon. That would leave Saito as the most likely replacement. Thinking about that made him happy; there were more divisions and units that needed a firm hand to guide them and make sure the details were all taken care of.
Today, however, he was not a happy man.
Six weeks after planting a false post on the Ghost Network and setting up an illegal sleep lab that they monitored, there was still no sign of their Dream Killer. Agent Fischer diligently did his job, being nasty and condescending to the sleepers, insulting their need for the dreaming. Though other agents tailed him, there was no sign that anyone else was doing so.
"I don't think he's mean enough," Yusuf admitted when Saito had calmly and firmly asked what was going wrong with the plan. He generally didn't raise his voice; his presence was usually more than enough to inspire loyalty and devotion to service.
"What do you mean?" Saito asked. Cobb looked ready to yell and lay the blame at Yusuf's feet. Honestly, this was why Cobb wouldn't rise beyond SAC level. He was able to bully his agents to do a better job, but very few were actually inspired by him. He was a man obsessed with completing the mission, all too willing to tread on others to get what he wanted or needed. Saito had met his wife once, and she was much more understanding and mild mannered than Cobb usually gave her credit for.
"The ones I sort of knew about on the Network were more than just dicks," he said, using blunt language to get his point across. He had realized early on that Saito was perhaps a bit more cultured in language than Cobb, but Yusuf didn't feel like dancing around it. "My cousin molested a girl he was supposed to be helping. Henry Alton went into a man's dreams to sodomize him. Michelle Grey tortured a family while she had them under sedation because they couldn't afford the fees. Being a dick to your customers is nothing compared to what these people did."
It was silent in the conference room, and Ariadne looked at her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Yusuf had a point, though no one wanted to be the one to ask Fischer to cross any lines for this.
"We'll have to create a victim," Ariadne said quietly. "We can't subject someone innocent to that kind of thing, and he won't believe it unless there's actual harm." She could feel Eames' eyes on her. Cobb had this intense look on his face, and she suddenly regretted her words.
Saito sighed. "I would never ask anyone in this room to undertake risk that I am not willing to undergo as well." He steepled his fingers in front of his face, elbows perched on the desk. The SCU agents didn't often interact with him, but the VCU ones did. They knew this was his thinking pose. "We should have multiple agents in this role. I will assist as necessary. I can't tell you enough how important it is that we get this under control. Older murders were easily brushed off. Our killer has had much experience in working his craft. This is no easy thing, to become the perfect snare for him."
"The SCU team should be the one to go under," Cobb said in even tones. "We have the experience necessary to tolerate the dreaming, and we would know what to look for if he goes into the dreams."
"We don't even know if he has to," Eames interjected. "If he goes by reports on the Network-"
"We would have caught him already," Cobb said icily, cutting off Eames' objection. "He must be personally investigating these places before deciding if it's worth his time and effort." He looked around the room, letting that sink in. "We're going to have to go in as if we're sleepers, as if we're trying to get these treatments."
"There's nothing that says the Dream Killer was in any of those clinics," Eames insisted. "We have found nothing in common regarding any of the patient profiles, addresses, payment methods, nothing. You could be putting your entire team at risk for nothing."
"There's no risk if Yusuf is the one dosing the somnacin," Cobb replied stiffly. "As he keeps saying, his stuff is better than government grade."
Of course all eyes swung toward Yusuf, who shrugged nonchalantly. "It does what it says on the tin," he replied. "Less gastrointestinal issues, less hangover. It's still somnacin and it's still heavy sedation. Same risks apply."
"Hardly serious risks," Cobb replied with a dismissive wave. "We're all trained in dreaming defense, evasion and attack. We'd be in a safe facility and Fischer wouldn't seriously damage any one of us. I understand the concern," he added when Yusuf and Eames both opened their mouths to speak. "It would be minimal in this case."
"Then it is agreed," Saito said, drawing the meeting to a close. "We will start Monday."
Everyone filed out of the room and returned to their workstations. Eames' was right next to Ariadne's. "Will you be all right with this?" he asked in a low tone.
She glanced at him from her laptop screen. "Of course I will. Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's going to be a tough situation. How much of it would remind you of earlier...?"
He was trying to be sensitive to something he didn't know about. He was automatically assuming the worst had happened, and was trying to protect her from it. His behavior was simultaneously endearing and maddening. She patted his hand even as she snorted. "I'm a big girl now, Eames. I can handle a few nasty side effects to medications."
"Is that all it was?" he asked, entirely too perceptive for his own good.
"It'll be all right. This is what we do, remember?"
Unhappy, Eames agreed and watched Ariadne log into the Ghost Network as Yusuf to go through the message boards. "You check that thing so often now."
"Yusuf's right. His complaint is the only one lodged. It probably didn't attract his attention. But there hasn't been anything else, so at least our UNSUB hasn't gone off somewhere else. He might still be around."
"Might be," Eames said with a sigh. "I suppose we'll find out by next week."
***
Terrie stared at the two bottles of blue nail polish in her hand and tried to pull on the bangs she had dyed. She should have tried it with a longer lock of hair, but hadn't thought about it at the time. She had just managed to get dressed in one of those outfits with all of the chains her mother despised before getting the dye in her hair, and she had to race out of the house before her mother caught her with all that black makeup on again. The stupid store didn't have any stupid mirrors to look at, so she had to roll her eyes up as high as she could to see which bottle matched her streak best. Her wrist cuffs had spikes on them, so she had to be careful not to poke herself in the eye or smear her eye makeup. She could always buy them both, but her mother would pitch a hissy fit if she spent anything on the credit card again, and she only had five dollars in her wallet. Only one bottle of polish for today, and she couldn't make up her mind.
"Excuse me, miss?"
Terrie turned to see a man in a crisp suit and button down shirt in the makeup aisle. He was fairly tall, with brown eyes and close cropped hair. She supposed he would have been at home in an office somewhere downtown. He had a shopping basket with a few items in it, and some looked suspiciously like women's underwear, socks and bras. He looked very, very straight, not even a bit metro. He also looked a little sheepish.
"I'm sorry. I forgot to write down which type of lipstick my girlfriend uses, and there are too many things in these aisles. Do you have a minute?"
Ah. That explained it. "You know what she usually uses?"
"Well, I got her foundation and the powder stuff," he said, indicating the basket. "It looks like a little wand thing in a tube."
"How come you're getting her all new stuff?"
His shy smile was painfully cute. "She's had a rough time at work lately, so I'm surprising her with a weekend out in Maryland. I want to have a bag packed and ready to go as a surprise."
Terrie chuckled. "Lucky girl. Does she do glossy lip stuff?" The man shook his head. "What kind of colors does she like?" Terrie eyed the basket, noting a distinct lack of eye shadow or pencils. "I take it she's a minimalist?"
He laughed a bit. "Yeah. A more natural look usually, but she can get dramatic sometimes. It's great when she does."
She grinned at him and selected a coral lip stain. "There ya go. Try that one. Multiple coats darken the color, so it'll be versatile for the weekend."
He accepted the stain. "Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it."
"No problem."
Terrie turned back to the bottles of polish when the man stopped her. "Were you trying to match colors?" he asked, curious.
"Yeah. I got only enough for one bottle today."
"The one on the left looks close," he offered with a shrug. He gave her a careless smile. "You know, as a thank you."
"Thanks, mister."
They parted ways; the man headed towards women's clothing and Terrie headed to the checkout counter. It was nice to know that there were some nice guys still left out there, even if her own boyfriend was a perfect tool and pothead.
***
Going under with a team was much different than going in solo or with one other person. Cobb was the dreamer for this one, and Ariadne could see his children streaking by, their blonde heads turned away as they laughed and sang at each other. His wife trailed after them, a soft expression on his face. Ariadne wondered why they were there. As trained as Cobb was, he should have been able to keep them out of the collective dream. She thought she saw Eames, though sometimes his face seemed to shimmer and become someone else's. She knew without looking down at herself that she was young, perhaps eight or nine or ten. Her memories were fuzzy for that time period, and she felt impossibly young. It was bad enough she was petite, but now she was practically a child in the dreamscape.
Each of them did their own thing, and the dream's details were hazy. Bored, Ariadne began to shift things around. The buildings soon had crisp, clean lines. There were curtains in the windows, plants on the sills and skyscrapers in the background. A train whistled past on tracks. It didn't resemble the Metro at all, but more like a vague, half remembered memory of a train ride she had taken to her aunt's home one summer when she was twelve. People were startled around her, and she resisted the urge to cackle. Trees sprouted beyond the train tracks, and there was a meadow behind it with little wildflowers here and there. The flowers were purple, and almost seemed to be the outline of a maze, with its exit in the forest beyond the meadow.
"What are you doing?" someone hissed, grabbing hold of her shoulder. She thought it was Justin Cobol, one of the senior agents in the SCU. He sounded angry.
"I'm bored," Ariadne said with a careless shrug. "You know we have to be around here for an hour real time. Have you done the math? You remember that it's going to be something like ten hours in dream time?"
Cobol frowned at her. "How are you even doing all of this?" he asked, letting go of her shoulder.
"I don't know. I don't really think about it. Haven't you ever liked making models or building things with blocks when you were a kid?"
"That was too long ago," he replied, his frown deepening. He wandered away, leaving Ariadne wondering if some people couldn't handle the dreamscape as well as they said they did.
She found Eames in a bustling cafe she created. She sat down across from him. "Is everyone else just wandering around aimlessly?"
He smiled and stirred the tea he had in front of him. "Well, they don't do this regularly, darling."
"I thought I saw your face shift for a minute before."
Eames winked at her. "Can't be giving away all my secrets, can I?" He sipped his tea. "I must say, I'm very impressed by all this. I didn't think this was part of the training they gave all of you."
"It isn't. I was just bored."
He laughed. "Sounds just like you, yeah." No one was around; everyone had been so focused on what was going to happen in the real world, they had forgotten that they had to figure out what they would do in the dream world for ten hours. Cobb seemed to have conjured up his wife and child to go play with; Eames had seen them heading toward the meadow maze that Ariadne had created. "Dreams are amazing things, aren't they?"
"You can do whatever you want in a dream," she said with a half smile. "Anything at all."
"Why did you need dream therapy, Ariadne?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"Bad things happen," Ariadne replied gently, patting his hand. "And therapy helps to give you a little perspective."
"Not all of us had that benefit, darling. Some of us had to muddle through as best as we could without it."
She gave him a soft, understanding smile and nodded. "Maybe that's another reason why we get along so well."
"If they yank my hotel stipend and I head back to the Yard, come visit me anytime." Eames gave her a playful grin. "I promise I'll still be a gentleman."
"But what if I don't want a gentleman?" Ariadne asked, leaning forward slightly with a teasing lilt to her smile.
His gaze darkened slightly, pupils blown wide. "Darling, perhaps it's another reason why we're such good friends."
For a moment Ariadne didn't know what to say. Her hand tightened over Eames'; people thought they were sleeping together anyway. What would be the harm in a dream? She opened her mouth to speak, not really knowing what she would say, but a low sound, almost like a foghorn, came blasting through the air. "What the hell?"
Spell broken, Eames shot to his feet. "Not your doing, then?"
"Not at all." She frowned. "It's... It sounds like something slowed down. It's from the outside." She looked around quickly, trying to track the others. "Where are they? Why haven't they figured out what's going on? Goddammit, they've been working in the unit for years! They shouldn't be acting this green!"
Ariadne spun around when Eames didn't answer. He wasn't there beside her anymore, and everything was calm and still. Someone was standing in her line of sight, far enough away that features were dark, indistinct and blurred. It was male, she could tell that much, and suddenly her heart seized.
"Wake me up!" she screeched, backing away and knocking over the cafe chairs around her. "Wake me up!"
She came to in the illegal sleep lab that the FBI had created. She couldn't breathe, and she clawed at the needles in her hand. That fucker, she thought, thinking of Fischer. He should know better than to use the back of my hand!
Most of the others were milling about and looking confused. "What the hell was that?" Cobb demanded, shouting at Fischer. They would go into it in a moment, and it would be useless. Half of the argument would be for show, if the Dream Killer was about, and half of it would be to vent Cobb's frustrations.
Eames was talking to Yusuf, concern etched on his features. Two of the agents had left already, Cobol one of them. Ariadne pulled the elastic from her hair, releasing the ponytail she had put it in. She hadn't had something like this happen to her in years. It had to be the conversation with Eames in the dream cafe. She hadn't even thought about that abuse in years either. She had put it behind her like so much detritus. It didn't define her or who she was, but it was there, still lurking. It probably always would be, and they had warned her and her parents about that. The sleep therapy helped her put it into perspective, but it didn't eliminate the past.
She approached Eames and Yusuf, ignoring Cobb and Fischer arguing. "They should just fuck it out their systems," Eames snarked, defusing the tension in their trio. Ariadne chuckled as she was meant to, and Eames relaxed a fraction. "Today was an utter bust."
"The nature of labs," Yusuf replied with a shrug. "The work isn't always steady."
"You are completely unflappable," Ariadne remarked. "Nothing bothers you."
"Not true," Yusuf replied. "You should've seen me the first time I got caught. I thought I would piss myself," he added with a sheepish grin. "Someone like me in prison? Not a good thing."
"Yeah, you're way too pretty for the general population," Eames teased.
"You could've claimed to be suicidal," Ariadne piped up with a smile. "You would've been in solitary, then."
"You both are evil," Yusuf responded, shaking his head to hide his smile. "Just as well I didn't get to prison then."
"What did happen? There was a noise?"
"Someone pulled the fire alarm upstairs. The thing's like a fog horn." Yusuf turned to look at Fischer's and Cobb's argument. "That's winding down. You'll probably head back to the office."
Eames frowned. He was in chinos and a loud orange shirt, not exactly work appropriate. Ariadne was in tight jeans, a loose top and had a bright yellow scarf on. Also not work appropriate. "Might as well take the rest of the afternoon off," Eames told Ariadne. "I have a few errands to run, anyway." She accepted that, and Eames paid a visit to a friend of his. "Max," he said by way of greeting. "You have the file for me?"
Max was a tall, thin black man with piercing light eyes. His head was shaved completely bald and he was dressed in denim and leather. He had a flat Received Pronunciation accent. "Mate," Max began, handing over the file, "I wasn't the first to go in and get this."
Eames stilled. "What do you mean?"
"Three weeks ago, someone hacked the system. Copied her entire file without a trace of who or what he was. I assume he, anyway. Most birds I know aren't as good wiping their trails clean. This one was nearly perfect. If not for a slight deviation, I would've thought it untouched."
Eames' blood ran cold. "I'll need you to go in and check the SCU..."
Max grinned, teeth flashing brilliant white against his dark skin. "Already ahead of you mate. I even checked the VCU blokes you've been working with. All SCU staff got a cursory look. Her file got an extensive search and everything was copied. Yours too, as a matter of fact." Max sobered. "He got it all, mate. Your work at the Yard, for MI6, everything. Even that cockup in Mombassa two years ago. Everything."
"And no sign where he hacked from," Eames murmured.
"I'm sorry. Bloke's better'n me, and that's saying something. He's a bloody ghost, he is."
Eames held Ariadne's file in his hands, and it felt too heavy. He hadn't planned to go this route, but too many things had been disturbing her recently, and they couldn't afford to let anything stop the investigations. Now he was starting to understand why it was this investigation that was bothering her and not any of the side jobs they were assisting with.
The ghost was yanking her chain, likely to distract them. They had to be close.
Eames leaned forward slightly. "Max, any word on the floating archive I told you about?"
"The Ghost Network, you mean?" Eames nodded. "I'm almost convinced it's the same bloke. It's an elegant, elegant setup. I wish I'd done something like it." Max shook his head regretfully. "Unfortunately, I go tno farther than the FBI sods. There really is nothing to find. Even the servers that housed it in the past don't think it exists."
Eames sat back heavily in his chair. "Fuck."
"Exactly. I wish I had more to tell you, mate. I really do."
"There's something I'm missing, I'm sure of it. He wouldn't go through all this trouble unless we found something to make him nervous."
"I'll tell you something, Eames. A setup like this is expensive and will suck up a lot of juice. It won't be easy to hide, feel me? This bloke has to be rolling in cash to keep his identity a secret. This is skill and money."
Eames thought of the patient lists for all of the sleep clinics. They were exactly covered by insurance, either. Any disgruntled patient bearing a grudge could be the Dream Killer, and no one would be the wiser. This was, of course, assuming the Dream Killer was the one running the Ghost Network and not simply a user.
There was no way to isolate the user ID's and information on the network. Nothing else about it was static, but the server didn't even recognize it was being used at all. Eames didn't know what kind of tech could do that, but it had to be advanced if Max and the FBI were unable to crack it.
"I wish I had better news for you, Eames," Max told him apologetically. "I tried, but I just don't have anything to give you."
Eames rose and clapped a hand on Max's shoulder. "It's okay. I know you did your best. Give Nancy my love," he added, referring to Max's wife.
"When are you crossing the pond again?" Max asked.
"When Queen and country require me to," Eames answered with a shrug. "They think I can best serve their interests here."
"Recruiting or honestly assisting?" Max asked shrewdly.
Eames grinned. "That would be telling, mate."
"True. But I no longer exist, remember?"
Eames nodded. "Yeah. But I have enough trouble with the ghost I've got, Max. Save the curiosity for another time."
"Be safe, Eames," Max said, levity gone from his tone. "This entire thing smacks of a trap."
"I know. The hard part is figuring out whose it is." He clutched Ariadne's file closely.
He could only hope that he figured it out in time.
***
***
To Chapter 3!