The 19th Christmas - James Patterson Page 0,44
a member of the AARP . That’s just the way it was.
He figured Declan would be awake, and in fact, the kid answered his phone on the second ring, said, “Talk to me.”
“Declan, it’s Warren Jacobi. Maybe your father told you I was going to call.”
“Oh, right. I’d be happy to help.”
“Excellent. Thanks, Declan. Appreciate it.”
Jacobi wrote the kid’s name and the time and date on one of the yellow pads Brady left all over the squad room.
“Here’s the deal, Declan. Your chat-room conversation with the Low Man’s Brain. Tell me everything you remember.”
Part Four
December 24
Chapter 53
Jacobi looked at his watch—early in the morning on December 24. Officially Christmas Eve, and all over the city, cops of all levels and from all departments were staked out at plum targets, watching for a job to begin.
Nothing was off the table.
If the Low Man’s Brain was part of Loman’s crew, if he had leaked something useful to Declan Bentley, Jacobi had to extract that information PDQ.
He asked the kid, “This guy actually said he was part of a plan to hit BlackStar VR? You believed him?”
Declan said, “Yeah, I did believe him. The Brain says he’s a systems analyst. He’s online a lot, and he’s a killer gamer, so over time he’s earned some cred with me.”
“What word did he use, Declan? Hit? Rob? Attack? ”
“He said, ‘Put a world of hurt on BlackStar.’”
“Did you save a copy of the chat, Declan?”
“I didn’t even think to do that.”
Jacobi pressed on. “Did you ask him what he meant by putting ‘a world of hurt’ on a company?”
“Sure. I said, ‘Dude. What the hell?’ He just laughed and then said something like, ‘You’ll read about it,’ and then he said he was going to put the hurt on me in Lord of Klandar—that’s a game—and he left the room. If Dad hadn’t mentioned that he was working the Loman case, I wouldn’t have even put those two names together.”
“So help me understand, Declan,” Jacobi said. “This Low Man’s Brain. That’s a screen name, right? He says he’s involved in a criminal enterprise, he admits that he’s a criminal, and he’s confident no one can figure out who he is?”
“No one can,” said Declan. “No way, not possible. I don’t know if the Brain is a he or a cyborg or a five-year-old girl genius in the Netherlands.”
Jacobi said, “Okay, okay. You have any idea why BlackStar would be the target of this hit?”
Declan said, “BSVR is big, man, and profitable. Privately held. They’re like the new Intel. Maybe they have a weaponized program that could penetrate any kind of system. That’s possible. Their games are all about war. Or maybe the Brain is just full of crap.”
“Okay, Declan, I’m drowning in maybes and I need a definite something. BlackStar’s founder is a man named David Bavar. Apparently, he’s your typical tech genius, very rich, keeps to himself. Do you know anything about him that I don’t know?”
“Well, right now he’s in Davos. Switzerland.”
“How do you know that?” Jacobi asked.
“He’s been streaming his ski trip in the Alps. He’s pretty good. Want me to show you how you can be, like, sitting on his shoulders going down a black-diamond slope?”
Jacobi said, “Some other time.” He thanked the kid and wished him a merry Christmas before he hung up.
Was anything he’d just learned useful?
Loman, whoever he was, did big stickup jobs, or so the story went. As Jacobi understood it, stealing a program wouldn’t require a crew with guns and masks. Digital theft would be done over the internet. Wouldn’t it?
Jacobi went back to the keyboard with his stiff old fingers and looked up BlackStar’s CEO on all available databases. He found him in a court document related to a lawsuit against BSVR for patent infringement. BlackStar had beaten that rap.
Noting that it was around midmorning in Davos, Jacobi made the call. He listened to the phone ring and had just about decided that Bavar must already be out on the slopes when someone answered the phone.
Chapter 54
Jacobi pressed the phone to his ear and introduced himself to David Bavar as chief of police, retired, on special assignment.
He gave the tech billionaire Boxer’s extension and the phone number of the department so that he could call back on a line that would be answered “SFPD, Homicide.” Jacobi drummed his fingers on the desk, got a cup of mud from the break room, and returned to Boxer’s desk just as the phone rang.
“Chief Jacobi,” he said.
“Ah, this is