The Doomsday Equation by Richtel Matt

Author:Richtel, Matt [Richtel, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-02-24T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

THE WINDOW OF the black car slides down. Andrea leans over from the driver’s seat.

“Get in, Jeremy.”

He stands.

“Jesus, Are you okay? What happened?” Now she’s looking him up and down.

Jeremy’s palms burn with embedded gravel from his dive and skid.

“Country codes,” he says.

“What?”

“They’re country codes!”

“Did you hit your head?”

Jeremy says: “Get out.”

“I’m sorry, Atlas. I should’ve told you earlier . . . I didn’t know. I didn’t realize that you’d—”

“Get out!”

He reaches for the door handle. He sees Andrea recoil inside. He pulls on the door. It’s locked. He reaches inside. He can feel the interest of a small crowd. He hears someone call for the police.

“I’m driving,” he says.

“What just happened? Your shirt . . . your face . . .”

He reaches inside for the door lock, groping.

“Please move over and let me drive. You owe me.”

“You’re right.”

“You told me already,” Jeremy says. “Move over. You owe me.”

“You’re right. Harry’s dead.” She says it in a loud whisper, suggesting her awareness of the crowd. “It’s on the news now. No details. Heart attack?”

He glowers at her, doesn’t answer. He turns his back, beelines for the sidewalk, starts walking. Ten steps later, she’s pulled up next to him.

“Get in,” she says through the rolled-down passenger window.

He’s still walking. She inches along with him. “You’re in no condition to drive.”

He hears sirens, maybe someone called in the near hit-and-run. He laughs. “Fine.” He stops and turns to her. “But I am in a condition to use the phone.”

“What?”

“You drive. I get your phone.”

“You don’t have a phone?”

“Battery’s dead.”

She grits her teeth. She reaches into a compartment between the seats and pulls out her smartphone. She tosses it onto the passenger seat. She presses a button to unlock the door as Jeremy climbs inside.

“What just happened?” she repeats.

“You tell me.” He looks in the rearview mirror, sees the small crowd, losing interest. “First and Howard.”

She hits the accelerator. “Which is where? And what?”

He squints his eyes, thinking, trying to remember something. Evan’s office; there’s one on the peninsula, obviously, and one nearby.

“Straight ahead and then left. The offices of SEER, but you know all about that.”

“Jeremy—” After a pause, she says: “Who are you calling?”

He doesn’t answer. On her iPhone, he does a Google search: “Country codes.” As it loads, he pulls from his back pocket the piece of paper onto which he’s copied Harry’s symbol and the numbers: 972, 970, 7, 41, 212, 986, 86, 218-650.

He looks at the list of country codes delivered him via Google. The numbers correspond:

Israel

Ramallah, the West Bank

Russia

Switzerland

Morocco

Syria

China

“I figured something out.”

“What?”

“Country codes. All but the last one. 218-650. The one at the point of the V.”

“Again: what?” Less frustration in her voice than resignation; she’s long since been accustomed to Jeremy’s communication style, working things out in his head as he goes, chess in every exchange, the stuff of a halting, sparring conversation.

“It’s the important one, I think. The connection. The Middle East at the top.” Jeremy looks at Andrea, stuck in thought. Country codes.

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