The Law of Averages - Book 2: Chapter 180: Disruption

There wasn’t much time to process Abby’s suspicions, because things were happening in the Andeno household. Even as she made her declaration, a shrill, horrible ringing sounded out from somewhere beyond the television screen. Dulled by distance and microphone quality, the loathsome noise still had the power to make Dan cringe. It was an wind-up timer, and the sound roused young Nikolos from his meal.

He stood, stepping up and away from the table to rifle through a kitchen cabinet. He pulled out the small, white device, clicking it off. Then he deftly wound it up again, seemingly without checking what number it landed on, and returned it to its home. Moving quickly now, Nikolos strode to the back of the house, in a small utility room where a washer and dryer were stacked on top of each other. On the wall was a small metal panel, which he swiftly pulled open to reveal a set of breakers. He rapidly ran down the switches, clicking each to the off position. One by one, the lights in the house went dark, and appliances shut off.

At the bottom of the panel, slightly off-set from the main breaker, was a final switch. It was larger, resembling a full-handled lever more than the small tabs above it. The room was now dark, lit only by the sunlight pouring in from a small window, and Dan could only just barely make out the color of this final lever: a deep, dark red. Nikolos grasped it, his fingers fitting fully around it, and he pulled it swiftly outwards.

The screen went dark an instant later.

Dan sat straight up. “What!?” He snapped his doorways shut on sheer instinct, before bolting out of his seat and yanking his camera equipment free from its harness. He checked it over; it was completely dead. The lens was blackened, like it’d been burned, and the power button elicited no response. Dan opened the battery panel and pulled out the power pack. He examined it, but to his untrained eye it seemed fine. He chucked it into hammerspace anyway, and summoned his spare. He slotted it in, tapped the power button, and scowled when nothing happened. Abby, meanwhile, was checking over the audio receiver and discovering similar results.

“Dead,” she concluded. “They fried it.”

“Are we busted?” Dan asked, concern now marring his features. Where had he slipped up, somehow? He was reluctant, now, to open up a new door. What if they could sense it, and were waiting for him?

Abby hummed in consideration, taking her time before answering, “No, I don’t think so. We saw and heard plenty before that timer went off, and the kid didn’t so much as glance at it when he reset it. I think they are just cautious, and we got caught by one of their precautions.”

“Some kind of electronics sweep, randomized by the kitchen timer?” Dan asked incredulously.

Abby shrugged. “Best guess.”

“Think I should open a new door?”

She looked at him, sidelong. “Maybe get a new camera, first. I don’t want you sticking your eyeball through a tiny portal until we’re sure nobody’s waiting on the other end.”

“Shit, yeah,” Dan agreed. He looked over the dead device in his hand, and turned it on its side. With a quick press, he ejected the micro-sd card that stored recordings and passed it to Abby. “I’m going to the electronics store. Will you check this for me, and see if it’s fried?”

Abby nodded, accepting the card, and Dan vanished into t-space, still carrying his wrecked camera. He reappeared outside a small shop from which he’d purchased his first set of surveillance equipment. The place came highly recommended by both Cornelius and Michael Tawny, and many of Austin’s SPEAR Team used it to supplement their kit. As Dan perused the aisles, he puzzled over the problem he now faced.

Assuming Abby was correct, and the Andeno family remained unaware of his spying eye, Dan could easily work around their precautions. Simply closing his door for a few minutes, whenever they started turning off the breaker switches, would suffice as a countermeasure. If she were incorrect, and they had somehow sensed his door, or even just the fact that they were under observation, then everything he’d learned was suspect. They could be scheming at this very moment, coming up with a plan to feed him more false information, and he would never know it.

The mere idea of it sent Dan into a fit of wild irritation. He resolved these emotions through the expenditure of money, piling three spare cameras and receiver mics into his cart, and squinting down at the list of features to see if they could be somehow hardened against whatever had fried the previous. But the more esoteric technology of Dimension A still outpaced Dan, and he floundered in his investigation.

The store was small enough that Dan’s confusion was noticed by the manager, who ambled over and offered assistance. The two men were acquainted—this was the same man who’d Dan purchased his first camera from—and Dan had casually name-dropped several of the store’s most prolific customers in that first encounter, so the employee was more than willing to discuss matters. He motioned for the camera in Dan’s hands, and looked over the burnt lens with a critical eye.

“That’s not something you see every day,” he noted wryly. His finger tapped the blackened glass, and he mused, “Seems like you ran into a jammer.”

“Jammer?” Dan repeated, focusing intently on the word. “What’s that?”

The manager waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Catch-all term, I’m afraid. Anything capable of broadly disrupting surveillance. There are a variety of them available, but almost all are based off Genius-tech. Makes them damn difficult to work around, but very expensive. Not to mention, obvious.” He presented the blackened end of the wire camera. “There’s no reason for this to be burnt,” he explained. “This isn’t a lightbulb. There’s no filament to short out, and even if there was it wouldn’t blacken the glass like this. Whatever effected your device here, I’m betting it was working through esoteric means, which almost always means Genius bullshit.”

“Right. So how does one get around it?” Dan asked.

The manager’s smile dimmed. “I’m afraid, without knowing the specific nature of the device in question, I couldn’t possibly recommend any countermeasures. Though, I’m sure they exist. Nothing is infallible.”

That was disappointing to hear, but not unexpected. Dan would simply go with plan A: diverting his portal whenever the Andenos activated their security measures.

Alternatively, he mused, he could use his veil to remove the device entirely. His hoarder instincts couldn’t help but point out how useful something like that could be. Whatever it looked like, it couldn’t be too large or distinct. Dan had swept the house with his veil, when Senator Madison had first arrived, and he’d found nothing that stood out. The anti-surveillance device must be quite compact. Possibly even portable. For a moment, Dan let himself drift. He imagined facing a horde of mechanical monstrosities, only to whip out his handheld EMP and fry them all. It would at least offer him some protection in case Dimension A had a sudden case of Skynet. He tucked away the thought for later consideration.

In the meantime, Dan bought a handful of backup cameras and microphones, and returned home. He found Abby hunched over her laptop, scanning through a video recording. So, at least the memory card survived, Dan thought.

He immediately went about setting up his new equipment, and replacing the old. Once he finished, he replaced the SD cards, and readied his veil. He looked at Abby for support, and she gave him a hesitant nod. He steadied himself, and willed open a tiny, tiny door. The television screen came to life. Sound followed. The Andeno living room, in all its dull splendor was revealed to them; and nothing of import followed.

Young Nikolos was back on the couch, meditating. The elder Andeno puttered around the kitchen, cleaning up after their meal. Neither seemed perturbed in any way. A quick sweep with his veil showed both Geists still in position, unnaturally patient and ever-watchful. Dan frowned, but could find no signs that anyone had been alerted to his presence.

He looked at Abby, and muttered, “What do you think?”

“Impossible to say,” she replied softly. “It could be an act. Maybe they know they’re being watched, and want to feed us false information. How could we tell?”

Dan thought for a while, then snaked out his veil. It wound its way through the ceiling, down the wall, and into the kitchen cabinet. There, it dug through ceramic and wood and glass, until it found a ticking timer, and everything within it. It seemed legitimate. He could’ve found more electronics in an Easy Bake Oven. And as he examined it, he could feel the mechanical springs and cogs turning, whirring, counting down time without the help of outside signals, electrical or otherwise.

“I think we’re okay,” Dan said. “No way to be sure; we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Abby nodded, gnawing at her lip. “Maybe… maybe it’s time to update Mama Ana? If I’m right about the vigilante thing, she might be able to arrest Nikolos as soon as he tries something.”

Dan eyed the meditating Nikolos. If it was anything like the last time, he would be sitting there for a while. But Dan was loathe to stop watching, even for a moment. The power to spy on one’s enemies was intoxicating, but now he felt a constant paranoia that he might miss something important. An errant word, a slip of the tongue, some small tell unveiling a grand scheme to his mind. He never thought having more information would be so frustrating.

Anastasia needed to be brought into the loop. She had unique insights, distasteful as the delivery might be, and Dan needed her advice on how to proceed. There were some half-formed ideas floating in his head—a search on the Andeno household might reveal a presumably-illegal Genius jammer—but he had no idea bout the feasibility of any of them. Anastasia had to be consulted, and it would have to be in person. Dan would no longer discuss his portal capability on anything that might be intercepted. No phone calls, no emails, no texts. Nothing even hinting at the truth of what he could do.

He did send a text, with the simple message of, “We should meet up.”

The reply came within a minute. Just an address, and a room number.

“Anyone monitoring my texts is gonna think I’m cheating on you with your grandmother,” Dan noted with a laugh.

Abby gagged, lightly smacking his shoulder. “Don’t be weird.”

He laughed again, and kissed her on the cheek. “What will you do while I’m away?”

“Gonna review the recordings, then delete it,” Abby answered. “It’s not safe to keep them around.”

“Alright,” Dan said. He checked the screen again, noting Nikolos still sitting on the couch, eyes closed and legs crossed. No change there. He switched views, found Peter in one of the bedrooms, fast asleep.

“Alright,” Dan repeated, and he snapped his doors shut. “I’m off to see the Wicked Witch. Wish me luck.”

He grinned at Abby’s unamused face, and spun off into the Gap.