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Jeffery Deaver, bestselling author of The Empty Chair and The Bone Collector, now turns to the labyrinthine world of cyberspace -- a world where safety is elusive, appearances are deceiving, and the most powerful can lose their wealth, their minds, their lives with a hacker's touch of a button.
When a sadistic hacker, code-named Phate, sets his sights on Silicon Valley, his victims never know what hit them. He infiltrates their computers, invades their lives, and -- with chilling precision -- lures them to their deaths. To Phate, each murder is like a big, challenging computer hack: every time he succeeds, he must challenge himself anew -- by taking his methodology to a higher level, with bigger targets.
Desperate, the head of The California State Police Computer Crimes Division frees Wyatt Gillette, imprisoned for hacking, to aid the investigation -- against the loud protests of the rest of the division. With an obsession emblematic of hackers, Gillette fervently attempts to trace Phate's insidious computer virus back to its source. Then Phate delivers a huge blow, murdering one of the division's own -- a "wizard" who had pioneered the internet -- and the search takes on a zealous intensity. Gillette and Detective Frank Bishop, an old-school homicide cop who's accustomed to forensic sleuthing, at first make an uneasy team. But with a merciless and brilliant killer like Phate in their crosshairs, and his twisted game reaching a fever pitch, they must utilize every ounce of their disparate talents to stop him.
Hot on the trail of the New York Times bestseller The Empty Chair, The Blue Nowhere once again demonstrates that Deaver is "the master of ticking-bomb suspense" (People). It is a truly stunning tale of suspense in the computer age.
Deaver's hero is Wyatt Gillette, a legendary hacker currently imprisoned for successfully cracking security codes employed by Department of Defense computers. Wyatt is entering his third year in prison when relief comes from an unexpected direction: the California State Computer Crimes Unit. The leader of that unit, Lt. Thomas Anderson, has just encountered a whole new species of criminal, and finds himself in need of Wyatt Gillette's peculiar expertise.
The criminal in question calls himself "Phate." He is, in the common parlance, a Wizard -- a hacker capable of gaining access to the most restricted forms of data, while leaving no trace of his own identity behind. Phate has, for reasons of his own, begun to invade the private files of a number of carefully chosen victims. He uses this private data to infiltrate the lives of those prospective victims and then murders them one by one. Only Wyatt, himself a Wizard of comparable abilities, can discern the pattern that underlies Phate's apparently random brutalities. Only Wyatt has the necessary skills to track his fellow hacker down.
The result is a tense, immensely readable novel that is deeply rooted in the arcane realities of a constantly evolving technology, a technology that has altered the essential nature of modern life, creating a whole new breed of heroes and villains in the process. With great narrative assurance, The Blue Nowhere takes us into the arcane society of the 21st century hacker, giving us a unique -- and convincing -- duel between rival Wizards who are more at home in the world of information than in the quotidian world of mundane, three dimensional "reality." The result is a striking, state-of-the-art thriller that works both as a first-rate entertainment and as a cautionary tale about the dangers implicit in our ongoing love affair with the computer. (Bill Sheehan)
Bill Sheehan reviews horror, suspense, and science fiction for Cemetery Dance, The New York Review of Science Fiction, and other publications. His book-length critical study of the fiction of Peter Straub, At the Foot of the Story Tree, has been published by Subterranean Press (www.subterraneanpress.com).
Upon earning his B.A. in journalism from the University of Missouri, Deaver realized that he lacked the necessary background to become a legal correspondent for the high-profile publications he aspired to, such as The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal, so he enrolled at Fordham Law School. Being a legal eagle soon grew on Deaver, and rather than continue on as a reporter, he took a job as a corporate lawyer at a top Wall Street firm. Deaver's detour from the writing life wasn't to last, however; ironically, it was his substantial commute to the law office that touched off his third -- and current -- career. He'd fill the long hours on the train scribbling his own renditions of the kind of fiction he enjoyed reading most: suspense.
Voodoo, a supernatural thriller, and Always a Thief, an art-theft caper, were Deaver's first published novels. Produced by the now-defunct Paperjacks paperback original house, the books are no longer in print, but they remain hot items on the collector circuit. His first major outing was the Rune series, which followed the adventures of an aspiring female filmmaker in the power trilogy Manhattan Is My Beat (1988), Death of a Blue Movie Star (1990), and Hard News (1991).
Deaver's next series, this one featuring the adventures of ace movie location scout John Pellam, featured the thrillers Shallow Graves (1992), Bloody River Blues (1993), and Hell's Kitchen (2001). Written under the pen name William Jefferies, the series stands out in Deaver's body of work, primarily because it touched off his talent for focusing more on his vivid characters than on their perilous situations.
In fact, it is his series featuring the intrepid and beloved team of Lincoln Rhyme and Amelia Sachs that showcases Deaver at the top of his game. Confronting enormous odds (and always under somewhat gruesome circumstances), the embittered detective and his feisty partner and love interest made their debut in 1991's grisly caper The Bone Collector, and hooked fans for four more books: The Coffin Dancer (1998), The Empty Chair (2000), The Stone Monkey (2002), and The Vanishing Man(2003). Of the series, Kirkus Reviews observed, "Deaver marries forensic work that would do Patricia Cornwell proud to turbocharged plots that put Benzedrine to shame."
On the creation of Rhyme, who happens to be a paraplegic, Deaver explained to Shots magazine, "I wanted to create a Sherlock Holmes-ian kind of character that uses his mind rather than his body. He solves crimes by thinking about the crimes, rather than someone who can shoot straight, run faster, or walk into the bar and trick people into giving away the clues."
As for his reputation for conjuring up some of the most unsavory scenes in pop crime fiction, Deaver admits on his web site, "In general, I think, less is more, and that if a reader stops reading because a book is too icky then I've failed in my obligation to the readers."
Two of his books have been made into major feature films. The first was A Maiden's Grave (the film adaptation was called Dead Silence), which starred James Garner and Marlee Matlin. The Bone Collector came next, starring Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie.
In addition to being a bestselling novelist, Deaver has also been a folksinger, songwriter, music researcher, and professional poet.
Deaver's younger sister, Julie Reece Deaver, is a fellow author who writes novels for young adults.
In our interview with Deaver, he reveals, "My inspiration for writing is the reader. I want to give readers whatever will excite and please them. It's absolutely vital in this business for authors to know their audience and to write with them in mind."
The battered white van had made her uneasy.
Lara Gibson sat at the bar of Vesta's Grill on De Anza in Cupertino, California, gripping the cold stem of her martini glass and ignoring the two young chip-jocks standing nearby, casting flirtatious glances at her.
She looked outside again, into the overcast drizzle, and saw no sign of the windowless Econoline that, she believed, had followed her from her house, a few miles away, to the restaurant. Lara slid off the bar stool and walked to the window, glanced outside. The van wasn't in the restaurant's parking lot. Nor was it across the street in the Apple Computer lot or the one next to it, belonging to Sun Microsystems. Either of those lots would've been a logical place to park to keep an eye on her -- if the driver had in fact been stalking her.
No, the van was just a coincidence, she decided -- a coincidence aggravated by a splinter of paranoia.
She returned to the bar and glanced at the two young men who were alternately ignoring her and offering subtle smiles.
Like nearly all the young men here for happy hour they were in casual slacks and tie-less dress shirts and wore the ubiquitous insignia of Silicon Valley -- corporate identification badges on thin canvas lanyards around their necks. These two sported the blue cards of Sun Microsystems. Other squadrons represented here were Compaq, Hewlett-Packard and Apple, not to mention a slew of new kids on the block, start-up Internet companies, which were held in some disdain by the venerable Valley regulars.
At thirty-two, Lara Gibson was probably five years older than her two admirers. And as a self-employed businesswoman who wasn't a geek -- connected with a computer company -- she was easily five times poorer. But that didn't matter to these two men, who were already captivated by her exotic, intense face surrounded by a tangle of raven hair, her ankle boots, a red-and-orange gypsy skirt and a black sleeveless top that showed off hard-earned biceps.
She figured that it would be two minutes before one of these boys approached her and she missed that estimate by only ten seconds.
The young man gave her a variation of a line she'd heard a dozen times before: Excuse me don't mean to interrupt but hey would you like me to break your boyfriend's leg for making a beautiful woman wait alone in a bar and by the way can I buy you a drink while you decide which leg?
Another woman might have gotten mad, another woman might have stammered and blushed and looked uneasy or might have flirted back and let him buy her an unwanted drink because she didn't have the wherewithal to handle the situation. But those would be women weaker than she. Lara Gibson was "the queen of urban protection," as the San Francisco Chronicle had once dubbed her. She fixed her eyes on the man's, gave a formal smile and said, "I don't care for any company right now."
Simple as that. End of conversation.
He blinked at her frankness, avoided her staunch eyes and returned to his friend.
Power...it was all about power.
She sipped her drink.
In fact, that damn white van had brought to mind all the rules she'd developed as someone who taught women to protect themselves in today's society. Several times on the way to the restaurant she'd glanced into her rearview mirror and noticed the van thirty or forty feet behind. It had been driven by some kid. He was white but his hair was knotted into messy brown dreadlocks. He wore combat fatigues and, despite the overcast and misty rain, sunglasses. This was, of course, Silicon Valley, home of slackers and hackers, and it wasn't unusual to stop in Starbucks for a vente skim latte and be waited on by a polite teenager with a dozen body piercings, a shaved head and an outfit like an inner-city gangsta's. Still, the driver had seemed to stare at her with an eerie hostility.
Lara found herself absently fondling the can of pepper spray she kept in her purse.
Another glance out the window. She saw only fancy cars bought with dot-com money.
A look around the room. Only harmless geeks.
Relax, she told herself and sipped her potent martini.
She noted the wall clock. Quarter after seven. Sandy was fifteen minutes late. Not like her. Lara pulled out her cell phone but the display read NO SERVICE.
She was about to find the pay phone when she glanced up and saw a young man enter the bar and wave at her. She knew him from somewhere but couldn't quite place him. His trim but long blond hair and the goatee had stuck in her mind. He wore white jeans and a rumpled blue work shirt. His concession to the fact he was part of corporate America was a tie; as befit a Silicon Valley businessman, though, the design wasn't stripes or Jerry Garcia flowers but a cartoon Tweety Bird.
"Hey, Lara." He walked up and shook her hand, leaned against the bar. "Remember me? I'm Will Randolph. Sandy's cousin? Cheryl and I met you on Nantucket -- at Fred and Mary's wedding."
Right, that's where she recognized him from. He and his pregnant wife sat at the same table with Lara and her boyfriend, Hank. "Sure. How you doing?"
"Good. Busy. But who isn't around here?"
His plastic neckwear read Xerox Corporation PARC. She was impressed. Even nongeeks knew about Xerox's legendary Palo Alto Research Center five or six miles north of here.
Will flagged down the bartender and ordered a light beer. "How's Hank?" he asked. "Sandy said he was trying to get a job at Wells Fargo."
"Oh, yeah, that came through. He's at orientation down in L.A. right now."
The beer came and Will sipped. "Congratulations."
A flash of white in the parking lot.
Lara looked toward it quickly, alarmed. But the vehicle turned out to be a white Ford Explorer with a young couple inside.
Her eyes focused past the Ford and scanned the street and the parking lots again, recalling that, on the way here, she'd glanced at the side of the van as it passed her when she'd turned into the restaurant's parking lot. There'd been a smear of something dark and reddish on the side; probably mud -- but she'd thought it almost looked like blood.
"You okay?" Will asked.
"Sure. Sorry." She turned back to him, glad she had an ally. Another of her urban protection rules: Two people are always better than one. Lara now modified that by adding, Even if one of them is a skinny geek who can't be more than five feet, ten inches tall and is wearing a cartoon tie.
Will continued, "Sandy called me on my way home and asked if I'd stop by and give you a message. She tried to call you but couldn't get through on your cell. She's running late and asked if you could meet her at that place next to her office where you went last month, Ciro's? In Mountain View. She made a reservation at eight."
"You didn't have to come by. She could've called the bartender."
"She wanted me to give you the pictures I took at the wedding. You two can look at 'em tonight and tell me if you want any copies."
Will noticed a friend across the bar and waved -- Silicon Valley may extend hundreds of square miles but it's really just a small town. He said to Lara, "Cheryl and I were going to bring the pictures this weekend to Sandy's place in Santa Barbara...."
"Yeah, we're going down on Friday."
Will paused and smiled as if he had a huge secret to share. He pulled his wallet out and flipped it open to a picture of himself, his wife and a very tiny, ruddy baby. "Last week," he said proudly. "Claire."
"Oh, adorable," Lara whispered.
"So we'll be staying pretty close to home for a while."
"How's Cheryl?"
"Fine. The baby's fine. There's nothing like it....But, I'll tell you, being a father totally changes your life."
"I'm sure it does."
Lara glanced at the clock again. Seven-thirty. It was a half-hour drive to Ciro's this time of night. "I better get going."
Then, with a thud of alarm, she thought again about the van and the driver.
The dreadlocks.
The rusty smear on the battered door....
Will gestured for the check and paid.
"You don't have to do that," she said. "I'll get it."
He laughed. "You already did."
"What?"
"That mutual fund you told me about at the wedding. The one you'd just bought?"
Lara remembered shamelessly bragging about a biotech fund that had zoomed up 60 percent last year.
"I got home from Nantucket and bought a shitload of it....So...thanks." He tipped the beer toward her. Then he stood. "You all set?"
"You bet." Lara stared uneasily at the door as they walked toward it.
It was just paranoia, she told herself. She thought momentarily, as she did from time to time, that she should get a real job, like all of these people in the bar. She shouldn't dwell so much on the world of violence.
Sure, just paranoia...
But, if so, then why had the dreadlocked kid sped off so fast when she'd pulled into the parking lot here and glanced at him?
Will stepped outside and opened his umbrella. He held it up for both of them to use.
Lara recalled another rule of urban protection: Never feel too embarrassed or proud to ask for help.
And yet as Lara was about to ask Will Randolph to walk her to her car after they got the snapshots she had a thought: If the kid in the van really was a threat, wasn't it selfish of her to ask him to endanger himself? Here he was, a husband and new father, with other people depending on him. It seemed unfair to --
"Something wrong?" Will asked.
"Not really."
"You sure?" he persisted.
"Well, I think somebody followed me here to the restaurant. Some kid."
Will looked around. "You see him?"
"Not now."
He asked, "You have that Web site, right? About how women can protect themselves."
"That's right."
"You think he knows about it? Maybe he's harassing you."
"Could be. You'd be surprised at the hate mail I get."
He reached for his cell phone. "You want to call the police?"
She debated.
Never feel too embarrassed or proud to ask for help.
"No, no. Just...would you mind, after we get the pictures, walking me to my car?"
Will smiled. "Of course not. I don't exactly know karate but I can yell for help with the best of them."
She laughed. "Thanks."
They walked along the sidewalk in front of the restaurant and she checked out the cars. As in every parking lot in Silicon Valley there were dozens of Saabs, BMWs and Lexuses. No vans, though. No kids. No bloody smears.
Will nodded toward where he'd parked, in the back lot. He said, "You see him?"
"No."
They walked past a stand of juniper and toward his car, a spotless silver Jaguar.
Jesus, did everybody in Silicon Valley have money except her?
He dug the keys out of his pocket. They walked to the trunk. "I only took two rolls at the wedding. But some of them are pretty good." He opened the trunk and paused and then looked around the parking lot. She did too. It was completely deserted. His was the only car there.
Will glanced at her. "You were probably wondering about the dreads."
"Dreads?"
"Yeah," he said. "The dreadlocks." His voice was flatter, distracted. He was still smiling but his face was different now. It seemed hungry.
"What do you mean?" she asked calmly but fear was detonating inside her. She noticed a chain was blocking the entrance to the back parking lot. And she knew he'd hooked it after he'd pulled in -- to make sure nobody else could park there.
"It was a wig."
Oh, Jesus, my Lord, thought Lara Gibson, who hadn't prayed in twenty years.
He looked into her eyes, recording her fear. "I parked the Jag here a while ago then stole the van and followed you from home. With the combat jacket and wig on. You know, just so you'd get edgy and paranoid and want me to stay close....I know all your rules -- that urban protection stuff. Never go into a deserted parking lot with a man. Married men with children are safer than single men. And my family portrait? In my wallet? I hacked it together from a picture in Parents magazine."
She whispered hopelessly, "You're not...?"
"Sandy's cousin? Don't even know him. I picked Will Randolph because he's somebody you sort of know, who sort of looks like me. I mean, there's no way in the world I could've gotten you out here alone if you hadn't known me -- or thought you did. Oh, you can take your hand out of your purse." He held up her canister of pepper spray. "I got it when we were walking outside."
"But..." Sobbing now, shoulders slumped in hopelessness. "Who are you? You don't even know me...."
"Not true, Lara," he whispered, studying her anguish the way an imperious chess master examines his defeated opponent's face. "I know everything about you. Everything in the world."
Copyright © 2001 by Jeffery Deaver
Chapter One
The battered white van had made her uneasy.
Lara Gibson sat at the bar of Vesta's Grill on De Anza in Cupertino, California, gripping the cold stem of her martini glass and ignoring the two young chip-jocks standing nearby, casting flirtatious glances at her.
She looked outside again, into the overcast drizzle, and saw no sign of the windowless Econoline that, she believed, had followed her from her house, a few miles away, to the restaurant. Lara slid off the bar stool and walked to the window, glanced outside. The van wasn't in the restaurant's parking lot. Nor was it across the street in the Apple Computer lot or the one next to it, belonging to Sun Microsystems. Either of those lots would've been a logical place to park to keep an eye on her -- if the driver had in fact been stalking her.
No, the van was just a coincidence, she decided -- a coincidence aggravated by a splinter of paranoia.
She returned to the bar and glanced at the two young men who were alternately ignoring her and offering subtle smiles.
Like nearly all the young men here for happy hour they were in casual slacks and tie-less dress shirts and wore the ubiquitous insignia of Silicon Valley -- corporate identification badges on thin canvas lanyards around their necks. These two sported the blue cards of Sun Microsystems. Other squadrons represented here were Compaq, Hewlett-Packard and Apple, not to mention a slew of new kids on the block, start-up Internet companies, which were held in some disdain by the venerable Valley regulars.
At thirty-two, Lara Gibson was probably five years older than her two admirers. And as a self-employed businesswoman who wasn't a geek -- connected with a computer company -- she was easily five times poorer. But that didn't matter to these two men, who were already captivated by her exotic, intense face surrounded by a tangle of raven hair, her ankle boots, a red-and-orange gypsy skirt and a black sleeveless top that showed off hard-earned biceps.
She figured that it would be two minutes before one of these boys approached her and she missed that estimate by only ten seconds.
The young man gave her a variation of a line she'd heard a dozen times before: Excuse me don't mean to interrupt but hey would you like me to break your boyfriend's leg for making a beautiful woman wait alone in a bar and by the way can I buy you a drink while you decide which leg?
Another woman might have gotten mad, another woman might have stammered and blushed and looked uneasy or might have flirted back and let him buy her an unwanted drink because she didn't have the wherewithal to handle the situation. But those would be women weaker than she. Lara Gibson was "the queen of urban protection," as the San Francisco Chronicle had once dubbed her. She fixed her eyes on the man's, gave a formal smile and said, "I don't care for any company right now."
Simple as that. End of conversation.
He blinked at her frankness, avoided her staunch eyes and returned to his friend.
Power... it was all about power.
She sipped her drink.
In fact, that damn white van had brought to mind all the rules she'd developed as someone who taught women to protect themselves in today's society. Several times on the way to the restaurant she'd glanced into her rearview mirror and noticed the van thirty or forty feet behind. It had been driven by some kid. He was white but his hair was knotted into messy brown dreadlocks. He wore combat fatigues and, despite the overcast and misty rain, sunglasses. This was, of course, Silicon Valley, home of slackers and hackers, and it wasn't unusual to stop in Starbucks for a venti skim latte and be waited on by a polite teenager with a dozen body piercings, a shaved head and an outfit like an inner-city gangsta's. Still, the driver had seemed to stare at her with an eerie hostility.
Lara found herself absently fondling the can of pepper spray she kept in her purse.
Another glance out the window. She saw only fancy cars bought with dot-com money.
A look around the room. Only harmless geeks.
Relax, she told herself and sipped her potent martini.
She noted the wall clock. Quarter after seven. Sandy was fifteen minutes late. Not like her. Lara pulled out her cell phone but the display read no service.
She was about to find the pay phone when she glanced up and saw a young man enter the bar and wave at her. She knew him from somewhere but couldn't quite place him. His trim but long blond hair and the goatee had stuck in her mind. He wore white jeans and a rumpled blue work shirt. His concession to the fact he was part of corporate America was a tie; as befit a Silicon Valley businessman, though, the design wasn't stripes or Jerry Garcia flowers but a cartoon Tweety Bird.
"Hey, Lara." He walked up and shook her hand, leaned against the bar. "Remember me? I'm Will Randolph. Sandy's cousin? Cheryl and I met you on Nantucket -- at Fred and Mary's wedding."
Right, that's where she recognized him from. He and his pregnant wife sat at the same table with Lara and her boyfriend, Hank. "Sure. How you doing?"
"Good. Busy. But who isn't around here?"
His plastic neckwear read Xerox Corporation PARC. She was impressed. Even nongeeks knew about Xerox's legendary Palo Alto Research Center five or six miles north of here.
Will flagged down the bartender and ordered a light beer. "How's Hank?" he asked. "Sandy said he was trying to get a job at Wells Fargo."
"Oh, yeah, that came through. He's at orientation down in L.A. right now."
The beer came and Will sipped. "Congratulations."
A flash of white in the parking lot.
Lara looked toward it quickly, alarmed. But the vehicle turned out to be a white Ford Explorer with a young couple inside.
Her eyes focused past the Ford and scanned the street and the parking lots again, recalling that, on the way here, she'd glanced at the side of the van as it passed her when she'd turned into the restaurant's parking lot. There'd been a smear of something dark and reddish on the side; probably mud -- but she'd thought it almost looked like blood.
"You okay?" Will asked.
"Sure. Sorry." She turned back to him, glad she had an ally. Another of her urban protection rules: Two people are always better than one. Lara now modified that by adding, Even if one of them is a skinny geek who can't be more than five feet, ten inches tall and is wearing a cartoon tie.
Will continued, "Sandy called me on my way home and asked if I'd stop by and give you a message. She tried to call you but couldn't get through on your cell. She's running late and asked if you could meet her at that place next to her office where you went last month, Ciro's? In Mountain View. She made a reservation at eight."
"You didn't have to come by. She could've called the bartender."
"She wanted me to give you the pictures I took at the wedding. You two can look at 'em tonight and tell me if you want any copies."
Will noticed a friend across the bar and waved -- Silicon Valley may extend hundreds of square miles but it's really just a small town. He said to Lara, "Cheryl and I were going to bring the pictures this weekend to Sandy's place in Santa Barbara...."
"Yeah, we're going down on Friday."
Will paused and smiled as if he had a huge secret to share. He pulled his wallet out and flipped it open to a picture of himself, his wife and a very tiny, ruddy baby. "Last week," he said proudly. "Claire."
"Oh, adorable," Lara whispered.
"So we'll be staying pretty close to home for a while."
"How's Cheryl?"
"Fine. The baby's fine. There's nothing like it....But, I'll tell you, being a father totally changes your life."
"I'm sure it does."
Lara glanced at the clock again. Seven-thirty. It was a half-hour drive to Ciro's this time of night. "I better get going."
Then, with a thud of alarm, she thought again about the van and the driver.
The dreadlocks.
The rusty smear on the battered door....
Will gestured for the check and paid.
"You don't have to do that," she said. "I'll get it."
He laughed. "You already did."
"What?"
"That mutual fund you told me about at the wedding. The one you'd just bought?"
Lara remembered shamelessly bragging about a biotech fund that had zoomed up 60 percent last year.
"I got home from Nantucket and bought a shitload of it....So... thanks." He tipped the beer toward her. Then he stood. "You all set?"
"You bet." Lara stared uneasily at the door as they walked toward it.
It was just paranoia, she told herself. She thought momentarily, as she did from time to time, that she should get a real job, like all of these people in the bar. She shouldn't dwell so much on the world of violence.
Sure, just paranoia...
But, if so, then why had the dreadlocked kid sped off so fast when she'd pulled into the parking lot here and glanced at him?
Will stepped outside and opened his umbrella. He held it up for both of them to use.
Lara recalled another rule of urban protection: Never feel too embarrassed or proud to ask for help.
And yet as Lara was about to ask Will Randolph to walk her to her car after they got the snapshots she had a thought: If the kid in the van really was a threat, wasn't it selfish of her to ask him to endanger himself? Here he was, a husband and new father, with other people depending on him. It seemed unfair to --
"Something wrong?" Will asked.
"Not really."
"You sure?" he persisted.
"Well, I think somebody followed me here to the restaurant. Some kid."
Will looked around. "You see him?"
"Not now."
He asked, "You have that Web site, right? About how women can protect themselves."
"That's right."
"You think he knows about it? Maybe he's harassing you."
"Could be. You'd be surprised at the hate mail I get."
He reached for his cell phone. "You want to call the police?"
She debated.
Never feel too embarrassed or proud to ask for help.
"No, no. Just... would you mind, after we get the pictures, walking me to my car?"
Will smiled. "Of course not. I don't exactly know karate but I can yell for help with the best of them."
She laughed. "Thanks."
They walked along the sidewalk in front of the restaurant and she checked out the cars. As in every parking lot in Silicon Valley there were dozens of Saabs, BMWs and Lexuses. No vans, though. No kids. No bloody smears.
Will nodded toward where he'd parked, in the back lot. He said, "You see him?"
"No."
They walked past a stand of juniper and toward his car, a spotless silver Jaguar.
Jesus, did everybody in Silicon Valley have money except her?
He dug the keys out of his pocket. They walked to the trunk. "I only took two rolls at the wedding. But some of them are pretty good." He opened the trunk and paused and then looked around the parking lot. She did too. It was completely deserted. His was the only car there.
Will glanced at her. "You were probably wondering about the dreads."
"Dreads?"
"Yeah," he said. "The dreadlocks." His voice was flatter, distracted. He was still smiling but his face was different now. It seemed hungry.
"What do you mean?" she asked calmly but fear was detonating inside her. She noticed a chain was blocking the entrance to the back parking lot. And she knew he'd hooked it after he'd pulled in -- to make sure nobody else could park there.
"It was a wig."
Oh, Jesus, my Lord, thought Lara Gibson, who hadn't prayed in twenty years.
He looked into her eyes, recording her fear. "I parked the Jag here a while ago then stole the van and followed you from home. With the combat jacket and wig on. You know, just so you'd get edgy and paranoid and want me to stay close....I know all your rules -- that urban protection stuff. Never go into a deserted parking lot with a man. Married men with children are safer than single men. And my family portrait? In my wallet? I hacked it together from a picture in Parents magazine."
She whispered hopelessly, "You're not... ?"
"Sandy's cousin? Don't even know him. I picked Will Randolph because he's somebody you sort of know, who sort of looks like me. I mean, there's no way in the world I could've gotten you out here alone if you hadn't known me -- or thought you did. Oh, you can take your hand out of your purse." He held up her canister of pepper spray. "I got it when we were walking outside."
"But..." Sobbing now, shoulders slumped in hopelessness. "Who are you? You don't even know me...."
"Not true, Lara," he whispered, studying her anguish the way an imperious chess master examines his defeated opponent's face. "I know everything about you. Everything in the world."
Copyright © 2001 by Jeffery Deaver
Anonymous
Posted November 29, 2011
If you are a gamer or computer geek, this is just too good to pass up.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted October 24, 2010
My sister told me to read this book. ane I was so glad I did. I read it on my NOOK. From the time it was downloaded I could not stop reading it. I'm sure there are tech. type gaps and errors, but for me it was fascinating reading and full of suspense, surprises and great characters.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Fantastically written and scary look into the deceptive world of the computer criminal gone mad. I didn't want to put this book down and finished it in just a couple of days. Interesting characters, false leads, and surprising turns places this "could-be real" story in the must-read category. Even if you aren't computer-savvy, just seeing today's news will have you believing the plot. Amazing writing by Deaver. The binary chapter numbers was a nice touch too.
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Posted April 9, 2010
This is a really fascinating novel; I've never read anything quite like it before. Deaver is incredibly knowledgable and really knows how to spin a tale. I just love his writing style. I also really liked his novels featuring Kathryn Dance, as kinesics is a fascinating subject. I've read all the Lincoln Ryhme/Amelia Sachs novels in order and loved every one of them. I saw the movie The Bone Collector years ago and didn't like it so when a friend borrowed me the book, I was skeptical. I ended up loving it and every book in the series! There are only a few novelists whose books I must buy in hardcover as soon as they are released; Jeffrey Deaver is one of those novelists. You may also like: The Jack Reacher series by Lee Child, the newer books of Ruth Rendell, and anything by Barbara Vine.
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Posted March 21, 2010
Jeffery Deaver in this book, writes the way a book ought to be written. This is an excellent read for me and I enjoyed it.
It involves cyberspace, or the usage of the internet for mystery and for murder.
It was a totally absorbing read, one that would be good to read again.
J. Robert Ewbank author "John Wesley, Natural Man, and the 'Isms'"
Fearless_Reader73
Posted November 7, 2009
"The Blue Nowhere" was the first Deaver book I read and the one that got me hooked on his other books. The pace was relentless and I couldn't turn the pages fast enough. I highly recommend it.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.It's definitely what you do best.
As with "The Devil's Teardrop", there are incredible gaps in the plot - and unlike "Teardrop", in some cases Deaver doesn't explain what happened during these gaps or refer back to them in any way.
But what he does cover in "The Blue Nowhere" is a rollicking good read nevertheless, not to mention frightening - and this book is definitely worth recommending.
Deaver does need to go back over his notes in "how to write a mystery novel", though - his Lincoln Rhyme novels are proof that he knows how to do it, but so far his non-Rhyme stories look like they were written by a completely different, completely amateurish person masquerading as Jeffery Deaver. Social engineering, perhaps?
Anonymous
Posted January 6, 2007
I rarely read murder mystery novels so it took me a long time to finally pick up this book and read it. I was amazed at how fast I was sucked into this book! It's one of those stories that keeps you guessing at every chapter. It was very suspenseful and intelligent. This is the first book I've read by Jeffrey Deaver and now I definintely want to read more. If I could compare this book to another book I've read it would be Angels and Demons - just replace all the scientific and religious words with computer terms. I think people who are really into computers would appreciate this book. Even if you don't know much about computers you would still enjoy it because there's a glossary in the book listing the definitions to all the computer lingo. I recommend this to everyone.
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Posted November 20, 2006
OK, I'm not jaded, but I know quite a bit about computers and the web, and the premise of this book just didn't stand up. I would have liked to see less time spent on giving computer definitions and more time spent on character and plot development, rather than just some 'surprises' at the end. Too bad, because I read all the Lincoln Rhyme books and was expecting more from this one.
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Posted November 25, 2004
I love Jeffery Deaver, and this book kept me just as riveted as his others have. I couldn't put the book down from the time I picked it up.
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Posted June 7, 2004
My knowledge of computers and what can actually be done with them is limited. Therefore, I'm not sure the events of this book are plausible or not. Regardless, it is a real fun book to read. The characters were easy to imagine and the plot shifts kept it interesting. I'd recommend this book to friends.
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Posted March 23, 2004
This piece of lit is one of the best techno thrillers of all time. I was lost for words when I read it, I started slow but then flew through it. I actually put down a Harry Potter book down and decided to finish this one first!
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Posted December 24, 2003
This is Jeffery Deaver¿s first venture into a cyberthriller and he does a pretty good job. The strength of the novel is its plot: a no-holds-barred contest between two hackers. Wyatt Gillette is doing time for a few minor computer crimes when he is offered a temporary reprieve if he helps the state police track down a murderous cracker called Phate. The plot takes one turn after another, building suspense as Phate searches for new victims and Gillette tries to stop him. Why is Phate committing these murders? Who is his partner? Who¿s the traitor within the police? Is Gillette really a good guy? Plenty of mystery and suspense to keep you turning the pages. Although the plot is terrific, the story has a couple of weak points. Deaver is not a computer pro and it shows. Although many of the inaccuracies are minor ¿ only a technically sophisticated person would notice ¿ some of them were really ridiculous (Gillette¿s fingertips are so strong from fingertip pushups that they crush keyboards during coding sessions). Another problem is that Phate turns out to be a stock character ¿ I won¿t give away the details, but you could probably put together a description without reading the novel. It¿s too bad because he starts out as an interesting, mysterious adversary. Still, the Blue Nowhere is a good thriller, well worth reading.
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Posted December 10, 2003
I read... a lot... and The Blue Nowhere is one of the best books I've read. It's original and interesting, full of twists. There aren't enough hacker stories out there.
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Posted July 24, 2003
I read this book after my friend told me about it. I thought it was a great book. I recommend it to everyone (Especially the computer wizards).
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Posted April 26, 2003
While not quite as chilling as some of Deaver's other novels (The Bone Collector leaps to mind), The Blue Nowhere is worth the read. There's a lot of information, a little science fiction, and a whole cast of completely developed characters. Even the minor characters are believable. One of my favorite things about Deaver, and this book is no exception, is his almost magical ability to make EVERY character believable, and still hold back just enough information to keep the reader guessing until the end of the book. My only real criticism is that he is a little heavy with his use of 'near misses' with the killer (I can't go into any more detail without giving things away). Once again, Deaver has successfully penned a little literary treat for the intelligent mind.
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Posted March 5, 2003
Did do you know that a computer hackers can change a person¿s identity, manipulate everyday situations, and even murder someone while they are sitting behind a computer? The Blue Nowhere is a wonderful book written by Jeffery Deaver that encompasses the growing threat of computer related crimes. I highly recommend that you read this book, especially if you like murder mysteries, because the book was so entertaining to read with its exhilarating plot, diverse characters and light reading format. The story itself and its characters deliver a realistically scary perspective on what an elite computer hacker can do in the information age. The book¿s story is presented in a 3rd person omnificent perspective set in current day Silicon Valley, the computer Mecca of the world. The conflict begins with the antagonist of the book, Phate (computer name), begins to murder people using his computer. Phate is an elite hacker, one of the best in the world who has lost touch with reality. The ¿blue nowhere¿ refers to the Internet and how it is everywhere yet nowhere. Officer Wyatt Gillette is in charge of the electronic crimes division for the Silicon Valley Police Department and is assigned to the murder case after the lead detective established that computers were evolved. Quickly Gillette figures out what Phate is doing but is fearfully intrigued because he has no idea how Phate is doing it. Devin Page is the protagonist of the story and is recruited by officer Johnston because of his hacker skills. When the story begins Devin in jail serving a prison sentence because he was suspected to have broken the Department of Defense¿s encryption algorithm, something that thought to be impossible. Devin proves throughout the story to be the only one who can match Phate¿s witty nature and master hacking skills. One of the book¿s strong points was that the characters¿ attributes were realistic in that they all had strengths and flaws, virtues and vices. Jeffery Deaver presents a cunning plot with surprising twists at the end that will keep you on your feet and your heart racing. Since the book is not too intellectually demanding it is a great book to read when you don¿t want to half to think a lot. Again, I highly recommend that you read this tremendous mystery book with its page turning plots, exiting characters, and light reading format.
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Posted November 25, 2002
I normally love Jeffery Deaver's books, but this was horrible. In Empty Chair there was such excitting twist, but this was lame and stupid. After this book I was afraid to pick another one of his upcoming books, but thank god he redeemd himself
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Posted September 26, 2002
The Blue Nowhere is a really good read. The action is pretty much instantaneous and non-stop. The storyline was very well thought out, and the mystery is certainly not as easy to solve as in many other books. While the author's lack of knowledge in the computer field is evident, it doesn't really hurt the story. So what if some of the things that the hackers do is unbelievable? That's what fiction is--unreality.
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Posted August 16, 2002
Normally I love Jeffrey Deaver and I'm a database programmer, so you can imagine my excitement when he wrote a book about computer hackers. What drivel! What a lousy concoction of lies just for the sake of excitement. Rest assured no one can send a command to your computer and stop the fan on the power supply from running. Nor can they command the drive head to move anywhere that will cause it to overheat and burst into flames. What a crock! I sure hope his stuff on forensics is more accurate, otherwise my favorite current writer will have fallen from the lofty pedestal that I put him on.
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Overview
The Blue Nowhere will forever change the way you feel about your computer.
Jeffery Deaver, bestselling author of The Empty Chair and The Bone Collector, now turns to the labyrinthine world of cyberspace -- a world where safety is elusive, appearances are deceiving, and the most powerful can lose their wealth, their minds, their lives with a hacker's touch of a button.
When a sadistic hacker, code-named Phate, sets his sights on Silicon Valley, his victims never know what hit them. He infiltrates their computers, invades their lives, and -- with chilling precision -- lures them to their deaths. To Phate, each murder is ...