Dark Divide

by Sonja Stone

  His heart skipped. She’s actively looking for recruits for the college program. “If I may, are you planning to return to Langley after this semester?”

  “I am.”

  Jack smiled. “I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we’re very lucky that you were available.”

  “Thank you. It’s an interesting change of pace for me, as well. Do you have any other questions?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, then let’s meet again in a few days when we’re not so rushed. At that time I’ll expect an assessment of each member of your team.”

  “Yes ma’am. I’ll schedule with Ms. McGill on my way out.” He stood and extended his hand. “Thank you for your time.”

  Shepard smiled. “My pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”

  * * *

  —

  After stopping by Ms. McGill’s cramped office just off the lobby, Jack raced outside into the fading afternoon light. He fought the urge to rip open the sealed op-specs right there on the lawn, and instead kept a brisk pace as he cut across campus to his dorm.

  Back in his room, Jack locked the door and sat at his desk. He grinned and sliced open the envelope.

  OPERATIONAL SPECIFICATIONS:

  OPERATION ROYAL

  HANDLING OFFICER: Jack Felkin, Senior Trainee

  AGENTS: (temporary code names to be assigned by handling officer)

  HISTORY: Last year, the CIA discovered that a top informant was acting against our interests as a double agent. He was taken into CIA custody for ongoing questioning at an undisclosed location. After his arrest, his wife and child were admitted to the Witness Protection Program (WITSEC) in exchange for the wife’s testimony against him. The child (age four) has an ongoing medical condition that requires frequent visits to the hospital for blood work.

  COMPLICATION: Due to the vulnerable nature of online medical databases, records of the informant’s DNA potentially may be accessible to hostiles, who could then find a link to the child. As the CIA has concerns for the child’s safety, additional security measures must be taken.

  MISSION: Reassign the genome sequence (DNA profile) of the child’s biological father to a deceased CIA officer.

  OBJECTIVE: Protection of a minor; maintaining integrity of WITSEC program.

  DETAILS: The CIA has chosen a suitable candidate to pose as the child’s father: a CIA officer who died with honors in the line of service and has no known family. Your mission is to exchange the DNA profile of the biological father with that of the deceased agent. As a result of the DNA exchange, the child will be hidden from the informant’s associates. Further, should the child later look into his or her family history, he or she will not be able to trace the biological father to renew contact.

  SPECIFIC OP-SPECS: See enclosed. To be opened only by acting agent as needed. Not to be read by control.

  The folder contained five sealed and numbered envelopes, along with a USB drive and SD memory card. Jack flipped through the remaining pages: operational protocols, comms specs, code words and call signs, instructions for completing the written reports that would summarize each mission. After his initial disappointment that he wouldn’t get to read the individual op-specs, he felt a flutter of excitement in his chest. He’d still get to design the technical specs and supervise his agents.

  This was it—his chance to prove himself to Dean Shepard, to secure his future. His chance to serve his country, to do something meaningful with his life.

  His chance to become a full-fledged member of the Black-Ops Division of the CIA.

  After she and Jack parted, Nadia negotiated through the cluster of girls lingering in the dorm lobby.

  Parked next to the sofa across from the resident assistant’s desk, she found a rolling refreshments cart, piled with stacks of mugs and an urn of hot cocoa. She grabbed a few biscotti from the open jar and continued down the carpeted hall to her room.

  Nadia had just slid her key into the lock when her roommate pulled open the door.

  “I thought I heard you!” Libby’s Southern accent, especially strong when she got excited, thickly laced her words. “Come here!” She threw her arms around Nadia. Her blond hair, perfectly straightened, smelled like summer peaches.

  Nadia grinned and hugged back. “I missed you so much.”

  “Oh my goodness, me too. Come inside, tell me everything.” Libby pulled her across the threshold and shut the door. “How are your parents? Did you see your old friends? How’s your wound—has it healed?”

  Nadia laughed as she moved farther into the bedroom, immaculate as always. The twin beds, dressed in matching earth-toned duvets, were already made, complete with throw pillows arranged along the headboards. Fresh vacuum tracks lined the cream-colored wool shag between the beds, and the chocolate silk curtains looked recently pressed. “You’ve already cleaned?” Nadia peeked through the bathroom door. A vase of white lilies resting on the marble counter scented the air.

  “ ’Course I have.”

  “Why, what’s wrong?” Nadia turned to her roommate. Most of the time, Libby’s mild case of obsessive-compulsive disorder only served to make her a better recruit, but when she got particularly stressed, her OCD kicked into overdrive.

  “Nothing. I’m so excited to be back. I just wanted everything to look perfect so we could start the semester fresh, you know? It’s the end of our junior year. This was happy cleaning, not stress cleaning.” Libby gestured toward Nadia’s closet. “Your bags arrived, so I took the liberty of unpacking. I know it’s not your favorite activity.”

  Nadia crossed the room to the far side of her desk and opened her closet. Libby had arranged her clothes by color, each hanger equal distance apart. “It looks amazing. Thank you.” She dropped her bag on her desk chair and grabbed the postcard out of the side pocket to use as a plate for the biscotti. Libby didn’t like crumbs. Nadia put the cookies on the Hawaiian Islands, then sat on the edge of her bed. “How’s your mom doing?”

  Libby wrinkled her nose. “Is that a postcard?”

  “Yeah, why? It’s not from you, is it?”

  “No.” She moved to Nadia’s side and peered at the biscotti. “You can’t eat these now. You know that, right? Who knows how many hands touched that piece of mail.” Libby grabbed the small trash can from between their beds. “I’ll just toss these.” She slid the cookies into the trash and put the card back on the desk, and then sat across from Nadia on her own bed. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”

  “Your mom.”

  Libby’s face brightened. “She’s doing well, thank you for asking. She was discharged from the spa a few weeks ago. Still sober, knock on wood.” She tapped on her nightstand.

  “You don’t have to call it a spa for my benefit, you know.” Nadia lowered her voice. “There’s no shame in going to rehab.”

  Libby smiled and met Nadia’s eyes. “Spa, Nadia. That’s the official party line.”

  “Got it. And how is the senator?”

  “Daddy’s fine, as usual. He promised to spend less time in Washington and more time in Georgia, at least till Momma gets back into her routine. That took some arguing on my brother’s part, but Daddy finally came around.” Libby waved her hand. “Enough about me. What about you? How are your parents?”

  “My dad’s at a convention in Las Vegas, so my mom’s probably enjoying the quiet.” Nadia scooted back against the wall. “You know, I had all these lies prepared about our classes and the curriculum. I was certain they’d grill me about school over break, but they didn’t ask a lot of questions, which is totally not like my mother.”

  “That’s a relief, huh? Fewer lies to tell?”

  “Yeah, definitely. It’s exhausting weighing every word that comes out of my mouth.” Nadia shrugged. “But I guess that’s the nature of black-ops.”

  Libby glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “Oh, shoot—we’re due in the lounge any minute now. Do you want to change out of your traveling clothes?” She nodded as she as
ked the question.

  Nadia smiled at her roommate’s not-so-subtle suggestion. “Yes, I guess I do,” she said, climbing off the bed.

  “Wait till you meet our new teammate, Simon. He’s absolutely adorable, but I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

  “We already met. And I think you’re right.” From her closet, Nadia grabbed the sweater closest to her, a cotton pullover in cobalt blue.

  Libby went into the bathroom to freshen up, chatting through the open door. “How’s everything with Jack?”

  Her cheeks warmed as she thought about him. “Fantastic. We texted a lot over break, and we’re going out this weekend.” She pulled the sweater over her head and turned to the mirror inside the closet door.

  Nadia was Irish on her father’s side and Lebanese on her mother’s. She had his light eyes, and her mother’s dark hair and olive complexion. While Libby made a constant effort to always look her best, Nadia barely remembered to run her fingers through her thick waves once or twice a week. But now, for Libby’s sake, Nadia pulled her hair into a bun at the crown of her head, as neatly as she could.

  “It’s about time,” Libby said, joining Nadia in the bedroom. She’d reapplied her candy-apple red lipstick and wrapped a turquoise scarf around her neck, which turned her eyes a clear blue, the color of an iceberg. “You two just couldn’t get it together last semester.” She grabbed a neatly wrapped present from her desk and straightened the satin ribbon before slipping it into her shoulder bag.

  “What’s that?” Nadia asked.

  “Oh, just a thank-you gift for Alan.”

  “Seriously? What for?” Alan rarely did anything worthy of a verbal thank-you, much less a gift.

  “The present he sent me over break. Didn’t you get one?” Libby asked.

  Nadia smiled. “I did not. But I’m dying of curiosity.”

  Libby shook her head as her brows pulled together. “It was the strangest thing.”

  Nadia followed her roommate into the hall and pulled shut their bedroom door.

  Liberty Grace Bishop, eager for a little peace and quiet, had returned to school a day earlier than required. She’d told her parents she wanted plenty of time to get her room set up before classes started, but the truth was she needed a break from the drama. Her momma, freshly back from rehab, wandered around the house talking about how was she supposed to attend all those dreadfully dull fundraisers without a drink in her hand. Her daddy had spent the past month locked in hushed meetings behind closed doors. Every so often he’d start yelling at his advisors, his deep voice thundering through the walls.

  Comparatively speaking, training for the CIA was a cakewalk.

  As the girls left their room and headed up the hallway, Libby was struck by a double pang of guilt. First, for thinking ill of her parents, and second, for not being completely forthcoming with Nadia. Libby hadn’t exactly lied; she’d just omitted certain details. But honestly, there was no sense in rehashing unpleasantries. The Bishops looked good on the outside, and that was all that mattered.

  Libby frowned as they reached the lobby. She loved her family more than anything, but there wasn’t a lot of room for her in her parents’ world. Both of them commanded center stage, which was fine—Libby didn’t need to be the center of attention. But she would occasionally like to focus on her own life.

  None of that matters right now, she thought, relaxing her features into a pleasant smile. She was back at school, rooming with her best friend, learning about things that had nothing to do with either of her parents.

  Libby opened the lobby door by leaning against it, then followed Nadia into the cool evening air. Streaks of orange and pink clung to the bottom of the indigo sky. A sense of calm settled in her chest as she said, “I’m so glad to be back.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Nadia said, returning Libby’s smile.

  The girls turned away from the distant lights of Phoenix, which twinkled inside the darkening valley, and headed up the hill toward the student lounge, situated underneath the dining hall. The giant saguaro at the base of the Navajo Building extended its silhouetted arms toward the first stars of the night.

  “Have you seen Noah yet?” Nadia asked.

  Noah was Jack’s roommate, and Libby’d had an awful crush on him last semester. She shook her head. “Not yet, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  As they reached the Navajo Building, Nadia pulled open the door and said, “Maybe we can go on a double date?”

  Inside the empty lounge, slipcovered sofas and overstuffed leather chairs formed a half circle around the massive flat-screen mounted on the wall. A bare dining table sat to the left. After inspecting the surface for crumbs, Libby placed her shoulder bag on the table.

  “Can you find a music station?” Nadia asked, nodding toward the television.

  Libby wrapped a tissue over the remote and turned on the TV. Before she had a chance to flip from the news, the lounge door opened behind them.

  “Am I glad to see you two,” Alan said.

  “Alan!” Libby circled the sofa to give him a hug. Her arms easily fit around his slim frame. “How are you? I brought you a little something.” She reached into her bag and withdrew his gift. “All the way from Savannah.”

  Alan’s face turned a splotchy red, exaggerating the fact that his eyes and hair were the exact same color of hazel brown. “How considerate. I am certain that upon opening the gift, I will be delighted.”

  Libby smiled at his formality as Nadia squeezed between them for a hug.

  “How was your holiday?” Nadia asked.

  “Long and dull. I cannot believe this, but I am almost happy to be back.” Alan flopped down on the sofa. “What is this? Why are we watching the news? These reporters are extremely biased. You would be wise to gather your information online, where you can choose from whom you wish to—” He stopped midsentence as a high-pitched tone from the TV drowned out his words.

  The picture went black for a second before the network’s logo appeared, then a Breaking News banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Nadia turned up the volume.

  The lounge door swung open and Simon walked in, carrying three large pizza boxes, with Jack trailing behind him. “Who’s hungry?”

  “Hang on,” Libby said. “Something’s happened.”

  Simon set the pizzas on the table as he and Jack joined the rest of the team.

  The anchorwoman came on screen. “We’ve just received new information regarding last month’s explosion at a research facility in Northern Virginia. The FBI now believes that the deliberate bombing was orchestrated by a group of domestic terrorists. As a reminder, the fatal explosion claimed two lives. Originally ruled an accident by the authorities, an investigation into the source of the explosion quickly revealed foul play.”

  “Oh yeah. We heard about this in London,” Simon said.

  The report continued with the anchorwoman speaking remotely to the FBI’s lead investigator. A minute into it, she cut him off. “Sir, I apologize.” His image disappeared from the screen as the cameraman centered the anchor. “I’m being told that Senator Wentworth Bishop of Georgia has an announcement. We’re going live to the steps of the Capitol.”

  Libby held her breath. What on earth could her daddy possibly have to say about this? And why was he in Washington?

  The camera cut away to the Capitol building, where he stood atop the windy steps surrounded by his entourage. Floodlights lit the scene.

  Alan turned to Libby. “Hey, isn’t that your—”

  “Shh,” Jack said.

  Her daddy spoke into the camera. “The frequency of domestic terrorism has reached epic proportions. We are no longer safe within our own borders. The American people should not have to live in fear for their lives, for the safety of their children’s lives. These attacks on our freedom, on our civil liberties, on our way of life must stop now.” He pounded the podium in time with the last three words. “And I’m referring to the fight against enemies both foreign and domestic. Rogue frin
ge groups who wrap themselves in the flag and choose to ignore our democratic process. Whether they be lone gunmen or highly organized groups of ex-military and ex-government. Mark my words.” He paused and looked dead at the camera. “Your day has come to an end.” The small crowd exploded with applause.

  I wonder if anyone else thinks it odd that he had time to set up a podium.

  He continued. “I have fought against our enemies from inside the Senate, but after uncovering the truth about this latest attack, I feel compelled to take further action. That is why,” he hesitated for one of his dramatic pauses, “I am proud to announce my decision to run for President of these United States!”

  Libby’s heart dropped as the crowd went wild. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.

  She’d never admit it out loud, but this was devastating news. Beyond devastating—he’d basically just tossed her future out the window. Dean Shepard wouldn’t let her stay at the Academy. Between Secret Service agents and the media attention, there was no way the school could remain clandestine.

  He’s so selfish.

  The thought brought a fresh wave of guilt. Of course Libby loved her daddy, and if this was what he wanted, she would do whatever necessary to support him. He didn’t know Desert Mountain was run by the CIA; it’s not like he deliberately set out to ruin her life. But what about her momma? How would she deal with being in the spotlight right now?

  She felt her friends watching for her reaction. She must’ve looked concerned, because Nadia reached for her hand. Libby faked a smile and said, “My goodness. This is exciting!”

  Jack touched her shoulder. “Did you know about this?”

  “There was some talk,” Libby said cheerfully.

  “Do you mean to say—is that your dad then?” Simon asked. “I didn’t make the connection. That’s brilliant timing on his part.”