by Sonja Stone
Nadia sighed. “So which tool was most effective?”
“The reading glasses. Snap the arm off the frame and use the protruding metal.”
“Second best?”
“Figure it out yourself.” He stood and left the room.
Five minutes into the task, her neck began to ache. Another ten minutes made her fingers raw. The paper clip wasn’t working, so she moved on to the safety pin. She pulled it open and twisted the sharp end into the tiny lock. It slipped in her fingers, and she accidentally bent the tip into a right angle. A tight rope of knots formed across her shoulders. She stretched her arms toward the ceiling.
Nadia rolled her neck from side to side before shoving the bent pin back into the lock. Twenty minutes later, fingers aching, she was about to give up. Then the lock clicked open. She threw the cuffs against the wall and rubbed her wrists.
Damon popped his head inside the door. “It’s about time. Now take a second to figure out how you accidentally freed yourself, just in case you ever need to repeat the performance. Look at the angle of the pin.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Seriously, look at the angle.” He pointed to the safety pin. “You never know—it might save your life one day.”
A few weeks ago, as he wasn’t endowed with the virtue of patience, Simon had convinced Alan that a jaunt to Cave Creek was of paramount importance to their friendship. While his roommate browsed an independent bookstore, Simon had slipped next door to the post office. Inside a reeking stall in the men’s room, he’d swabbed his cheek, sealed the prepaid package from the genetics lab, and popped it back in the post.
Naturally, he’d ordered a rush on the DNA sequencing. The results were to be sent via encrypted email. Problem was, until he discovered Shepard’s credentials for the CIA mainframe, he couldn’t access CIADIS and, therefore, would have nothing with which to compare his results. This he found absolutely maddening. He’d never been closer to learning the truth about his father, and each day he was made to wait seemed longer than the last.
As a result, Simon had been forced to formulate a contingency plan. It would commence within the next twenty-four hours, and might or might not get his roommate arrested for treason.
* * *
—
Sunday morning, a few minutes before ten, Simon straightened his tie as he walked toward the guard station. He’d chosen a light blue oxford, yellow and cornflower blue striped tie, and a navy jacket, along with a crisply pressed pair of khakis.
As he reached the end of the sidewalk, Jack pulled round in a black Avalon. He rolled down the passenger-side window and said, “Get in.”
“I ate my op-specs,” Simon said, climbing into the vehicle. “What’s my mission?”
Jack waved to the guard as the iron gate swung open. “Look in the glovebox.”
Inside, among a few other items, Simon found a USB memory stick and the Gentech ID badge he’d copied while assisting Libby’s mission.
Simon held up the memory stick. “What’s this? Are we adding or extracting?”
Jack shrugged. “My op-specs said not to open it.”
“So what?”
“So I follow orders, and you should, too. That stick has wifi capability. My handler will receive an alert the moment it’s plugged in.”
“Live a little.”
Jack ignored him and continued issuing instructions. “You’re the nephew of Barrett Lyle. She’s the only European working at the lab, so she’s the one we’re going with.”
“Is she even English? We don’t all sound alike, you know,” Simon said, mildly insulted. “And what should I do if she’s there?”
“Gentech is closed on Sundays. You won’t run into your aunt.”
Twenty minutes later the boys pulled into the deserted parking lot of Gentech Labcorp, a sleek ten-story building with loads of dark, tinted glass and brushed stainless steel.
Jack parked the car and handed Simon his comms. “Your distress word is tumble. If you get caught, say the word and I’ll pull the fire alarm.”
“You’ve nothing to worry about. I do this sort of thing all the time.”
Simon crossed the lot and pulled open the glass doors leading into the bright lobby. The security guard looked up from his station, situated in the center of the atrium.
“Can I help you, son?”
“Yeah, I hope so. My aunt works upstairs, fifth floor. Friday afternoon she forgot her briefcase. The problem is she’s driven to Tucson for the week, but her medication is in her bag.” Simon patted his heart a few times. “It’s her ticker. I told her, just go to the emergency room and get a new prescription. She spent the next twenty minutes lecturing me on patient abuse of emergency rooms.” Simon raised his voice an octave, mimicking his imaginary aunt. “ ‘They’re not drugstores, Nigel! This is why healthcare costs so much. People taking advantage of the system.’ ” He rolled his eyes. “ ‘All right, Auntie,’ I said. ‘I’ll pop round to your office and fetch your bag.’ ” Simon checked his watch. “So I get to spend my Sunday afternoon driving to Tucson because my aunt can’t be bothered to trouble an actual physician. What are they paid for, that’s my question. Am I right?”
The guard nodded once. “What’s your aunt’s name?”
“Barrett Lyle. You know her? Not the warmest woman in the world.”
“I thought she was German.”
“Marriage relations,” Simon said. The man hesitated and Simon shrugged. “Know what? That’s fine. Can I borrow your phone? I’ll ring from here and let her know you’re not able to send me upstairs. It’ll save me the drive to Tucson, and I still get credit for making an effort. That’s what I call a win-win.” He moved toward the desk and reached for the phone. “What’s your name then? Cause she’ll want to know. And brace yourself for her fury. But no matter what she says, I’m on your side. When she complains to your boss, I’ll tell him it wasn’t your fault.”
The guard rested his hand over the receiver and sighed. “Go ahead. The elevators are down that hall. You have the keys to her office?”
“Sure do. Thanks, mate. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Simon speed-walked to the lift. As the doors closed, he touched his comms. “Boy Scout, I’m in.”
“Copy, Mako. Take the elevator to the fifth floor, then the stairwell up to seven. That’s where the mainframe is stored. Over.”
The doors opened, and Simon stepped into the darkened hallway. He followed the exit signs to the stairwell, then jogged up the steps to the seventh floor.
The room that housed the server took up half the floor. Simon swiped his ID badge through the security lock. Inside the darkened, windowless room, the bank of computers glowed with soft greens and blues. It wasn’t much light, but enough to navigate the area.
He searched the equipment until he found the section labeled BACKUP. His instructions dictated that he plug in the USB drive here, as it likely wouldn’t be noticed before Jack could destroy the evidence. Simon inserted the drive and waited for the tiny green light, indicating that he’d properly placed the device.
A few seconds later, he was back in the hall, racing toward the stairwell. On the fifth-floor landing, he pushed through the door and sprinted back to the lift.
A minute later the doors opened into the lobby. Simon thrust his hands in his pockets and whistled as he stepped from the cabin. “Thanks again,” he said, moving quickly toward the door.
“Wait,” the guard ordered.
Simon froze. Tumble. How to work that into a sentence? He turned toward the man and smiled. “Yes?”
The guard narrowed his eyes. “Where’s the briefcase?”
“Ah.” Simon pulled a prescription bottle from his pocket and gave it a shake. The breath mints rattled against the plastic. “This is really all she needs. If she wants something else, she can get it herself.”
Nadia tossed her blanket aside. She had no intention of heeding Damon’s instructions to study the handcuffs. Instead, she scrambled out of bed and followed
him into a narrow hallway. Ten steps later the hall opened into a kitchenette and dining room—they were in a trailer. She scanned the surfaces for weapons: a coffee pot, a flashlight, a box of matches. Nothing heavy enough to knock him out—just heavy enough to piss him off.
Without asking she opened the window over the tiny kitchen sink to survey the landscape, trying to assess her location. The sun, almost directly overhead, reflected off the native cacti and low-growing bushes of the Sonoran Desert, so she knew he hadn’t taken her too far from school. The trailer, parked in a small clearing, appeared to be isolated. “Where are we?”
“Off the grid.” Damon turned on the light over the kitchen sink.
“Then how do you have electricity?”
“Gas-powered generator.”
Tacked to the wood-paneled walls were photographs, memos, sticky notes, shards of maps. The worn linoleum floor peeled up at the corners. Across from the kitchenette was a small dining table piled with papers. Damon sat on one of the attached benches. He slid open the window above the table, then unrolled a USCG topographical map and studied the terrain.
Two pictures taped to the refrigerator grabbed her attention. The first was Professor Hayden, wearing a baseball hat and dark sunglasses. A thick black X had been drawn across his face. She didn’t recognize the man in the second photo. “Who’s this?”
Without looking, Damon answered, “That’s Roberts.”
Agent Roberts, the head of the Nighthawks. The man who’d tried to frame her for treason.
“By the way, this is for you,” Damon said. In his extended hand rested a tiny metal key. “It’s for the cuffs.”
She took the key, a small cylinder with a short, blunt right angle at the very end. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Look at it, that’s what. You didn’t bother looking at the angle of the safety pin, did you? That was lesson number two. Here’s lesson number three.” He grabbed the bottle of water sitting on the table across from his seat, then tossed it to her.
“How stupid do you think I am?” She hurled the bottle back at him, even though her mouth felt like sandpaper. Maybe the tap water was drinkable.
Damon caught it in midair. He sighed and handed it back. “Check the seal. It’s not broken.”
Nadia examined the intact seal, then started to twist off the cap.
“Squeeze it first,” he said.
“What?”
“Squeeze the bottle.”
Her eyes narrowed, studying him. “Why?”
“Check for syringe holes. In the future, your next move would be to wet your lips and wait for half an hour. If they tingle or start to turn numb, it’s poisoned.” He turned back to his map. “But don’t worry, you’re of little use to me dead. At this point, anyway.”
Nadia cracked open the bottle and took a long drink, annoyed that Damon’s lessons interested her. She leaned against the refrigerator and crossed her arms. “You said you had proof that my dad’s CIA.”
Damon glanced up. “Operation Cyprus.”
She shrugged. “What’s that?”
“Operation Cyprus is the file you get to read after we’ve completed our mission.”
Nadia scoffed. “I knew it. You don’t have anything. You forged the recruit file.”
“I didn’t. And as soon as we get back I’ll prove it.”
“Why do I have to wait?”
“Because I need you to focus on the mission in front of us and not be thinking about your dad.”
“I can often hold up to two thoughts in my head at once,” she said, glaring at him.
Damon leaned to the side and pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. He held it out to her.
“What’s that?”
He averted his gaze as a shadow crossed his face.
Nadia took the paper—a folded photograph. She slid into the bench seat across from him and unfolded the picture. The woman, dark brown skin, black hair, tear-stained cheeks, gripped a newspaper as she stared blankly into the camera.
Nadia’s stomach churned. Damon’s mom.
She glanced at him. His eyes were on the map spread across the table, but his shallow breath led her to believe his thoughts were with the picture. She tried to ignore the sudden surge of compassion she felt toward him. After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry this happened to her.”
He looked up. “If you don’t help me, it’ll be your mom next.”
Anger flashed around her heart. She slammed her hand on the table. “Do not threaten me.”
Damon’s mouth tightened as his nostrils flared. “It is not a threat. It is a fact. And just to clarify, I’m not the one endangering her. You are.”
“What are you talking about?”
He rubbed his face with both hands. After a moment he asked, “Have you ever heard of Project Genesis?”
Nadia shook her head.
“Basically, it’s a GPS for DNA. Upload your target’s genetic fingerprint, and a satellite locates them anywhere on the planet. After that, a guided missile takes them out. Roberts wants Project Genesis. He tried to steal it—remember the bombing last month in Northern Virginia?”
She nodded. “Yeah, Libby’s dad mentioned it when he made his big announcement.”
“Exactly. That’s where they’re developing Project Genesis. And it’s only a matter of time until Roberts gets his hands on the technology.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“You know the DNA samples Dr. Cameron collects from all the recruits? He destroys the physical sample, but our sequence is kept in a database. Since we’re minors, the student database is housed on campus. When we turn eighteen, a copy of our DNA is sent to CIADIS to be stored with all the other CIA officers.”
“What’s CIADIS?” she asked.
“CIADIS is the genome encyclopedia of the entire Central Intelligence Agency. The DNA database of everyone who works for the CIA.”
“And that’s stored at Langley? At CIA headquarters?”
“No, actually. CIADIS is housed at a biomedical data storage facility in Phoenix, called Gentech Labcorp. But that’s irrelevant, because you can access the student database and delete our DNA before it’s uploaded to the main server.”
“Why don’t you just break onto campus and do it yourself?”
He shook his head. “Won’t do me any good. You’re the only one who can get to it.”
“What makes you think I can get to it?”
“It’s in the weapons room at the dojo.”
She frowned. “Why would the database be in the weapons room?” Damon, evidently exasperated by her stupid questions, sighed loudly. Nadia narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, are my questions annoying you? Maybe you should’ve kidnapped a smarter sidekick.”
“Yeah, well, you’re all I’ve got.” With a light nod, he added, “You’re my muscle.”
“I’m your muscle? Solid plan.”
He took a deep breath. “Do you remember last semester, the first time Sensei took us into the shooting range?” When she nodded, he said, “Did you notice the filing cabinet against the wall in the weapons room?”
“I was a little distracted by the arsenal. I just saw a bunch of weapons. What makes you think that’s the database?” she asked.
“Why would he need a filing cabinet in a weapons room? Also, it’s the most secure spot on campus.”
Nadia shook her head. “So why do I need to delete your DNA? How does that help your mother?”
“Because of Project Genesis. As long as my DNA is on file, I’m not safe. Whether the weapon is controlled by Roberts or the CIA, I’ve got a target on my back. And I want out. As soon as I rescue my mom, I’m done. She and I disappear. And destroying the student database is the only way to make that happen.” He paused for a beat. “I would also like to point out that as long as the database is intact, you’re not safe, either.”
“Me? Roberts barely knows I exist.”
He pursed his lips. “Are you willing to consider t
he possibility that your dad’s recruit file is real?”
“Not at all. You’ve shown me zero evidence. And where did you supposedly get that file?”
“I found a zip drive that belonged to Roberts. He had the file on your dad. I just printed you a copy. Try to make that one of the two thoughts you can hold in your head at any given time, because that information will be extremely relevant in a few hours.” He paused. “Just for argument’s sake, pretend your dad’s file is legit. If Roberts can get to my DNA in the student database, he can get to yours, too—and your dad’s. And if he can find you and your dad, he can probably find your mom.” Damon held up the picture of his mother. “That’s what I meant when I said your mom might be next.”
A stab of fear pierced her heart. He made a valid point. But why would Roberts have a file on her dad? Why would he bother with them? She shook her head. “He doesn’t know my family, and I’m guessing he doesn’t care about any of us. He tried to set me up because I was a convenient scapegoat, not because he personally dislikes me.”
Damon opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but seemed to change his mind. He went back to his map. A minute later he looked up and leaned toward her. He locked onto her eyes. “I swear on my mother’s life that your father is CIA. The second we get back I’ll prove it, and you’ll be thanking me for letting you delete our DNA.” He sat back, resumed his work.
Nadia rested her head in her hands. Was any of this true? Could her father really be CIA? If he was, did her mom know? No, no way. Her mom wouldn’t have signed up for this kind of life, and she never would’ve allowed Nadia to join. If she found out that her husband had recruited their only child…
Nadia sighed. Why was she still considering this? If Damon had proof, he’d have shown her by now. So why couldn’t she let it go?
She leaned back in the narrow bench seat and crossed her arms. “No offense, but if you want me to break into the Academy and tamper with government-owned equipment, you need to give me a little more than just your word.”
