by Sonja Stone
Jack stepped toward her. “I never came back to campus during a solo.”
“Yeah, Dean Shepard’s changing things up, I guess.”
“What’s the assignment?”
“I can’t really talk about it—you understand. Listen, I have to go. We’ll catch up when I get back, okay?”
Jack took her arm as his eyes searched her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just really tired.” She gently freed herself.
His eyes narrowed. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She smiled a little. “It’s just—It’s none of your business. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not allowed to talk about it. If Shepard had wanted to read you in, she would’ve. I really do have to go.”
Jack looked toward the wall. “How did you get in here?”
Nadia followed his gaze to the securely padlocked back gate. “What are you doing here?” She checked her watch—eleven minutes. “It’s almost three.”
“I was working in the documents lab. I lost track of time.”
“You must be tired, too. You’d better get going. I’ll see you later, okay?” She waved her hand gently in the direction of the dorms, hoping to usher him away.
“I really feel like something’s going on. Tell me why you’re on campus.”
Pleasantries weren’t working. Making up excuses, explaining herself—she was out of time. Plan B. She glared at him, deliberately added an edge to her voice. “Can you please—for once—mind your own business?”
His face fell. “Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“You want me to be okay? Then leave me alone. I don’t really want to talk to you.”
“Wait—what are you talking about? I still consider us good friends. Don’t you?”
Nadia shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“What did I do?”
“Seriously?” She moved forward and jabbed her finger into his chest. “You told Shepard you’d break up with me, then you lied to me about it.”
“I didn’t lie—”
“It was a lie of omission.”
“Damn, girl.” Damon’s voice crackled through the comms in her ear. “He is one cold son of a—”
“Shut up,” she snapped.
“I didn’t say anything,” Jack said. “What is wrong with you?”
“Go away,” she said.
“Come on, you know I had no choice.” He put his hand on his heart. “I didn’t want to break up with you. I’m crazy about you.”
Her heart pounded harder. If only she could tell him the truth—that a woman’s life was on the line, that every word her father had ever spoken to her was a lie, that if she didn’t complete this mission her own mother might pay the price.
But that was the thing. Lives were at stake, and she didn’t have time to explain. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
“Listen, I should’ve said this sooner, but that night at the Fall Dance—”
“Right. When you were assigned to date me so you could spy on me?”
“No, it wasn’t like that! When I’m with you, being with you—it’s like…I feel like I’ve just robbed a bank, you know? Like I’m smarter than everyone else, and the luckiest guy in the world.”
His words made her ache, but she couldn’t focus on that now. She shook her head. “You gave me up. You didn’t even fight for me.”
“That’s not fair. It was my only option. My entire future hung on this one decision.”
“And you made it. Don’t act like it’s up for discussion.”
Jack sighed. “Listen, ever since I can remember, I’ve only wanted one thing: to serve my country. Nothing has ever interfered with that goal. Until I met you. Nadia, I’m crazy about you, and that terrifies me. You’re obviously angry with me. We need to talk about this.”
A small red light flashed into view. She tried to follow it with her eyes. It flicked across his jacket sleeve and onto his left flank. Behind him and to his left, a tiny glow shone from the bushes. The light reappeared and remained stationary: the crisp red dot of Damon’s rifle scope.
Damon spoke through her comms. “We don’t have time for this jackass and his soul-searching. Get out of the way. I’m gonna take him out.”
“No!” Nadia hooked the back of her leg behind Jack’s knee, pulling his leg forward as she shoved hard against his chest. Jack fell flat on his back.
“I just…” He struggled for breath. “Wanted—to talk.”
“Nadia, move away,” Damon said into her ear. “I can’t have him following us.”
Fifteen minutes. An eternity.
Nadia pulled the tranq gun from her hip and pointed the muzzle at Jack’s torso. She hesitated.
“Tick tock,” Damon said.
“Wait, no!” Jack gasped. “What are you—”
Chirp, chirp. Two in the stomach.
Jack reached for the darts. “You shot me.” His eyes closed as his body relaxed.
Damon crawled from the bushes, his rifle slung across his back. Nadia bolted toward the wall, Damon right behind her. He hoisted her up. At the top, she lay on her stomach and extended her arm.
“You are unbelievable,” she whispered fiercely. “I told you not to bring your gun.”
Damon jumped to the far side of the wall, then held out his arms. “Come on.”
She dropped her full weight on him, knocking him to the ground.
“Get off me.” He easily pushed her to the side. “And give me that tranq gun.” Without waiting for an answer, he reached behind her and took the Beretta. “What’s done is done. He’s fine, so let’s go.”
They sprinted the half kilometer back to the car and Damon drove them into the night.
Damon drove the first few miles without headlights. When they reached the main highway, he glanced at Nadia in the passenger seat. He felt the anger thrumming out of her. “Listen,” he said. “About Jack.”
“Don’t you dare.” She spat the words.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” She turned on him. “About what, Damon? That I lied to him? That you threatened to kill him? That I had to shoot him?”
“No, I don’t care about any of that. I’m sorry he didn’t fight for you,” Damon said. “I would’ve fought for you.”
“That would carry a lot more weight if you weren’t currently blackmailing me.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “On the plus side, this turn of events eliminates the awkward love triangle we had growing between us.”
Nadia snapped her head around and Damon smiled. A tiny flicker of amusement crossed her face before she turned away. “You’re delusional. And just to be clear, I only said those things to Jack so he’d go away. I totally agree with his decision. Breaking up was the only rational option.”
“Ah, young love. Who among us hasn’t said, ‘I wish my relationship were more rational.’ ”
“Seriously, Damon, what is the matter with you? A sniper’s rifle? You have a real flair for overkill. Anyone ever tell you that?”
He shook his head. “You’re the first.”
She continued her rant. “Like with Hayden.”
“I imagine a whole lot of people wanted him dead.”
“But you took it upon yourself.”
“Here’s the thing about Hayden: I don’t like to be double-crossed. You might wanna keep that in mind.”
“Why did you bother asking for my help if you were planning to threaten me anyway?”
“You know what they say, you catch more flies with honey. But rest assured, if honey doesn’t work, I’ll use brute force.” He glanced at her. “And since when is this a blackmail scenario? I thought we were a team. You and I working together, just like old times.”
“You’re kidding, right? You won’t tell me the truth about my father until I commit acts of treason, you threatened Jack’s life—”
“Jack’s a big boy. He can take care of himsel
f.”
She settled back into the seat, crossed her arms, and glared through the side window. “You sent me that code, The Iliad, my father’s recruit file—it’s like you’re playing a game with my life. You’re toying with me.”
“I’m not toying with you. I knew you’d have to examine the evidence for yourself. And I couldn’t very well mail the file to your dorm room. Sending the book was risky enough. Why do you think I forged a Hawaiian postmark?” He shot her a look. “And what was your plan, by the way?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The tranq gun.” She didn’t answer, so he continued. “You were gonna knock me out, then force the information from me?” Still no answer. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to torture someone? It’s horrific.” He glanced at her, then back at the road. “I’m glad I spared you that experience.”
“Yeah, you’re a prince.” She turned further away.
“And I have every intention of keeping my promise. You’ll get the file.”
The mile markers ticked by, and the silence continued.
If she was this angry already, he needed a new plan. It wasn’t his fault Jack had materialized in the middle of the night. It’s not like Damon deliberately sought him out to shoot him.
He shook his head. By threatening Jack, Damon had lost a lot of ground on this mission. Appealing to Nadia’s sense of justice might no longer suffice. She wanted to know about her father, but that would only take him so far. Damon was pretty sure she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, so threats were futile. She might respond to threats to others, people she cared about—Libby, maybe. But the best motivators were revenge and money.
Or love.
If he hadn’t gotten greedy, maybe he could’ve made the exchange already. But when he got the fifty-grand down payment from Mr. Green, all Damon could think about was setting up a nest egg for himself and his mother. So he’d decided to kill two birds with one stone.
Ideally, he didn’t want to hand Nadia over to Roberts. There had to be another way. She was sharp—together they could come up with some plan where she, Damon, and his mom could all walk out of that warehouse together.
He drove through the darkness, choosing large, overlapping routes to disorient her. It turned out not to be necessary, because she fell asleep. An hour later he pulled up to the trailer.
“Hey,” he whispered, gently stroking her forehead. “Nadia.”
She woke with a start. When she saw him, a cloud passed over her face. She exhaled.
“We’re here. Are you hungry? I’ll make you breakfast.”
Nadia scowled. Her signature look. “We had a deal. You said you needed me to get into the dojo, which I did. I don’t want breakfast; I want information. Give me what you promised so I can get out of here.”
“Stop worrying.” Damon got out, circled the vehicle, and opened her door. “I’m sure I’ll have you back in time for prom.”
When he passed the plate of scrambled eggs and toast across the table, Nadia almost forgot they weren’t friends. His eyes were soft, sweet like they’d always been when he looked at her.
“I’m sorry.” His fingers brushed against hers as he offered his apology. “I know you don’t really like eggs, but I also know that you need protein in the morning or you feel sick.”
She couldn’t believe he’d remembered such a tiny detail. Silently, she ate her breakfast while Damon prepared his plate. It took him a good twenty minutes to realize she wasn’t speaking to him, which thoroughly annoyed her. Finally, after finishing his breakfast, he asked, “Is something wrong?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, something’s wrong. You pointed a gun at Jack. You were gonna kill him. I’m not okay with that.”
“I wasn’t gonna kill him.” Damon cleared their plates from the table. “I knew the second you saw the laser you’d figure out a way to get rid of him. I was just helping to motivate you.” He leaned against the sink to face her. “I wouldn’t shoot your boyfriend.”
Nadia’s gaze fell to the table. She swept a few crumbs onto the floor. “Good.”
“Even though it sounds like he’s not really your boyfriend anymore.”
“I want to see Operation Cyprus,” she said.
“First thing in the morning.”
“It is first thing in the morning.” She pointed out the window at the rising sun.
“I mean after we sleep for a few hours.” He sat down and rubbed his face. His eyes were bloodshot.
“That wasn’t our deal.” Under the table, she nudged him with her foot. “Show me the file.”
“Fine.” Damon sighed as he dragged himself up. “But then we’re cool, right?” he asked, walking to the bedroom.
“You made me shoot Jack with enough tranquilizer to stop a charging elephant,” Nadia called after him. “So no, we’re not cool.” She pictured Jack lying by the back wall, unconscious in the cold night air. Images flashed before her: his smile, his laugh…the pained expression on his face when she told him she didn’t want to speak to him anymore. Her eyes burned and she pressed her hands against them.
Compartmentalize, she told herself. It’s all just noise.
Damon retuned with his backpack and placed it on the table. “Listen, are you sure you want to see this?”
“According to you, my father lied to me about his entire life and knows a lot more about mine than he let on.” Nadia reached for the pack. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Before she made contact, he snatched the bag. “I’ll get it.” He rifled through the contents, then handed her a large manila envelope and a tactical flashlight. “You’ll need this.”
“What else is in there?”
“None of your business. I’ll give you a minute.”
She waited until he left before opening the envelope. Inside she found a black, unmarked folder. The folder contained a single sheet of blank black paper.
Sunrise had flooded the narrow space, so Nadia pulled the roller shade down over the dining room window. She clicked the black light feature on Damon’s flashlight. Words materialized in fluorescent blue. Her heart skipped as she read the name Jericho.
She scanned the document—it described a failed mission.
OPERATION CYPRUS,
CLASSIFIED: EYES ONLY
RELEVANT FILES:
OPERATIVES: Black Sheep, Archer, Jericho, Lincoln
POST-MISSION ASSIST: Nightingale
OBJECTIVE: of declared a national threat
RESULT: FAILURE. incomplete.
opted for (see file number ).
SUCCESS: Negative. MISSION FAILURE.
BLACK SHEEP: debriefed, deported.
ARCHER: compromised. No longer field-eligible.
JERICHO: requests legend for SWANDIVE.
LINCOLN: injured. Medical leave required.
NIGHTINGALE: success.
OPERATION BRIEF: acted independently and against orders. While instructed to , the of , instead the target, claiming the target can be further used as an to the United States of America. As part of the continued operation, will to . asserts with certainty that shall remain unaware of the . assures the agency that he will maintain by any means necessary, including .
Nadia turned the page over, but it was blank. “This tells me nothing,” she said aloud. She reread the document, then carefully ran the black light across the back of the page to see if she’d missed anything.
Damon opened the bathroom door and strolled back down the hall.
“This is it?” she asked. “This is all you have?”
“Are you kidding? That’s everything.” Damon picked up the black paper in front of her, then set it back down. He lifted the empty folder. “Where’s the picture?”
She frowned and double-checked the manila envelope; a photograph had slipped from the file. Nadia shook it onto the table. Three men and a woman, early twenties, and an older man standing together in front of Buckingham Palace, smiling, arms draped over each other. An old team, no doubt.
Damo
n yanked on the bottom of the roller shade covering the window. As it sprang up, light spilled into the room.
Turning her attention back to the photo, she scrutinized the team. Her father and Marcus Sloan. Standing next to Sloan were a man and woman whom Nadia didn’t recognize. But the older man…there was something familiar about his face. Her throat constricted as she placed him. A dark-haired, younger version of her new political science teacher, Professor Katz. But there was more. Why did he look so familiar—like she’d known him more than a few weeks?
Her hand flew to her mouth as she realized. Decades ago, when this picture was taken, young Professor Katz was the spitting image of Alan.
His saba.
“Right?” Damon asked.
“Do you know who this is?” Nadia asked, pointing to Katz.
“I assume it’s Alan’s grandfather. It looks just like him. Which means your dad worked with Mossad. Or Mossad worked with the CIA.”
Of course Damon hadn’t made the Katz connection; he wouldn’t know Saba was on campus. She pointed to the couple. “Who are these two?”
“I don’t know the woman, but that’s Agent Roberts.”
“What?” Nadia’s heart pounded harder. Roberts used to be on a team with her father? She looked from the picture in her hand to the one on the fridge. Now that he’d pointed it out, she could see the resemblance. “How would my dad know Agent Roberts?”
“Roberts is ex-CIA,” Damon said.
She looked out the window, across the empty desert to the low mountains on the horizon. Damon sat down across from her. She felt him watching, felt the color rise through her cheeks, felt her nostrils flare.
Nadia flipped the picture over and examined the paper, hoping for signs of forgery, though her gut said it was real. How would Damon have gotten a twenty-year-old picture of Alan’s grandfather? She felt sick to her stomach.
She stood and began pacing up and down the small trailer. “What was the mission? Operation Cyprus—what was it? It’s so redacted I can’t tell.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. Roberts is ex-CIA, and apparently, he used to work on a team with your father, Marcus Sloan, and Alan’s grandfather. That’s all I know.” After two more passes up and down the small walkway, Damon said, “Please sit down.”
