by Sonja Stone
He spoke softly into her ear. “I need you to calm down and listen to me. Will you do that?”
She weighed her options. Sensei taught her to escape a chokehold, but then what? In a hand-to-hand fight against Damon, she’d get her butt kicked. Maybe she could reach his gun, but did she really want to shoot him? Would she even be capable of shooting him?
He relaxed his muscles, so the chokehold turned into more of a bear hug. “Will you listen?”
Then she noticed the syringe of lidocaine, wedged along the backsplash behind the sink. “Yeah, I’ll listen.”
He released her and took a step back. “Let’s sit down. Do you want me to make some coffee or something?”
Nadia snatched the syringe from the counter. She bit off the safety cap, spun around, and plunged the needle into Damon’s chest.
He gasped and yanked out the needle. His mouth fell open as he looked from the syringe in his hand to Nadia’s face and back again. Immediately, his breathing became labored and he grabbed his throat. He half-sat, half-fell to the floor, taking sharp, strangled breaths.
She hadn’t expected to incapacitate him so quickly.
Nadia raced to the bedroom for the handcuffs. Back in the dining area, she secured one of Damon’s wrists to the table leg before dropping the EpiPen at his feet. He fumbled for the epinephrine. She yanked open the trailer door. He flailed behind her, wheezing.
Her foot hovered over the doorjamb. A second later she shut the door, crouched beside him, and administered the antidote. Nadia waited.
In less than a minute his respiration returned to normal.
Damon looked up at her. His voice weak, he said, “I’m the only person who’s ever told you the truth.” He paused for a beat. “I didn’t want to point this out because your life is already unraveling, but do you honestly think Sensei didn’t know about your dad? Or Dr. Cameron? Or the dean? Everyone lied to you. Everyone but me.”
She stood, moving out of reach.
“Wait—there’s more. If you stay, I’ll tell you the rest.”
She crossed her arms and waited.
“I lied about the student database.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Someone hired me to destroy the database—it wasn’t about my DNA. It was about someone else’s.”
She shrugged. “Yeah? Who hired you? Who was it about?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. He called himself Mr. Green. And he offered me a ton of money. Enough that I didn’t care about his real name.”
“Mr. Green? Are you kidding me?” Another stall tactic. “Goodbye, Damon.” She opened the door.
Behind her, the scrape of metal as Damon racked his gun. She turned to him.
“You know as well as I do, Nadia, I can drop you before your foot crosses that threshold. I don’t want to do it, but I will if I have to.”
Nadia stared at him. Seconds passed. The night air circled her, pushing its way into the stale room. The gun remained steady. Damon didn’t blink.
“So shoot me,” she said, and walked out the door.
In the darkened dining room, Libby gently tapped her index finger on the top of Alan’s head. “Sit up. Are you telling me that Professor Katz is your grandfather?”
Alan looked toward the ceiling. “Yes. And now he knows I rerouted a Mossad drone for Simon—”
“Why did Simon want a drone?”
“I can only assume it was to further his own investigation.”
“What investigation?”
Alan shrugged. He looked disgusted. “He has determined that an agent known as Jericho is his father. He wants Jericho’s given name. But when he saw Nadia on the video—”
“He saw Nadia?” Libby sat forward. “Where? What video? She’s not due back till tomorrow.”
He sighed loudly. “Yes, I know. The video recorded by the drone. Simon saw her shoot Jack—”
“Wait—Nadia shot Jack?” She was playing tranq-tag? That didn’t make any sense.
Alan slammed his hand on the table. “Why do you keep interrupting me?”
She cleared her throat. “I apologize. What happened? Where is Nadia? Is she here?”
“It appears that she snuck onto campus in the middle of the night and shot Jack by the back gate. That is all I know.”
“Come on then,” Libby said, dragging Alan across the dining room to the main entrance, which faced the back wall. She shoved open the terrace door and herded Alan toward the gate: the alleged scene of the crime. “Tell me everything that happened.”
Alan sighed heavily. “Jack and Nadia were somewhere in this area.”
“Here?” Libby asked, situating herself.
“No, more like here.” Alan led her to the correct spot. “You be Nadia, I will be Jack. He grabbed her right arm—” Alan grabbed Libby’s arm. “And she wrenched it away.” He paused and stared at Libby, gesturing with his head to her arm.
Libby rolled her eyes and yanked her wrist free.
“Then she threw him to the ground….” Alan paused as he eased himself onto the desert floor. “And shot him twice in the stomach.” He stood and brushed himself off. “It happened very quickly. It really was quite impressive. Then the drone moved on.”
Libby frowned. “Why would she do that?”
“Perhaps she finally came to her senses?”
She shot Alan a look. “Was she alone?”
“I believe so.”
“So the gate was open?”
Alan paused. “No, now that you mention it, it was not.”
“That wall’s ten feet high. Nadia’s five three.”
“So?”
“So how’d she get in?” Libby asked. Nadia couldn’t have scaled the wall by herself, but where had her accomplice been? Why hadn’t Alan’s drone captured anyone else?
Libby turned around, her back to the wall. She pictured Jack walking up, interrupting the jailbreak, slowing Nadia down. If someone had assisted Nadia from the far side of the wall, Jack would’ve seen them. The person would’ve been waiting on top of the wall, ready to hoist her up. So whoever helped her escape had also been on campus.
Was this part of Nadia’s mock mission? An assignment issued by Dean Shepard? There had to be an explanation. Why would she sneak onto campus just to shoot Jack? She hadn’t been that upset about the breakup.
Libby scanned the area, searching for anything out of place. Between her OCD and the forensics training, she ought to figure something out. Besides the chaparral bushes along the back wall, the area was clear.
The bushes.
Libby walked along the wall toward the chaparral. As she closed in, the clue revealed itself like a neon light. The tiny plants growing in the shade of the bush had been crushed. She crouched against the wall and looked back at the clearing. From this spot, Nadia’s accomplice would’ve remained completely out of sight. “Alan, over here. Look at this.”
Alan meandered toward the bushes. “What am I looking at?”
She pointed under the chaparral. “The disturbed earth. Someone was here.”
He shook his head. “I do not see disturbed earth.”
“Right here—it’s plain as the nose on your face.” Her eyes trailed along the top of the wall until they reached the vacant camera mount.
Simon’s video held the key.
Libby stood. “I wanna speak to Simon.”
“I appreciate your loyalty, but I have bigger problems than my roommate.”
“Alan.” She leaned toward him. “It’s not for you.”
Alan frowned. “Fine. I believe he is in our room.”
Libby stayed on his heels as they left the back wall and rushed down the hill to the boys’ dorm. At the entrance, she said, “Tell him to bring his laptop. I intend to watch that video.”
A few minutes later, Alan reemerged from the hallway, Simon in tow.
“Hello, love. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“You know perfectly well why I’m here. Show it to me.”
/> “I can’t do that,” Simon answered. “Your roommate has committed a crime. I have a civic responsibility to relinquish the film to Dean Shepard.”
Libby stepped forward. Simon stood a few inches taller, but not so much that she couldn’t look in his eyes. Alan was easy to manipulate; Simon would not be. She considered her best play. Flattery? Blackmail? Bribery? Then it came to her.
Smiling sweetly, she began. “Simon, as you know, my daddy might well be the next President of the United States. I would like you to take a moment to consider the implications of what it might mean for you personally if the daughter of the president was in your debt.”
Simon’s poker face revealed nothing, but Libby knew he was smart enough to use his tiny little fish—the video he’d acquired—as bait, and not as his entrée.
“Looks, cunning, and a crooked moral compass? Darling, if I weren’t gay, you would be my dream girl,” Simon said.
“Wait—you are gay?” Alan asked.
“Of course I’m gay. You didn’t know that?”
“Simon,” Libby said sharply. “Do we have a deal?”
Simon pursed his lips, exhaled loudly, and nodded. “The terms are satisfactory. I’ll fetch my laptop.”
Four minutes later the trio sat huddled on the sofa in the boys’ lobby. Simon zoomed in on the footage to get a close-up of the scene. The detail was remarkable, even in the dark of night. Libby watched as Nadia threw Jack to the ground. As he lay in the dirt, she pulled her weapon and fired into his stomach.
“There you have it,” Simon said. “Guilty as sin.”
Libby shot him a look before she remembered he was doing her a favor. She relaxed her face and asked, “Does it show her leaving campus?”
Simon shook his head. “It flew away before that. We had a few technical difficulties.” He glared at Alan.
“Can you run it through an infrared filter?” Libby asked.
“I might be able to. Let me see.” Simon fiddled with the settings.
Libby turned to Alan. “Go get Jack.”
“A ‘please’ would not be unwelcome,” Alan mumbled as he left the lobby.
“I think it’s ready,” Simon said.
“Lemme see.” Libby didn’t dare so much as blink as Simon played the video.
I knew it! That same thrill of excitement rolled through her as her suspicions were confirmed. “Did you see it?” she asked breathlessly.
“See what?” Simon asked, rewinding the file.
“Wait a second,” Libby instructed. “Here they come.”
The boys emerged from the hallway and Jack asked, “What do you need? I have a splitting headache.”
“What happened last night?” Libby asked.
“I don’t remember.”
“You lied for her, didn’t you?” she whispered.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lying was totally out of character for Jack. If he’d lied to the dean, that meant Nadia was in serious trouble. “Did you know she wasn’t alone?”
The color drained from Jack’s face. “What?” He sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of Libby. “How do you know that?”
“Simon has a video. Someone else was there, hiding in the bushes along the back wall. The video doesn’t show the other guy, but it proves she wasn’t alone.” She elbowed Simon. “Go on.”
Through the infrared filter, they watched the video. Jack’s torso glowed red, his limbs bright orange, indicating normal, relaxed blood flow. Nadia, however, cast an entirely different heat signature. Her arms were blue and her fingers black, which meant her heat was concentrated in her core. A sure-fire sign of fear.
“Watch.” Libby leaned closer to the laptop and held her breath.
Jack grabbed Nadia; she pulled away. And right before she threw him to the ground, a tiny flash of light hit Jack’s body. “There—did you see?” She tapped her fingernail against the monitor. “Simon, go back.”
He rewound and played the film frame by frame. “You couldn’t counter her throw?” he asked Jack.
“She’s very quick,” Jack snapped.
Just before Nadia moved in, a beam of red light hit Jack’s left flank.
“You guys saw that, right?” Libby asked, her eyes jumping from Simon to Alan to Jack. “Right?”
“I saw it,” Jack said.
“There’s a scope trained on you,” Libby said.
“Yeah, I said I saw it.” He asked Simon, “Can you zoom out to cover the whole area?”
Simon complied, and they watched the scene again. Another heat signature appeared on screen, red and orange and larger than Nadia, tucked behind the bushes along the back wall. Perfectly relaxed.
Simon froze the frame and nodded at Libby. “You were right, love.”
“Who is that?” Alan asked.
“That’s gotta be Damon, right?” Jack asked quietly.
Libby sat back and crossed her arms. “Well, Jack,” she said, not bothering to hide her satisfaction. “It seems that, once again, Nadia saved your life.”
Nadia slammed the door to the trailer, silencing Damon’s threats. Fury had replaced the lingering fatigue of the past few days, and she took off in a dead sprint. She knew the general direction of the road, and this patch of desert was barren enough that the waning moon provided sufficient light. Cold air pulled into her nostrils, energizing her.
Any remaining sentiment she’d had toward Damon had vanished when he admitted the hostage exchange. Every word out of his mouth was a calculated lie, a manipulation. He’d had the nerve to put his arms around her, to touch his lips to her skin.
Less than a mile later, she realized her pace was unsustainable. She slowed to a brisk jog.
As her feet pounded against the packed earth, she wondered about Jack, about how long he’d been stranded in the cold, unconscious by the back wall. Had he realized yet that she’d been protecting him? Or did he hate her—did he think she’d betrayed him, her school, her country?
Trusting Damon had been a mistake, and she had no one but herself to blame. But getting romantically involved with Jack had also demonstrated poor judgment. It was easy to make promises when nothing was on the line. But she’d learned last semester where his loyalties lay, and they weren’t with her.
Another half mile found her speed-walking. She cursed herself for forgetting the water—and not grabbing the backpack with Damon’s files. Or his knife, for that matter.
I can’t believe I trusted him.
Panting now, she slowed again.
What had he meant about her being more of a pawn than she thought? Nothing, probably; he was trying to get inside her head. Pique her curiosity so she’d stay and help. She was his pawn. Going along with his plan, thinking her parents’ lives were at stake. She’d believed they were in mortal danger, and she would’ve done anything to protect them. She did, in fact—she committed treason. Consorting with a known traitor, destroying CIA property.
Nadia stopped walking. She would’ve done anything.
Just like Damon and his mother.
She leaned forward onto her knees and extended her exhales to slow her pounding heart.
Damon had broken the law to protect his mother; Nadia had broken the law to protect her parents. To achieve his goal, he’d lied to Nadia. To achieve hers, she’d lied to Jack. She had no moral high ground on which to stand.
She looked back. The distant silhouette of the trailer cast a black rectangle against the inky horizon. She couldn’t assist in his mother’s rescue without further committing treason, and there was no way she would voluntarily surrender to Roberts, but she could at least help Damon formulate a plan. But should she?
Her eyes searched the sky, as though answers could be found in the ocean of stars overhead. He didn’t deserve her help.
But maybe his mother did. Nadia knew what it felt like to be used by the Nighthawks.
She groaned out loud and started back toward the trailer.
Ten steps later a conc
ussive boom vibrated through her body. A fraction of a second after that, a blast of heat reached her skin. Fifty yards in front of her, flaming debris rained down onto the desert floor.
When the sky cleared, she searched the horizon. The black rectangle had morphed into a raging bonfire.
The explosion had obliterated the trailer.
* * *
—
Nadia wandered through the desert, moving away from the explosion, until she found a paved road. She trudged for hours before spotting a car. Once again berating herself for not grabbing a knife on the way out, she flagged down the driver. The car stopped, and she tentatively approached the passenger side. To her relief, two women occupied the vehicle.
She lied about a hike gone wrong and asked for a ride to the nearest gas station. Forty minutes later she placed a collect call to the switchboard at Desert Mountain Academy.
“Code name?” the operator asked.
“Wolverine,” Nadia said.
“Please hold while I connect you.”
After a few seconds a man picked up. “Yes?”
“I need someone to come get me.”
“Location?”
“I don’t know.” She turned around to read the storefront. “Mike’s Quick Stop.”
“We’ll be there in a few hours. Sit tight.”
Nadia waited on the curb, arms wrapped around her knees, as far from the door as she could manage. To distract herself, she tried to decipher the numeric code written on the envelope beneath her father’s code name. The numbers floated to the sky, jumbled together; she couldn’t concentrate enough to attach any meaning.
Behind her closed eyes she saw the flash of the explosion, the trails of orange and red as the fiery debris rained down from the sky.
There was no way he survived that explosion. Not after she injected him with lidocaine, weakened him, restrained him. If she hadn’t left the trailer when she did, she wouldn’t have survived, either.
Nadia pushed the images aside. Launching herself off the curb, she paced rapidly alongside the building. She just wanted to go home.
It took her a second to realize that home meant school. She wanted to go back to school.
* * *
