by Josie Brown
Dominic’s face turns a ghostly pallor. “But…I’m on…”
His voice fades as he reaches for his phone, taps one of its many apps and hits the delete button. Glaring at Emma, he mutters, “Thanks for the suggestion.”
She waves away his pout. “Hush! Arnie is just now getting to the good part!”
It should be interesting to see what Emma considers “the good part.” I hope it’s not some macabre description of Carlton’s body after falling fourteen stories onto a wide boulevard of moving traffic.
Arnie exclaims, “After grabbing the creep’s assistant and a couple of security guards, I walk in just in time to see Donna manhandling said creep—”
“That’s interesting.” We turn to see Ryan standing in the doorway.
“It was self-defense. He ‘woman-handled’ me first!” I retort.
He frowns at me. “How?”
I shrug. “In the, er, chestical area.”
Ryan flinches. “And how did you, er, retaliate?”
Before I can answer, Arnie crows, “Let’s just put it this way: he’s now singing soprano!”
While the others laugh until they cry, our boss glares in my direction—
But there’s a hint of a grin on his lips. Finally, he growls “Enough, people! Never forget: the clock is ticking!”
He’s right. We all know it.
It’s why we don’t get the chance to laugh too often.
Emma is first up: “I’ve got good news and bad. The bad news is that Jonathan must have scrubbed all traces of Horoscope from his computer.”
Ryan closes his eyes, as if it’s all a bad dream. When he finally opens them, he says, “Hit us with the good news.”
“For some reason, he read his horoscope every day since he left college—always from a website called ‘Signs of the Times.’ He archived them on his computer. My guess: word codes were used.”
“Then there has to be a cipher key,” Ryan replies.
“I’m still searching for it through Jonathan’s files,” Emma admits. “In the meantime, I’ve got the ComInt team working on another way to decipher it.”
Ryan turns to Abu. “Any luck with the mention of Horoscope on Robert Martin’s computer?”
Abu frowns. “I only wish he had used the word, ‘Horoscope!’ Interestingly enough, Robert’s files don’t have names, just alphanumeric labels. I’m going through them one-by-one. I started back fifteen years ago.”
“What are you using as search criteria?” I ask.
Abu shrugs. “It’s a short list. The words missile and satellite, which is in at least half of the files. I’ve also got Jonathan Presley’s first and last names on the list. But because of his role as chief engineer, he’s mentioned in practically all the files.”
Ryan nods. “I know it’s arduous work. Just keep at it, and thanks.” He ignores Arnie’s hand-waving, barking, “Dominic, you’re up.”
Our resident Brit shrugs. “Frankly, Chief, I’ve also hit a brick wall. There is no trace of an astrology class taught at Stanford during Jonathan’s senior year.”
“But how could that be?” I ask.
“The school thought it strange as well,” Dominic admits. “In fact, I had the archivist pull up Jonathan’s class schedule for his senior year. He needed five during that last semester to graduate. Sadly, none of the courses was astrology.”
“Let me see it,” Emma insists. “We live in California. Esoteric names are used all the time here to sell boring classes as something that might be fun or interesting.”
With a drawn-out sigh, Dominic hands her the schedule printout.
I look over Emma’s shoulder and scan it for any class name that could pass as an elective…
Darn it, Dominic is right! Five courses are listed. Three are specific to the Computer Science curriculum: Theory, Biocomputation, and Information. The only elective course was Film Noir.
Jonathan’s only other course was a corporate internship.
In other words, no astrology class. Was his letter to Robert a hoax of some sort?
Resigned to the inevitable, reluctantly Ryan nods at Arnie. “Okay, fill us in on Operation Flame.”
“Finally!” Arnie exclaims. “Okay, so, yeah: we were very productive yesterday!”
He looks over at me for validation.
I give him a thumbs-up.
“First off, I located the malware that set off the nationwide grid surges.” He pumps his fist.
I shake my head.
“Then, it hit me: even if Donna’s bud, McHandsy—“
“Please don’t call him ‘my bud,’” I mutter.
Arnie’s fig leaf to me is a bow. “Right. My bad. As I was saying, then it came to me: considering the scope of the surge, it had to come from a centralized location. Hence, Thunderbolt—the company that provides operational services to all of our nation’s utility companies!” Arnie licks his index finger and taps air with it.
“Don’t get cocky,” I warn him.
He frowns. “Yeah, okay. So then, Donna hears that the CEO is on the roof, and she goes rogue—but in a good way.” He bows to me. “I cede the floor.”
“Arnie’s deductions led us to the bad actors who initiated Operation Flame,” I begin. “And he’s right: Flame was a diversion for a bigger crisis: Operation Horoscope.”
Dominic’s brow furrows. “The two are connected? How so?”
“As you already know, Carlton Miller admitted to espionage. Like Presley, he met Lilith at Stanford—like Jonathan, in an astrology class. Carlton was Pisces. And, like Presley, he had an affair with Lilith. He was jealous enough to hack her emails. He learned that she was also having affairs with at least three other men in the class, also engineers. He gave me their first names only: Lawrence was the Capricorn in the class, Howard was Aries, and Tommy was Libra. According to Carlton, the first two have had confirmed deaths. He claimed that Tommy died too, although a body was never found.”
“Considering who we’re dealing with, that doesn’t surprise me,” Ryan mutters.
He walks over to the room’s whiteboard and writes their names on it, along with the others we’ve identified:
Lilith - Taurus (Presumed Alive)
Jonathan Presley - Gemini (Deceased; confirmed)
Carlton Miller - Pisces (Deceased; confirmed)
Lawrence - Capricorn (Deceased; confirmed)
Howard - Aries (Deceased; confirmed)
Tommy - Libra (Deceased; to be confirmed)
Leo?
Cancer?
Aquarius?
Virgo?
Sagittarius?
Scorpio?
“Do we know what role these last three confirmed names played in Horoscope if any?” Abu asks.
“If Carlton knew, he didn’t say. But he insisted Lilith was behind their deaths.” I shrug. “Considering how high he was, it’s hard to say if anything he told me has any veracity.”
“Emma, run those names and iterations of them in Stanford’s alumni database: same graduation year as Presley, and also engineering, science, or computer majors. We’ll need their class schedules and anything else that will help us piece together this puzzle in a more timely fashion.”
She nods.
“We still haven’t identified the last six classmates,” Dominic points out.
Ryan grimaces. “And until we do, we’ll all be combing through Robert and Jonathan’s computers in the hope that we locate some intel on Horoscope’s sabotage. Arnie, I want you and Dominic to work with Abu on Robert Martin’s data.”
“O…kay.” Arnie grimaces.
I don’t blame him for being disappointed that he’s being pulled back onto a desk. He enjoys being in the field. His versatility makes him a wonderful asset. I’ll thank him for his quick thinking with a chicken potpie. He once hinted it was his favorite casserole.
“Donna and Emma will do the same with Presley’s data,” Ryan commands.
Dammit! Depending on how long he keeps me desk-ridden, I may have to
drown my sorrows in a potpie too.
As the others head out the door, I raise my hand. “Boss, can we have a word in private?”
Ryan nods.
Emma closes the door behind us.
“Jack mentioned he cleared his mission with you, so I assume you already know that his assignment is to find and exterminate Lilith.”
Ryan gives me the slightest of nods.
“Just how long is Jack going to be on special assignment to POTUS?” I ask.
As if warding off evil, Ryan crosses his arms at his chest. My question has put him on the defensive. “I think you already know the answer to that: either until POTUS releases him or he accomplishes the mission.”
“Maybe it would go faster if he had a little help.” I smile sweetly.
“If you’re asking to be released to tag team with your husband on POTUS’s boondoggle, my answer is a loud and emphatic ‘like hell that will ever happen.’ We’re shorthanded enough as is! You know that.”
I nod to let him know I’m duly chastised, yadda yadda, whatever. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. I should stay put. I guess his radio silence has me worried.” I shrug. “But I’m relieved that you’ve got eyes and ears on him.”
He looks me in the eye. “Who says I do?”
“When I suggested to Jack that it might be a good idea, he agreed.” Here’s hoping my poker face is as good as Ryan’s.
Without blinking, he declares, “I will neither confirm nor deny your supposition.”
I take that as an affirmative.
But I also get the point that he’s not giving me permission to see what’s happening with Jack.
Angrily, I turn to leave. I’m halfway to the door when he says, “Donna, you’re going to have to trust me on this one. Wait for the post-mission report.”
Like hell, I will.
What at the heck? We’ve spent the past three hours slogging through Presley’s files, and Emma still has a smile on her face! Crossly, I ask, “What are you so happy about?”
“Oh…nothing.” She blushes. “Okay, well, to tell you the truth, I’m so proud of Arnie!”
“You should be,” I admit. “He was really thinking on his feet out there. In fact, I’ve thought of the perfect way to thank him: I’m making him a potpie.”
“He’ll love that!” She giggles. “I, um, thanked him too.”
“Not with a potpie, I’ll wager.”
“Hardly!” Her eyes sparkle. “But he appreciated it all the same,” she adds happily. “He came home so—so energized!”
“I hear ya. Fieldwork is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Nothing kicks up the ol’ adrenaline like running for your life.” At that moment, a thought occurs to me. I drop my lips into a pout. “It’s why I miss Jack so much when he’s on a solo mission.” I look down into my lap, as if bereft.
Emma grabs my hand. “Oh—Donna! I’m so sorry! Believe me, I’d be worried all the time about Arnie if I wasn’t the one with eyes and ears on him when he’s in the field.”
I nod slowly. “Jack is up against a dangerous operative. If anything happened to him and I had to wait to hear about it…” I let my voice trail off before tossing in a few sniffles.
Emma frowns. “You know if it were up to me I’d let you see what’s going on. But Ryan gave me strict orders.”
I nod as I wipe away a tear. I had to bite my tongue to get it. But hey, it works every time.
Five minutes of my silence is all Emma can stand. She taps me on the shoulder. “I’ve got to go powder my nose. Do me a favor and stay away from my computer screen.” She gives me a wink as she saunters off.
Ryan is right. I don’t like what I see.
Jack has just walked into some coffee shop. Because its security footage is intercut with his video lens feed, I feel as if I’m watching a movie.
Anyone else would consider it a rom-com. For me, it’s a horror flick.
I barely recognize him because his hair is streaked gray and combed straight back. He wears wire-rimmed glasses. Whereas his clothes—suits, jeans, or tuxedos—are usually custom-made to fit his body like a glove, what he wears now hangs loosely on him: khakis and a blue button-down shirt under a sweater vest. It ages him by at least ten years, maybe more.
A woman, sitting at a corner table, waves to him. Fortyish, she wears the years quite well. Her hair is pulled back into a bun. Her glasses, large-framed, sit at the edge of her nose. Her breasts are full, but the arm raised to catch his attention doesn’t sag.
So this is Lilith.
She is pretty, but she’s not the femme fatale I imagined. Maybe that is part of her charm.
After walking over, he gives her a peck on her cheek. Sweet.
Not.
Flirtatious phrases are bandied around. Jack teases her for keeping him, now apparently one of her students, after class.
She says she hopes he makes it worth her while. “My time is very valuable. I can’t waste it on someone not willing to make the grade.” This taunt comes with a wink.
“If you’ve got a syllabus I can study, I promise you I won’t disappoint.” His right hand, resting casually on the table, is close enough for his pinky to stroke hers.
Her eyes flutter appreciatively.
As he leans in for a kiss, she doesn’t pull back.
When they part, she’s smiling. With a playful shrug, she whispers seductively, “I’m sure I have an extra syllabus in my apartment if you care to follow me there.”
As they walk out, Jack puts his arm around her.
When the video picks up again, the point-of-view is specifically through Jack’s eyes.
When his face is inches from hers, I know he’s kissing her.
When he shoves her against a wall, her bun loosens, and her hair falls in coils around her shoulders.
During the frenzied motions that come with a desire to disrobe as quickly as possible, Jack’s eyes synchronize with his hands. Because her dress unzips at the back, he must turn her over so that she faces the wall. In the process, she drops her purse. Feeling the zipper journey downward, she arches her back.
When Jack strips Lilith of her dress, she places her hands up against the wall. Anticipation lifts her onto her toes.
As his mouth and hands move over her naked body, Lilith’s lusty moans are a great tipoff that he’s hitting all the right pressure points.
“Please,” she moans, “Now…”
He’s ready to give it to her all right. He places his thumb on the tiny syringe in his right hand. My guess: It contains enough aconite to stop her heart.
All it takes is one jab—
But there’s a knock at the door.
Really, someone is pounding on it.
Jack hides the syringe behind his back. At the same time that Lilith lurches away from the wall to grab the dress that has fallen to the floor.
As she wriggles back into it, Jack whispers, “Don’t answer it!”
“You don’t understand! I have to!” She is still wrestling with the zipper as she hurries to the door.
She doesn’t open it all the way, so Jack can’t see who is there. Their voices are too muffled to hear what’s being said.
When she heads back to Jack, she has left the door open just a crack. Ashamed, she says, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to go.”
“But…” His exasperation is real.
She puts a finger on his lips to silence him. “It’s…a family emergency. I’ll see you in class on Friday, okay?”
She seals this commitment with a long kiss.
When they pull away, she nudges him toward the kitchen. “Do me a favor and go out this way, okay?”
Without another word, Jack does as she asks.
The kitchen door leads out onto an alley. It circles back around to the street in front of Lilith’s apartment. But by the time he runs back around to her front door, it’s already shut.
Her guest is now inside with her.
Jack curses this change of events. Finally, he says, “Emma, Lilith’s buil
ding has surveillance. Keep your eye on the one closest to her so that we see who went in. Maybe we can catch them on the way out too.”
“Are you going to stick around?” I hear Emma ask.
“Yeah—at least for a couple of hours. Who knows? Maybe I left her horny enough to let me back in.”
At that second the video goes black.
What the…
A finger has tapped the computer’s OFF button.
Ryan’s finger.
His face looks as if it’s carved in granite. “Out. Now.”
“But I—”
“Yes, I saw what you did—disobeyed a direct order.” His growl is low but firm. “For that, you’re suspended until further notice.”
“But…we’re undermanned as is! You’ll need me to—”
“You’re right Donna. I do need you.” Suddenly, Ryan smiles. “You’ll work from home. Emma will send you a password that will get you into the files that need to be scanned—and only those files. You’ll be locked out of everything else.” He waves toward the door. “Have a splendid week.”
11
Rulership
[Donna’s horoscope today]
* * *
Great news! Your ruling planet is moving into its domicile!
What does this mean for you? All great things—
As long as you ignore any of those disturbing tendencies that usually set you back.
For example: You are such a worrywart! What is UP with that, sister? Don’t you know? If you let the bothersome things go, good karma will flow!
This includes any and all emotional attachments. Remember out of sight, out of mind. (That goes double for your missing mister!)
Heed these words, and your success will be out of this world!
“Mom…MOM! AGGGHHHH! Mrs. Bing is on the phone—again!” Trisha has every right to be annoyed. It’s the third call Penelope has made today. And since Trisha is not yet allowed her own cell phone, the house phone is her lifeline to the outside world—in this case, Janie Chiffray and the latest local heartthrob sighting.
