Web of Shadows

by Susan Sleeman

  He spun. She expected him to head her way, but he stayed put and ran his gaze over her, letting his eyes linger along the way. Her skin prickled under his study, and she felt her resolve slipping. She changed her focus to Ty. He leaned against the window a few feet from Quinn, nervously bouncing his foot while chewing on his lower lip. He wore baggy jeans, ratty sneakers, and a faded T-shirt that Nina suspected he’d slept in or picked up from the floor.

  She smiled in earnest. He was exactly what a little brother should be. Sloppy and adorable. The direct opposite of his well-polished sibling. She’d really missed the kid since she split up with Quinn.

  Ty suddenly looked up. The side of his mouth curved up in what might have been a smile until Quinn whispered something and Ty’s expression morphed into a plea for help.

  Quinn turned his attention back to her and took ground-eating strides across the small space. They met at the metal detector. Despite her desire to remain detached, her pulse spiked and her smile started to falter. She channeled Grandmother Hale, forcing her lips to lock in place.

  “Sorry for surprising you this way,” he said, ending with a tight smile of his own. “But I wasn’t sure you’d agree to see me if I called first.”

  Nina opened her mouth to confirm his supposition, but he held up a hand and stepped even closer, the minty soap he favored invading her space.

  “Before you tell me to take a hike, this’s about Ty, not me,” he whispered. “He’s in trouble, Nina. Big trouble this time, and I need your help to keep him out of jail.”

  He needed her help. That was rich.

  “What’s wrong? Can’t your precious SEAL team help him?” she snapped, not caring that Roger, still seated behind the glass, could hear.

  Ty’s shoulders drooped even more. She instantly regretted her outburst. But come on! How was she supposed to react? Quinn had walked out on her. Chose his team over a relationship with her. He shouldn’t be at her office asking for a favor.

  Ty took a step toward them, then stopped. Poor kid. He was caught between her and Quinn. He had been for some time. Not knowing what to do. Say. He hadn’t done anything to her and didn’t deserve this. If Quinn was right, he was in trouble. She couldn’t turn her back on him.

  She stepped over to him. “Hi, Ty,” she said, her smile spreading in genuine warmth now.

  His eyes were hidden under messy bangs that should have been cut months ago. “Can you help me, Nina?” His voice quivered, and he wrapped his arms around a waist that hadn’t a spare ounce of flesh.

  He resembled a wounded waif seeking asylum, and her heart broke. Snap, just like that, all she could think about was settling her arms around him and giving him the hug he so obviously needed. Whispering the same sweet soothing things her grandmother had said when Nina had been in her awkward teen years. Even with Quinn watching her.

  Dang. She was in over her head here. Way over her head. She should flee for her own sanity, but her feet remained riveted to the floor. She would help Ty. Had to help him.

  Not there, though. Not with Roger straining to hear their conversation. That would be akin to talking in a one-room church while the preacher hailed down fire and brimstone. Not only a sin, but a guaranteed way to ostracize yourself from the community.

  Quinn moved closer. “Will you meet with us, Nina?”

  “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

  His eyes brightened.

  “For Ty,” she quickly clarified. “Only for Ty.”

  Quinn’s jaw clenched, the muscles working hard.

  “Let’s get your passes in order.” She gestured at Roger and wished she was on the other side of the ballistic glass with him.

  The guard made quick work of registering the pair and confiscating their electronics. Then the three of them headed into the courtyard, Ty first, his shoes slapping lazily on the concrete. Quinn followed, his boots pounding along and echoing through the courtyard. A pair of analysts stepped out from the main building, their gazes following Quinn’s every move. Not surprising. He drew attention wherever he went. Especially from women.

  He had brown eyes, like her favorite chicory coffee. A wide chin and a face that was all angles and hard lines. Confidence in droves. He was every woman’s fantasy of a SEAL. A guy could hardly look like that and not be noticed. Even now. After their disastrous breakup, she wouldn’t mind watching him. Watching his fluid, almost musical, movements, with not a spare effort wasted.

  Seriously, Nina. Get a grip.

  Using her ID, she swiped them into the building, performed the same task inside, and escorted them into a lower level conference room. Quinn halted near the door and rested his shoulder on the wall. He always needed a quick exit. It was his SEAL training, she supposed. Or maybe she didn’t know him well enough, and he wanted to be able to get away from everything. Including a commitment to a woman. All women, not just her.

  Ty slopped across the room, then dropped into a chair at the table.

  She sat next to him and smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Ty.”

  “I’m sorry, Nina. Really sorry.” His words came rushing out like flood waters after a hurricane.

  “Hey now, hon.” She spoke slowly, softly, hoping her drawl would relax him a bit. “Nothing can be as bad as the two of you are making it sound.”

  “Actually it is.” Quinn’s eyes were dark and intense. “Ty royally messed up this time. Go ahead, Ty. Tell her what you did.”

  Ty stared at his hands, and his shoulders sagged.

  “It’s okay.” Nina added an extra dose of honey to her tone. “You can tell me.”

  “I . . . I . . .” His knee frantically bounced as his gaze shot around the room.

  “Spit it out kid, or I’ll tell her myself.” Quinn’s bark made Ty cringe.

  Nina patted his hand. “Ignore your big oaf of a brother and take your time, hon.”

  Ty jerked his hand back and stood to pace, darting about the space like an angry wasp. “I hacked into the database for the No-Fly List.”

  “What?” Nina’s voice shot up before she could consider how it would elevate Ty’s anxiety. She took a breath. Started slower, calmer. “Say that again.”

  “I . . . hacked . . . the . . . No-Fly . . . List,” he said slowly, raising his volume with each word, as if she were a senile old lady.

  “Don’t get smart with her.” Quinn took a step toward them.

  Ty backed up. Even Nina recoiled at the hard steel of Quinn’s voice.

  As she gave them time to calm down, she tried to process Ty’s announcement. To wrap her brain around the seriousness of the offense. This behavior made no sense. None. Why would an all-American suburban teen hack the No-Fly List?

  “Why did you do it, Ty?” she asked softly.

  “Because of Ham.” He frowned. “He’s such a jerk. He had it coming.” Ty took a step. Another. Then turned. “He made a date with this girl I was going out with online. She lives in Colorado and had this dance she wanted me to take her to. Of course, Dad said I couldn’t go. He won’t let me do anything.”

  “So this Ham stepped in,” Nina said before Ty lost focus and started railing on his father, who ruled their household the same way he ruled his airmen.

  Ty nodded and swiped at his bangs, giving her the first glimpse of eyes filled with teenage rage. “It’s bad enough Ham did it, you know? But he kept bragging about it. Like he was some kind of stud or something. I couldn’t let him get away with it. He had to pay for stealing my chick. Saturday was the big date. It took me a few weeks to get into the No-Fly List, but I made it with time to spare. I put him on the list last Thursday. He didn’t make the date.” A hint of a smile formed.

  “Wipe that smirk off your face, kid,” Quinn growled as he marched over to Ty. “Or I’ll wipe it off myself.”

  Quinn’s posture was military p
erfect, his hands fisted, his expression deadly intense. She could easily imagine him on one of his covert operations facing down the enemy. But Ty wasn’t the enemy. He was a mixed-up kid who needed a brother right now. Not Mr. Tough Guy SEAL.

  “Relax.” She stepped between the brothers. “I certainly don’t condone Ty’s actions. He’s going to get in some serious trouble, but you’ve gotta give him credit for his creativity.”

  “He hasn’t told you everything.” Quinn crossed his arms.

  She turned to Ty and waited for an explanation, but he kept looking at the floor, his lips pressed together.

  What could he possibly have done that was worse than hacking into the database to keep this kid from his date? Getting the kid arrested would fit the bill. “You didn’t assign Handling Code One to Ham, did you?”

  “Nah. I made him a Three.”

  “Handling code?” Quinn asked.

  Nina nodded. “When someone is added to the list, they’re assigned one of three codes, so if a law enforcement officer encounters them, they know how to proceed. I can’t share the details, but someone with a Code One will be detained. Code Three won’t, which means Ham wasn’t arrested.”

  Ty scowled and dropped into a chair. “If I’d known he was gonna steal my computer afterward, I would have made him a Code One.”

  “He stole your computer? The one you used to hack the database?” Nina asked, and knew they were finally getting to the meat of the problem. A problem that could very well go beyond Quinn and his team’s ability to fix it. And that’s why he’d sought her out. She was his last resort.

  “Yeah,” Ty mumbled. “That’s the bad part. I basically keep a play-by-play of my hacks in a file so I can get back in if I need to.” He hung his head. “Now I don’t know where the computer is.”

  Quinn stepped forward. “Which means—”

  “I know what it means,” Nina interrupted to stop Quinn from mentioning the horrifying acts terrorists could carry out if they had access to this list. “And it’s not something we’re talking about.”

  “You’re not going to help me?” Ty’s words came out in a strangled cry.

  With Quinn’s eyes boring through her, letting her see and feel what time spent with him would be like, Nina wanted to say no, but she couldn’t deny this terrified boy her help, just because she couldn’t handle being in the company of his brother. Plus she couldn’t turn her back on her country’s need to secure the No-Fly List and keep terrorists off American soil.

  “Of course I’ll help you, hon,” she said to Ty. “But with the FBI’s connection to the database, I’d rather we have this chat off campus until I know the full scope of the problem. Too many people to overhear us here.”

  Quinn shot a questioning look at Ty. “What connection?”

  “You didn’t tell him about the FBI, Ty?” Nina asked.

  Ty shook his head hard, his bangs sliding over his eyes again. “I figured if he knew, he wouldn’t ask you to help. You’re my only hope. I don’t wanna be locked up for the rest of my life.”

  “More importantly, you don’t want to be the cause of another terrorist attack,” Quinn added.

  Nina frowned at him. “We aren’t talking about that.”

  “Fine.” Quinn shoved his hands in his pockets, the muscles in his arms flexing under the tight fabric. “Can you at least explain the FBI connection?”

  She nodded. “The TSA enforces the No-Fly List and they’re under the Department of Homeland Security. But domestic names on the list are fed from a database managed by a division of the FBI. So this is in my own backyard so to speak, and I’ll need to tread lightly if I’m to help Ty.”

  “But you can help me, right?” Ty’s voice broke, and Nina could see he was close to tears. He needed to get out of there. To a more relaxed location. A neutral place where they’d both feel free to discuss the details of his hack.

  “Let’s go somewhere to talk about that.” She tugged him to his feet. His cold, clammy hand didn’t surprise her. She gave his fingers a quick squeeze before escorting him down the hall. She could feel Quinn’s eyes on her back, but she forced her mind to remain on Ty.

  The kid was in trouble just as Quinn had said. Big trouble. Federal trouble. As much as Nina’s heart ached to work this out without bringing the incident to her supervisor, as a law enforcement officer, she was required to report any crime she had knowledge of. Plus, she followed procedure. All the time. Deviating from it could cost lives. Garrett’s death was proof of that.

  She glanced at Ty again, her heart breaking for him. She hated to turn him in, but better Ty served time than letting terrorists modify the No-Fly List and perpetrate another unspeakable tragedy on American soil.

  Chapter Four

  PRETENDING TO dodge the spitting rain, Wiley tucked his head into his hooded balaclava, as they called it at the store, and stepped out of Kip’s car. The hood portion of the balaclava kept him warm, and the fabric fold that could be worn around the neck like a scarf also pulled up over his face to hide his scars. Allowed him to travel freely on Portland’s mass transit system without raising an eyebrow. It was a solution when the weather was cold, but that wouldn’t be a problem much longer. Not when he got the money for plastic surgery.

  He watched the trio of pedestrians strolling toward him. A mom, dad, and young boy. Oblivious to him. Oblivious to his secret. Oblivious to the time slipping by.

  C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. Move faster.

  He didn’t like this. Really didn’t like it. The bead of sweat running down his back was proof. He was a hacker. He should be sitting behind a computer. Not loitering on the street waiting for a chance to make his move. He’d hated to go over there in broad daylight. Never had before, but time was of the essence. He had to move his plan forward before Brandt somehow wormed her way out of his clutches. That meant taking chances. Even with all these people around him. People who could be watching. Planning against him.

  Relax. You have to relax. They’ll pick up on your anxiety.

  He stepped closer to the building, giving the family plenty of room. He pretended to stare at his phone so they’d pass by without a thought. They were even with him now, not paying him any attention. Their heads bent forward as the rain picked up and they walked by, talking about their day.

  Good. They were who they seemed to be. Strangers, not spies Brandt had sent to watch him. No need to worry.

  He waited for them to step away and forced himself to count to one hundred when all he wanted to do was bolt. He checked the street. They’d turned a corner. Finally alone. Blessedly alone.

  He eased down the street, past the Diamond Hotel’s sagging sign and tired facade. He eyed the area again, then ducked into the alley. A few yards in, he found what he was looking for. He slid into an opening not more than a foot wide running between the hundred-year-old hotel and a dive restaurant that changed owners every year. He sidestepped along the wall. The hotel’s rough brick sandpapered against the back of his hoodie, and his shopping bag scraped the restaurant’s stucco wall.

  Midway, he felt the change in the wall and stopped. Listened. Heard nothing. He took a few more steps. Arched his back. Just in the right spot. He pressed hard, opening a hidden door, the warped wood sliding inward toward his underground space. An earthy scent rose up to greet him as he backed inside. One foot at a time. Careful not to trip and tumble down the rotted wooden steps as he had when he’d first discovered the hidden room five years ago.

  What a happy accident it was to literally stumble upon this unknown section of the Shanghai Tunnels. Running from the basements of Portland’s downtown hotels and bars to the Willamette River, legend claimed the tunnels were built in the 1800s to move goods from ships docked on the Willamette to basement storage areas. Some say they were used to capture and illegally sell able-bodied men to sea captains in need of crew members,
shanghaiing them. Hence the name.

  Wiley had found this undiscovered section of the tunnels thanks to a miserable job in the Diamond Hotel’s laundry room. His manager, Harold Dabchick had been a real jerk. Always needling Wiley. Out to get him, he was. Telling him to work harder. Faster. Letting others slack off. All the time, keeping Wiley constantly under his scrutiny. Story of his life.

  But Wiley showed him one night when it’d been particularly bad, when Wiley had needed to spark up a doobie just to stand Harold’s griping and the stench of harsh bleach. Wiley had slipped into the alley and had taken a few hits, but, no. Harold wouldn’t give Wiley even a minute to himself and came looking. He would have called the cops, so Wiley moved into the space between the buildings. Harold kept coming. Wiley kept moving. In the middle, he put out his joint on the brick and felt the walls closing in. He panicked. Leaned back. Then, bam. The door swung inward, and he took a header down the stairs into a blast from the past.

  He felt certain no one else knew about the space. Not surprising. It was claustrophobic heading down the dead-end passageway nearly a block long. If Wiley hadn’t been desperate, he’d never have found it.

  Plus mounds of boulders blocked the tunnel leading from his space, keeping others from discovering his room from inside the other tunnels. This was his sanctuary and only his. He’d never shared it with anyone. Not even Lila.

  Now he was glad he’d kept it from everyone. It was perfect for his plans.

  Closing the door, he shone the light from his cell phone and crossed uneven stone floors to his makeshift office. Years ago, he’d found a ratty old table discarded in a corner, probably from the mid-1800s when this network of catacombs had been constructed.