Knight Moves

by Julie Moffett

  She rose from her desk and shook his hand. “We just had another exchange where we told him we had tentative approval from the Justice Department on the immunity issue, assuming he followed through on our demands. He said he’s willing to deal.”

  “You’re convinced the Hidden Avenger is Ethan Sinclair?”

  “I’m convinced. I just need him to confirm it for us.” She invited him to sit, and he did, but she remained standing and walked over to the window.

  “So, what’s next?” he asked.

  Candace looked out at the view. The autumn colors had turned the forest surrounding the NSA compound into a beautiful riot of yellow, orange, and red, but these days she was too tense to enjoy it. Sighing, she turned around to face him again. “Well, the Justice Department has said that if it is Ethan Sinclair, they’re willing to arrange protection for his family through the US Marshals’ Witness Security Program for a period of up to six months.”

  “That’s good news. How does it affect the daughter Angel Sinclair? She’s currently in the UTOP trials.”

  Candace knew that. She also knew that while Slash would want to keep the entire family safe from whatever threatened them, she wondered if he had a special connection to the girl. She knew Slash’s fiancée mentored Angel at her company and that he’d been front and center when the girl had brought down the Iraqi hacker. She also knew he’d personally invited her to UTOP. But just how invested was he in her and her future?

  “How’s she doing at UTOP?” Candace asked.

  “It’s just starting, but I have full confidence in her.”

  “Good for her, and good for you for nominating her. We could use more women operatives, especially tech-savvy ones.”

  “That we could,” he agreed.

  She hesitated and then plunged forward with her question. “Do you mind if I ask how you know Angel Sinclair?”

  A guarded look came into his eyes. This was not a man who would easily share information, especially personal information, so she was gratified when he responded. “I’m friends with her older sister, Gwen, who works at ComQuest in Baltimore as a microbiologist. Gwen and Angel helped my fiancée and me with a project. I was impressed by Angel’s skill and capability behind the keyboard, especially given her age.”

  That wasn’t anything Candace couldn’t have found out herself, but she appreciated that he’d offered it. “I’m satisfied she’s protected for now at the UTOP compound. Are you?”

  “I am,” he replied. “But what about the rest of the family?”

  “They’re already under protective surveillance. But Ethan will need to provide further information about himself before this goes any further.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “For one, why he bolted and why he slapped ShadowCrypt on the back door.”

  Slash steepled his fingers together, regarded her. “You may not want to hear what he has to say.”

  She understood what he was getting at. Examining whether or not the NSA—or certain employees within the agency—had overstepped the boundaries regarding spying on US citizens would be a highly delicate matter to navigate, especially internally. “Actually, I do. If we need to clean house, then we’re going to do it.”

  He didn’t respond, but she thought she saw a flash of approval in his eyes. Good, because if she had to take a close look inside the NSA as part of bringing Ethan in, she’d need all the friends she could get.

  “The director has agreed to the private one-on-one meeting with Ethan,” she continued. “He’s curious, as am I, as to what’s going on.”

  “There’s more to his story,” Slash said. “He’s going to want any assurances in writing and will most certainly have anything reviewed and verified by a lawyer,” Slash pointed out.

  “We’ll do it. I’m going to bring him in.” She perched on a corner of her desk and folded her arms against her chest. “So, there’s something else. He’s trying to tell us something. I’ve got some of our best analysts looking at it, but nothing yet. I’ve got two code words from him so far—Ahab and Pope 264. Do those things mean anything to you? Any clue what Sinclair is trying to communicate?”

  Slash considered. “Ahab from the Bible or of Moby Dick fame?”

  “My question exactly. Moby Dick, I think. I wasn’t sure until he said the words ‘Ahoy, captain,’ which, to me, indicates that’s the connection.”

  “Hmmm. Pope 264 is Saint John Paul II. The 264th pope.”

  She hadn’t expected that quick of a response for him. Perhaps she should have. She recalled he had an Italian background, and Italy was a heavily Catholic country. “You’re Catholic?” she asked.

  “I am.” He slipped a cross out from beneath his shirt, kissing it before tucking it back under.

  She smiled. “Well, that explains that, I suppose. And, yes, we determined it was John Paul II. Unless there’s something else to it I’m not seeing. But what do a captain on a whaling boat and a Catholic pope have in common?” It sounded like a bad joke when she said it out loud, but Slash didn’t smile.

  “I don’t know. I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Thanks. Given your expertise, I’d appreciate it.” She walked over to the chair next to Slash and sat down. “I have another problem, as well. Isaac has inserted himself deeper into the investigation. He’s a loose cannon. I’d shut him out, but I can’t without asking the director to support me, and I don’t want to do that except as a last resort. He doesn’t need to hear his directors are squabbling. Isaac was there during our last communication and sent a message to Sinclair without my permission. He told Sinclair there were elements in the NSA who considered him a traitor. Isaac is starting to worry me. His dislike for Sinclair seems personal, and I don’t like that.”

  “My guess is Isaac has his eyes on the directorship, and if you bring Ethan in, you could be a threat to that.”

  She felt her forehead tighten as she acknowledged his words. “That’s not what this is about. What Ethan Sinclair knows, and has, is vital to the security of this nation. Regardless of who is director, the mission of the NSA, and its many fine people, will continue. But I’ll be devastated for this agency if our internal politics cause us to fail in stopping a major terrorist attack. I couldn’t explain that to the president, to my family, or to anyone. We’re better than that. We have to be better than that.”

  “We will be.” He rested his elbows on his thighs, the expression on his face thoughtful. “However, that still doesn’t resolve the problem. Ethan doesn’t know who to trust within the agency, which means he thinks there are people on the inside who are not trustworthy.”

  “Agreed. He doesn’t know who is on whose side.”

  “Neither do we,” Slash replied.

  That was the core of the problem. No one on either side knew who was trustworthy in or out of the agency.

  “If we’re looking inward, I wonder how the fact that Isaac was Ethan’s boss at the time plays into things,” she mused. “I’ve reviewed Ethan’s file multiple times. Other than the fact that Isaac was Ethan’s supervisor at King’s Security, nothing else has popped.”

  “Then there’s something we’re missing. If you’d like, I’m happy to take another look.” He rose, so she did, too.

  “I’d like that very much. Thank you for your help. I’ll send the files over to you first thing in the morning.”

  He started to leave, but she stopped him. “Slash, there’s something going on inside the NSA. It’s hard to know who to trust. I want you to know I’ve made a decision to trust you with helping me find and safely bring in the Hidden Avenger. I hope that trust is reciprocated.”

  He studied her face for a long moment, as if weighing whether she met his criteria for credibility. Finally he nodded. “It is. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  I reported for Psychological Testing and sat stiffly in a chair across from Mrs. Thompson, who had brown hair and a nice smile. I
wondered if Thompson was her real name. Probably not, although it didn’t really matter. She gave me a bottle of water, which I drank until it was empty, while she chatted about the weather and the Redskins, apparently attempting to put me at ease.

  It wasn’t working.

  We were seated at a table that was too big for us. The lighting was dim and there was a dark window across one of the walls, where I assumed whoever was grading my responses would be watching. I was scared, but of what, I wasn’t sure. Regardless, the mere fact that I would be doing this alone and not in front of my classmates was a relief. I put on my best game face, figuring if I were going to be an operative, I needed a better poker face for these kinds of things.

  “Angel, I know you’re nervous, but I want you to relax,” she said. “We’re just going to play a game. Okay?” Her calling me by my first name put me a fraction more at ease.

  “Okay.”

  “Great. I’m going to give you a word, and I want you to tell me the first word that pops into your mind that you associate with it. There are no right or wrong answers. This game just helps us see the way your mind works. But it’s quite important you don’t stop to consider your answer. It must be the first thing that pops into your mind. You need to answer within a one-second time frame. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I’ve done word-association games before.”

  “Excellent. Then you’ll be a natural.”

  I didn’t share her confidence, but I clasped my hands on the table in front of me and steadied myself.

  “Here we go,” she said. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  She glanced down at the paper in front of her. “Attack.”

  “Hackers,” I responded.

  “Problem.”

  “Solve.”

  “Lead.”

  “Myself.”

  She paused, giving me a moment. Or maybe there was another reason she paused. I didn’t have time to wonder because she said, “Mother.”

  “Protect.” It slipped out. I hadn’t expected that to come out of my mouth, but there it was.

  “Beware.”

  “Liars.”

  “Alone.”

  “Safe.”

  “Friends.”

  That one was easy for me. “White Knights.”

  “Government.”

  “Secrets.”

  The was another slight hesitation before she said, “Father.”

  I fell silent and stared at the table. It was as if my brain had abruptly clicked off.

  After a moment, she repeated the word. “Father.”

  I blinked, then looked at her. “Alive.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  The rest of my day involved digital fingerprinting, a quick lunch, a private tutoring session in cryptology—the highlight of the day—then a medical examination by a nice female doctor, a chemistry class with Mike, an English literature class with Hala, Wally, and Kira, and a physical fitness exam with a buff military-looking guy. By the time it was over, I was a hot mess.

  When I got back to the dorm room, Frankie and Hala were already there. Frankie was lying on the bed with a washcloth on her forehead. Hala was working on a laptop at her desk. Kira was nowhere to be seen, as usual.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, perching on the corner of Frankie’s mattress. “Everyone okay?”

  Frankie lifted the washcloth off her face. “I’m alive, but the physical fitness exam nearly killed me. Did you have to run the mile?”

  I nodded. “I did. Don’t ask me how long it took.”

  “As long as you don’t ask me. Hala, how did you do?”

  She turned around from the screen. “The physical fitness test was the easy part for me today. I was on the gymnastics team at my high school. We trained a lot, so I’m in pretty good shape. The hard part for me was all that weird psychological testing.”

  “It was brutal,” I agreed.

  “Oh, that was my favorite part,” Frankie said, sitting up. “It was fun.”

  “Fun?” I looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Are you nuts? That was not fun, Frankie.”

  “Of course, it was. We just had to answer a bunch of questions about ourselves.”

  “Did you have a group session?” I asked.

  “Yes, it was Mike and me. It was cool. I like Mike. He’s a really interesting guy.”

  Frankie liked everyone, so that didn’t mean anything special. She was my closest friend, but her definition of fun and mine didn’t always match. I met Hala’s skeptical gaze over Frankie’s head.

  “I have a chemistry class with Bo and Jax,” Hala said. “And English lit with you, Wally, and Kira. But I’m by myself in an acting class.”

  “Acting?” That seemed an odd choice of curriculum to me, but everything seemed strange lately.

  “That was my reaction, too,” Hala said.

  “I have a class by myself, too,” Frankie offered. “Graphic design.”

  “I’m in a class by myself for cryptology,” I said. “I wonder what all that means.”

  “Maybe they’re playing to what they perceive are our strengths,” Hala answered. “Although I’ve never had an acting class before in my life.”

  None of us had answers, so we started our homework. Kira never showed up, and I wondered what she was doing. When it was time for dinner, we walked over to the cafeteria together. Kira was there, deep in conversation with Jax at a table in the back. Their heads were bent together, his dark and her blonde. It was a striking sight, like the two of them could pose for the cover of a magazine. They spoke earnestly, gesturing with their hands but keeping their voices lowered. I forced myself to look away.

  Wally was sitting with Mike and Bo. Hala joined them with her food tray. There was no more room for Frankie and me at their table, so we sat at an empty table after we got our food. After a few minutes, Wally came over to sit with us so he could talk to us about our day.

  “The physical fitness test was the absolute worst,” Wally said. “Kira was being tested in another part of the gym and she did, like, twenty chin-ups. I couldn’t even do one.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I couldn’t do one, either.”

  “Me neither,” Frankie added. “But the trainer was nice anyway. Do you know he has two-year-old twins? He showed me their photos on his phone. They’re so adorable, but he and his wife don’t sleep much. The poor man has bags the size of Alaska under his eyes. I felt sorry for him until he made me run that mile.”

  “All I can say is that we’re in real trouble, guys.” Wally shook his head. “We’ll never be operatives if we can’t jump from one building to another like James Bond.”

  “Let’s be clear, I’m not jumping from a building. Ever.” I picked up an orange slice and ate it. “Let’s not blow this out of proportion. It could be they were just getting a baseline, like they did with the active-shooter scenario.”

  “Which was another disaster,” Wally said. “I hope they don’t send me packing.”

  “No one is going home yet, Wally,” Frankie said. “It’s only been one day. How did the rest of your day go?”

  “Oh, you mean the part where I answer bizarre questions and spill my guts in front of two pretty girls?”

  “You’re always spilling your guts to us, and we still like you,” Frankie pointed out.

  That made me laugh. Leave it to Frankie to keep it real. “Frankie’s got a point. We need to calm down and let this play out. Mr. Donovan told us to do our best. It’s the only thing we can control.”

  After dinner, we headed back to our room. I wanted to do some online surfing and go to bed early. Frankie wanted to read, and Hala told us she was going to go to gym and work off some steam. Kira, as usual, was missing.

  “What’s with Kira anyway?” I asked. “She lives with us, but we never see her. It’s like she’s avoiding us on purpose.”

  “She always seems to be missing at the same time as Jax. Did you notice that?”
/>
  I’d noticed, but I didn’t want her to know I noticed. “Hmmm…” I said noncommittally.

  “Or it could be that she’s just scared and lonely and Jax is nice to her.”

  It was possible. Frankie always thought the best of people, but I didn’t, so we weren’t always going to agree on things like that.

  Frankie opened her book, and I booted up my laptop and began reading my father’s thesis from MIT, Asymmetrical Cryptography: Authentication and Encryption. It was heavy reading, but somehow, it helped me feel closer to him.

  Hala came back after her workout, showered, and got into her pajamas. I shut down my laptop and got into my pajamas, too. Frankie was already tucked under the covers, still reading.

  I was just going to the bathroom to brush my teeth when Kira walked in. She went to a drawer, picked out her pajamas, and went into the bathroom to change without saying a single word to any of us. Shrugging, I stood at one of the sinks in the outer part of the bathroom and started brushing my teeth.

  Kira came out in her pj’s and washed her face and brushed her teeth at the adjoining sink. She didn’t say a word to me, and I had no idea what her problem was. When I exited the bathroom, Frankie was cheerfully asking Kira questions about her day.

  Kira was ignoring her until finally she turned around in exasperation. “Look, would you just stop trying to engage me? I’m not your friend. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you. We’re all forced to share this room, so let’s do it as clinically as possible. You can stop all the pretend friendliness crap.”

  I strode to stand between her and Frankie. “Back off, Kira. It’s not pretend for Frankie. She’s actually nice.”