Open Secret

by Fiona Quinn

  “Okay, I don’t disagree with you. I’ve actually thought this almost from the point when you made your promise. But it wasn’t for me to make that call. You needed to come to this decision on your own.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry it took so long. Sometimes I feel like a garbage friend to you.”

  “Okay, you’re going to stop the self-flagellation right now. The church hasn’t condoned that for centuries. What’s your next step?”

  She walked into the ballroom and stood next to the back wall. “I guess while Mom’s staying with Curtis and Fanny, I’ll have to find some place to take her where she’ll get the constant care she needs. Someplace that can do a better job of keeping her safe. She locked Sally in the basement? Dear God.”

  “Please welcome our speaker, Avery Goodyear, senior romance editor with Windsor Shreveport!”

  “They announced me. Lolly, bless you. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

  Avery put her phone back on airplane mode, affected a semblance of a smile, and walked up to the lectern.

  Chapter Thirty

  Rowan

  Thursday Afternoon

  FBI Headquarters, New York City

  “Thank you,” Rowan said, and stood. “This is supposed to be rather informal. We wanted to bring some dynamics to your attention. These might be new concepts, and we want to make sure you understand, so please ask questions as Special Agent Gonzales and I proceed. I am Special Agent Rowan Kennedy. My job is to help the FBI gather information from Eastern Europe that we need to stop international criminal activity. My colleague, Special Agent Miguel Gonzales, works on cyber security and data collection.”

  Frowns all around.

  Angst it was.

  People who didn’t play with technology on a daily basis often got this look before a talk. The vocabulary was difficult, the technology advanced quickly. If you had a handle on things yesterday, you’d have lost your grasp by today. Rowan got it. But anxious people couldn’t absorb information.

  On the screen was the ShareItApp logo.

  “Per my introduction, I’m an attaché in Eastern Europe, monitoring crime families. One of the ways that the crime families have been communicating under the radar is through the ShareItApp. The way this app operates makes it extremely difficult to track communications by the NSA and other signals intelligence, both foreign and domestic. That’s the first danger I wanted to tell you about. Second, the ShareItApp is now contacting its users—by the way,” he paused and looked around the room so his point would get the focus it needed, “there are approximately nine hundred million people who use that app—the ShareItApp is now contacting their users and letting them know that their personal information and communications, while encrypted, are still hackable unless they turn on their security key.”

  Lisa and Rowan both used the ShareItAp for their writing files. Lisa had given him the heads up right away about the security breech, and Rowan had already checked his security key. Though, hacking into his account would only show writing files badly in need of editing, so he hadn’t been worried about it.

  A suit leaned forward, a deep frown making a wedge between his brows. “Our office uses the ShareItApp, we were told that the information we were sending was encrypted end to end. And now you’re saying it’s hackable?”

  Rowan nodded. “Very.”

  “Shit,” he muttered, sitting back.

  “But there’s a security key you can turn on. Ask your IT to help you with that,” Gonzales said.

  “We don’t have that app,” another suit said. “What is it? Nine hundred million people use it, and they might have been hacked?”

  “For those of you who are unfamiliar with ShareItApp,” Rowan explained. “It allows smartphone users to send texts, files, and images via the Internet. Unfortunately, this has proven to be a pretty big security hole that was exploited by criminals and other rogue players. The most concerning part of this, for the purposes of this round table, is not the criminal hacking piece, but that the ShareItApp accumulated their users data through this app and sold this data on the open market. While this information is meant to help marketing algorithms find and target the best potential customers, unfortunately, this same information can be used by others to target propaganda. The ShareItApp doesn’t discern end use of the data, they only care about the sale.”

  “In plain speak,” a woman said, “everyone who uses this app had data about them hacked and or collected, and it was sold to the highest bidder. Is that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  “And you work in East Europe,” she continued, turning to Rowan. “How do you tie into this app?”

  “We have information that has lead us to conclude that six months ago, a Bulgarian bot farm purchased data from ShareItApp with money that was funnelled through a Russian oligarch. We believe that the Bulgarian crime family who made the purchase will be exploiting this data to micro target United States citizens with their propaganda and disinformation campaigns.”

  There were a lot of emotions floating around the table. Emotions almost always led to bad decisions. The more they could keep this to fact-finding and dissemination, the better the chance that the Monday morning quarterbacks would let the professionals do their jobs unimpeded, or better yet, fully funded.

  “I want you to hold these two thoughts for a moment. A. Hackers and rogue players have advanced marketing data on a wide swath of people living within the US, and B. Rogue players can communicate without our intelligence knowing about it.”

  “Wait,” a suit said. “If we can’t track it, then we don’t know about it, if we don’t know about it, we can’t thwart it. That danger is catastrophic.”

  Rowan looked the man in the eye. “Exactly.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Avery

  Thursday evening

  New York City

  Pacing back and forth across her hotel room floor, dressed in her bra and panties, Avery had her phone pressed to her ear. “I called to thank you again.”

  “It’s all good,” Lola said. “Your sister showed up and took your Mom back to her house. Sally said she’d had enough for one day.”

  “I don’t blame her one iota. How did Sally get locked in the basement? There’s no lock on that door. I think I missed that part of the story. Or I blocked it out.”

  “Your mom shoved a chair under the doorknob.”

  “That’s not something I’ve seen Mom do before. Is Sally okay?”

  “She’s fine. Sally said she’ll keep her phone on her at all times from here on.”

  “Why did mom do that to Sally?”

  “Ginny said she didn’t. She said it was the bad men that snuck in who did it. Then they were looking in your drawers. After they left, your mom got hungry and went to the store.”

  “Oh.”

  “Okay, enough about your mom. Everything’s fine. Fine-ish. Let’s talk about you. I want you to jump right to the end of the night with Rowan, because that’s always the point that is the most telling.” The clatter of pans and water running in a sink was the backdrop behind Lola’s voice.

  “Rowan insisted that he see me back to my hotel safely this morning. And he asked to see me again tonight. He texted that there’s a gallery exhibit he thinks I’ll like, and they’re doing a wine reception with classical guitar.”

  “I’m looking into my magic mirror and foresee lots of finger strumming in your near future.”

  Avery sighed.

  “I heard that. Didn’t you like him in person? Why do you sound stressed? I thought he would have worked that out of your system with your bedsheet aerobics.”

  “He told me he’s heading back overseas soon. If you could see me right now, you’d see that I’m freaking out. He’s going to be in harm’s way. I know he said he shakes hands for a living, but his body is all bruised up.”

  “He was in that car accident, right?

  “That might be part of the story, it isn’t the whole story. A car accident doesn�
��t leave bruises like that. Fists leave bruises like that.” Avery wrapped her hand around her throat. “I’m so afraid for him.”

  “Holy Mary and Joseph, you’re in love,” Lola shrieked. “You’re in love. Oh, I’m so happy for you. This is wonderful. Well, not wonderful that he works on the other side of the Atlantic. And, yeah. The whole harm’s way thing is pretty bad. But you love him.”

  “I think I might.” Avery sank onto the bed. ”Oh, God. I need to…breathe. I need to…not pass out.” She stuck her head between her legs.

  “It’s been a while since you fell in love with a guy. Senior year in college, in fact. This is supposed to feel like butterflies and rainbows.”

  “Feels more like angina and an asthma attack, to be honest.”

  “So maybe as we age, we interpret things differently.”

  “What am I going to do, Lola? This has disaster written all over it. He told me that he just broke up with his long-term girlfriend.”

  “Lie down on your bed. Close your eyes. And without thinking, tell me what you want right now.”

  Avery fell back across the bed, her lids squeezed tight. “To be back in Rowan’s arms where everything is safe and good.”

  “Ah. See? Not so hard. What time are you seeing him tonight?”

  “I have a half hour. I was trying to decide on a dress to wear. I have that cream colored silk with the flowers at the hem. I have that green dress with the low neckline.”

  “Do red. I saw in an article the other day about psych studies that show when a man sees a woman wearing the color red, his mind goes straight to thinking about sex.”

  “What do they think when they see green?”

  “Sex.” Lola’s laughter bubbled through the receiver. “I can’t imagine a man who isn’t constantly thinking about sex. I honestly don’t think it matters what you wear.”

  ***

  Avery had decided on the cream dress with the flowers at the hem. It had a retro-romantic feel to it. She had planned to wear it to the Romance Award Dinner tonight, but real-life romance was so much better than book romance. Even if it did mean that the butterflies in her stomach were high on crack and making her nauseated with the violence of their fluttering wings.

  It would be better once she saw Rowan.

  Once she was touching him, everything would be okay.

  She was supposed to meet him at the FBI building, the gallery was within walking distance.

  She took the elevator to the lobby. George stood there, drink in hand. He was making his way through the crowd to her when she turned and walked straight out the front doors, a smile on her lips.

  Outside, the city air was pregnant with moisture. It hung thick and heavy. She looked up at the gray clouds swirling between the skyscrapers. The doorman asked her if she wanted a taxi, then stepped out in the street to hail one for her.

  Avery waited next to the wall, the wind whipping at her skirt, and that made her feel heroine-like. Feminine. Pretty, even.

  The doorman was successful and popped open the taxi door for her, held out his hand, and assisted her as she slid in. He bowed and shut the door. Avery gave the Broadway address and off they motored.

  Avery – En route, see you in ten minutes or so. Traffic is moving apace.

  Rowan – My meeting should wrap up here soon, can I meet you in the lobby?

  Avery – :)

  Rowan – No weapons allowed past security. I imagine you’d get stopped. I’m the only one who gets to frisk you.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rowan

  Thursday

  New York City

  They started up the street. Rowan was shifting gears from the doomsday briefing he’d just given to a pleasant evening with a gorgeous woman. He hoped the walk would help him get his head clear. The only problem was that, from what Avery had been saying lately about her assignment at work, she—very innocently, and probably naively—might be one of the cogs driving the disinformation machine that was ripening hatred in America.

  Date-Avery and Endangered-Avery was hard to separate out.

  If she had anything to do with Taylor Knapp things could turn ugly. He was afraid for her. She absolutely didn’t need any more shit piled on her plate.

  Lisa was coming in tomorrow, and maybe this could all get cleared up.

  There she had stood, heads turned her way as his fellow special agents made their way through the lobby. She looked like a movie heroine in her simple retro-dress. He’d tucked her hand into his elbow and pushed the door wide. He’d kiss her hello once they were a little more private.

  “You’re okay walking in those heels?” he’d asked as they stepped to the sidewalk.

  “You seem to be overly worried about my wearing heels and being able to walk. You asked about them yesterday.”

  “I wore heels once,” Rowan said.

  “I can’t even imagine the circumstances. Were you undercover?”

  “I lost a bet.” He grinned down at her. “I had to wear them from the time I got up until I went to bed. There was a list of activities that needed doing.”

  “Like what?”

  “Grocery shopping, I had to walk across a park on the grass, I gave a speech, the things a woman would do on an everyday basis, balanced on those things.”

  “You lost the bet to a woman?”

  “Yep.”

  “What did you discover?”

  “That if I had to wear heels, I would sit in one place and never get up. My feet, my knees, my back, I would rather do a day of Ranger training than ever try that again.” He looked up and held out his hand. “It’s starting to sprinkle. I’ll get a cab.” He reached his hand out to flag a taxi.

  Everyone on the sidewalk around them stuck their hands out.

  If you were driving a cab in New York City in that moment, you were suddenly occupied.

  “Let’s just walk a little faster. We must be almost there,” Avery suggested.

  Rowan looked down at her heels again, and decided that he’d let her set the pace while he kept his eye out for an open cab.

  She was athletic, he’d give her that. He gripped her hand tighter in case she were to trip.

  Suddenly, the skies opened up, and the rain dropped like an downturned bucket. One second they were dry, the next minute soaked to the bone.

  There was no overhang here, the doorways were crammed with people diving out of the deluge.

  Rowan looked down, and Avery’s dress had become transparent as it clung to her skin, the soft pink lace of her bra and panties, her tight nipples, the mound of her pubic hair was all visible as if she’d just disrobed and stood there naked in the streets.

  She looked down when he did and gasped. Rowan spun her up against him and waved a cab down, using his body to offer her some modesty.

  As the taxi pulled up, he saw there was an older woman in the back seat, waving him in.

  He opened the door and put Avery in the back seat then climbed into the front next to the driver before spinning around.

  “I saw what happened. You poor thing,” the grandmotherly woman said in a thick Brooklyn accent, tsking her tongue. Even though it was in the seventies before the rain suddenly plunged the temperature, the woman was wrapped in a brown sable coat. “Where are you going? We’ll drop you there.”

  “Just a few blocks. Thank you, ma’am.” Rowan gave his hotel address, and they sped off, throwing up a splash of muddy water as the taxi left the curb.

  The old lady reached out and patted Avery’s hand as Avery shivered in the back seat, one arm crossing over her breasts shielding them from the curious looks the cabby was sneaking in his rear-view mirror.

  Rowan fixed on him pointedly, a snarl on his lips. It was a message, the man needed to focus elsewhere.

  When they pulled up to the hotel, the rain was still dumping from the sky, Rowan pushed a twenty dollar bill toward the cabby.

  Avery reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand, chattering out, “I’m so grateful. Thank you for yo
ur kindness,” in her soft, lightly-southern accent.

  The woman smiled and gave her a nod. “Go get warm and dry, before you catch pneumonia.”

  Rowan pulled her door open and hustled Avery into the building, then over to the elevator.

  They were both streaming, sopping wet.

  Avery curled into Rowan’s arms and vibrated.

  Once they hit his floor, he moved her quickly into his room and right in the bathroom, where he bent to plug the drain and start the hot water running.

  Avery’s shaking fingers fussed at the back of her dress.

  “Please,” he said.

  She turned and gathered her long hair to the side.

  Rowan released the button and unzipped her. When she reached to peel the dress off, Rowan stopped her hand. “Let me. I want to take care of you.”

  She looked at him in the mirror.

  “Please?”

  She nodded and shivered. He didn’t undress her delicately. He didn’t stop to kiss and fondle her. He wanted her in that tub, soaking in hot water. Her lips were turning blue, and she had chill bumps on her arms and legs.

  He held her hand as she stepped in and sank down in a tight tuck in the water. “That was unexpected,” she chattered. “What a lovely woman. I hope that a wonderful magical surprise comes her way.”

  “Instant karma?” Rowan asked, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

  “The good kind of instant karma. You look mighty sexy, Special Agent Kennedy, with your white shirt plastered to your pecs and your badge at your hip. I’m going to remember this scene for a future novel.”