Pawn

by Carla Cassidy

  When she was dressed, she pulled her hair back in a tight ponytail and stared at her reflection in the wavy, dull mirror above the cracked bathroom sink.

  Her face was as pale as she'd ever seen it. Her eyes, more gold than green tonight, were unusually wide.

  Fear. That's what shone from her eyes. It etched through her and she embraced it, knowing that it was a healthy response to what she was about to do.

  It was fear that would keep her cautious.

  It was fear that would keep her alive.

  She left the bathroom and checked her wristwatch. Just after eleven. She grabbed a can of diet soda from the refrigerator and cracked it open.

  She'd found a deli and grocery store in the next block that morning and had bought enough supplies to get her through the next couple of days. It had only taken one foray outside the apartment to realize it wasn't something she wanted to do often.

  Even during the daylight hours the streets were filled with tough-looking men and women, people who weren't the type to shy away from trouble or confrontation. Lynn wasn't looking for trouble and she had no desire to tangle with the locals.

  She'd managed to get her groceries and get back inside the apartment without meeting anyone's direct gaze or stirring somebody's irrational ire.

  She'd passed the afternoon hours sitting at her computer and beginning the arduous task of trying to decode the Spider files.

  Parts of the files were what Kim had already decoded, and what Lynn had discovered had been a list of names of intriguing, world-renowned people, names she'd read about in the news and heard on television. Power players, movers and shakers, and many of them had suffered some sort of scandal or another in the recent past.

  It was easy to see why Oracle wanted the rest of the files decoded. She was sure they were looking for some sort of explanation about the list of names, plus a connection to Athena Academy. Unfortunately, the same code that had worked to untangle the first list of encrypted names didn't work on the rest of the file.

  When Lynn had been a college student in Miami she'd studied computer science and had been particularly interested in codes and ciphers. She'd developed several programs whose specific functions were decoding and deciphering.

  She'd run the first program, which looked for plain text hidden in numerical code. It had been both time-consuming and frustrating as the program had come up with nothing.

  Of course, if it had been that easy, Oracle wouldn't have needed to contact her. Numerical codes were some of the easiest to break and almost any adequate cryptologist would have been able to do the job. Lynn felt proud that one as talented as Kim Valenti had trusted her with the job.

  She'd worked the computer until dinnertime, then had packed away the Spider files in the bottom of the small closet and had fixed herself some supper.

  "You got through the day, now all you have to do is get through the hours of the night," she muttered aloud as she walked to the window and peered outside.

  Nick should be arriving before too long, then it would be showtime. She'd be in a shipyard looking for a bomb with no safety net beneath her.

  As she waited for Nick she went over everything in her head. According to the paperwork Richard Blake had given her the holding yard closed at 10:00 p.m. After that nobody was allowed in or out. There were usually no less than six armed guards on duty and an equal number of dogs that patrolled the area.

  The shipping containers were in rows, stacked two to three high and each numbered so they could be found easily when a truck arrived to carry one away. Because Stingray Wharf was small, the number of containers that arrived each day varied from ten to thirty.

  She'd have three hours a night to get through them all. She leaned her forehead against the warm glass of the window. She'd been a pawn in her godfather's life and she was once again a pawn to powers bigger than her own.

  In a chess game, pawns were usually sacrificed to protect the queen and she knew that's why the government was using her, because she could be easily sacrificed for their greater good.

  It was exactly eleven-forty when a soft knock fell on her door. She opened it to allow in Nick. He gave her a terse nod as he swept through the door, bringing with him the scent of the night.

  "I see you survived the day," he said and went right to the table where she had laid out the items he'd brought with him the night before. He once again had his duffel with him and pulled out a small speaker box.

  "I told you I'd be fine. Nobody bothered me all day long."

  "Let's hope nobody bothers you all night long, as well. I've got the latest aerial shot of the shipyard," he said and pulled a sheet of paper from the bag. He laid it on the table and Lynn moved closer to look at it.

  "These are the containers that were unloaded today. There's a total of thirteen and they were taken to the north side of the lot." His finger pointed to the appropriate area. "These are the ones that need to be checked tonight. As you know, each of them is numbered. When a container is cleared, you need to let me know what the number is so I can put it on a list I'm keeping."

  "An inside source?" she asked as she studied the map.

  "Apparently." He picked up the tiny transmitter and motioned her to step closer to him. "Any layman who sees this will think it's nothing more than a pretty little lapel pin."

  She stood perfectly still as he attached the transmitter on her shirt collar. His familiar scent filled her nose and he was so close to her she could feel the heat from his body warming the air around them.

  "With this little thing I'll be able to hear everything you say and some of what is happening around you, but I won't be able to communicate with you," he said when he was finished fastening the little bug to her.

  She knew she should step away from him, wondered why he didn't step away from her. But, they remained face-to-face, toe-to-toe and Lynn's breath became labored as their gazes locked.

  He frowned. "Lynn, I just want you to know, I thought about you often over the last year." His eyes were as dark as the night outside the window, but lit with a small silver flame in the very center.

  His words made her heart swell. "I thought about you, too."

  "Before you go, I want to make sure you understand that what I felt for you a year ago was real, that it was never just about doing a job." His frown deepened and he took a step back from her. "I wanted you to know that." He looked at his watch. "And now it's time for you to get out of here."

  Although she would have loved to stay and listen to him talk some more, it was time for her to get to the job she'd been sent to do.

  She picked up the prepaid phone and stuck it in a pouch in the front of the hoodie where it could rest next to the lock-picking kit, then she grabbed the handheld scanner that would aid her in locating a bomb.

  He turned on the speaker box. "Say something so I can test the transmitter."

  "Testing…testing." Her voice came out of the speaker.

  "Okay. You're good to go," he said. He sat at the table and gazed up at her. "You know if you get into trouble I'm under strict orders not to intervene. I won't be able to help you in any way."

  "I figured as much," she replied and walked to the door, her heart beginning a quickened pace as adrenaline swooped through her.

  "Lynn, be careful. I want you back here safe and sound."

  She flashed him a quick smile. "Believe me, I want the same thing." With those final words, she left the relative safety of her apartment.

  The bar was hopping despite the fact that it was almost midnight on a Tuesday night. The strains of "Born to Be Wild" drifted out into the street, accompanied by the sounds of laughter.

  The hooker she had seen on the opposite corner the night before wasn't there tonight. That was fine with Lynn. The woman had looked at her as if she'd like nothing more than to stick a knife in her back.

  The apartment was six long blocks from the shipyards. Lynn took off running and with each step her heart pumped faster and harder.

  Runni
ng was one thing she did very well. The genetic enhancements that had been done to her had made her legs faster, stronger than normal human being's.

  Too bad those enhancements hadn't managed to make her a heart that didn't respond to fear. But, at the moment her heart banged like a timpani orchestra as fear welled up inside her, fear mixed with a high kick of adrenaline.

  She could die tonight. The reality of the potential for imminent death couldn't be denied.

  As she drew closer to the yards, she could hear the sounds of the water lapping the shore, striking the sides of ships that were docked. The smell of rotting fish increased as she raced forward, at the same time shunning streetlights and trying to cloak herself in the shadows of the night.

  The hood of her lightweight sweatshirt was up around her head, hiding her hair from view. If anything happened she didn't want anyone to be able to identify her.

  When she reached the corner directly across from the shipyard's entry, she paused to catch her breath. She leaned against a building and tried to orient herself as to where she needed to go next.

  "Nick? I hope you can hear this," she said softly. "I'm directly across from the entry of the yards." She frowned and studied the area. "I think the holding yard is to the right. I'm going to find a place to get inside."

  It was relatively easy to get into the shipyard itself. Only a chain-link fence separated the yard from the public area and the public access of the docks was never closed.

  She didn't go in through the gate, but instead easily jumped the fence and went down into a crouch, checking for any kind of watchman in the area. Security wouldn't be as tight here. Night traffic would be minimal, but there were still sounds of activity around her.

  It would be easier on her if she could just walk through the area and not draw attention to herself, but that wasn't possible. The night was hot and she was dressed inappropriately in the all-black, tight clothing. That alone would draw too much attention and suspicion.

  She kept to the shadows, moving in a crouch as she made her way toward the holding area. Within minutes she saw the walls of the enclosure. Ten-foot-high concrete walls offered not only security from any person attempting to get in, but also effective protection from hurricane winds and unusually high surf.

  A single entry gate broke the long expanse of concrete. Next to the entry a uniformed guard leaned against the wall, looking bored and half-asleep.

  Good. She wanted him to keep looking bored. She checked her wristwatch, where the faintly illuminated dial read exactly midnight.

  Time to get to work.

  Moving stealthily, she made her way farther from the entry until she reached a corner of the concrete enclosure where the darkness seemed more complete.

  For most people a ten-foot concrete wall would be impossible to scale without some kind of tools or at the very least a ladder of sorts. But the height of the wall didn't daunt her.

  She stuffed the scanner in her pouch, then bent down and gathered the strength in her legs, knowing that the one thing she could thank Lab 33 for was the genetic enhancements that had been made to give her superstrengfh and agility.

  In one smooth jump, her fingers gripped the edge of the top of the concrete. She hung for a moment, the gritty concrete rough to the point of almost painful beneath her fingertips.

  Shoulder joints burning, she drew a deep breath and pulled herself up and over to the other side. She hit the ground with barely a sound and remained perfectly still as she cocked her head and listened.

  No sound of running footsteps.

  No warning growl from a dog.

  No outcry of any kind to indicate that she was busted.

  The only sound she could hear was the frantic beat of her own heart. Could Nick hear it? The frenetic pounding of fear? She had no idea how sensitive the little transmitter she wore was.

  "I'm in," she whispered.

  Aware of minutes ticking by, she headed for the north side of the lot, carefully moving between the rows of containers and praying she encountered nothing else that breathed.

  The entire area was concrete and she made sure she moved quietly enough that her sneakers wouldn't make a sound against the surface.

  The containers were a variety of sizes, from those that would fit neatly on the back of a semitrailer to smaller units no bigger than a garden shed.

  Hearing still attuned to her surroundings, she crept to the container farthest away from the corner where she'd made entry. She'd start there and work forward.

  She pulled a small penlight from her bra and gave a quick shine on the end of the container. A simple padlock secured the door. She pulled out her lock-picking kit and removed the tool to use to breach the lock.

  "Yo!" A male voice rode the air, coming from someplace on her right. She flattened herself against the side of the container, praying that she was not visible in the darkness. Had her quick shine of the penlight alerted somebody?

  "Yo, yourself," a different male voice replied.

  Too close. The voices were far too close for comfort. She remained frozen, scarcely breathing.

  "We playing cards tonight?" the first voice asked.

  There was an answering deep chuckle. "Is that what you call it? I call it taking your money as easy as taking candy from a baby."

  "You funny man, seems I recall last week I relieved you of forty bucks."

  "Yeah and the wife bitched about it like I'd lost a hundred."

  As the two men talked about their last couple of poker games, Lynn remained deathly still, hoping, praying they finished their conversation quickly and moved to another area of the yard.

  Go away, she mentally willed as a trickle of perspiration slid from her hairline and down the side of her face. The two men were in the row next to where she hid. She was aware of the time ticking by, precious time she needed to do her work for the night.

  She breathed shallowly through her mouth as she waited. What if they never moved? What if they spent the rest of the night standing there and mouthing about poker games and ex-wives and the problems with their children?

  What if she had to remain where she was, plastered against the side of the container until the sun came up and she was discovered?

  No, she'd be discovered long before sunrise. At three-thirty there was a shift change and the guards coming on duty at that time would do a sweep of the yard. That's when she'd be found.

  If they didn't shoot first and ask questions later, she could look forward to an eight-by-ten cell for many years to come. There would be no more Web site building, no more pizza with Leo and no hope for any kind of a renewed relationship with Nick.

  The thought surprised her, but she realized it had always been in her mind. The moment she'd seen Nick she'd wondered if perhaps they'd be able to not renew their old relationship, but build a new one that was even stronger, more enduring than the one they'd had in the past.

  She had no idea if it was even possible. She had no idea if in the year they had been apart he had found somebody else, had a new woman in his life.

  Thoughts of Nick vanished as the men's voices moved away. She waited until they were so far in the distance she knew she was safe, then she turned to the padlock and got to work.

  Despite the trembling of her fingers it took her only a minute to get the door unlocked and ease it open. Inside she found furniture imported from Indonesia. According to the packing slip, there were twenty-four chairs, three dining tables and ten coffee tables destined for a furniture store in Texas.

  She ran the scanner over everything and when it registered nothing, she quickly exited the container and refastened the padlock.

  One down. Twelve to go.

  NICK STOOD at the window and waited to hear Lynn's voice come out of the small speaker on the table. He couldn't remember the last time his stomach had been so cramped with nerves. It would have been far easier on him had he been the one in the line of fire.

  But, if he'd learned anything about Lynnette White a year ago it was
that she wasn't the type to stand back and let a man protect her from whatever danger lay ahead.

  When they had taken down her godfather, she had been the one who had demanded a face-to-face meeting with him at Nick's beach cottage. She had been the one who had insisted she be a part of the sting operation to get him behind bars.

  She had been strong and commanding that day, showing him new depths of inner strength. It had been her naiveté and innocence that had first called him to her, but her strength had made him fall in love with her.

  But, that strength was also what had gotten her into the position she now found herself in, working a dangerous job for men who might possibly be equally as dangerous.

  She'd been gone a little over two hours and so far had cleared seven containers. Each time there was silence coming from the speaker, Nick's tension twisted tighter in his gut.

  "Container 57321 cleared," her voice whispered through the speaker.

  He left the window and went back to the table and marked the container on a spreadsheet. Good, that left only five more containers for her to get through then her work for the night would be finished.

  He wouldn't relax until she walked unscathed back through the apartment door. Even then his relief would be short-lived. They had a week or two of doing this all over again night after night.

  Then, when he left here, he would return to a life of lies and danger, a place where one false move could see his throat slit or a bullet through his brain.

  One moment at a time, he told himself. That's the way he'd been living his life, one moment at a time. He sat at the table and rubbed the back of his neck where a tension headache tried to gain control.

  He had no idea how long the operation in Raymore would take place. So far he'd seen the warehouse where the stuff was cooked, he'd watched the meth being packaged and distributed for sale, but the FBI wasn't interested in the mules of the operation.

  They wanted the money man. They wanted to find out the identity of the man financing the production of the drug and paying off the local law enforcement officers to look the other way.