The Project

by I C Cosmos

  She cares.

  “You were about to give me a hug yesterday, when I told you about the secret key,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Helen took a deep breath. “Because I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “Why would a hug upset me?”

  “It’s just…eh…”

  “That I am a grumpy SOB?” Nic bit the bullet.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you thought that.”

  “No. Grumpy, yes. SOB, no. Definitely not.” Helen gave him a lovely smile.

  Nic wanted to stop time and bask in her warmth forever.

  Sant’Antioco Island

  Helen passed two old trucks filled with live chickens and drove onto the bridge connecting Sardinia with Sant’Antioco Island.

  “Stay in the left lane,” Nic said. “We have to head south right after the bridge.”

  “South? Isn’t the city to the north?” Helen asked.

  “Yes, but we aren’t staying there. I got us a top floor of a house on one of the beaches.”

  “Wow, are we having a beach day today?” Helen grinned.

  “Maybe a beach hour.”

  “And you think they’ll not find us there?”

  Since they had discovered the rogues, Nic refused to sleep in the hotels they were booked in and reserved alternative accommodations, which was surprisingly easy in Sardinia.

  “I am not going to make anything easy for them.”

  Nic directed her to a house on a hill overlooking a sandy beach lining a small bay. Rocky cliffs protected the beach from the north and south, making it an idyllic vacation spot, but the beach was almost empty.

  “Tourism hasn’t discover Sant’Antioco yet,” Helen said.

  “No. It’s one of the most undeveloped areas of Sardinia.”

  A stocky woman in a dark dress covered by a striped apron walked out of the house.

  “Signora Sanna?” Nic asked.

  “Sì, sì.” The woman reached deep into her apron and retrieved a key with a bulbous brass fob hanging from the ring. “Your room. Up,” she said, pointing to a wooden staircase. She handed the key to Nic ceremoniously, as if handing over a key to the Vatican.

  “Thank you.”

  Signora Sanna nodded and disappeared. They ran up the stairs.

  “Nice place.” Helen walked onto the wide terrace.

  “It’s not the Negresco.”

  “No worries.” Helen laughed. “By the way, our friends chatting yet?”

  “Nope. Not a beep.”

  “Hm.” Helen studied the map. “It will take us about twenty minutes to get to the other side of the island.”

  “We better get going then.”

  Signora Sanna was waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

  “Oggi è festa. Holiday,” she said. “Tutto è chiuso. Closed. Capisci?”

  “Sì,” Helen said. “Everything is closed due to a holiday.”

  “Cucinerò la tua cena.” Signora Sanna pointed to herself while stirring an imaginary pot with her other hand.

  “That’s lovely. Thank you so much,” Helen said and turned toward Nic. “Signora will cook a dinner for us.”

  “Grazie.” Nic gave Signora Sanna a big smile. She nodded importantly and retreated to her house.

  They crossed the island, driving on a narrow road surrounded by Mediterranean scrub and a few cultivated fields, until they reached a point overlooking the sea.

  “This is as good a place as any,” Nic decided.

  Helen readied her apps, still thinking about their talk on the autostrada. Telling Nic about her guilt was surprisingly healing.

  She peeked at him. He was concentrating on his devices, looking like Josh. It no longer bothered Helen.

  Nic had become like a brother to her.

  Sant’Antioco Island

  The next day

  Helen sipped her coffee on the terrace, enjoying the early morning. Another hot day was in the making, but the night still had a few minutes to breathe freshness into the air before the rising sun took over.

  “I wouldn’t mind spending a few days here when it’s all over.” Nic sat down with his coffee.

  “It’s amazing there are no tourists here.”

  The beach was completely empty.

  “Do you want to go for a quick swim?” Nic said. “We have plenty of time to catch the ferry to San Pietro.”

  “Sure.” Pleasantly surprised, Helen went inside and changed into her swimsuit. She was taking her ring off when Nic walked in and stopped her.

  “You don’t have to do that. The ring is fine.”

  “But the stone isn’t. Diamonds could get dull when exposed to salt water.” Helen slid the ring off.

  “No. One swim wouldn’t do that.” Nic took the ring and gently put it back on her finger. “Keep the ring on. Always. And never give it back,” he said.

  There was more to the ring than a pretty rock, Helen was sure. But Nic wasn’t offering. Helen had wanted to ask him about it since landing in Nice, and now was the right moment.

  “So, tell me about the ring. What’s the secret?”

  Nic tilted his head, observing her closely. “It’s not a secret. It’s a source.”

  “A source of what?”

  “Connections.” He grinned. “Come on, let’s go swimming.”

  Nic ran across the beach and jumped into the soft waves, Helen chasing after him, puzzled about the ring. Connections. She followed Nic to a large stone at the entrance to the bay, pulled herself up on it, and watched the sunrise. They luxuriated in the glistening glory for a few minutes and then swam back, Helen trying to savor every stroke in the refreshing water, but her mind was already on their next job.

  ~~~

  An easy ferry ride delivered them to Carloforte, a charming city on San Pietro Island, the location of their next test. Helen felt like they had landed in the previous century. She observed people strolling on the Corso as if time didn’t exist, people sitting on benches and in cafés reading real newspapers, a lot of them smoking.

  Children were expertly managing large gelato cones, making sure that not a drop of the melting goodness escaped. Dog walkers frequently stopped to chat with each other, their fuzzy friends performing their own smelling rituals. No one rushed.

  Helen stopped at a newsstand and bought them a copy of L’Unione Sarda, a regional daily newspaper.

  “This looks like the perfect place to escape the rat race,” Helen said, looking for a café where they could set up shop without drawing attention to themselves.

  Nic chuckled, steering them toward a small place shaded by umbrellas and palm trees.

  “By the way, where would you go if you wanted to disappear?” Nic asked after they ordered their cappuccinos and mineral waters.

  “You mean disappear so that nobody can find you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hm…” Helen thought about it. “São Paulo, I guess.”

  “São Paulo? Why?” Nic asked as he pushed away the newspaper to make place for their cappuccinos.

  “Because it’s huge, international, and a business and arts center. You can be anything you want there. Blend in and be invisible.” Helen smiled. “Are you planning on disappearing?” She was joking, but Nic’s face became unreadable.

  Helen’s devices vibrated. “Oh my… You surely couldn’t disappear here. Our rogue friends are back. In force.”

  “They descended on San Pietro like locusts. How many have you got?” Nic asked.

  “At least two dozen. All of them chatting at the same time.”

  “That’s what I got. Let’s tag as many of them as we can.”

  “Good thing we’ve automated the process,” Helen said. “Our scheduled session starts in a couple of minutes,” she reminded him. “Let me start the recording.”

  “’K.”

  “Bloody hell!” Helen swore under her breath.

  “What’s going on?”

 
“There are so many of the rogues, they are almost drowning the legitimate units.” Helen studied the screen. “Although the legits don’t seem affected by it.”

  “They shouldn’t be, because they are heavily shielded.”

  “You are right. The ruckus isn’t showing on their displays at all.”

  Helen bit her lip, not liking what she saw. Rogue units popping up in the same places where she and Nic ran the Consortium’s tests. Disrupting their operations.

  “We can just about handle the rogues now,” Helen said, concerned. “But if something unexpected happened, we could be in a world of pain.”

  “That’s just the point. Maybe this is meant to throw us off.” Nic leaned back, running fingers through his hair, eyes closed.

  “Why?” Helen’s chest tightened. She expected heavy boots and aviators to appear from around the corner any second.

  Nic shrugged.

  A thought crossed Helen’s mind. “They aren’t hiding. Doing their stuff in broad daylight.”

  “True. It could also be a test. You know how the Consortium wants to push the system to the limit.”

  “Maybe.” Helen wasn’t convinced. “But unidentified units shouldn’t be out in the wild. It’s against all protocols.”

  “Yeah.” Nic rubbed his elbow, his eyes on the screen. “It looks like the rogues are planning something in the middle of the island.”

  “There is nothing in the middle of this island. Could it be a trap?”

  “If it is, we aren’t falling in it. Let’s drive along the coast to La Caletta and see what happens.”

  “They stopped,” Nic said shortly after Helen entered the coastal road. “Not a beep.”

  “Are they moving?”

  “No.”

  “That’s suspicious.”

  “Very.” Nic opened his laptop.

  Heavy clouds rolled in from the northwest, and the first drops of rain splashed on the windshield as they were approaching La Caletta.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Helen said. “No sunset today.”

  Nic barely looked up from his laptop. “Let’s turn around and drive back to Carloforte. There’s nothing here. I am starving.”

  But he barely touched his dinner, looking withdrawn, constantly checking one of his devices, sharing nothing. By the time they boarded the ferry back, his mood was darker than the clouds.

  What a change, Helen thought as the ferry cut through the choppy waters. It was difficult to believe they had been basking in the sunrise this morning. How could brightness turn to doom so quickly?

  You know how. Helen flinched.

  They drove to Signora Sanna’s house deep in thought, Helen’s eyes glued to the narrow roads. Getting lost in the darkness was the last thing she was willing to entertain. She let out a sigh of relief when they stopped in front of the house. Signora was nowhere in sight.

  The rain pounded on the roof, competing for spookiness with the wind howling along the terrace. Lightning illuminated the room momentarily, followed by deafening thunder. Helen gave up on sleep, the storm in her mind raging as unrelentingly as the one outside. Who betrayed us?

  “My dad is a fraud.” Nic’s voice cut through the darkness. “Well, he’s not my dad, really.”

  Cagliari, Sardinia

  One day later

  Helen sat on the bench in the middle of Piazza Yenne in Cagliari, nibbling on a handmade cookie. She needed the sugars to boost her overworked brain. And so did Nic, who attacked the cookies with a vengeance.

  Less than half an hour ago they had finished another scheduled testing session and an unscheduled battle with a new horde of rogues trying to drown the legitimate units. Three things were clear: One, the Project was compromised. Two, whoever compromised it either infiltrated the Consortium or was one of its members. And three, being deep undercover, Nic and Helen were left to their own devices. They had no one to turn to.

  “I am going to get us more coffee and cookies,” Nic said, and stood up. “And then we’ll figure out what to do next. OK?”

  Helen nodded. She was running on fumes. She had no problem pulling an all-nighter to perfect her cyber systems, but last night was different. Taxing. Not solving anything but making things more complicated. Raising questions that had no obvious answers.

  “My dad is a fraud. Well, he’s not my dad, really.” Nic had startled her amid the lightning and thunder.

  “A fraud?” Helen had asked, hearing the dread in Nic’s voice.

  Nic grabbed her hand. “He was always like a father to me.” Nic’s voice trembled. “We’d survived the aftermath of the car crash together.”

  Helen squeezed his hand lightly, encouraging him to go on. She didn’t have to. Nic’s story gushed out like water from a breached dam.

  “I knew he wasn’t my dad. You see, Mom gave me this magic music box when I was four. It was Italian, made in Sorento, wood inlay. It had a key with a tassel and played ‘O Sole Mio.’ My sunshine. That’s what she called me, her sunshine. Anyhow, do you know the words?”

  “To ‘O Sole Mio’? No. Only the melody.” Helen sang a few notes.

  “I memorized the words because it was our song. It begins with a celebration of what a wonderful thing is a sunny day after a storm.” Nic chuckled bitterly.

  “Where were we?” he continued. “Oh, the box. I used it to store my little treasures. And we were leaving messages in it for each other. Mom and I. A drawing of a heart, a bird, a flower. I left a dried wildflower there for her once. Worked on it for weeks to get the flower just right. She cried when she discovered it; I watched her from my walk-in closet.

  “So when Dad told me about the accident, I went to the box and found a letter from her. Telling me how much she loved me, that my dad wasn’t my real dad, and that she’d come back for me in a few days.” Nic let out a sob.

  Helen squeezed his hand.

  “Dad saw her note and told me that the real dad is the one who raises you. We cried together and never talked about it again. We missed her terribly but survived it. Worked on the Project together. And now he is one of them.”

  “What do you mean?” Helen didn’t follow.

  “Our goal was to fight terrorism. First and foremost. Did everything to launch my system. But now he doesn’t care anymore.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I sent him a pic of the aviator man.”

  Helen gasped. Nic violated the communication protocol.

  “He went ballistic,” Nic said. “Told me to follow orders and not to meddle with things I don’t understand.”

  “Maybe he has a good reason for saying it,” Helen offered softly. She’d never met Frank in person, but she liked him. He seemed dedicated to serving the country. A man of integrity. Even though Nic had a different opinion.

  “No, he doesn’t have a good reason,” Nic responded sharply. “He abandoned our mission.”

  “How?” Helen’s chest tightened.

  “What I said. He doesn’t care…goes after money and power. He is a fraud. Betrayed me. Us,” Nic had said forcefully.

  Helen stood up from the bench, upset. The Project was in trouble, and she didn’t know what to do.

  Nic was running across the piazza, looking tense.

  “We have to go. Have to be in Nuoro in less than two hours. The local insurgents are planning something. This is the real deal.”

  Nuoro, Sardinia

  The next day

  Helen woke up with cotton-mouth and a foggy head, not knowing where she was. Then the images of last night’s events slowly came back to her.

  The frantic drive to Nuoro, negotiating the narrow zigzagging road to the top of Mount Ortobene, rushing into their hotel room just in time to intercept and disrupt a hot communication of an insurgent fraction. Concentrating to the point of hurting, biting her lip and hardly breathing because the rogues had unleashed their ruckus once again and complicated her and Nic’s job of dealing with the insurgents.

  She and Nic had had to work like mad, but
had done it and prevented the insurgents from putting a bomb on a fishing boat. And then they had spent hours analyzing and storing the data, training the artificial intelligence, and improving their bots to handle the rogues more effectively.

  Helen opened her eyes and looked for Nic.

  Where is he?

  She got out of the bed and peeked into the small bathroom, her heart thumping, telling her what she didn’t want to admit to herself yet. Nic was gone.

  Helen automatically reached for the bottle of mineral water on her nightstand, lifted it to her mouth, but set it down. He must have thrown a couple of sleeping pills in the water. That would explain the cotton-mouth and fogginess.

  Why? A brief swirl of panic invaded her chest. Helen pushed it away and inspected the room.

  There was no sign Nic had ever been in the room, except the device he used for receiving orders from the HQ. It lay next to the old-fashioned hotel phone, partially covering a handwritten note. Holding her breath, Helen freed the note.

  Don’t believe a word they tell you. Go on and finish the operation. You can do it, O Sole Mio.

  Helen slowly folded the note. Nic quit!

  She sat down and leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. O Sole Mio. She needed to figure out how to finish the operation, but was too hyper to order the chaos in her mind. The first step was to leave this hotel. ASAP, she decided, and headed for the bathroom. And gasped. The Mercedes. She looked outside. The car was still where she had parked it yesterday. The key fob was in her bag.

  At least Nic hadn’t left her stranded. Helen wondered how he’d gotten away. Did someone pick him up? Or had he taken the hiking trail to town and disappeared from there?

  He hadn’t shaved in the last few days, Helen realized. Which made her question how long he had been planning the escape. Her heart cringed, feeling betrayed. A second brother lost… They hadn’t started out on the best foot but had become strong partners. More than that. The last night in Sant’Antioco had sealed their friendship, or so Helen thought. Now she had to reconsider everything. Had it been real, or had Nic fooled her all along?