by Kathy Reichs
Chance tapped the desk. I could tell he was warming to the idea. “This might work, but making it look plausible will take some time.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Got other plans tonight?”
• • •
“Okay.” Chance sat back and blew out a weary breath. “Done.”
I shook myself fully awake. Had been dozing with my eyes open. A glance at my iPhone revealed it was almost four in the morning. “Take me through it.”
“I recoded the file, renamed it, then moved it to a different directory.” Chance rubbed tired eyes. “Then I encrypted the new framework and buried everything in a shell application. To any prying eyes, it appears that I tried very hard to conceal this information.”
I frowned. “Hopefully not too hard.”
Chance wagged his head. “Will is good. If he looks, he’ll figure out what I did, though it might take him a while to sort everything.” He cracked a tight smile. “And the whole time he’ll think I’m an idiot, swimming out of my depth.”
I tapped my lip, testing the plan in my head. “All that work. Speckman should buy it.”
“Oh, he’ll buy.” Chance spoke through a deep yawn. “But the question remains, what are we selling?”
I spun in my chair, surprised him by tapping the metal box in his pocket.
“That.”
The corners of Chance’s mouth lowered. “Ah. That.”
His reluctance surprised me. “We need them to come to us. What could possibly be more enticing than a cure for being Viral?”
“It’s just . . .” Chance hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Do we want to show our best card? Once they know about a cure, everything could change. They might consider us a threat again.”
I shrugged, too exhausted to worry about it. “We don’t have another card to play. If you’ve got a better plan to draw out the Trinity—to a place of our choosing—I’m all ears.”
Chance sighed. “I don’t. So what do we plant?”
“Write that you’ve finally produced an antidote,” I instructed, thinking aloud, “but you’re scared the Candela building is compromised. So you’re storing it at a secret hiding place of mine.”
Chance was nodding. “That should send them running into our arms.”
The keyboard was sitting right before me. I lifted it and opened the Tory Brennan file. “I can make the entry. I’ll just add a few lines at the—”
“No!” Chance snatched at my fingers. Startled, I dropped the keyboard and it clattered to the carpet. Chance dove to his knees to retrieve it, suddenly frantic. “Don’t read anything! Those thoughts are private and I . . . I don’t . . .”
By the time he popped up, I was staring at the screen.
The first lines seared into my brain.
Dear computer. We meet again.
. you my only TRUE friend?
I’m opening this file because I’m obsessed.
Tory Brennan.
She haunts me, even as she ruins my once-perfect life. I can’t fight it anymore. That nosy, childish, prying, know-it-all little brat is perfect in every way.
Damn her. I’m beaten.
I love her. God, but it’s true.
Chance closed the file with a strangled grunt. Then he dropped the keyboard, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.
I stared at the now-blank screen.
I love her. He wrote, “I love her.” Could that possibly be true?
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
I couldn’t speak. Didn’t move.
My body was immobile. In stasis. But my mind ran like wildfire.
I’m staying here tonight. With him, in this office.
And he loves me?
I found my voice, if not the courage to look at him. “Did you mean that?”
There was an electric pause. Then Chance slowly reached out and cupped my chin.
Turned it to face him. Pressed his lips against mine.
Heat seared through my veins. I leaned into the kiss, tasting his lips, drinking in his smell. For a magical moment, I was lost in the connection of his mouth to mine.
Then a single image arrowed through my brain.
Ben, standing on the curb, eyes filled with hurt and pain.
I recoiled as if slapped, emotions bubbling inside me like a cauldron.
Shame. Desire. Guilt. Need.
Chance nearly slipped from his chair, the hungry look in his eyes quickly giving way to hurt. “What is it?”
“I . . . I can’t. It’s not right.”
Chance sat back, sulking like a sullen child. “Because of me? Or because of him?”
“Both. Neither.” My pulse raced. My lungs pumped like bellows. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” He couldn’t keep the acid from his voice.
“No. But I know this isn’t right.”
I met his eyes, afraid of what I’d see there. “Please.”
He seemed about to say more, then caught himself with a rueful shake of the head.
“Fine.”
Clearing his throat, Chance lifted the keyboard, reopened the file, and tabbed to the bottom. After pounding the space bar a dozen times until no text was visible, he turned to me with a neutral expression. “What would you like the entry to say?”
Speaking robotically, I told him my idea. He actually laughed.
“It’s novel, I’ll give you that.” Chance began typing without further conversation.
Feeling decidedly awkward, I rose from the desk and walked to the couch. Sat down. Then lay down, to think. I felt like the walls of my life had morphed into fun-house mirrors. Everything was blurred, stretched, and sideways.
I needed a moment to myself. A chance to get my thoughts in order.
But I hadn’t accounted for how tired I was. My exhausted nerves. The physical toll the day had taken on me.
Within moments, I was fast asleep.
ATTENTION: DIRECTOR WALSH [“EYES ONLY”]
FILE STATUS: TOP SECRET [LEVEL 5]
CASE: #34687 (AKA—PHOENIX INQUIRY)
FILE TYPE: SEARCH REPORT
DATE: APRIL 21, 2014
SUBJECT(S): GABLE, LUCILE W.; GABLE, PETER E.
PRINCIPAL INVESTIGATING AGENT(S): J. SALTMAN, B. ROGERS
NOTE(S): SUBJECTS ARE TWIN SIBLINGS AND THE PRINCIPAL VICTIMS OF THE SO-CALLED ZODIAK ABDUCTIONS. SUBJECTS ARE KNOWN TO BE ABROAD AND OUT OF INVESTIGATING AGENTS’ CURRENT REACH WITHOUT ELEVATING INQUIRY TO PRIORITY LEVEL P-TSX-7 [HIGHEST-INT4A2-HIGHEST]. INVESTIGATING AGENTS AWAIT AUTHORIZATION TO PROCEED.
NOTE TO FILE:
Investigating Agents attempted to contact and interview Lucile W. Gable (“Lucy Gable”) and Peter E. Gable (“Peter Gable”) (collectively, the “Gable twins”), in connection with the Phoenix Inquiry, but were unable to ascertain their current location.
It is believed that the Gable twins had close and meaningful contact with Phoenix Inquiry investigation target Victoria G. Brennan (“Tory Brennan”), immediately prior to their disappearance.
Global PSA tracking and human intelligence sources, in combination, rate the Gable twins’ most likely current locations, in order, as being a) Bali; b) Fiji; or c) New Zealand. Investigating Agents believe there is a high probability of locating said subjects.
Investigating Agents request initiation of priority search status and the implementation of DNA-signature location program INTUIT to track and locate the Gable twins. They are believed to have high-level intelligence directly related to Tory Brennan and her associates. Investigating Agents do not believe this request would compromise the secrecy of the INTUIT program or any other agency security interests.
[END SEARCH REPORT]
A hand gently shook me awake.
Blinking away un
settling dreams, I found Chance standing over me.
“Up and at ’em, Sleeping Beauty. Your plan worked.”
“Wha?” Not an eloquent rejoinder, but my mind was sludge.
Chance flashed a half smile. “It’s nearly eight. We need to look presentable.”
Somehow Chance had already cleaned himself up and changed clothes, and looked fresh as a daisy. If still upset about the night before, he gave no sign.
His words finally penetrated my still-waking brain. “It worked? You’re sure?”
He nodded, moving across the office to his desk.
I rubbed a fist into each eye socket. Only then did I notice a fluffy fleece blanket covering my legs. Chance must’ve placed it there while I slept. The thought of him watching me sleep triggered an unexpected thrill.
Glancing around, I couldn’t tell where Chance had slept. Maybe he hadn’t, though I’d bet my life he’d snuck in a quick shower at some point. That thought sparked me fully alert.
“How can you tell?” I asked, digging out my iPhone with a twinge of panic.
Exhale. No missed calls, no messages.
No irate father hunting me across Charleston.
“This time I thought ahead.” Chance was typing away, calm as a cucumber. “I crafted a little tell, should anyone open the file. Here, come look.”
Like nothing ever happened. I’m down with that.
I rose, wrapping the blanket around me as I crossed the carpeted floor. I’d slept fully clothed, and the office was warm, but for some reason I was reluctant to discard the extra layer of protection. Chance often made me feel that way.
The hall outside was silent, which surprised me, until I remembered it was Saturday morning. Still, if someone walked in right now I’d probably die. Perhaps the blanket-robe was a bad idea after all.
Chance gave me an odd look, then tapped the screen. “I adjusted the document system to log an indicator every time this file is opened. Nothing that should’ve drawn Speckman’s notice—just an added blip in the metadata.”
I scanned the coded lines onscreen. “Those two Js?”
He nodded. “The program records a single J in the metadata for each time this file is accessed. From anywhere, internal servers or otherwise. According to this, my file was opened once early this morning, and again an hour ago. Will found it quicker than I’d have thought.”
He spun his chair to face me. “The Trinity took the bait.”
I swept tangled red strands from my face. My eyes slid to the slim metal box sitting on the desktop.
“Then let’s reel them in.”
• • •
Getting back to Morris Island was tricky.
Chance drove us most of the way, but I couldn’t be seen with him. Kit’s gullible, but not blind. If my father spotted me arriving home in Chance’s BMW, after spending the night out, I’d never leave my room again.
Instead, we stopped at Black Magic Cafe in Folly Beach. I called Shelton. A stroke of luck—the boys were together, playing Call of Duty in Ben’s rec room. I told them to come meet us for breakfast, on the double.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Shelton whispered. “We don’t need another throwdown, and after last night . . .”
“It can’t wait.” Though, admittedly, I shared his concern. “Chance and I set something in motion that might attract the Trinity, but the timetable is short. So get Ben’s head screwed on straight and hurry down here. Please.”
Shelton snorted. “Oh, sure. Get his head on straight. No problem.”
I hung up. Found Chance watching me.
“I’m not in the mood to get punched again.” He stroked the left side of his perfect chin. “And I think we can agree Ben’s not listening to reason.”
“I’ll handle Ben.” Curt. “Let’s just focus on our strategy.”
Our breakfast arrived, and I set to with gusto. I was famished, sleep deprived, and wearing the same clothes as the day before. I didn’t want to think about what I looked like.
But I was also charged up.
We had a shot at catching one enemy, to learn about the other.
For the first time in a week, I felt a degree of control. So I speared a turkey sausage link, imagining it was that dopey jerk Cole.
The Trinity liked playing games? Thought we were puppies?
I almost laughed.
We were Virals. My pack had accomplished things they couldn’t even imagine.
The Trinity had no idea who they were dealing with.
• • •
To say the meeting was tense is putting it mildly.
Ben and Chance sat across from each other at our table. Hi and Shelton flanked Ben, poised to grab our temperamental friend should he try anything rash. I sat next to Chance, hoping Ben wouldn’t read anything into it.
“We have an opportunity,” I began slowly. “A way to get the drop on the Trinity for once. But we have to work together.”
Ben said nothing, dressed in his usual black tee and jeans. Arms crossed, scowl in place, he stared straight ahead at nothing. I wasn’t 100 percent sure he was listening.
Hi drummed the table, wearing a yellow and blue tiki shirt that hurt my eyes. “So what’s the plan?”
“We have something they want.” I glanced at Chance, who nodded. “Last night, we laid a trap in the files Speckman hacked—the location of the Viral cure.”
Shelton and Hi sucked in breaths. Ben shifted, but remained silent.
“Chance and I think the Trinity will come for it,” I continued, then winced internally for grouping the two of us together. “If they do, it’ll be today. This afternoon.”
Shelton had on a lime-green polo and white shorts. He squinted at me, eyes serious behind his thick lenses. “Why today?”
“Because of where it’s supposedly hidden.” I told my packmates the message we’d planted. “We know Speckman saw the info early this morning. He won’t be able to resist. So when the Trinity show up, we corner them. Try one last time to get them to cooperate.”
“They won’t.” Ben, never looking my way.
Maybe Ella will.
But I remembered her eyes in the cafeteria.
“I think Ben’s right.” Hi slumped in his seat. “If they don’t play ball, what then?”
My voice was cold enough to scare even me. “Then we do what we have to.”
In short, curt sentences, I outlined my plan.
All eyes zeroed on me. Even Ben’s. Hiram’s face grew ashen. Shelton began vigorously tugging an earlobe. Chance gave me a considering look, as if seeing something for the first time.
I didn’t flinch.
I remembered the alien touch I felt aboard Sewee as the Trinity watched from the cliffs. The mental assault Cole had inflicted on the Yorktown.
The Trinity were dangerous. Rabid dogs, roaming the city at night.
They’d attacked us. Trapped us. Tried to sell us to some twisted government agency.
And now they were running amok, messing with powers better left untested.
They had to be stopped. One way, or another.
“That’s my proposal.” I spoke quietly, but with iron conviction. “I need to know if you’re in. And more importantly, will you work together?”
For a moment, no one responded. Then Hiram nodded, followed swiftly by Chance and Shelton, though the smaller boy swallowed audibly before doing so.
I looked at Ben, who was glowering at Chance. Then he closed his eyes and mumbled something to himself. When his brown irises reappeared, they were aimed directly at me. “Yes. For you.”
“Good.” I shrugged off a tingly feeling. No time for girlish nonsense. “Because this crap ends now. After today, there’ll only be one Viral pack in Charleston. Ours.”
Bolton Preparatory Academy was deathly quiet.
Satu
rday activities had ended an hour earlier, and the campus was a ghost town.
Then footsteps echoed in the corridor. Three dark shapes slunk into view.
“This one.” A lithe form with a long black braid rapped her knuckles against my locker. “But I don’t know the combination.”
Hello, Ella.
I could hear every word. Smell their breath. See the tiniest wrinkles in their clothing.
My eyes burned with golden light as I waited for our trap to spring.
I was crouched behind a classroom door not ten feet away, heart thumping in my chest. But my powers gave me comfort. Flaring, I felt confident, even against our stronger adversaries.
One of the shapes turned. I ducked and shielded my eyes, praying their radiance wouldn’t betray me as I watched through the window. The boys were in position as well. Some more reluctantly than others.
The tallest figure snapped his fingers. “Cole, get this open. Now.”
“Whatever you say, Willie.” Grinning, Cole removed a wicked-looking hammer from his backpack. “I’ve got the perfect key.”
Beside him, Ella shifted, her lips twisted as though she’d eaten something sour. “Why would they keep the cure in Tory’s locker? Makes no sense.”
Speckman shrugged. “The puppies thought no one would ever look here. And they’d have been right, if Claybourne hadn’t written about it in his love diary.”
Cole laughed like a hyena, but Ella’s frown deepened. “Exactly,” she pressed. “So why would he do that?”
Ella was no fool. I didn’t like where her thoughts were headed.
I sent the signal. Shelton, now.
Reluctance oozed through the bond.
Cole spun his hammer in one hand, preparing to bash my locker to bits.
Now, Devers!
Bwhhhhhaaaaa!
My locker door flew open, startling the trio huddled before it. Before they could react, Shelton aimed a fire extinguisher at their faces. “Lights out, suckas!”
Shelton pulled the handle. The hallway disappeared in a cloud of gray and white dust.
Now! Go!
Doors burst open up and down the corridor. With a surge of adrenaline, I fired into the hallway and beelined for Ella, who was hacking into her fist a few yards away. Her eyes widened as I shoved her to the ground.
