“Why have you had an agent working for Romanov?” David asked.
“Because Romanov’s got his fingers in a lot of nasty business. He’s a known terrorist. We’ve been keeping tabs on him.”
“Why now?” David shrugged. “Why’s Romanov selling him?”
“Romanov is dying, and he’s going out in a fiery blaze of glory. Both of his sons are dead, so he has no one to leave his empire to. He’s selling everything, including Mr. Share, to the highest bidder. And he’s giving all his money to an Ushbanian terrorist cell. As I mentioned a second ago, your father’s intellect is world renowned. He’s created some of the most complex systems in the world, including numerous ones for the United States government. I don’t think I have to tell you what it would do to our national security if Mr. Share is sold to the wrong person.”
“The wrong person owns him now.”
TL held up his hand. “I know. Preliminary reports show that your father has spent the last ten years hacking systems for Romanov and Ushbania, stealing money, making them more rich and powerful. Whatever he’s done, we have a chance to stop it now, and we’re taking it. We want Mr. Share back.”
David nodded his head in my direction. “What’s GiGi’s part in this?”
Good question. I couldn’t wait to hear the answer.
“Romanov owns numerous businesses around the world.
Based on the intel Chapling decoded, Romanov has encoded the whereabouts of your father on a microsnipet located in a statue in one of his modeling schools. The microsnipet cannot be removed from the statue. It has to be decoded from its embedded spot. Unfortunately we don’t know which statue. Intel is cryptic with that part. Obviously, Chapling would never be allowed in a modeling school, but GiGi? Yes.”
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. Modeling? I couldn’t even walk right. I was the biggest klutz in the world.
“What do you mean, modeling school?” David shook his head. “What does Romanov have to do with modeling?”
“One of his many businesses. He owns a string of schools across Europe through which he launders money.”
“T—T—TL?” Both guys looked at me. “I can’t do this. Have you seen me around the ranch? I can’t even walk right. I stumble into everything. You’ve got to pick somebody else. There has to be an agent out there somewhere who can do this job.”
David nodded. “She’s right. She has no coordination. She tripped on her way out of the elevator not more than thirty minutes ago.”
I pointed to David. “See, he agrees.”
“Seriously, TL, pick somebody else. How ’bout that agent out of Texas? What’s her name . . .?” David snapped his fingers. “Jani. She’s hot. She can pass for a model in a heartbeat.”
Wait a minute. Jani’s hot? What did he mean Jani’s hot?
“Pick anybody but GiGi. Anybody.”
I narrowed my eyes. Really, I wasn’t that bad.
“Plus”—David railroaded on—“there’s not enough time. A month to get her ready? It would take a lot longer than four weeks.”
Who did he think he was? I threw my arms across my stomach. How dare he say it would take a lot longer. And . . . I could be hot. Even Beaker said I looked like a Victoria’s Secret model.
“I’ll do it.” Oh, jeez, did I just say that? Too late now. I showed TL all the determination I could. “I know I can do it.”
TL nodded. “David’s right. There are numerous agents who could do this. The modeling side, that is. But none of them have the computer skills you do. This isn’t something Chapling can hack into. This is a stand-alone device. You must be right there to break the code and retrieve the data.”
David leaned forward. “But, T—”
“The decision is final. I’ve enrolled GiGi in Romanov’s Ushbanian modeling school. She starts in thirty days.”
David sighed. “Well, why me? You said you were sending both of us in. Don’t get me wrong. I want to go. He’s my dad. But the logical side of me says I’m too close to the situation. I may not be objective.”
Hadn’t thought about that. But he had a good point. How admirable to put his dad and this mission ahead of his own desires.
“Before your dad’s abduction, he created the eighteen levels of the government’s system. GiGi is familiar with nine of those.”
I flushed at TL’s reference to my hacking crime.
“Mr. Share encoded the eighteen levels on a chip. The location of the chip is unknown. According to the intel Chapling received last night, whoever buys your father gets the chip. I don’t have to tell you what could happen if someone gets their hands on the chip and infiltrates our system.”
“I understand, but it still doesn’t explain why you want to send me.”
“Intel revealed that Mr. Share’s son is the key to owning the chip.” TL leaned forward. “To my knowledge you are his only son. Am I right?”
David barely nodded.
“Whether you know it or not, you’re the key.”
“My dad never told me anything. If he had I would’ve divulged it to the government a long time ago.”
“Ah, and therein lies the mystery. And that is why you are going. As soon as GiGi decodes the microsnipet and finds his whereabouts, we’ll extract him. You’ll be right there to unlock the mystery of the chip he hid over a decade ago.”
My stomach clenched with worry for David’s safety. “Sir, what about David? What’s to stop someone from kidnapping him now that word’s out he’s the key?”
“Very few people know his true identity. Only people with access to top secret IPNC documents know who David is. His secret is safe for now.” TL shuffled his papers, quickly perusing them. “We’re not sure where this statue and microsnipet are located. GiGi will be the only one with access to the entire school. David, you will travel with her as her photographer. I’ll go as her bodyguard, and Jonathan will be her modeling agent. I’ve arranged for an IPNC agent out of Washington to fly in and run things here at the ranch while I’m gone.”
Maybe it was the stress, or the whole mind-blowing situation; was this new life of mine actually real? I didn’t know why, but I started laughing and wouldn’t stop. Images flashed through my brain. Of giant, eye-patch Jonathan, our PT instructor, acting like a modeling agent. Of me walking down a runway all pouty-lipped, tripping over a piece of dust. Of David studying me through a viewfinder, clicking pictures.
Of David studying me through a viewfinder, clicking pictures.
Gulp.
My laughter died abruptly. Shoot. He would be taking pictures of me, wouldn’t he? I closed my eyes on a silent groan. I was going to look like a total idiot.
TL stood. “Now that GiGi’s done releasing her tension, you’re both dismissed for dinner.”
I opened my eyes, but didn’t move. I needed to digest things for a while.
TL left, and David got up. “I don’t think any of this is funny.” He gathered his things without looking at me. “I don’t think it’s funny at all.”
My stomach sank with his point-blank rebuke. I watched him stride from the room, feeling worse and worse with each step he took. He was right. None of this was funny. His dad had been kidnapped ten years ago, sold to Romanov Schalmosky, and was back up for sale to the highest bidder.
And out of everyone in the IPNC, they’d picked me to decode his whereabouts.
Me.
If I failed, David might never see his dad again.
Anticipating my meeting with Chapling had helped redirect my mind from obsessing over my upcoming mission.
A little before eight, I keyed in my code to the computer lab. This meeting with Chapling had been in the front of my brain all afternoon and evening long. I actually checked the clock dozens of times to make sure I wasn’t running late.
I opened the lab door and stepped inside. Chapling stood off to the right, making a fresh pot of coffee.
I walked toward him. “Hey.”
He jumped, and coffee grounds flew into the air.
“Oh boy. Ohboyohboyohboy.” He slammed his hand over his heart. “Warn a guy next time.”
I laughed, not bothering to point out that I’d been pretty loud coming in.
Chapling brushed coffee grounds from his red, Brillo-pad hair. He finished loading up the filter and pressed the on button.
I caught sight of the stained coffeemaker and cringed. “When was the last time you cleaned that thing?”
He shrugged and waddled off.
I never claimed to be neat and tidy, but that coffeemaker looked disgusting. A sink sat beside it with paper towels hanging above. I turned off the coffeemaker, tore off a wad of paper towels, wet them in the sink, and cleaned it up. I turned the coffeemaker back on, and while the coffee brewed, I wiped the spilled grounds from the table and floor.
Suddenly I felt like his mother.
“Hey, where are you?” Chapling called from across the lab.
“Cleaning up your mess,” I called back.
“Oh, thanks. Thanksthanksthanks. Get over here. I can’t wait to show you this.”
I threw away the paper towels and found him sitting on the floor in the corner, behind a server, surrounded by wires and tools.
I sat down across from him. “Why are you in the corner?”
“It’s comfortable. Here.” He gave me a wire. “Wrap this around your finger.”
I did. He touched the other end of the wire to a tiny, flat microsnipet. The contact sent a hot zing through my finger, and I jumped.
Chapling scrunched up his bushy red brows. “That hurt?”
“No. It startled me. What are we doing? What is this?”
“It’s for your mission. The microsnipet’s hidden in a statue. We need to develop a device that’ll tell you which statue. Something that’ll pick up the specific magnetic field that only microsnipets emit.”
I unwrapped the wire from my finger. “But I can’t go around with this on my finger touching wires to statues. That’ll be a bit obvious.”
“Quite right. I was thinking something silicone-based, nearly invisible.”
My heart kicked in. “With a remote sensor?”
“Yeahyeahyeah, that’s good.” Chapling handed me a well-used spiral notebook. “Take a look at my notes. Tell me what you think.”
I flipped over the cover. “So how long have you worked for the IPNC?”
“Fifteen years. They recruited me right after I patched into Miami’s mainframe and blacked out the whole city.”
“Um . . .” I blinked. “Okay. Want to tell me why?”
He waved his hand. “For the fun of it.”
I smiled. Somehow I couldn’t picture him being so devious. “Ya know, if you would’ve used a nesrent bug in the software, the city would’ve strobed like a nightclub.”
Chapling looked up from the soldering iron he held. “Oh, thatsgoodthatsgoodthatsgood. Where were you fifteen years ago? Too bad I’m not a social deviant anymore. We’d totally have to do that to San Belden.”
We both laughed, and I began skimming through his notes.... I was amazed. His computations were out of this world.
I studied his diagrams, and it hit me. “Silicone-based? How about something mirroring a fingerprint?”
He snapped his fingers. “You got it. Smartgirlsmartgirl.” He took his spiral pad, jotted a few notes, and we got down to work.
[7]
<:”’/
“GiGi, watch out!”
I snapped out of my computer zone a split second before I ran straight into a wall. I’d been into my modeling training for two weeks and knew I wasn’t doing too hot at it.
Bruiser burst out laughing, and Beaker snorted.
“GiGi,” my modeling instructor, Audrey, said with a sigh. “You’ve got to concentrate. We have only two weeks left to get you ready. And frankly, you’ve shown little improvement.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I’m tired, I wanted to whine. This mission had taken over my life. Between college classes and training after school each day at the ranch, I barely had time to eat, let alone enjoy a lollipop.
Perfect, beautiful, coordinated Audrey pointed at me. “One more time. Remember, you’re a lady. Not a bull rider. Stand up straight, shoulders back, suck in your stomach, dangle your arms. One foot in front of the other, toe first. Pop your hip. And smile.” She demonstrated down the length of our long room and back.
I paid very close attention, I promise I did, and successfully made it all the way down our makeshift runway. With a proud, relieved breath I paused for show, pivoted, and my spike heel buckled beneath me.
Beaker snorted. Again.
“If you’re so perfect,” I snapped at her from my sprawled position, “why don’t you get up and do it yourself!”
She shrugged, ran her hand through her newly dyed pink hair, and went back to her homework.
Bruiser rolled off her bed, struck a pose, then exaggeratedly did the model stroll in her FRECKLES FREAKING RULE! T-shirt.
Her goofiness made me smile. Leave it to her to relieve a tense situation.
The instructor held her hand out to me. “Come on. Let’s take a break and practice wearing clothes.”
How pathetic was it that I had to practice wearing clothes?
She’d laid a variety of outfits on my bed. Sequined gowns, slinky dresses, spaghetti-strapped shirts, extremely teeny minis. Just as teeny as my shorts (that I still hadn’t worn, or taken back. Sweatpants and PT went together just fine in my mind.)
I eyeballed the clothes on my bed. Did models actually wear this stuff?
“It’s not enough to look good. You have to know you look good. Confidence is the key.”
Comfort is the key, I wanted to say, but wisely kept my thoughts to myself. Didn’t do me any good to fight the process. I had a mission to get ready for.
The instructor picked up a silver, teeny mini and a tight, pink tank top. “This argentine and salmon are great together.”
Argentine and salmon? Why couldn’t she just say silver and pink?
She handed me the clothes and I turned toward the bathroom.
“No. Change here. You’ll have no privacy among the other models. You’ll be poked and prodded and nipped and tucked. Between the stylists, makeup artists, and designers, you won’t be left alone. Start getting used to it. Lose your modesty. Strip.”
Even though I’d spent plenty of time in orphanages, foster homes, and college dormitories, I still managed to find privacy.
I looked at Bruiser, then Beaker, and then Audrey. I don’t have anything they don’t, I reassured myself, but mine was mine and theirs was theirs. Know what I mean?
Quickly, I made a mental inventory of my underwear.
Bra: beige, one month old, slightly padded, clean, no holes, no frays.
Underwear: burgundy, bought same time as bra, bikini, clean, no holes, no frays.
Okay, now hair: shaved my pits, legs, and bikini line last night.
Things aren’t as bad as they could be.
I stripped from my jeans and T-shirt and reached for my new clothes.
“Where’s your patch?” asked Beaker.
Shoot. Forgot about that. I continued dressing as if she’d asked a normal question, like What time is it? “What patch?”
“What patch? The annoying tracking patch we’re all ordered to wear. TL told you to wear yours on your stomach.”
I zipped up my skirt while my brain formulated a dozen different responses and my heart raced with the lie I was about to tell. “It gave me a rash. So TL told me to take it off while I’m here at the ranch.”
Staring Beaker straight in her bold eyeliner eyes, I showed her a hint of concern mixed with solid honesty. “And yours? It hasn’t irritated your skin, has it?”
She shook her pink head but continued to study me like she wasn’t quite sure whether or not I’d told her the truth.
I glanced beyond her to Bruiser, who quickly looked away. I
got the distinct impression TL had removed her patch as well.
Someone knocked on our door, and I checked my bedside clock in immediate reaction. Ten minutes until my next session. Good. Not running late. I’d developed quite a bit of paranoia over that issue.
“Enter,” Bruiser commanded in an obvious attempt at copying TL’s voice.
David opened the door, and my whole body immediately warmed. “Not bad, Bruiser.”
She grinned. “Thanks.”
He switched his attention to me, making my heart kick my ribs. Slowly, he did a once-over, from the top of my head to the toes of my silver heels and back up again. I fought the urge not to cover my gangly legs. At least the tanning bed in town that Audrey made me lie in had taken the ghostly glow from my body.
“Isn’t she hot?” Bruiser bounced her brows.
David cleared his throat. “Change of plans. We’re all meeting in the barn in ten. Not Chapling’s lab.” David looked me over once more and then quickly left and closed the door.
“Well, I think you’re hot,” Bruiser said.
I curved my lips upward, although I really didn’t feel like a smile. “Thanks, Bruiser.”
She hugged me. “You’re going to do fine on this mission. Don’t sweat it. Isn’t that right, Beaker?”
Beaker sniffed as a response.
Oh, well, at least I had Bruiser’s support.
“We’re all done here.” Audrey began folding my model clothes. “Go ahead and get ready for your next meeting.”
I unzipped my skirt, thinking back to David. He could’ve at least said I looked nice. Then again David hadn’t said a whole lot to me in the past two weeks. Not since I broke into laughter at the news that his dad was up for sale. And my gut still guiltily clenched every time I recalled the whole thing.
David had to understand that that was a nervous reaction. Did he actually think I’d find something so tragic funny?
Being the social reject I was, I hadn’t ventured into the topic with him. And I’d had plenty of opportunities to do so over the past weeks. Maybe the whole thing would magically resolve itself.
Right.
Grow up, GiGi. You need to apologize.
Model Spy Page 7
