by Trevor Scott
Cliff was thinking he would rather she come to his friend’s house with him. She was gorgeous, and all through college neither of them had dated anyone close to her quality. In fact, they both could have counted their total dates on one hand.
He looked over at her. “It’s only a couple of days.”
“One night,” she said emphatically. “You get what you need and we move on.”
“Part of it,” he corrected her. “We get part of it, you transfer the money, and then we go for the rest.”
She shook her head. “We transfer part of the money.”
“Well...right.”
Cliff thought about his plan as he watched her drive down the road. He wanted to soak as much time as he could with her, for he knew that once she got what she wanted, and she had no more use for him, she was gone. That would be hard for him to take. God she was a hottie. He also knew that he would probably not ever return to Brightstar. Although he had called in sick while driving north, it would be nearly impossible for him to look those people in the eye again after what he had taken. He kept telling himself it was only data and pixels. But deep down he knew it was far worse than that. And his likelihood of being caught? Damn near zero. That brought a smile to his face. The old hacker in him.
●
Two cars back on the freeway was a brown Ford Taurus driven by the man Cliff Johansen had come to know in the past six months as Steve Lempi, programmer for Brightstar’s Group Five. A man who was actually special agent Drew Fisher with the Agency’s internal operations division.
Fisher checked his watch. Damn. He was late. Although he had already called in sick to Brightstar, he had not talked with his supervisor from Portland in two days.
He picked up his cell phone and punched in a number.
“Yeah, it’s me. Our little rabbit’s on the run.” He hesitated long enough to pass a car, while still keeping one car between him and the Trooper.
“I don’t know where he’s going. We just passed through Redding heading north. He has friends in Eugene.”
They were passing now through the Shasta Lake area. “Damn, this is pretty up here. Shasta Lake. Right, I remembered his friend in Bend. You think he’s heading there?”
He drove across a high bridge and through a narrow mountain pass. “Right. I’ll appreciate the help.”
If they turned onto north Highway 97 at Weed, then he’d know they were going to Bend, Oregon. If they stayed on I-5, it would be Eugene. Either way, he had it covered.
10
Shenyang, China
The night train from Beijing lumbered slowly into the Huanggutun Railway station on the western edge of the city, the sun still an hour or so from rising.
Jake Adams opened his eyes and shifted in his seat. He was in a compartment with seven other people, early in the evening speaking a language he didn’t know, and eventually drifting off to sleep and speaking only the universal language of snores and heavy breathing. He had not slept much, though.
After his meeting with Steve Anderson, the think tank wonk, he had gone back to his hotel room and looked through the information. Most he had memorized and destroyed, and the rest he carried in a small backpack, which sat now at his feet.
He was to meet an agent in Shenyang, who would take him north to Harbin on the old Russian Manchurian Railroad. The next day they would travel to an undisclosed location in the northern frontier.
The train came to a halt and Jake waited for the others to leave before picking up his small backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He glanced out the window, saw people waiting on a platform, bundled and their breath flowing in plumes of white, and realized he had only his lined leather jacket with him. Obviously not enough for this weather.
He wandered out and down the corridor, through the cheaper seats that would have made the airlines look lavish and comfortable, and then exited toward the main train station.
Immediately, cold air rushed toward him, as if he were in a wind tunnel. He quickened his pace.
Once inside the main building, he shifted his eyes at the high ceilings, and then made his way through a sea of people toward the train schedule board that took up nearly one entire wall. He was to stand there viewing the schedule until his contact approached him with the pre-determined signal. He hated this, not knowing the name of his contact or what he’d look like. Only the discussion would reveal the true contact. And that bothered him. He could be standing there like an idiot for hours.
“Harbin is nice this time of year,” came a soft voice from behind. Nearly perfect English. But something unexpected.
He hesitated to turn around. “Isn’t it a little cold this time of year. I heard it was like Siberia.”
“Mr. Adams,” the voice said. “We must go. Our train leaves in ten minutes.”
He turned now to view a young woman of perhaps twenty-five. She was nearly five-six, with the most stunning facial features he had seen since his arrival in China. She embraced him firmly like a long-lost lover, and he did the same, lingering and perhaps wishing it were true.
When they pulled apart, she said, “Sir, we really must go. I have our tickets.” She produced them and then slipped them back into her pocket. She was wearing a backpack larger than his, that seemed to be stuffed to capacity.
He smiled. “Lead the way.”
She shuffled back outside, and Jake kept pace with her purposeful gait. When they got onto the train, she pushed her way through the crowd like an angry porter.
He followed her toward the back of the train, through the cheap seats, the more private second class compartments, and into a first class sleeper. During the day trips, most of those remained empty because of their price and the fact that most didn’t need to sleep during the day. One side of the room had a bench and the other had a bunk bed. Below the window was a small table.
She slung her backpack to the floor, quickly closed the drapes, and turned toward him. Then she reached inside her jacket and pulled out a gun.
“Take off your clothes,” she demanded, her expression serious, and her eyes not blinking.
When a woman who looked like her made a firm command like that, he usually complied. The problem was, she had a gun pointing at him. And, although that might be kinky to some, Jake had had a gun pointed at him too many times to count. It never lead to anything sexual.
“Listen,” Jake started. “We barely know each other. Maybe we should start off with names. You know mine. Now, what’s yours?”
She stood firm, and Jake had a feeling she wasn’t messing around. He took off his backpack and started taking off his clothes. When he was down to his socks and underwear, he stopped.
“I haven’t had a chance to work out for a few weeks,” he said, trying a smile.
Her gun was still pointed at him. “The rest,” she said, her gun swishing back and forth at his groin.
He shrugged and slipped off his underwear. Luckily the room wasn’t too cold.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“Turn around,” she said.
He did what she said, making sure she didn’t move toward him at that moment. Instead, he heard his clothes scrape across the floor. She was checking out his I.D., he realized, but these were strange methods.
“Okay,” she said. “Get dressed.”
He turned around, and she had lowered the gun. Her eyes now shot down toward his crotch. She raised her thin eyebrows. Just as he got dressed, the train pulled away from the station and started picking up speed.
“What was that all about?” he asked her.
She was seated now and her gun back under her jacket.
“I was told you had a small tattoo on your right cheek. A picture of rabbit.”
“Hey, that’s not just any rabbit. That’s Bugs himself. A moment of weakness.” He thought for a moment. “You could have just had me pull down my pants.”
“What fun would that be?” She smiled now, showing imperfect teeth but a true warmth.
“Y
ou were checking for wires,” he said.
“Can’t be too careful.”
He sat down on the seat next to her. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra gun. Something a little more reliable than that Russian knock-off of yours.”
She smiled and shook her head. “You insult my gun and then ask for one. Typical.”
“Actually, I asked for one and then insulted yours. Seriously, though, I feel somewhat naked without mine.”
“If police catch you with one, you won’t see light of day for years. Bad way to learn Chinese. Good way to catch disease.”
Jake laughed. He had a feeling he was going to like... “What’s your name?”
“Chang Su. You can call me Su.”
“Is that what they called you at American university?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“And where was that?”
“Stanford”
“Impressive. Is that where they recruited you?”
“They?”
“The people you work with now.”
“I work for a communications company in Shanghai,” she said convincingly. “I’m scouting Manchuria for cell tower placement.”
“And that obviously requires a gun.” Jake smiled at her.
She hesitated, the wheels of thought processing in her mind. “Your Agency has asked me for a few favors over the past couple of years.”
“What’d they have on you? And I’m not with the Agency.”
“Yet, here you are with me.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What’d they have on you?”
She didn’t want to explain anything to him, it was obvious, but for some reason she said, “I took some things in college. My government forced me. My family was in danger.”
“Ah...the old Soviet trick. Work for us or we harm the family. What did you take?”
“Does it matter?”
Probably not, he thought. But he was still curious. “Yes, it does. I like to know the person I’m hanging out with, even if she happens to be a double agent.”
“That’s not fair. You don’t know me.”
“You work for two countries; that makes you a double agent.”
Her expression was as if she had just realized this with his words. A tear streaked her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t nice.”
She wiped the tears away and seemed much better in a hurry, as if his words had meant something.
“I was working on software encryption for a class,” she said. “I told my sister in Beijing. She asked for a copy. I didn’t see a problem. I didn’t know she worked for the government. Next thing I know, two Agency men throw me in a big car and talk at me all weekend. After that, I send more things to my sister. Things that don’t work.”
“Classic. Disinformation.”
“I didn’t know.” She shook her head emphatically. “Not until later, when I run the program and see it was bogus. Then I tell my sister.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“That makes you a triple agent.”
She shook her head no. “Only two countries.”
“Two countries; three sets of information. First, the home country expecting you to feed them good stuff. Then the bogus information from the new country passed off as the truth. Then the truth of the bogus info passed on to the original country. In baseball, that’s a triple play. Very rare.”
“You suck!” Tears streamed down her face again.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, can we just start over? Hi, my name is Jake.” He held out his hand for her to shake.
She sniffled and then laughed. “Su me.” She laughed louder now. “I mean, I’m Su.”
Jake laughed for the first time in months.
11
Bend, Oregon
The brown Ford Taurus pulled to the side of the road behind a Chevy Blazer in a quiet subdivision along the Deschutes River. It was just dark enough to require lights, but Agent Drew Fisher had not turned his on as he followed the Trooper carrying Cliff Johansen and the unknown Asian woman.
He had parked about a block back from the house owned by Zack Evans, who had been Cliff Johansen’s old college friend at the University of Oregon.
Fisher had called ahead, and sitting in the Blazer in front of him was the special agent in charge of the Central Oregon Agency office, Jane Harris. They had never met, but had talked on the phone a few times in the past few hours on the drive up.
Turning off the dome light, Fisher got out, quietly closed the driver’s door, and walked up to the Blazer, getting in the passenger side.
He reached across and shook the agent’s hand. “Drew Fisher.”
“Jane Harris.”
She was a small woman, looking more like a marathon runner than someone who might need to mix it up with criminals. Her hair was cut so short in the back, he could see her scalp. Yet, despite her small frame, Fisher noticed her chest was well represented.
“How long ya been here?” Fisher asked.
She checked her watch. “About two hours. Evans works across the river with a law firm.”
“Damn, a lawyer?”
“Actually, he’s a CPA. The firm deals mostly with businesses in the area. Evans handles their tax division.”
“You think he has a clue about his old college buddy?”
She shook her head. “From what you’ve told me, Cliff Johansen doesn’t sound like he confides in anyone.”
“True. But guys tell their college friends more than they tell their priest.”
She swiveled her head toward the house down the road with the Trooper in the driveway. “Did you run the plates on the Trooper?”
“Rental. Out to a Jill Jones.”
“Didn’t look like a Jill to me,” she said. “Chinese. Maybe Korean.”
“Former, I’d guess. The place she was staying in Union City was rented to a company in San Jose. I’ve got someone checking into that.”
She looked concerned. “This information you suspect he took. How important is it?”
“That’s the problem,” Fisher said, “I’m not sure what he took. The company has access to every aspect of the missile defense system. Cliff’s a computer genius. He could get in and out without anyone’s knowledge. We have to suspect worst-case.”
And that’s what had him so anxious. If Cliff Johansen had taken anything at all, he had done it right under his nose. That could get Fisher fired, if not hung out to dry.
●
Inside the house of Zack Evans, Li and Cliff Johansen had just finished putting their bags in a spare bedroom on the second floor, and were about to make their way downstairs. Remembering her instructions, and how she needed to hurry the process, she hoped this computer nerd would not try to screw with her-literally and figuratively.
“He wasn’t surprised to see you,” Li said. “Are you sure you didn’t tell him you were coming?”
“Positive.” Cliff moved closer to her, planting his right hand on her butt. “He seemed very impressed by you.”
She ran her thigh against his crotch seductively. “Let’s remain focused. You have to get the data tonight.”
The two of them headed downstairs and found Zack Evans in the living room watching CNN and drinking a martini. He was a slight man with round spectacles on top of narrow-set eyes. His hair was spiked up with gel and he smiled through one side of his mouth.
“The bar is open,” Evans said, raising his glass. “I can make you one of these...shaken, not stirred. Or I’ve got some of that good local microbrew that I sent you a few weeks ago.”
Cliff started off and then stopped. “I’m havin’ a beer. Li, what would you like?”
“Soda.”
“You got it.” He took off.
While he was gone, Li went to the window and glanced out from the edge of the curtain. She had to make this work. Damn. She still needed to find that Abby Road album for the Laughing Dumbass. He co
uld forgive her for not getting the software, she thought, but if she didn’t bring back the Beatles. . . she’d pay for that with her flesh.
“Here you go,” Cliff said, handing her a glass of coke.
Li and Cliff took seats across from Evans.
“So, what’s up?” Evans asked Cliff.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Cliff smiled and raised his brows.
“Ya dumb ass. I meant what brings you to Bend on a weekday?”
“I knew that.” Cliff glanced sideways at Li. “We were sick of the city. I called in sick and said screw it. Road trip.” He yelled the last two words.
Evans gave him a high five. “You da man.” His friend nodded his head at Li. “How long you two know each other?”
Cliff waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, he said, “About a month. She was my Tai Chi instructor.”
“No shit? You gonna kick my ass in slow motion?”
“That’s not what it’s about,” Li said, looking somewhat disturbed. Slow motion, fast motion, it didn’t matter to her.
“I’m sorry,” Evans said, “I didn’t mean to imply...”
“Listen,” Cliff broke in. “You should find a class here in Bend. It clears your mind and body and allows you to focus more clearly on what’s important.”
Evans considered Li more carefully now. “Yeah, I’ll have to look into that.”
There was dead silence for a moment that lingered longer than anyone expected.
Cliff broke it. “Your server,” he started. “I should take a look at it. Make sure everything is working right.”
“Right,” Evans said, rising to his feet. He went to the kitchen, but continued the conversation. “I’ll make another martini...and we’ll look into that.” A moment later he returned with a martini in one hand and another beer in the other. “Li, I hope you don’t mind helping yourself.”
“No problem. I was thinking of taking a walk. Plus, I have to get something from the Trooper.”
“Excellent.”
●
The two college friends retreated to the office on the second floor, right next to the guest bedroom.
Cliff took a long draw on his beer, finishing about half of it, and then went to the floor and started opening the server case.
