Dangerous Minds: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book One

by Xander Weaver

  “Who said I was a stranger?” Cyrus was curious to see just how much William knew about him.

  With a roll of his eyes, William idly scratched at the scruff on his jaw before responding. Cyrus saw it for what it was, a stall. He was buying time while he considered the best response.

  “Please,” William said in a disinterested tone. “I’ve read your file. I think I know you fairly well at this point.”

  Cyrus’s expression offered no hint to his feelings on the matter. “There’s more to a man than what you find in his file,” he said simply.

  “True enough.”

  “Ashley said something,” Cyrus began. “She asked Gertrude if she’d heard from you. I was under the impression that Ashley hadn’t heard from you in some time. She didn’t seem to know you were in town.”

  This brought a pointed glare from William. “It seems you’ve spent more time with my sister than I’d been led to believe,” he said finally. “And, no. She has no idea that I’m in town.” His gaze became suddenly penetrating, almost as if he were trying to assess the mind living behind Cyrus’s eyes. “It’s important to me that we keep it that way,” he added.

  Despite being more than a little creeped out by the sudden glare from the stranger, Cyrus wasn’t sure how to respond. He offered a simple shrug. “That sounds like a family matter to me. It’s none of my concern.”

  Though a benign comment, Cyrus was surprised to see confusion on William’s face. It wasn’t that William didn’t understand the sentiment. It seemed more like it wasn’t at all the response he was expecting.

  Cyrus decided that it was time to end the awkward conversation. He glanced at his nonexistent watch and raised his eyebrows in a mocking manner. “Wow, look at the time,” he said. “It’s been fun, but I better be going.”

  His sarcasm seemed lost on William.

  The man offered another weak smile. “No problem. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. Please give Grams my best, and tell her that I’ll be seeing her again real soon.”

  Cyrus was surprised when William offered his hand. Though the conversation had seemed benign enough, it had felt anything but. There was something fiercely awkward about it, and he had the sense the man was up to something. He just wasn’t sure what.

  Setting one of the drinks aside, Cyrus shook William’s hand. But the moment his hand was locked in William’s grasp, Cyrus felt the man’s penetrating stare once more. It was as if William were trying to burn a hole in his eyes.

  Frustrated by the act, Cyrus returned the man’s crushing grip as well as a stare that was just as withering. This clearly caught William by surprise. He was so unprepared for the response that he did a painfully poor job of masking the look that crossed his face.

  The awkward exchange made Cyrus wonder if the man might have the same sort of ability as his sister. Was the odd visual exchange the man’s attempt to read his mind? And, if so, had he been equally unable to Read him?

  Cyrus could only hope. But judging by the man’s reaction, he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. That was something, at least.

  Retrieving the second coffee from the table, Cyrus offered the man one more glance before turning and walking away without the benefit of another word. There was something about the man. He just seemed off in some way.

  Cyrus had learned to trust his first impressions, which meant he had a strong suspicion that he would be seeing more of Ashley’s brother in the near future.

  The next surprise of the morning came when Cyrus reached the car. A cheap, disposable cell was sitting on the driver’s seat. He’d left the car locked with the windows only cracked open for ventilation. Under normal circumstances, the arrival of the phone would’ve been troubling. In this case it had been an agreed upon approach protocol, so it wasn’t entirely out of the blue.

  Slipping behind the wheel of the car, Cyrus had just set the coffee cups into the drink holders when the phone began to ring. He picked it up before the second chime.

  “Who was the guy in the shop?” Boone asked without pretense.

  “William Waterford, if you can believe it,” Cyrus said. “What’s up?” Boone wouldn’t be making contact without important news to share.

  “That was unexpected. Intel suggested that William has been off the grid for the better part of the last year. He looks like hell!” Cyrus could hear the confusion in Boone’s voice and knew the man was trying to read meaning into the young Waterford’s surprise appearance.

  “There’s been a shift in your mission objective,” Boone continued after a moment of silence. “We know that Gertrude’s just received confirmation that your credentials are finished. We think you’re about to be given access to her lab. We know the location of the facility but haven’t been able to get inside. Gertrude keeps all of her research in a digital archive. It’s a central database containing reports and records of everything she’s worked on for the last decade, maybe longer. We need you to make a copy of the database.”

  Cyrus didn’t respond immediately. He was considering the shift in mission parameters and sensed something he didn’t like. “Is Gertrude’s protection still my primary objective?”

  He heard Boone exhale with frustration. “This comes directly from Monica,” Boone clarified. “I’m not saying that I agree, but we have our orders. Your primary objective is the retrieval of the database. Protecting the asset is now secondary. But I don’t see any reason why you can’t do both. You can walk and chew gum at the same time, right?”

  His teeth grinding in frustration, Cyrus wasn’t entirely surprised. Waterford’s safety had never been the primary objective, he was sure of it. It was Monica Fichtner’s way of handling him in these situations. She’d wanted the database all along.

  Monica Fichtner was head of the clandestine Coalition, and she was as cold blooded as a snake. He’d have reservations about going in undercover just to steal a copy of a research database. But tell him that he’s protecting an elderly scientist, and he would willingly accept the assignment. Being used in such a way galled him, but Cyrus wasn’t at all surprised by the turn of events.

  “Understood,” Cyrus said in a terse confirmation of his new orders before tapping the end call button on the phone.

  Gnashing his teeth once more, Cyrus swallowed hard, then started the car and pulled out into traffic. There were parts of his work with the Coalition that he found less than ideal. Paramount among them was Monica Fichtner—a woman Cyrus harbored an ever-growing distrust for.

  Chapter 14

  The Feedmount Building

  Hennings, South Carolina

  9:08 a.m.

  Sitting at his desk just outside the set of open doors to Gertrude’s office, Cyrus ran through the events of the previous evening. He had gone to dinner with Gertrude and Ashley expecting it to be some sort of test, but there was no way he could’ve been prepared for what had happened. Boone warned him that Gertrude Waterford took her privacy seriously, but what he’d learned from Ashley simply defied explanation. It was unprecedented, and it only made him wonder what other secrets Gertrude was keeping stashed away.

  Ashley’s shocking revelation aside, Cyrus was now certain that he hadn’t just passed Gertrude’s test, but he’d passed it with flying colors. Thanks to a great deal of luck, he realized. But had it been luck? The unanswered question nagged at him. And while those thoughts threatened to occupy his mind, he decided to focus on the predominant matter at hand. He’d navigated Gertrude’s unorthodox review process. She would likely lower her guard, if only fractionally. Once she provided access to her lab, he would be able to move ahead with the next phase of the operation.

  The fax machine buzzed and jarred Cyrus from his thoughts. He looked at the clunky old device on the table beyond the end of his desk and shook his head. It was shocking that such machines were still used at all. Until taking the position as Gertrude Waterford’s assistant, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed to send or receive a fax, considering the technology the 21st century
afforded.

  Pulling the newly received stack of papers from the top of the machine, he slipped them into a file folder and walked into Gertrude’s office. She was hunched over the keyboard of her iMac, completely engrossed in whatever she was reading when he laid the folder on her desk. “The fax you’ve been waiting for finally came through,” he said quietly, as to not disturb her.

  Her eyes darted up from the screen, apparently surprised to see him standing there. They’d been at the office for over an hour and he’d heard barely a word from her.

  Gertrude’s eyes examined him for a long moment before a hint of a smile touched her lips. “Isn’t that the same tie you wore yesterday?” she asked.

  He nodded. “You bet. After yesterday, it’s officially my lucky tie. I’m not normally a superstitious person, but I couldn’t help but wear it again.”

  Her smile brightened. “Cyrus, if your tie is what got us through yesterday, I’m going to request that you wear it every day. I’m not superstitious either, but why tempt fate?”

  She flipped open the folder he had deposited beside her keyboard and quickly thumbed through the pages of the fax. “Splendid,” she said with a satisfied chuckle. “Your biometric data and access codes for the lab have been processed.” She glanced at the expensive timepiece on her wrist. “Give me an hour, then you can drive me to the lab and I’ll show you around.”

  “The lab?” he asked with all the uncertainty that was due from a new employee who knew nothing of the woman’s work routine. “Biometrics?”

  “Of course. You don’t think I do the bulk of my research here, do you? Not in this cramped little space? The lab has top-notch security. It took some time to get your credentials and biometrics into the system for proper access. That fax was just confirming that everything is now in order. We’re all set.”

  Cyrus nodded his understanding. “Okay,” he said slowly. “It’s just that I don’t recall submitting anything for biometric authentication. Don’t you need to take fingerprints or something for that?”

  A knowing smile crossed the old woman’s face. “All taken care of,” she grinned. “And not just fingerprints. Our system has the ability to authenticate via fingerprints, retinal scan, even DNA. But don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

  The expression that crossed Cyrus’s face made it clear that he was uneasy with what he’d just heard. He looked at his fingertips and offered a vaguely nauseated expression, just to make sure Gertrude received the reaction she was hoping for. “Okay then,” he said slowly, then turned and ambled out of the room. He could just picture the villainous grin that had spread across the old woman’s craggy face as she watched him leave.

  Dropping back into the chair at his desk, Cyrus was glad to know that his mission was on track. Gertrude was finally satisfied with his credentials and no doubt enjoying the small victory of curling his toes at the invasion of his personal privacy in the acquisition of his biometric information. That was just fine with him. The way he saw it, he had an hour to kill before driving her to the lab and, with luck, moving the mission along.

  His run-in with William crossed his mind once more. He’d decided against telling Gertrude about the experience, even though he wasn’t entirely sure why. William Waterford remained a mystery—until he knew more, Cyrus refused to be used as a pawn in Waterford family politics. Though, after the events of the previous night, that ship had already sailed.

  Cyrus knew he’d dodged a bullet with the tie, but it had only been by sheer chance that he wasn’t wearing the same suit from the prior day as well. He had woken up at Ashley’s with just enough time to shower and change before taking the elevator up to Gertrude’s floor, as he did every morning. It was thanks only to luck that he’d picked up his dry-cleaning earlier that afternoon and had a spare suit in the trunk of the car.

  When he’d made a point of walking Ashley back to her apartment, he had planned on calling it a night. But one thing led to another, and the entire night took yet another turn that wasn’t anticipated. After what had happened, Cyrus realized he would never see the world the same way again. Likewise, his awakening changed the way he looked at the operation he was working and what it could mean in the grand scheme.

  Cyrus thought back to following Ashley through the door of her apartment last night. She headed for the kitchen like a woman on a mission, and he watched her, unsure what to do next.

  When he followed and stepped into the kitchen, she was rummaging through the back of one of the cabinets. “I need a drink,” she said in an exasperated huff. “Do you need a drink?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a hard look. “Believe me,” she warned. “You’re going to want a drink.”

  Still thrown by her odd behavior, Cyrus shrugged. “I could drink,” he said quietly.

  He was fascinated by what he was seeing. It was like watching someone on a caffeine high rushing around. She rummaged through one cabinet then, not finding what she was looking for, moved on to the next. Finally she went to the pantry in the corner of the kitchen, flipped on the light and stepped inside. He heard the sound of things getting banged around and knocked over. It was almost comical.

  When she came out, her eyes were blazing, and there was a wide smile on her face. She held up an unopened bottle of Rey Sol Anejo tequila and a pair of tumbler glasses.

  “I’ve been sitting on this bottle for years,” she laughed. “I don’t drink, so I haven’t had an occasion to crack the seal.”

  He laughed and looked at the clock on the wall. “And this is the occasion to open it? It’s almost two thirty in the morning.”

  Her look turned decidedly serious. “It’ll help,” she said in a deadpan voice. “And once you hear what I have to say, you’ll be glad it’s here.”

  Her smile then returned, as she grabbed the bottle and glasses and virtually pranced past him. “So we best start now,” she said over her shoulder as she left the room.

  Dropping heavily on the sofa, Ashley set the bottle and glasses down on the coffee table with a clumsy ‘thunk’, before motioning him to come sit beside her. He had no sooner taken his place and she was pouring what had to be three generous shots of the expensive tequila into each of their glasses.

  Cyrus watched her with rapt fascination. She was a woman on a mission. He just wasn’t sure what that mission was. Handing him a glass, she offered a toast to new friends, she said with a strange glint in her eye. Tipping back the glass, she downed the contents in three quick swallows. He didn’t know where this was going, but it seemed that it was headed there fast. With more than a little curiosity, he tipped back his own drink and followed her lead.

  It was only a few seconds before Cyrus felt the flutter of the tequila kicking into high gear. The constant and ever-present tension between his shoulders began to fade, and the fatigue he felt throughout his body after a hideous day began to dull. It was moments like this that he realized what a constant state of hyper vigilance he lived in, and the ill effects it had on his body and his mind. The constant pressure and tension he dealt with on an undercover operation was as natural to him as breathing, but moments like this, tiny breaks in his vigilance, were as cathartic as they were dangerous.

  Sitting sideways on the couch, Ashley folded her legs in front of her and closed her eyes. She took a long, slow, deep breath and let it out, repeating the routine again and again. It was some sort of relaxation exercise, Cyrus realized. But, for the life of him, he still couldn’t figure out what she was up to.

  She rolled her head around on her neck very slowly, then stopped and took another deep breath. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, she seemed very much at ease. Her anxious, caffeinated state seemed to have evolved into something more serene and sedate.

  Cyrus turned to face her, but waited for her to speak. Up until that point, he had no idea what was actually happening. The drink had hit him like a kick in the ass, and he was feeling better than he had all day. They could sit there like that for the rest of the n
ight for all he cared.

  “Alright,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this.” She looked like she was about to continue, but then stopped once more.

  Cyrus could tell that whatever she had on her mind, it weighed heavily on her. But no matter what he guessed at, he couldn’t imagine what secret she could hold that would be so enormous that she needed to gird herself so thoroughly before broaching the subject.

  “Okay,” he said suddenly. “You better spill it. You’re freaking me out!”

  Her response was to splash another double shot in each of their glasses. She downed hers before giving it a second thought. Cyrus’s response was to pick up his glass. He raised it in a silent salute to her and slowly drank the contents while keeping a curious eye focused on the beautiful woman over the top of the glass.

  “I’m sorry for the theatrics,” she said at last. “It’s just that this goes against everything I know. Still, something inside me is telling me that this is the right thing to do.

  “I mean,” she hesitated. “I’m not alone in this, am I? You said you feel it, too? Something…I don’t know how to describe it…”

  He nodded. “I do. I know exactly what you mean. It was there from the first time I saw you.” Cyrus’s voice was quiet. He knew he was completing her thought. “I feel like I know you, or knew you…or was supposed to know you. I can’t quite put it into words. But it’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

  “For real? You’re not just trying to, you know…” she let the question hang.

  Sleep with her, he realized.

  He laughed. “No. It’s something else. Has it ever happened to you before?”

  She shook her head. “No, but that’s the other part I needed to ask you about. It might be related, or it might not, and this is the part that could really get us in trouble. I need to know that I can trust you.