by Celia Crown
Another reason to stay away from Mark.
Who knows what they’ll do to him.
The government doesn’t play around, Matt has warned me about the level of danger I pose to the nation.
He calls me a cyberterrorist.
The terrorist part seems excessive.
When the files have been cleared, I get to work on destroying my DNA and fingerprint on his desk. I even clean the underside of the handles of his drawers, just in case those sneaky forensic experts try to lift a print.
I shove the rest of the wet wipes into my pocket, I have to keep the evidence close by, so I can take them to get destroyed somewhere safely. It’s a lump by my hip and it’s not very comfortable.
The next thing I have in my mental list is the people who have seen my face, the head of the departments that was introduced to me by Matt. I’m not too worried about them because I look like the girl next door, everything about me is average and I blend in with anyone similar in appearance.
If they ever have a sketch of me, no one can distinguish me from the girl with brown hair in front of me getting her library book or the tired mother getting baby formula.
I huff, jabbing my hands into my hips as I give the cleaned room one long look-over. I could smell the faint distinctive baby wipe scent, it’s hard to describe because all I think of is a baby in diapers crawling in an imaginative bundle of toilet paper.
Hesitation stops my feet at the door of the bedroom, looking inside at Mark’s prone body still sleeping soundly. Sadness claws in my heart, crushing the poor muscle in its daunting clutch that has me choking on air.
Timing is everything, if I can't even follow through with this last step, then Mark would never forgive me. He would hate me for putting his life in shambles when it can be easily avoided if I just let go, let go of him and pretend that the memories of us together in late nights talking freely about anything is a dream.
Tears prickle in my eyes, the lump in my throat gets my nose itching as I wrinkle it to softly sniff the tingles away.
It’s okay, I assure myself, he’ll forget about me.
I’m not important, I’m a passing fancy, I’m—
What am I to him?
Inhaling shakily, I blink away the tears that are storming in my eyes. I straighten my back and bravely step into the room, letting my feet falter to their destination of my suitcase and the panda head on the dresser.
When I put the mascot head back on, I’m no longer going to be Camille, not Mark’s Cammie anymore. I’ll be Grey, the anonymous roamer with no true identity. Mark makes me feel like I’m me regardless of my name, my background doesn’t matter because he got to know the real me. He knows about the secrets that I keep close to heart, knows the things that Matt isn’t aware of and the former director is overly observant.
I steer to him, crouching down with my hands between my breasts and my knees. I don’t trust myself to not touch him one last time, so I settle on simply gazing at him lovingly. He has moved when I was cleaning the office and his face is turned, my eyes roam from his messy hair to his long lashes, strong nose and stronger jaw, and those lips that whisper my name so fondly.
My mind wants to believe that maybe, one percent, that he has thought of a future with me in it. As a direct or indirect connection, it’s better than nothing.
Strangers have a bitter ring to it.
Moral enemy has a detestable grimace.
Former lovers?
No, we’re not even close to that. Whatever this thing is, a label would be as ambiguous as it can get.
I remember the dinosaur patch that I gave him when he left three days ago, as a good luck charm and a promise that I would be here to welcome him back. I kept up my end of the promise, so I shouldn’t be feeling so guilty for not saying goodbye to him and let him hear it.
I have no idea where the patch is and it’s an important part of me that I always bring to places, it’s the only permanent thing that I have. A part of me is in no hurry to get it back, I want it to be in his hands for safekeeping in case we meet again.
Another wishful thinking.
I just want him to remember me and not put our memories into a mental box, locking it away until it’s needed for convenience.
I sound like a desperate ex-girlfriend.
I must have been spending a couple of minutes of staring at his too attractive face, this will be the last time I will have this luxury of standing this close to him.
He is someone I can look up and follow his every move through a computer screen. Every step he makes is monitored through a secure network and he wouldn’t know that he is being watched, but I won’t do it.
I am officially a creepy stalker.
This protective, honest, and brave man was once mine.
I faintly laugh, pitiful and miserable.
“I love you,” I whisper to deaf ears.
Silence comes back.
Chapter Twelve
Mark
Camille is gone. Gone from my bed, my computer system, and my life.
There is not one trace of her anywhere as the security cameras don’t catch anything, and I shouldn’t underestimate Camille’s creativity when it comes to escaping. Her extraordinary skills are increasingly frightening and with her intimate knowledge of the network in the CIA, I’m not surprised that she is able to manipulate the computer to not see her.
My heart thumps heavily against my ribs, fear gripping my mind with a suffocating clutch that has a part of me rattled. Waking up without her is alarming and seeing what she had done to her presence is numbing.
I don’t know what prompts her to just abruptly leave this office, leave me by myself.
Slamming my hand on the keyboard, another message telling me that there is no record in the system of any tampering and that the whole month of her presence online is a whiff of mystery.
Where the fuck could she be?
Everything that is her possession is gone with that ugly panda head too, but I still have the dinosaur patch that she had told me it is something she would keep forever.
That forever is in my hands.
New determination fans in me with a fire that cannot be contained, Camille really underestimate the obsession I have with her. She can’t expect me to be fine with her just up and leaving without a goodbye, and even if she has the courage to say it to my face, I wouldn’t have let her go.
Not then, and definitely not now. Not when Camille became the love of my life somewhere down the road, Grey is not the significance anymore as I have accepted that one cannot live without the other. The need to shield her from harm outweighs any consequences that would be inflicted on me.
I have changed.
A month ago, I would have done anything to put Grey in prison. I would have not given a damn about anyone if it means to get the best outcome for the CIA, being the director is my job and I take full pride in that. My life has been revolving around my work for far too long, so long that I have become desensitized to what it feels like to be a normal man.
Camille makes me reevaluate my life and I realize that I’m not happy, there are things that I want to do and one of them is to have her in my arms.
I have to find her.
The thing that stops me is that I don’t know where to start. With years of experience on tracking down traitors with a goal of espionage, infiltrating closed-circuit systems to spy on intelligence data, and the ever-growing danger of all types of threat to the country. All those skills that I have accumulated through the years, I am stumped on how to track down one little girl.
One little girl who can hide better than anyone in the world. I have no photograph of her to scan into the computer and use facial recognition to find her little ass, or even any identifiable marks on her to search with because even though she is the most beautiful woman in my eyes, she has every feature that blends into the crowd as just another nameless and faceless civilian.
A whisper from the devil crackles that I would never see h
er again, that she doesn’t love me to stay.
I smack the negative thoughts away and focus on putting my affairs in order, some time off would be great for my body and my psyche, and time to hunt her down.
The intercom statics before a voice comes through.
“Sir, Helix.”
It’s a code for a meeting between the leaders of every government agency and the president.
My encrypted phone automatically transcribes a series of random numbers, symbols, and letterings to a message that tells me the location and time. It remains ambiguous and under wrap as this type of meeting is rare and absolutely confidential.
Fucking timing is shit, but I can't ignore this obligation that comes with my title.
Camille is long gone, into the wind like a goddamn butterfly. She could be anywhere by now and I hate to put work above her but looking for her would require the same amount of effort now or later.
I begrudgingly hiss, putting my gun to my hip as I stalk out the door and to the elevator. My casual attire is not the thing I need to worry about to see the president, my performance comes from my intelligence and not the way I dress to disrespect him.
There is a car waiting for me, it’s the car that I use when I need to get off the radar. It’s fully equipped with the newest technology that fuses with the classic mechanics, having a fully electronic car is too risky for my line of work.
Using my knowledge to get around the city is harder than ever with the amount of traffic honking at each other as it is early in the morning where everyone is trying to get to work.
I get to a more suburban area, quietness fills the neighborhood as my car rolls up to a golf court that is shown on my latitude and longitude data. There are black SUV cars rolling in the back entrance and I follow as I assess the surroundings filled with older men and older women walking around with their golfing equipment while some are riding around in golf carts.
No one blinks when a row of black cars lined up and moving to the back entrance with tinted windows.
I park my car closer to the exit as a routine for the best escape route, there are others filing out of their own cars and bodyguards flanking them. I can take care of myself, it’s useless and more often annoying when they get in my way if I allow them to talk me into having protection. I made that mistake when I was young, and it almost cost me my life because those bozos made things more complicated.
I have done my research while I was getting to this area, I make sure to find everything I can about the foundation and structures for a potential ambush. The room I get to is a VIP room in the middle of the golfing building to avoid snipers and sudden attacks from windows as there is no view of the outside from where I can see.
Everyone is in the room, tense and wound up with anger flaring in their nostrils. In suits and strapped with their issued gun, I count every single one that is present for Camille’s signing of her immunity from prosecution.
Matt is off to the side, on the opposite side of the seated president as I find a place away from the man. I have no need to brush shoulders with his guards, I could take them on if they lay a hand on me but it’s best to avoid any conflict.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the president nods his greeting and smiles pleasantly, “I thank you for your time.”
No one dares to utter a word at the cooled tone of his voice, it breaks off the smile on his face as the man is known for his media façade that can fool the reporters but not from trained eyes.
“As you all know, we have apprehended the threat to our nation and I appreciate your hard work.”
I didn’t take a seat, simply choosing to lean on the wall and away from the agents sitting on at the table. There’s a silence that follows, I look over to Matt and his eyes meet mine as if he is waiting for me to take a glance at him.
The dead look in his eyes is a familiar expression that I have seen a couple of times over the course of years while being trained under him. I do pick most of my habits from him as he is a part of my family, I slowly incorporate my habits with his and changing them to fit what feels right to me, tailoring them to the experiences I have.
“I understand that in order to find the traitor among us, all of you had done something you are not proud of.” the president laces his finger under his chin, staring straight at me while I hold my position.
He breaks eye-contact first, taking one long look at all the faces around the room.
“You all have signed the agreement with an enemy,” he said.
My shoulders tense, the muscles on my back struggles to compose myself from shooting daggers at the man. I didn’t vote for him and I sure as hell didn’t vote for the other candidate either, both of them are despicable in their own ways that the country gets divided in half. In the end, the lesser evil won, but that is a matter of opinion.
No one can pinpoint where the loathsomeness ends with them, it’s an ongoing battle on social media about which one would become our president and which one would run our country down to the ground even after the election.
“It’s a necessary evil that we had to swallow,” one of the men said.
A woman sighs and agrees, “I was against the decision as it pertains national security risks, however, we were racing against the clock.”
“You do not sound indecisive,” another voice comments.
The woman clears her throat, “I didn’t feel comfortable because she has jeopardized our country more times than we have won against her.”
“We have not won once.” the president breathes in heavily.
One of the men that were supporting the immunity of Camille’s actions speaks up, “We were running out of options and there wasn’t anything we could have done, our computer experts were having a difficult time flushing out the traitor. We had to choose, either let our country fall in despair or take the risk of having a morally wrong enemy into our home.”
“I was not consulted on this matter,” the president hisses between his teeth, eyes flaring wildly. “I was not aware of a signed contract that gave a hacker full prosecutorial immunity and unlimited access to our national security systems.”
“With all due respect, Mr. President.” a woman leans forward, “It was the best course of action we could have taken at the time.”
The president sighs and drops back onto the chair, “Who came up with this plan?”
“I did,” Matt said without any emotion in his voice.
“What prompts you to put the lives of our citizens into the hands of a criminal.” the man scowls, fine lines littering on his forehead as the crow's feet around his eyes deepen.
“I trust her.”
As do I, I think to myself.
“You trust her with our country.”
Matt’s passive face is good, “No. I don’t trust her with our country. I trust her to listen to me.”
The president barks, “Enlighten me!”
“Understand that she is young, Grey has no guidance from anyone.”
As vague as Matt’s words, I want to hear more because this information is new to me. Anything I can get on Camille is a bonus for me to find her quicker, I can track her down through her actions and tendencies.
“Continue.” the president grits his teeth.
“Grey is brilliant, it’s one of the reasons why none of you have come close to catching her. She has built codes that give access to sensitive information, breaking encryption for nuclear weapons, and she has a knack for digging up skeletons,” Matt explains.
He uncrosses his arm, “She is, however, very naïve. A genius, yes, but too gullible. Any manipulation from our real enemies would crush the country, a World War III stands as an independent threat if she gets into the wrong hands.”
Matt sets his mellow eyes into a glare, “She may be impressionable, but she doesn’t trust easily. It took me months to understand that Grey has no loyalty, she will perceive this country as a threat if you truly wish to go after her. That naively will turn into self-preservation, no one
will be safe.”
“If you know these risks, then why would she trust you?” a woman’s voice questions, “You are still a CIA agent, retired or not.”
“She knows it will bring trouble to me if she decides to take over our security system, Grey would have done it by now, but she didn’t.” Matt’s chest expands, staring into the president’s eyes.
“Because she doesn’t have guidance, sometimes she thinks what she is doing isn’t morally wrong. She thinks that she provides a service of information gathering that stops at the end of her service, the aftermath is not her problem.” Matt finishes, “Which is why she didn’t wreak havoc in our government because I asked her not to.”
It seems that explanation doesn’t satisfy the president as his temper flares once again, eyes glaring daggers at Matt as if the former director has personally offended him.
“It’s a risk I cannot overlook!” he snaps.
“Then you will have to deal with the death of hundreds and thousands of innocent lives.” Matt simply replies back.
“I want the immunity nullified, get her into custody and prosecute her for terrorism. Her actions have led to many unfavorable outcomes that we still don’t know how many people have been casualties of her crimes!”
The order brings fire in my stomach up to my lungs, a snarl rips through my throat slowly. No one hears as they are too focused on speaking over each other.
How dare this foolish man negate all the goods Camille has done for this country, because of her actions, she singlehandedly steered us away from a devastating tragedy.
“Sir!” one man gasps, “We must honor our side of the deal or the people will lose faith in the justice system!”
The president scoffs back, “The people do not need to know.”
“They do,” Matt cuts in, “It’s the reason why Grey is gone.”
“What do you mean they know!” the president demands, pounding his fist on the table.
“One of my sources told me that she has a copy of the immunity agreement and she is running her story as we speak.” Matt nonchalantly says, uninterested at the man’s outburst.
