by Toby Neal
“I’m not sure what talking about it will achieve, sir.”
Waxman slid his hands into his pockets and jingled some change there. “I’ve noticed you get emotionally involved in cases regarding children,” he said mildly.
“Is that a problem?” Sophie widened her stance and crossed her arms, tightening her biceps. She’d practiced this pose for her MMA fights, to maximize her physical presence. “I notice you get particularly agitated whenever we have cases involving—oh. Wait. You never get agitated. The perfect wax man.” She was being insubordinate, but he’d invited her to call him Ben, and right now she was past caring if she got written up. Waxman’s brows rose in surprise as Sophie forged on. “I care about children. Nothing is going to happen for those kids now that we won’t take the case.”
“You don’t know that. Ohale could still do something through Child Welfare or the mother’s appeal to family court.”
“You and I both know he’s not going to take on that sniper tower.”
“Well. Be that as it may, I won’t reiterate the reasons this is not our case. I actually came down to tell you something else you won’t like.” Waxman folded his arms, imitating her posture, so Sophie dropped them. She wasn’t falling for his matching body language mind games. “Remember I was going to get back to you about the presentation to the bureau chiefs about DAVID?”
Sophie nodded. In a final attempt to get Bureau approval, she’d put together a PowerPoint on the Data Analysis Victim Information Database, and how the program worked by searching law enforcement information data storage using keywords and a probability algorithm to predict outcomes of case hypotheses.
“They reviewed the information we provided and the cases in which the program was used. I’m sorry to tell you, the program was disapproved for use by the Bureau. Permanently. Furthermore, it’s being confiscated as a security and liability risk.” Waxman’s jaw bunched.
“You can’t do that.” Sophie’d had these arguments with the Bureau already, and not that long ago. Her voice rose. “My patent application is pending. I own that program. You can’t take it from me.”
“Sophie.” Waxman shook his head. “It’s not me taking anything. I am in favor of DAVID, you know that. These decisions are being made above my head.”
“Doesn’t matter. DAVID doesn’t belong to the FBI. And I don’t either.” The frustration boiling in Sophie’s chest spilled over. “I won’t work for an agency that doesn’t see a good thing when it punches them in the nose.”
Waxman froze, eyes widening. “We can work this out, I’m sure of it.”
“I don’t think so.” Sophie paced back and forth in front of Waxman, hands on her hips. “Confiscated as a security and liability risk sounds pretty final to me. And I’m tired of these short-sighted restrictions and limitations. Like the case today.”
“Those two things are completely different issues.”
“That’s undoubtedly true, but both of them illustrate the FBI’s tendency to lose sight of the forest for the trees.” She was proud of how calm her voice was, how adeptly she’d worked in that American idiom. “I’m sure there are plenty of security firms in the private sector that would be happy to have my talent on their team.” Sophie refused to meet Waxman’s eyes. He’d been more than a boss to her, and this conversation was painful—she didn’t want to see in his face how it was for him. She bent and retrieved the jump rope and the ball. “I’m sure you’ll need to have my resignation in writing. I’ll have it on your desk by the morning, and given the hostile circumstances of the FBI’s confiscation of my program, I’m sure you’ll forego my two weeks’ notice.”
She walked back to her workstation and sat down, refusing to look at Waxman as he followed her.
“Sophie. Please.” He set his hand on her shoulder but she shrugged away from his touch. Waxman spoke to the back of her head as she shut down her computer rigs. “I’ll appeal this decision about DAVID. I will do everything I can to get it turned around.”
Sophie blinked several times, hard, before slanting a glance up at Waxman. His cool blue eyes were sincere, his mouth pinched. “This team needs you, Sophie. I need you.” Waxman took a breath, blew it out. “I’m sure I’m not that good at hiding how I feel.”
Sophie pushed the wheeled chair out from her desk and stood to face him, apprehension tightening her chest. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I care about you. I…” Waxman ran a hand through his immaculately barbered hair. “I don’t want you to leave. Please stay.”
Sophie backed up a step. “All the more reason, then, that I need to leave.” She softened her tone. “Ben. I don’t feel the same. And I never could.”
Silence drew out for several long moments as they gazed at each other. The warm light in Waxman’s eyes died out, leaving them an ashy gray.
“I understand. I’ll look for your resignation in the morning.” Waxman drew himself upright and walked out, shoulders squared. The light over the doorway lit his silver hair briefly.
Regret twisted Sophie’s gut. He’d been a good boss, a great mentor, and a sometime friend—but she wasn’t attracted to him that way.
The long-simmering situation with DAVID and the hidebound attitude of the FBI had finally brought things to a head. She found a box and packed her few personal items.
Just like that, her time at the FBI was over.
Chapter Three
Ginger, Sophie’s yellow Lab, leapt out to give her an ecstatic greeting as Sophie unlocked the red lacquered door of the penthouse apartment owned by her ambassador father. Ginger had been at doggie daycare all day with plenty of exercise and company—but the dog never failed to act as if they’d been parted for weeks any time Sophie returned.
Ginger’s slobbery affection was a balm. Sophie dropped to her knees in the doorway and embraced the dog’s sturdy neck. “Oh, hey, girl. I need a hug today.”
She fetched the dog’s leash off the hook beside the door and they rode the elevator down to the ground floor as Sophie called her best friend, fellow agent Marcella Scott, to tell her the news.
“I’m quitting the Bureau,” she said baldly when Marcella answered. She endured the shriek of negation and the peppering of questions. Sophie took Ginger outside to do her business on the scrap of lawn beside the elegant edifice as they talked. She was still on the phone when Jenns Rudinoff, head of building security, contacted her. She ended the call with Marcella to take the call.
“Ms. Ang, there’s a detail from the FBI here with a search warrant.”
“What?” The sentence wouldn’t compute. Sophie yanked Ginger’s leash and sprinted back toward the entrance. “Where are they?”
“At the check-in desk.”
Sophie strode through the double doors into the elegant lobby, Ginger tight to her side. Fellow IT operative Special Agent Bateman, doughy and pale, and Ken Yamada stood at the security desk. “What the hell is this?”
“Let’s speak privately.” Ken’s austere face was pale with strain. Bateman carried a black briefcase of tech tools and looked shifty-eyed.
“I hear you have a search warrant.”
“I would prefer we spoke privately,” Ken repeated. Sophie walked to the elevator and stabbed the button. They got on, Ginger panting and wagging with excitement to see her mistress’s friends. As the doors closed, Sophie pointed to the dome of the security camera in the corner, so they rode up to her apartment in tense silence. Arriving at the small square foyer area with two doors to the penthouse apartments, Sophie whirled on them. “Ken! What the hell!”
“Waxman called me back in to work. Said you’d quit and that I was to serve you with a warrant for the retrieval and removal of company property. Namely, your DAVID program.”
“I’ve been through this already.” Six months before, Bateman had verified that DAVID was removed from Sophie’s home rigs; she’d offloaded it to the Cloud for safekeeping and retrieval. With this latest development, Sophie hadn’t had time to even take a shower let
alone prepare for the swiftness of Waxman’s response.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Bateman’s face was blank.
“Show me the warrant.”
Ken produced it and handed it to her, his eyes downcast and movements slow. “Waxman told me you quit. Please tell me it’s not true.”
“True. And with this monkey shit going down, I’m obviously making the right decision.” Sophie’s hands shook so badly that she couldn’t get the door keys into the lock. Ken took them from her and opened the door. Sophie deactivated the alarm as Ken gestured with his chin to Bateman.
“Go. Do what you have to do and don’t take a minute longer.”
Bateman headed for Sophie’s bedroom with its triple bank of computers, set up to mirror her FBI workstation.
“Bateman won’t be able to get in without this.” Sophie pressed a button on her key fob that activated the triple-protected workstation. She turned away, facing the grand sweep of windows that was one of the nicest features of her father’s swanky apartment. Tears pressed against the back of her eyes as she balled her fists at her sides. “This is so wrong. I own that program.”
“I’m sorry this happened. I was in shock when Waxman called me to come in and serve this on you. What happened between the team meeting and now?” Ken’s voice was soft with compassion.
“Waxman told me DAVID was denied for use by the FBI and was being ‘confiscated.’” Sophie made air quotes with her fingers. “A security and liability risk. On top of today’s fiasco with the Society of Light case, I’d had enough.”
“I’m surprised Waxman let you resign.” Ken’s straight brows had drawn together in concern.
Sophie covered her face with her hands. “Like he can stop me. To top it off, Waxman apparently has…feelings for me. I told him they weren’t reciprocated. I had to leave, with all of that.” Sophie stuck one of her fists in her mouth and bit down on her thumb to keep the pain inside. “Everything I worked for. Everything I built…”
“Waxman’s always been a straight-up guy—a bit of a prick, as we all knew. But going after you personally? No. He wouldn’t do that. This warrant is simply shutting a door you left open on your way out. And I’m damn sorry about it all.” Ken shook his head. “I hate to say it, but ultimately you might be happier in the private sector. Your skills will be in huge demand in the general marketplace, even if you can’t use DAVID.”
Bateman reappeared, case in hand. “Removed and saved one copy of the DAVID software to backup hard drive. Computer’s clean. Cloud access to Bureau files is shut down. Security clearances are revoked.” Bateman raised round, pale blue eyes to meet Sophie’s. “I’m sorry. This hella sucks. We’re going to miss you bad in the IT lab.”
Sophie couldn’t bring herself to speak. It was all she could do to keep the tears from falling. Bateman headed for the door and shut it.
Ken knew she didn’t like a lot of touching, but he folded strong arms around Sophie, pulling her close. She rested her head on his shoulder briefly as he squeezed her tight. “You’re going to be okay. I know you are, partner,” he said softly. “You’re going to come back from this stronger than ever. The FBI’s lost the best agent I’ve ever known today.”
Sophie let out a sob she’d held locked in her throat, but stood rigid, trapped in her feelings of grief and loss, unwilling to cry on the shoulder Yamada offered. Ken crushed her close for a long moment, then held her away, gazing into her eyes with his best samurai stare. “Don’t let this get you down. You’re better than all of us combined.” Ken walked out and shut the door behind him.
Sophie made it to her bedroom on shaky legs and sat down at her computers. Her brain felt spongy as the depression, always waiting for her, rolled in like a damp and sticky fog. She had a few things to do before she took to her bed.
Sophie composed her resignation letter carefully. She stated her reasons for resignation to go on record for any future litigation, and emailed it to Waxman. She wrapped up the Society of Light case by emailing Sharon Blumfield the Bureau’s decision, but adding that private security firms were available to assist in either getting the children out or collecting data for her family court case. She listed several, including Security Solutions, the one she’d investigated some months before.
There were good people at Security Solutions, including the CEO, Todd Remarkian, who had become something of a friend. They’d gone on a couple of hike-runs together, and she liked the upbeat, hardworking Aussie. Ginger adored Anubis, the dignified Doberman Todd had inherited from his partner who’d gone overseas.
And that partner was someone Sophie kept in touch with. She opened the private chat room contact she maintained with the man calling himself the Ghost. Logging in under her username of MMA Fighter, she typed out a note:
“Thought I’d let you know I resigned from the Bureau. I won’t be hunting you on their behalf anymore. Not that I ever got close enough to catch you. Still, it was fun to try.”
Sophie paused, fingers poised above the keys.
There was always the chance the Ghost was logged in and would see her note in real time. The hope that he was online mattered enough to frighten her. They exchanged messages several times a week, and Sophie had come to anticipate the flirty, sharp-edged, bantering exchanges with the man she suspected was Sheldon Hamilton, an eccentric billionaire and former CEO of Security Solutions, now living abroad at an unknown location.
As minutes went by, the heartbeat pulsing of the green cursor on the black background of the chat box gave her a lonely, vulnerable feeling.
Here I am, it seemed to say. Here I am. Please hear me. Please answer me.
And as usual, no one responded.
Sophie killed the window and pushed back from the desk. She shut down the rigs with a push of the key fob. She closed the heavy blackout drapes she needed to sleep, turned off her phone, stripped off her clothes, and crumpled into bed. She let Ginger come up on the jade-green silk comforter, and she embraced the warm, hairy, loving dog.
The Labrador licked the tears that flowed down Sophie’s cheeks as she finally wept for all she’d lost.
Chapter Four
Morning was distinguished from night by Ginger licking her face again—the drapes cut the light so completely there was no way to distinguish the two. Sophie rolled to look at the glowing red numbers of her bedside digital clock: 10:00 a.m.
“Oh, girl.” She tossed the covers aside. “You need to go out.” Ginger whined in agreement.
The depression she’d struggled with on and off since her late teens had swept Sophie under. Every movement felt forced and sluggish, like swimming through tar. Sophie walked through the apartment naked, as was her habit. She put the teapot on to boil water and took out a ceramic teapot, her body remembering the habitual movements of the morning ritual.
She would take one day to indulge in the depression. Really wallow.
After all, she didn’t have anywhere to be today.
Or any day.
She was unemployed.
The thought made Sophie bow inward, hunching around the pain. The kettle dropped from her nerveless fingers into the elegant oval steel sink.
Tea wouldn’t help. Nothing would help. She just needed to take the dog out. Then she could go back to bed and stay there until she felt better. If she felt better. The murk was so thick that ever feeling different seemed impossible.
Sophie dressed in running clothes and took Ginger outside into a bright Honolulu day. Mynahs chattered in the blooming rainbow shower trees on her block, colored petals fell like confetti in the warm breeze. Doves cooed and danced courtship to each other on the sidewalk as Ginger did her business on the scrap of lawn. Sophie’s eyes registered it all, unseeing.
Ginger tugged and whined, looking down the sunny street with its swishing traffic, waving palms, and busy walkers. Sophie usually ran with the dog on her days off. Ginger wanted to do what they usually did, and bathe in all the glorious smells.
“No.” Sophie
twitched the leash and headed back into her building.
Ginger frolicked in the lobby, bouncing and cheerful and way too energetic without exercise. Possessed by that deep exhaustion, Sophie walked Ginger to security and left her there to be picked up by the Doggie Daycare service that usually took care of her during the day.
She was too flattened even to feel guilty about neglecting her dog as she got back into bed and shut herself into the dark.
Dealing with Ginger and her needs were the only activities Sophie engaged in for the next two days.
Sophie slept, or she simply lay in her room staring at the ceiling.
Hello, darkness, my old friend.
She reviewed her life, hopelessness sapping her energy as her thoughts cycled through negative, repetitive patterns. She’d fought hard to escape from the disastrous marriage to sadistic businessman Assan Ang. She’d also fought hard to build her career in the FBI. She’d created DAVID and tried to make the world a better place.
All for nothing.
Of course she still had a copy of DAVID’s software, stored on a hard drive in a safe hidden in the apartment—she was too smart to let the FBI take it from her. But the fight ahead just felt too difficult right now.
She should get up. Exercise. Call her father, or her friend Lei on Maui, or Marcella. Eat. But she did none of those things.
The depression wasn’t passive. It felt powerful and destructive, a fierce predator that held her in its jaws, shaking the very life out of her.
Sophie stared at the blackness of the bedroom ceiling, her eyes wide open. They were dry and unseeing as desert stones. It felt like if she waited long enough, her body would just cease. Turn off. Begin crumbling away as if she’d never been.
A pounding at the door.
The pounding stopped.
Started again.
Stopped.
If she ignored it long enough, whoever it was would eventually go away.
