His mouth went dry, considering the possibilities. It had been stupid to send her home alone. He should have kept her with him, or at least sent her to the Gardiners’ where she wouldn’t be alone. Damn, he thought, his fear rising. Damn, damn. After Wanda scurried out of the room, Richard walked over, his phone to his ear.
Richard had been going through the voice mails on his phone from reporters and deleting them one by one. The expression on his face indicated that this wasn’t about a reporter.
“Will,” he said quietly, “you should listen to this.”
“Not now,” Will said impatiently.
“Will,” Richard said, resigned, “it’s from Elizabeth.”
Will grabbed the phone and listened to the message in its entirety but was more confused and anxious than ever when he handed it back to his cousin. What does she mean she’ll be gone for a while? When Ed Gardiner came through the doorway like a bull, causing every head in the room to swivel his way, Will motioned outside.
“Let’s take this to my office,” he said and, without waiting, strode out the door, Richard and Ed in his wake.
When they reached the room and Richard closed the door, Ed exploded. “What the hell happened, Will? Why weren’t you with Elizabeth last night?”
Will tried to get over the shock of that particular statement being issued by Elizabeth’s overprotective uncle before sputtering, “We had a hacking problem, and I didn’t want her involved. The FBI . . .”
Ed placed his palms on the end of Will’s desk and shifted his weight forward. His body was coiled like a snake preparing to strike, and Richard moved up to stand beside him. But Ed didn’t move. He just caught his breath and rasped, “It was a hacking problem, and you didn’t want her involved?”
“She’s already under scrutiny for the incident in Palo Alto and some glitches at Will’s apartment,” Richard explained. “Will was worried the FBI would come down hard on her as a suspect if she was associated with this attack as well.”
Will blinked. “Someone thinks she’s the one hacking my apartment systems? Richard, that’s ludicrous.”
Richard shrugged. “I don’t believe it, Will, but Oscar’s heard talk . . .”
“Oscar?” Will ran his hands through his hair, trying to wake himself up. “Is this about more than the FBI?”
“I don’t think he knows,” Richard replied. “Or he’s not saying.”
Ed Gardiner straightened and addressed Will coolly. “I don’t know what she’s mixed up in, but it’s clear that whatever it is, she did it to protect you. It’s what she does.” He shook his head. “I thought you knew that,” he said, and sat heavily in the nearest chair. “If you didn’t want her involved, son, I’m afraid you’ve chosen exactly the wrong way to go about it.”
“What does that mean?” Will asked, failing to mask his alarm. “Where is she going?”
Ed gave him a sickly smile. “Wherever she has to. She called in a favor to save your company, and now she has to pay the debt.” He glanced at Richard. “She’s with Abbot, which means they’ll be going dark until whatever job they’ve taken on is finished.”
“Is Abbot the same person as Abby?” Will asked, trying to assimilate the information. It hit Will’s beleaguered brain like a brick thrown through a window. She’s gone, maybe in danger, and I don’t know where she is. His fatigue bore down on him, and he felt a bit dizzy. Richard shoved a chair roughly into the back of his knees, forcing him to sit. He leaned forward on his desk, his forehead against steepled hands, and asked numbly, “The one who gave her work when she came home?”
“That’s her,” Ed replied. “And never a favor given without something required in return.”
“She’ll be okay, right?” Will asked urgently, looking up, his eyes seeking out Ed’s.
Ed was reaching into his jacket but paused. “I doubt they’ll be on the front lines, but the work is never entirely safe.”
Ed Gardiner was winding down, but now Richard was furious. “Why didn’t you just listen to us last night, Will?” He slammed a hand down on the desk. “No, you had to dump Elizabeth back in New Jersey instead of letting her do her damn job.” He stalked to the door. “There were never a better matched pair of idiotic martyrs than the two of you.”
Will was infuriated that Elizabeth would just leave without saying anything, then guilty when he realized she couldn’t have—he’d cut her off comprehensively. Even his voice mail was full. God, what had she done? “Where are you going?” he asked his cousin.
“To see Jane,” was Richard’s sharp response. “Ed, can I speak with you?”
Richard had observed Ed’s hand moving to an envelope in his jacket’s inner pocket. He couldn’t allow Will to have that letter—not now. Will didn’t understand the point of a letter like this. He wouldn’t be able to keep from reading it, and that would likely send Richard’s grounded, sensible cousin into a tailspin.
“Let me hold it for him, Ed,” Richard said. “I promise I’ll give it to him if it becomes necessary.”
“I had her home,” Ed Gardiner said grimly. “We finally had her home.” He laced his fingers behind his lowered head. “Damn it all.”
“Will was worried she’d be arrested, Ed,” Richard said solemnly. “He wasn’t wrong. We’d have gotten her out of it, but this would probably have been a federal charge, and he felt he was doing the right thing.”
Ed Gardiner’s face was pale, but whether with anger or fear, Richard couldn’t say.
“If he wanted to do the right thing,” he said, his shoulders slumping, his voice resigned, “he would never have left her behind.”
“What does that mean?” Richard asked, holding out his hand.
Ed withdrew the envelope from his pocket and handed it over. Richard tucked it away in his own jacket. “We all left her to cope with an alcoholic father who abandoned them to their mentally ill mother. For nearly a year, she was the one who took care of her younger sisters, fed them, clothed them, got them to school. She’s the one who found her mother dead at the kitchen table. She’s the one who made the calls. We left her behind because it was too difficult to deal with my sister. We left her behind because we had our own concerns. At some point, she decided that she’d never be left behind again.”
“She was a kid, Ed,” Richard replied. “Surely you’re not giving her enough credit.”
“I don’t think she realizes she does it, Richard,” Ed responded. He looked and sounded weary. “I tried to tell her Will wouldn’t want her to sacrifice on his behalf . . .”
Charles Bingley stuck his head in the room. “Richard,” he said, his tone even and professional, “the attack just . . . stopped.”
Ed Gardiner checked his watch. “Twelve-thirty,” he said. “That was fast.”
Bingley’s eyebrows pinched together. “What do you mean?”
Elizabeth huddled beneath a blanket in the back of the rumbling aircraft. These planes were always cold. She was settled in the back on a rough bench next to some large wooden boxes. She pulled her legs up, bent at the knees, and buried her face in them. She missed Will so much it hurt. She missed her family, missed getting to talk to Kit about her interview. She mourned for everything she was missing, would miss while she was gone. Again.
“You have to shut it off!” yelled Abby over the roar of the engines.
Elizabeth gazed at her, feeling bleak. She just stared at Abby without responding.
Abby picked her way over to where Elizabeth was sitting, curled up and miserable. “You know what I mean! For the sake of the work!”
Elizabeth did know. She dreaded it, but she did as she’d been trained. She closed her eyes, and mentally shut the door on each member of her family. Lydia. Door closed. Kit. Door closed. Mary. Jane. Aunt Maddy. Uncle Ed. Georgiana. Richard. Door closed. Locked.
She hesitated, afraid. I don’t want to do this.
She spent some time creating Will’s door, ran her hands around it in her imagination. It was substantial, thick, made of me
tal like a bank vault. Somewhere, deep down, she knew she’d get back to Will faster if she could shut everything and everyone out now. Nothing but the job, she told herself. Just the job.
And in her mind, the final door clanged shut.
Excerpt from Headstrong Book Three: Overcome
FORGE FENDS OFF CYBER-ATTACK
Typically, cyber-attacks focus on point-of-sale programs or wire transfers—in other words, your money. The attacks on New York City’s FORGE were rare in that the attack seems to have centered on acquiring the information available in the company’s patent applications. It was an attempt, in other words, to gain access to intellectual property, which is difficult to monetize, particularly once the attack has become public.
Another way in which this attack was atypical? It failed.
William Darcy, owner and CEO of FORGE, spoke with reporters this afternoon to report that the attack had been repelled and no data had been lost. “I want to thank our technical team at Lights On, the team at FORGE that has been instrumental in protecting our clients’ information, and everyone else who was called upon to assist. We are happy to report that the attempted breach was unsuccessful. Our doors remain open while we review the incident and make any changes we deem necessary to further protect our systems.”
Will tossed aside his copy of the Wall Street Journal. The crisis had been averted, the clients reassured, and the media coverage had been overwhelmingly positive. The story had made the national and perhaps international news, significantly increasing FORGE’s visibility. This would have both positive and negative consequences.
He had worked all night, calling Jerry to take him home only after the final press conference and interviews were completed. Richard had still been scowling, though he’d put on a good face and stood at Will’s right shoulder as the cameras recorded the statement. They’d agreed, afterward, that Wickham must have had an overseas buyer for the patent information but were confused that his attacks hadn’t broken through before Elizabeth’s colleagues had stopped it cold. Not that he was unhappy about that, but why attack at all if they weren’t sure they could get into the systems they wanted?
Richard had returned from his tantrum with Jane Bennet in tow, and he admitted to himself that he was more than a little jealous. If Elizabeth hadn’t left, he’d be headed to her place in Bloomfield no matter how exhausted he was. Of course, if she hadn’t left, you’d still be battling Wickham and probably signing FORGE’s death warrant. Now his company had a quickly growing reputation for being a difficult mark, something he hoped nobody would take on as a challenge. He’d left his tech team in a heated discussion about how to anticipate and counter such a response. He’d warned them that he’d be interviewing other security companies but rather than firing them outright, would allow them to make a pitch for the job as well. Maybe Elizabeth would be back to help evaluate them.
He tossed his keys in the blue bowl in the entryway and went immediately to the refrigerator. His gaze went to the bottom shelf, where the last two bottles of beer Elizabeth had purchased for Richard still sat. He stared at them until the refrigerator began to beep, alerting him that the door had been open too long. He moved to the bar to pour himself something strong and wandered out onto the terrace although it was near freezing. He felt the cold penetrating his suit jacket but strolled over to the chaises he had shared with Elizabeth when they stayed up all night talking. He stretched out on one.
What would she do when she finished whatever it was he’d just pushed her out to face? Now that she’d saved him? Again, he added, two saves in one week’s time. Would she credit him with trying to do what was best for her, even if he’d been ham-handed in the way he’d gone about it? Or would she decide he didn’t trust her—that he was just too much work?
As he reclined there in the rapidly darkening afternoon, he tried to think through the past week. He was sure the attack on FORGE had been launched only because the one on Georgiana had been thwarted. It was plan B, he sighed. Will there be a Plan C, now that this one has failed? He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up his defenses when he was never certain where Wickham would strike next. He wasn’t even sure why Wickham was still angry—it had been a decade since they’d last seen one another. No, it has to be about money. Someone’s paying him. The public humiliation is just him having fun. He stared out across the road and into the park. He brushed his dark thoughts away and instead focused on the gratifying jolt of electricity that had struck him when he saw Elizabeth in Kit’s dress. Was it only last night? He held onto the memory tenaciously while he finished his drink.
He remained outside longer than he should have, staring at the trees, hearing Elizabeth’s voice in his ear, exclaiming delight over the view. He listened to the enchanting echoes while simultaneously trying to unravel Wickham’s potential plans. It was only Georgiana’s voice, calling his name, that finally prompted him to stand and return inside.
After a long day of flying, Elizabeth stepped out onto the tarmac and donned a pair of sunglasses Abby had tucked into her kit. The sun was out and the weather mild. She judged it to be in the mid-70s, and it was very bright after riding in the back of what she thought might be a C-17 Globemaster. She’d gone from flying first class to flying cargo, but she had no complaints. Arch and Bob were already in place wherever they were headed, and she expected good news on the FORGE front when she arrived. That makes it worth it, she thought. It does.
They’d landed at a private airfield which surprised her a bit, what with their arrival in a military plane, but she’d been on enough of these maneuvers not to ask questions when she might not want to know the answers. Judging the time in air, the climate, and her own past experiences, she thought they were probably somewhere along the Mediterranean.
A non-descript brown car with a dented front fender and a spider-web crack in the back window was waiting for them. Abby led them over and they shoved their bags into the trunk.
“Welcome,” he said glibly, and opened the back door for Elizabeth. He hadn’t mentioned his name or where they were. It doesn’t matter, she thought. We won’t see him again. Still, she took a mental snapshot.
At the drop point, they transferred to a taxi. As they pulled away, they passed the first car, now tucked into an alleyway. Elizabeth saw the driver peel the spider-crack web off the back of the car with a quick flip of his wrist and begin to remove the brown decals to reveal a blue car beneath. He’d probably change the license plate, too.
Two transfers later they were dropped off on the corner of a very crowded street. Elizabeth followed Abby down an alleyway where they walked to the end and descended a flight of stairs. They walked through a maze of tunnels for twenty minutes or so. Like mice.
“Abby?” Elizabeth asked, annoyed.
“What?” Abby replied, staring ahead in the dim lighting.
Elizabeth reached both arms out and slapped the stone walls at the same time. “There had better be some cheese at the end of this.”
There was a soft laugh from the diminutive shadow in front of her as Elizabeth adjusted the strap of her bag and they trudged on.
It took another five minutes or so to emerge from the tunnels into a quieter neighborhood and slip inside a storefront in a line of identical edifices. Down another flight of stairs, Abby reached a door and knocked in a complicated rhythm. The door opened and they stepped inside.
Elizabeth was in the room for only a second when she was bodily lifted from the floor in a bone-crushing hug.
“Hey, Arch,” she said as the big man set her down. “How’ve you been?”
“Good, Dutch,” he grinned, curly dark hair sticking wildly out at the sides. “I’d ask you how you’ve been, but the whole world knows.” He bumped her with his hip, which she was lucky didn’t send her flying. “Bagging a billionaire.”
She tossed her head back to look up at him. “Never took you for a tabloid reader, Arch.”
He shrugged. “It’s different when you know the person.”
&
nbsp; There was a redhead standing in the kitchen. He was slighter, barely taller than Elizabeth, and he held up his hand in an abbreviated wave. She held her hand up in reply and nodded at him. “Bob.”
Abby took her bag to the back of the room where she disappeared behind a curtain. They were silent. She looked between the two impatiently. “Well?”
“Oh, Abbot called once you were in the air, Dutch,” Arch explained. “We’re done.”
Bob wore a menacing frown that somehow appeared almost a smile. “He’s been doing business with a lot of people, running up debts he can’t cash. Someone in Dubai.”
Elizabeth observed them both, but no additional information was forthcoming. “Senator Barker?”
Bob lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe. Wasn’t looking for that. I can check into it.”
Elizabeth nodded. Bob didn’t talk much, but he loved a challenge as much as the rest of them. “Who was Wickham working with in Dubai?” The city was an international crossroads with riches beyond imagining. Wickham could have been working with anyone.
“Does it matter?” Bob asked with a shrug. “He hasn’t been able to pay them and now they know where he is.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, her mind racing. She didn’t think Will would want Wickham dead, but she wasn’t about to say anything to Bob. The man operated on his own system of justice. He’d had a job, he’d done the job. Anything she said to him about it now would be summarily dismissed, and it was Wickham’s fault if he’d cheated the wrong people. A man who relied on charm, trickery, and very little else should have known not to stretch his abilities too far. There wasn’t much she could do now. He might not be dead at all, she placated herself. Close the door.
“What’ve we got to eat?” she asked plaintively. “I can’t work on an empty stomach.”
Even Bob smirked at that, and Arch ushered her into the kitchen as the smaller man gave way. “There’s that hollow leg,” the larger man chortled. “Don’t worry. We’re ready for you.”
Adapt Page 31