Dark Divide

by Sonja Stone

  Nadia glared at Alan before turning to the front of the room. “No, Professor. Sorry for the interruption.”

  “As I was saying,” Katz continued. “Recruitment methods of potential assets.” He paused to write on the whiteboard. “Follow the MICE acronym. The most effective ways to turn an asset are money, ideology, coercion, or ego.” He pointed at each letter in the acronym as he listed the methods.

  Nadia copied the notes into her notebook.

  “Ideology includes patriotism and religion,” Professor Katz explained, as he paced the aisles like a giant bear. “Coercion most often takes the form of threats and blackmail. Both personal threats and threats to colleagues or loved ones are common. Certain individuals can withstand torture, but will cave if their partner is at risk of bodily harm. Coercion is the least effective of the methods, as your asset will turn on you at the first available opportunity. Ego works only on those concerned with their own self-importance. This is not an attractive quality, eh?” He stopped at Nadia’s desk. “Tell me, Miss Riley. Which of these four is your weakness?”

  Nadia looked at the whiteboard and then shook her head. “I have no financial responsibilities, so I don’t need money. I believe in democracy, so I’m happy with my country and stand ready to defend it. I don’t have any secrets, so blackmail’s not an option, and I’m not a narcissist, so I don’t respond to flattery….I guess I can’t be turned.”

  “Oh, my dear.” Professor Katz tipped his head to the side and studied her intently. “Everyone has secrets.” His gaze stretched longer than was comfortable, but Nadia refused to look away. Finally, he smiled and continued down the aisle. “Mr. Hawthorne?”

  “Money,” Simon quipped. “Hands down. My loyalties are most flexible—available to the highest bidder.”

  Professor Katz chuckled along with the class.

  As Nadia turned around to smile at Simon, her eyes fell on Alan.

  His face was covered with violent red hives.

  * * *

  —

  After Arabic, Nadia decided to investigate her dead drop. But she wasn’t about to trek miles away from campus to verify the mysterious code without some sort of backup.

  Jack wasn’t an option. As much as she’d love to ask for his help, she knew he’d be forced to report the cipher. Things were going well between them, and Nadia didn’t want to jeopardize that—especially on an errand that might turn out to be a hoax. Alan wasn’t terribly useful and couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and Nadia had no intention of putting her best friend in harm’s way, so Libby was out. Which left Simon.

  After a campus-wide search, she found him in the dining hall, reclined in a chair, feet propped up on the linen tablecloth, eating a chocolate pudding cup. “I need your help with something.”

  He looked up and slowly licked his spoon. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  “It’s top secret,” Nadia said.

  “Only I’m terribly busy.”

  “I should warn you, we might get expelled.”

  Simon jumped up. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? That sounds like fun.” He tossed his snack—spoon and all—into the trash can. “What’s the mission?”

  Nadia laughed. “You’re a sociopath. You know that, right?”

  “Right, so we’re not on a schedule?”

  “Good point. Come with me.” They exited through the main door leading to the terrace in front of the back wall.

  According to her calculations—and the satellite photos readily available online—she’d find the dead drop a few miles from campus. The highest peak of the surrounding mountain range would serve as her guide.

  Nadia started toward the gate. The heavy chain and padlock securing the back of campus were removed during daylight hours; right now, they sat in a heap on the ground.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just a short walk.” As she stepped off campus, Nadia paused and surveyed the running trails. Satisfied they were alone, she moved off the path, making sure to step only on the rocky portions of earth, and not on the tender plants that struggled against the desert.

  “Are we meant to leave the trails? I seem to recall this is expressly forbidden.”

  “It is, so don’t make it a habit.”

  After another dozen steps, he asked, “What’s this all about?”

  “No questions, please.”

  “I’m quite curious by nature,” he said.

  She shrugged. “I guess we could exchange information. Why don’t you start with the fire?”

  “An unfortunate accident.”

  Nadia stopped and turned around. “I am ninety-nine percent sure the sitting room was vacant when Shepard and I left her office. Which begs the question, where were you hiding?” She held up her hand. “Wait, no, forget that. I don’t even care. Why were you there?”

  Simon scowled, opened his mouth, then sighed and looked at the ground. He lifted his head, his clear blue eyes locking onto hers. “I needed Shepard out of the office so I could toss her desk.”

  Nadia narrowed her eyes, watching for a lie. “Why?”

  “She said she knows my father’s code name. I was looking for information.”

  His pupils were appropriately dilated. His body language remained open, his breathing regular. He seemed to be telling the truth. And after the story he’d shared about his mother, could she blame him? In his shoes, she’d certainly go to any length to find a familial connection. “Is that it?”

  “That’s all I care about. Finding my father.”

  Nadia nodded, then turned and started walking again. “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Thank you for asking. I don’t believe so, but I’ll let you know should something arise. I trust I can count on your discretion?”

  “Sure, as long as you’re straight with me.”

  Simon chuckled. “Well, I can’t pretend to be straight, but I was being honest.”

  Nadia laughed. “Fair enough. So did you find anything?”

  “I’m afraid not.” After a few minutes of silence, Simon said, “You know, I do appreciate your support. As a gesture of goodwill, please consider my personal laptop at your disposal.”

  “Thanks, but the library is fully stocked.”

  “Ah, but mine is entirely untraceable. Bouncing wifi, ghost IP addresses, the whole delightfully elusive package.”

  She stopped and turned to him. “What possible use would I have for that?”

  He seemed surprised. “What a deplorable lack of imagination. I can think of a million uses.”

  Smiling, Nadia resumed their hike. “See, that’s the difference between us. I’m not the kind of person who needs an untraceable laptop.”

  “Suit yourself.” After a few minutes of silence, he asked, “Where exactly are we going?” She didn’t answer, so he continued. “Can you at least tell me why you brought me along?”

  “Oh, you know,” Nadia said, without slowing her gait. “Girl wandering through the desert alone. Can’t be too careful.”

  “Right. I’ve watched you in jujitsu, so I know that’s not it.” After a brief pause he said, “All right. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

  Nadia slowed long enough to reorient herself. The low-growing brush forced them to walk a serpentine path. It would be easy to move a few degrees off track.

  He maintained his code of silence for three solid minutes. “So what’s Alan’s story?”

  “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “There’s something odd about the way he speaks. Why’s he so defensive? And hostile? He got even worse after classes began—did you notice? What’s he hiding? I know it’s something big. I can tell.”

  Nadia shrugged, grateful that Simon couldn’t see her face. Not much. His grandfather is the head of Mossad, but besides that, totally normal kid. “He’s multilingual. I think he has trouble with contractions. He’s also very literal.”

  “Hmm. You do like your secrets. I suppose that’s good
news for me.”

  They neared the destination and Nadia stopped. “I need a minute. Can you wait here?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “For what? Is this some kind of hazing ritual? Abandon the new guy in the desert?”

  “I have to pee. You can come if you want, but I don’t think our friendship is quite there yet. Also, we’re about two miles from campus. If you can’t find your way back from here, you’re probably in the wrong line of work.”

  “I suppose I’ll wait here.” Simon examined his cuticles.

  “Excellent,” Nadia said as she slipped into the brush.

  She found what she believed to be the proper location, but without knowing what she was looking for, it was difficult to tell. Nadia searched the ground, under the bushes, checked for something tucked among the branches. Nothing.

  After a few minutes, Simon called, “Are you quite well?”

  “Yeah,” she yelled. “Almost done.” She was about to give up when she noticed a softball-sized piece of obsidian on the ground. The black rock resembled a large chunk of glass. Obsidian was perfect for flint knapping—it made the sharpest knives—but it wasn’t indigenous to the low desert. She kicked it aside and found an arrowhead underneath, pointing north.

  Nadia moved a few paces deeper into the desert. Hidden in a stand of chaparral she found her dead drop: a large manila envelope tacked to a skinny tree trunk.

  She stood to the side and used a stick to lift the package away from the bark. The backside looked clean, so she ripped it off the nail. Was this an assignment?

  “Hey,” Simon yelled. “Let’s move.”

  She tucked the package inside her waistband. Adjusting her shirt over the envelope, she retraced her steps. “Ready to head back?” She started toward campus.

  “You walked two miles into the desert to relieve your bladder? Are you quite mad?” he asked, falling into step behind her.

  “At least I’m not an arsonist.”

  * * *

  —

  Back on campus Nadia and Simon parted ways at the girls’ dorm. She jogged down her hallway, hoping that Libby was still at the library. To her delight, their bedroom was vacant.

  The second she closed the door, she peeled the package off her sweaty back and placed it on her desk. Using a letter opener, she sliced along the seam of the manila envelope and removed the contents, which included a single, slim folder. Stamped across the front were the words DESERT MOUNTAIN ACADEMY, NEW RECRUIT: CLASS OF 1990. She sank into the chair and opened the file.

  Printed at the top of the intake form, the recruit’s code name: JERICHO. With quick fingers she flipped through the remaining pages. Initial test scores, psychological assessments, research papers, commendations. Jericho’s records were exemplary across the board—sharpshooting, intelligence analysis, foreign language, martial arts.

  Nadia frowned. Why would someone send me an old recruit file?

  She turned the final page of the admissions packet. Clipped to the back of the folder, she found his photograph.

  Nadia took a closer look at the picture and gasped.

  It can’t be.

  Staring back at her was the unmistakable smile of the man she’d known her entire life.

  Her father.

  Two hours before his scheduled appointment, Jack laced up his running shoes and headed toward the back gate to hit the trails. His future rested on the whims of the new Dean of Students, and it was imperative that he consistently make an excellent impression. The best way to clear his head: work up a sweat.

  He started slow, focused on his cadence, his breath. The late-afternoon air dried the initial beads of perspiration from his forehead. He picked up the pace and fell into a rhythm. After a few laps, his body switched to autopilot, allowing him to mentally prep for the meeting.

  Shepard would ask about his team to evaluate his assessment skills. Liberty Grace Bishop, youngest child of Senator Wentworth Bishop, was loyal, patriotic, eager to please. Diagnosed with mild obsessive-compulsive disorder, but nothing serious enough to interfere with her training last semester. She was a team player, easy to get along with, thoughtful, inclusive.

  Simon Hawthorne, the new guy, fell at the opposite end of the spectrum. According to his psych profile, he had a high stress tolerance, low empathy, and experienced little guilt. He was impulsive, and thrived on interpersonal conflict. Simon had a proclivity toward seeking adventure outside the law.

  Jack rounded the corner by the gate and began another lap. Alan Cohen, intelligent, multilingual, extremely obtuse regarding interpersonal relationships, but he seemed to be trying. Alan had tutored Nadia last semester—he’d done a great job helping her catch up.

  Jack’s stomach flipped as he thought about Nadia. Dedicated, driven, intelligent, athletic, determined, beautiful. He would have to tone down his comments about her so he didn’t seem biased. He tried to think of something negative to say. Occasionally she held a grudge, and she could be a little stubborn. He smiled. Okay, a lot stubborn.

  His pace increased as he considered the most important issue, the one he really didn’t want to mention to Dean Shepard: Senator Bishop’s public declaration about the Nighthawks. What if his intel had come from Libby? Jack’s job was to protect his team, but not at the expense of his nation’s security.

  Nadia was positive it wasn’t Libby, but of course she would stand up for her roommate. On the other hand, as he’d unfortunately learned last semester, Nadia’s ability to spot lies bordered on superhuman. But how else would the senator have known they’d had a traitor in their midst?

  Jack pressed his lips together. No, he couldn’t keep quiet about this. He would have to report his suspicions.

  His watch beeped, indicating the end of his workout. He slowed to a jog, then took the last half lap at a brisk walk. He’d shower, grab a quick bite, then go impress the dean.

  * * *

  —

  Forty-five minutes later, Jack settled into a guest chair in Dean Shepard’s office. He quickly reviewed his impressions of his team one last time, then took a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap. He waited patiently as Shepard perused the folder that described his history at Desert Mountain Academy: commendations, letters of recommendation, awards, exemplary essays.

  She closed the file and sat back in her chair.

  Jack’s stomach twisted as he again thought about Libby. He couldn’t wait. “Dean Shepard, before we begin…” He considered his next words. “I’m afraid we may have a security concern. I’m certain it was inadvertent, and I’m not sure the extent of the leak, but I believe Libby accidentally revealed something to Senator Bishop.”

  “You’re referring to his mention of the Nighthawks?”

  “Yes ma’am, and the mention of a double agent discovered at the training level.” He paused for a beat. “Libby is absolutely loyal, and her parents are clearly patriots. I ask that you consider these factors before making a decision about her future.”

  After studying him for a moment, she said, “It must have been difficult for you to tell me this.”

  He nodded. “Yes ma’am, it was. I’m quite fond of Libby.”

  “I appreciate your candor. Clearly, we have a leak, and we are investigating all potential sources. At this time, the less said about it, the better. Do you understand?”

  “Of course.” What did that mean? A potential leak here at the Academy? Or a leak in the CIA? Both thoughts turned his stomach. Agents’ lives were on the line every day; proper security was paramount.

  Shepard leaned back in her chair. “Speaking of fondness…it has come to my attention that you and Miss Riley are engaged in a romantic relationship. Is this correct?”

  Jack felt the surprise register on his face. He composed himself, then cleared his throat. “Ma’am, with respect, I’m not entirely comfortable discussing my personal life.”

  Shepard smiled. “Jack, you’re training for the Black-Ops Division of the CIA. You have no personal life.”

  He f
elt his face burn. “Of course, I apologize. Yes, we are dating. It took a little convincing on my part, but—”

  “Before you continue, there’s something you need to know. Desert Mountain has instituted a new fraternization policy. Effective immediately, team leaders are prohibited from dating their subordinates.”

  Jack frowned. “May I ask why?”

  Shepard folded her hands on the desk. “It places the newer recruit in an awkward position. I understand you and Nadia have a history, but this policy is nonnegotiable. Your options are as follows: terminate your romantic relationship and stay on as team leader, or continue dating and forfeit your team.”

  He shifted in his chair. “Who would take over?”

  “That’s not your concern,” Shepard answered.

  “Would I be assigned to another team?”

  “Maybe.”

  “But there’s a possibility that I wouldn’t be a team leader?” That would significantly hurt his chances for next year—and beyond, for that matter. She’d already told him she wasn’t interested in the seniors who weren’t leading teams.

  “That is correct. Reconfiguring group dynamics is, as you know, not always easy, and never guaranteed. I cannot make a commitment to you at the expense of four other recruits.”

  Jack nodded. “I understand.” He chewed on his lip. “Do you need my answer right now?”

  “Perhaps I misunderstood your goals.” Shepard leaned back in her chair. “What are your plans for next year?”

  “Ideally, I will secure an invitation to continue my training at the undergraduate level.”

  Dean Shepard looked concerned. “If you truly hope to pursue espionage as your career, you must be prepared to make difficult concessions. Your personal life will never come before work.”

  “No, of course not.” Jack nodded quickly. “You’re absolutely right.”

  “So, I will ask you again. What is your decision?”

  At 3:20 a.m. Nadia checked the clock on her nightstand for the millionth time. She still hadn’t made sense of the dead drop, and she hated not being able to confide in her best friend.