by Sonja Stone
Libby filled her in on Alan’s confession, Simon’s video, Jack’s lie to Dean Shepard. “I promised Alan I wouldn’t breathe a word about his grandfather, but of course I didn’t mean you. I mean, we tell each other everything, right?”
Nadia studied the cream colored rug between their beds. “Yeah, of course.”
Libby sighed. “Like the fact that I’m still not allowed off campus.”
“What do you mean? For your survival course?”
Libby nodded. “I haven’t even been assigned my own detail, but Secret Service is already calling the shots. They’re fighting with Shepard about having a presence on campus if my daddy becomes the front-runner.” She looked away for a second, then back at Nadia. “Promise you won’t tell anyone, okay? It’s so embarrassing. It’s like having a babysitter.” Libby’s blue eyes filled with tears. “And I know it’s only a matter of time till Shepard decides she’s had enough.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Libby shrugged and wiped at her eyes. “In the grand scheme of things, I guess it’s not that important.” After a moment she said, “No one blames you, you know. For Damon, God rest his soul.”
That’s because you don’t know how it happened. The remorse felt like a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. Nadia lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.
Libby’s words didn’t touch her; they offered no condolence, no absolution. Nadia knew the truth. If she hadn’t injected him with lidocaine, hadn’t handcuffed him to the table, he would’ve gotten out. After a few minutes of silence, Nadia said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She turned toward Libby. “Have your parents ever lied to you?”
Libby laughed. “Is that a joke?”
“No, what do you mean?”
“Honey, my daddy’s a politician and my momma’s an alcoholic.” Libby clicked off the bedside lamp. “My life is built on lies.”
Join the club. Nadia closed her eyes. Her mind wandered back to the trailer. If she hadn’t turned up the heat, the generator wouldn’t have gone out. The malfunction probably caused the explosion.
Libby’s covers rustled. “Oh, I almost forgot—I have more gossip. Are you still awake?”
Nadia turned toward her roommate’s bed. “Yeah, I’m awake.”
Libby pushed herself up onto her elbow. “Simon discovered his father’s CIA code name. He thinks he’s very close to identifying him.”
“That’s great,” Nadia said, tucking her hand under her pillow. “I’m really happy for him.”
“I know. Me too.”
“What is it? His code name?” Nadia asked.
Libby flopped back down onto her pillow. “He goes by Jericho.”
Shortly after discovering that his borrowed drone had captured the fight of the century, it occurred to Simon that such an event—a recruit gone missing on a survival course and another passed out cold in the middle of campus—would likely propel the Dean of Students into some online investigation. Which is why last night, seconds after Alan left for his appointment with Professor Katz, Simon had pulled up the shadow server on Shepard’s computer.
The flurry of activity across CIA mainframes had sparkled like Christmas morning. The whole reason Simon wanted the drone was to prompt Shepard to log on to the CIA server. She would’ve seen the drone flying overhead, grown curious, and investigated. Turns out, he hadn’t needed to orchestrate a calamity after all. He’d only needed a bit of patience.
Only a high-ranking member of the CIA would’ve had the clout to secure Simon’s position at Desert Mountain. That meant his father’s DNA had to be in CIADIS. And soon enough, Simon’s would be, as well. And the instant the program located a match, he’d know Jericho’s name.
Shepard’s log-in and password were buried in code, but he’d filtered the information through a specially designed program. He’d then repeated her steps to log on to CIADIS.
As soon as he heard back from the lab, he’d enter his own DNA, and then…
He was so close it hurt.
* * *
—
On Tuesday after lunch, Simon stopped by his room to swap out textbooks and check his computer. He waited until Alan left for class to retrieve the laptop from his satchel, and then immediately opened his email. He’d received one from the lab. His breath quickened as he clicked on the correspondence.
He skimmed the results, then copied his gene sequence and pasted it into the CIADIS database. His finger hovered over the button for a millisecond before he hit search. A progress bar appeared in the middle of the screen.
Simon went into the loo to splash cool water on his face. With shaking hands, he hung up his wet towel, which he’d forgotten to do earlier, then walked back to his desk to check the status bar. Point-zero-two percent.
Simon groaned out loud. “This’ll take a bloody year.” He clicked the info button and read the message: Search initiated. Program running. Select YES to continue running search in background, NO to exit. “Yes,” he said aloud, clicking the green button. Check back for results.
He snapped closed his laptop and left for class.
* * *
—
The remainder of Tuesday lasted approximately seven hundred years. At 10:15, after watching the status bar for a solid hour as it crawled from seventy-three to eighty-four percent, Simon went to bed.
A few minutes before midnight, his computer chirped to life. Two seconds later Alan’s pillow landed on his face.
“Oi,” Simon called. “Take it easy.”
“Silence your laptop,” Alan demanded.
How Alan had heard the alarm over his jet-engine white-noise machine was anyone’s guess, but Simon felt he’d antagonized his roommate enough in the past few days. “Right you are. My apologies.” He threw back the blankets and returned Alan’s pillow. “I’ll take it to the lobby.” He grabbed his laptop and a sweatshirt and plodded from the room.
Down the hall, the lobby was vacant. Simon sat on the sofa and opened his computer. The alert flashing in the dock made his stomach flutter—this might be it. He clicked on the notice and read CIADIS: Results Available.
Simon’s breath caught in his throat. He’d waited sixteen years for this.
The nerves in his stomach bound themselves into a cannonball-sized knot as he opened the file. And then, as he processed the message, pain seared like a knife stabbing into his gut.
Simon reread the notification flashing on his screen.
Match Found: Subject Deceased.
His heart fell as he scrolled through the report. His father, a CIA officer, had died over a decade ago.
Hollow platitudes drifted off the screen: heroically in the line of duty, a treasure to his country, the thanks of a grateful nation.
But Jericho had only recently secured Simon’s admission to Desert Mountain Academy. This can’t be right—it’s a mistake.
Simon closed his eyes and slouched back against the couch. Jericho wasn’t his father. So who was he? His dad’s old partner? A friend of his mum?
“You can’t sleep either?”
Simon opened his eyes. “Jack. I didn’t hear you come in.” He felt absolutely numb. “No rest for the wicked, I suppose.”
Jack paced the floor in front of the lobby desk. “I’m worried about Nadia. Do you think she’s okay?”
Simon looked at the ceiling. “She seems no worse for the wear.”
“I really screwed up.”
“With Nadia? I’m sure it’s not too late,” he said flatly, not bothering to lift his head.
“No, Dean Shepard. I lied to her.” Jack’s stride quickened. “And it was a big lie.” Back and forth, back and forth.
“What choice did you have? You couldn’t sell out your girl.”
Jack stopped abruptly and slumped onto the sofa next to Simon. After a moment, he said, “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
Simon heaved himself to an upright position and hoisted his feet onto the coffee table
. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to tell the story. How could he possibly relay the simultaneous feeling of terror and euphoria as he’d clicked open the file? And then to read that his father had died in the line of service over a decade ago, never having met his son?
No matter. Simon had oodles of practice compartmentalizing. He knew how to bury the pain, tuck it away in a little box, and set it on a shelf in the back of his mind.
“What’s up, man?” Jack asked.
After a heavy sigh, he said, “I found my father.”
“Hey, that’s fantastic,” Jack said. “I didn’t realize you were looking for him.”
“He’s dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, man.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? It’s not like I knew him.”
Long pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Simon shrugged. “I don’t know very much. Just that he was CIA and he died in the line of service.”
“Your dad was CIA? No kidding?”
“Mmm. The report said he died a hero, so I guess that’s something to celebrate.” Simon assumed his mocking tone adequately conveyed his contempt.
Two countries, two parents, two deaths. And one abandoned orphan.
After a fitful night’s sleep, Nadia woke before dawn. The memory of her roommate’s words flashed through her consciousness before Nadia had fully opened her eyes. Simon might be her brother. Her heart felt sick—was it possible?
Was any of this possible?
She pulled on her gi and rushed through the dark morning, arriving at the dojo an hour before the other juniors were due. After bowing in, she greeted her mentor. “You said we would talk after I rested?”
Sensei invited her into the meditation room. They stepped onto the tatami mats and sat across from each other on small seiza benches.
“When we spoke last night, I recalled hearing about Project Genesis. Due to the highly classified level of the project, I did not wish to speak to you in the administration building,” Sensei said. “I returned to the dojo and contacted an old friend familiar with Project Genesis. He confirmed that there was much controversy surrounding the project, as well as the mission that was initially run to destroy it.”
“There was a mission to destroy Project Genesis?”
“It was called Operation Cyprus.”
Nadia’s stomach sunk. Operation Cyprus was tied to Project Genesis. Her father was waist deep in this quagmire. “What kind of controversy?”
“It seems Project Genesis did not originate in the United States. It was initially developed in Syria. When we learned of the project, the CIA sent a team to Syria to eliminate the creator of Genesis and destroy the technology. But on arrival, the team found the developer eager to cooperate. The lead officer of the operation disobeyed orders and commanded the team to extract the developer to be used as a CIA asset. The team members of Operation Cyprus suffered much discord in the process. They were not in agreement regarding the extraction. Some wanted to follow orders and execute the scientist, others felt the technology and its creator were too valuable to lose. In the end, both were extracted. And in exchange, the developer handed over all the original project files to the United States.”
Nadia’s voice sounded thin to her ears as she asked, “Do you know who served on the team?”
“I do not.”
“So the CIA does perform assassinations?”
He shook his head. “Performing an assassination and eliminating a terrorist are not considered one and the same. This scientist was developing a weapon of mass destruction. It is my understanding that the CIA does not assassinate nonterrorist targets.”
She hesitated before asking the next question. “How long have you been teaching at the Academy?”
“I do not answer personal questions.”
“Sensei, please.”
He paused a moment. “This is my fourteenth year.”
Nadia exhaled with relief. He’d never taught her father. He hadn’t lied. After a few seconds she said, “I think my father attended the school.”
Surprise crossed his face; he quickly regained composure. “Why do you believe this?”
“I saw his recruit file. And I’m pretty sure he was part of Operation Cyprus.”
“Ah,” Sensei said, nodding slightly. “This explains why Agent Roberts demanded you in exchange for Damon’s mother.”
Nadia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Why would Roberts be interested in an untrained recruit with no insider knowledge or connections? Why you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Roberts also worked Operation Cyprus. He knows my dad. Maybe he—” She stopped talking.
Agent Roberts. Operation Cyprus. Project Genesis.
It all clicked together.
“Roberts wants Genesis,” she said. “He thinks my dad can locate the developer—the asset. He wants the scientist to recreate the technology. Damon was using me to get to his mother; Roberts was using me to get to my dad. It was a hostage exchange, but not for me—he wants my father. A tiger kidnapping.”
“Hai,” Sensei agreed.
Nadia dropped her gaze to the space between their knees, to the textured mats woven so tightly together it was impossible to see where one ended and another began. Again, she thought about Simon. What if he figured out Jericho’s identity? What if he exposed her dad? Simon was shrewd; she’d need to keep her distance until she knew more. She looked back at Sensei. “My father lied to me about everything.”
Sensei’s dark eyes studied her as his face softened. “Do not judge too harshly, Nadia-san. If this is true, I am certain your father had good reason to keep you in the dark. As you well know, in the CIA, we do not always get to choose with whom we share our secrets.”
* * *
—
A few hours later, just before breakfast, Dean Shepard visited the girls’ dorm. After everyone had gathered in the lobby, she made an announcement. “Students, your attention please. A week from next Tuesday is the first Republican debate. As many of you know, Senator Wentworth Bishop of Georgia has announced his intention to run for president. Regardless of personal politics, this is an extraordinary opportunity for our community to observe democracy in action. Attendance at the debate is mandatory. Please arrive in the student lounge no later than six o’clock.”
Nadia glanced at Libby. Her roommate, clearly in campaign mode, nodded politely, thanking the many well-wishers.
After the lobby emptied, Nadia said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask how it was going with your dad.” They walked slowly toward their room.
Libby shook her head. “You’ve just been through the most traumatic event of your life. You get a pass.” Her voice dropped. “Just promise me you won’t leave my side during the debate. When it comes to my daddy, people either love him or hate him, and I never know which way it’s gonna go. I might need a bodyguard to get me out of there.”
Nadia smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
Halfway down the hall, Casey called from the lobby. “Nadia, phone’s for you.”
She jogged back up the hall and took the receiver. “Hello?”
“Nadia Riley?” The computerized voice on the other end of the line sent chills down her spine.
“Who is this?” she asked.
“Tell Liberty justice is coming.” The line went dead.
Nadia’s hand shook as she replaced the telephone. Fear washed through her as she realized that once again, campus offered only the illusion of safety.
Beneath the fear bubbled something else. It took a second to identify, but then—
Relief. She felt relieved.
That phone call, the robotic voice, it was exactly like the one she’d received last semester. The call meant to frame her as the double agent. The call placed by Damon.
She hadn’t killed him. Damon was alive.
And apparently, he wasn’t finished with her.
* * *
—
&
nbsp; Despite her plan to avoid him until she’d uncovered more information, after lunch, Nadia got caught walking with Simon back to their dorms. Halfway down the hill, Simon asked, “All right, what is going on with you? You’ve been dodgy all morning. What’s on your mind?”
She felt sick keeping her suspicions from him. If they were siblings, he had a right to know, didn’t he? But she couldn’t tell him. She had no way to anticipate his reaction. And until she knew more about her father….Keep your mouth shut. Give him something else. “I have a hypothetical question. If you thought Alan was in danger, but you really weren’t sure, would you tell someone, or keep it to yourself?” They reached her dorm and she stopped.
Simon narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Nadia answered. “Just making conversation.”
“Interesting conversation,” he said. “All right. Hypothetically speaking, what’s your indication of danger?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Say, a vaguely threatening phone call.”
Simon seemed to consider. Finally, he shook his head. “No, I guess not. No sense in worrying everyone before I knew something definitive.”
She nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Unless, of course, the call came over an open line.”
“What do you mean?”
“The hall phones, for example. Aren’t the lines monitored?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if security listens regularly, or only when they have cause. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Normally, I’m wholeheartedly anti-authority, but…” He shook his head. “In that situation, I guess I’d probably take it to Shepard. If security heard it and I didn’t report it—well, that looks bad for everyone, eh?”
* * *
—
With her professor’s permission, Nadia ditched Mandarin Chinese that afternoon, and instead copied Libby’s class notes before she fell any further behind. She sat outside on the upper level of the Navajo Building, on the patio facing campus, and transcribed page after page, enjoying the normalcy of the warm sun on her shoulders. After an hour or so, Jack joined her.