Dark Divide

by Sonja Stone

  “Why would I be in trouble?”

  He makes a face like it’s obvious. “Because you’re the one who put him in a coma.”

  “Wait—so you also killed Wolfe?”

  “What is this, confession? Are you my priest? I followed her, she met with this guy, so I followed him.”

  “Ms. McGill didn’t OD, did she?”

  His gaze doesn’t waver. “She refused to call off the hit. So it was you or her. That’s easy math.”

  Nadia rubs her forehead. Damon killed McGill to save her life?

  “I didn’t mean to kill Wolfe,” he says. “It was an accident.”

  “I’ll be sure and mention that at your parole hearing.”

  Damon smiles for a half second, then his expression turns serious again. “I came here to save your life. I knew about the hit, and I stopped it. But I also came to ask for your help.”

  “You shot Libby’s dad,” Nadia says, not believing it, but so hoping it’s true. “Wasn’t that enough to get your mother back?”

  “Please. If I had taken that shot, Bishop would be dead. I was framed.”

  She looks away for a second. I was right—we were both set up.

  Her face must’ve revealed something, because his eyes narrow. As he studies her, he says, “You know who framed me, don’t you?”

  “Of course not, but I do enjoy the irony of someone framing you.”

  “Who was it? Was it Roberts? How did you find out?”

  “What were you doing in Baton Rouge?”

  After a beat he says, “I got a phone call. An anonymous tip about my mom. Obviously, it turned out to be bogus.”

  The phone call, an anonymously delivered message, same as hers. She lets out a tiny laugh and shakes her head. They both got played.

  “You think this is funny?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know what to think.”

  He stands and straightens his bellman’s vest. “Please help me get my mom back. You’re all I have.”

  “I hate to tell you, but you don’t have me.” Nadia glances toward the exit. Jack will be wondering what’s taking so long. If he comes looking for her…well, she doesn’t know how Damon will react. She turns her eyes to Damon and takes a step toward the stairs. “Good luck, man.”

  “Nadia, I am begging you.” His voice catches in his throat.

  “You lied to me and manipulated me. The whole time I was with you, you were planning to trade me for your mom. You never intended to let me go.”

  His voice is low. “That’s what Roberts thinks. But you and I know better. We’ll get my mom, and the three of us will walk out of there together.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t help you.”

  He pulls a photo out of his back pocket and holds it out. The picture of his mother, tear-stained and scared. “Then help her,” he whispers.

  The photograph breaks her heart—that’s his mother. Unable to bear the image any longer, she looks away.

  Damon moves closer. “Think about it. Roberts won’t stop until he gets what he wants. And if he can’t get to you, who do you think he’s gonna go after next? I guarantee it’ll be your mom.”

  Her heart lurches. What if Roberts sends an agent after her mom? Her mother would have no idea how to defend herself.

  Damon continues. “And the guy he sends for her probably won’t be as careful as I’ve been with you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, orange, plastic cylinder. “Take it.”

  She doesn’t extend her arm. “What is it?” He tosses it at her feet; a locker key.

  “If you want this to end, you need to help me put him down.” Damon nods toward the key. “Meet me there. Tonight.” He backs away. “I left Jack’s comms upstairs outside your room.” Damon pushes through the door into the parking lot.

  He can’t really believe I’m going to help him, can he? Nadia starts up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Halfway to the first floor landing, she stops. What about his mom? What about her mom?

  Nadia jogs back downstairs. She snatches the key off the floor before heading up to get her comms.

  Jack sits in the car chewing his lower lip, leg pumping up and down. He has a nagging feeling he’s forgotten something, some mission-critical detail. Every fifteen seconds he checks his watch. What’s taking her so long?

  He clicks on the comms. “Wolverine, what’s your sit-rep?” No answer. His leg pumps faster.

  Truth is, he’s been distracted since Nadia returned from her survival course. He desperately wants to be there for her, to ask questions, to find out exactly what happened while she was away, but he’s afraid of the answers. Last semester he suspected that Damon had a thing for her. What if she has feelings for him? Worse yet—what if Damon mistreated her and then Jack asks a stupid question like, “Are you in love with the guy who just traumatized you?”

  He hates that he can’t tell her how much he misses her. He hates that he can’t hold her. But the rules are the rules for a reason.

  A flurry of activity catches his eye during the shift change. Kitchen workers, waitstaff, and bellmen cross the back parking lot to their cars.

  What is it—what did he forget? He checked the route, the room, the reservation. The time, the date, the details of the mission. He confirmed that Nadia’s comms were operational.

  A minute later he tries again. “Wolverine, what’s your sit-rep?” Still nothing.

  That’s when he remembers what he forgot: he didn’t check the staff rosters for new and temporary hires. It’s standard procedure, like the second thing he should’ve marked off his list. How did he miss something so basic, so mundane? If this were a real mission, that error might’ve cost Nadia her life.

  Jack shakes his head. This is what happens when you’re emotionally attached to your agents. Shepard was right to condemn their relationship. Into the comms, “Wolverine, do you copy?”

  Finally, Nadia’s voice crackles in his ear. “Boy Scout, assistance needed ASAP. Meet me on-site.”

  “Wolverine, request that you follow protocol and meet me at the extraction point. Over.”

  “Negative, Boy Scout. Northern stairwell. Now.”

  Jack curses as he rips the listening device from his ear. Why is she changing protocol? This is his mission. He throws the car in drive and tears across the lot, pulling into a parking space close to the stairwell. Jack slams the car door and strides toward the entrance, hoping that someone has left it ajar so he won’t have to go around the building to the front. He reaches for the handle as Nadia opens the door.

  “What is going on?” he demands.

  “We have a situation.” She reaches for his hand.

  Jack withdraws his hand and glances around. The floodlight mounted over the entrance to the stairs shines on them like a spotlight. “Please try to be professional,” he says quietly. “This is a huge part of my graduation requirement, and I have no idea if we’re under surveillance.”

  She steps back and glares at him. “Yeah, after what just happened, I’m fairly certain we’re not.” Turning away, she stomps up the stairs.

  “What do you mean? What happened?”

  She refuses to answer.

  He rolls his eyes and follows her up the first flight. “You’re pissed because I won’t hold your hand in the middle of a mission?”

  “Oh my God,” she says over her shoulder, her voice tense. “I had no intention of holding your hand. That’s not why I’m upset.”

  “Then why are you upset?”

  Six flights later they reach her floor. She leads him to 760 and keys open the door. Jack waits for her to enter, but she says, “Oh, you first. I insist.”

  A few steps in, Jack sees the body.

  * * *

  —

  Nine minutes later Jack completes his wipe-down of the hotel room. After a final visual once-over, he turns to Nadia. She stands in the middle of the floor facing away from the body, arms crossed, chewing on the edge of her thumbnail. Frowning, deep in thought.


  “What’s up?” Jack asks.

  Her eyes dart to his face. “Nothing.”

  “Wait—were you in the closet?” Jack pulls the door open. A single garment hangs inside: a jacket with the Gentech Labcorp logo.

  Nadia gasps lightly and Jack turns around. As he does, her eyes shoot from the jacket to his face. “Gentech?” she asks. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he says. Nadia moves away, stepping carefully over the corpse. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting the data card I planted.” She reaches inside the suitcase on the stand by the bed.

  “I don’t know if you should do that. Technically that means I failed to execute the mission.”

  Nadia turns to him, eyes narrowed, and says, “There is a dead man in this room. We were never here.”

  Jack nods once and looks away. She’s got a good point. He wipes the interior of the closet, then uses his cloth to open the bedroom door. “Come on. We gotta go.”

  They jog down the stairwell and across the lot to his car. Before he starts the ignition, Jack leans his head against the steering wheel. After a few seconds, he sits back and looks at her. “I am so angry with you right now.”

  “Wait—what?”

  “Why did you chase a man who’d just shot someone?”

  “You’re angry at me? You convinced me these missions were staged. Why was I sent into a civilian’s room? CIA-affiliated or not, that seems like a pretty big risk to my personal safety. And why wasn’t that room secured? You’re the one who was supposed to be on overwatch.”

  “I know! That’s why—” Jack closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, then looks at her. “You were almost killed. If anything had happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”

  She looks away. “Well, nothing happened. So go ahead and let yourself off the hook.”

  * * *

  —

  Jack berates himself for the next forty-five minutes as they drive home in silence. Back at school, they relay the events to Dean Shepard, and then wait quietly while she makes a few phone calls.

  Nadia looks exhausted. She’s loosened her hair, and her dark curls spill around her face. Her eyebrows pull together with concern.

  What would he have done if she’d been killed? Jack’s stomach turns and he shakes his head, trying to lose the thought. The shooter wore a bellman’s uniform, which means he was probably on the staff roster. Jack might’ve been able to prevent all of this—if he hadn’t screwed up.

  Dean Shepard hangs up the phone and clears her throat. “Well, it’s relatively good news. According to my source, both the Plaza and the Ritz-Carlton have suffered a rash of robberies in the past two days. The police believe the dead man in 760 was part of the robbery team, and that he was killed by his partner. Several pieces of stolen jewelry were found on his person. I suspect it was a double-cross. Maybe the dead man tried to take more than his share. The fact that it happened in your room appears to have been an unfortunate coincidence.”

  Another coincidence. Jack glances at Nadia. She doesn’t react to Shepard’s words in any way. “How many rooms were hit?”

  “Six at the Ritz, thirteen at the Plaza,” Shepard says. “Jack, did anyone of concern appear on your preliminary staff check?”

  He presses his lips together. For a second he considers lying; it would be so easy.

  Lying about who shot him, lying to protect Nadia—that’s one thing. Lying to save his own skin is something else entirely. He straightens in his chair. “Dean Shepard, I messed up. I forgot to run the check. It should’ve been the first thing on my list. I am so sorry, and I totally understand that the oversight will likely affect my final grade.” He turns to Nadia. “Most importantly, I’m furious with myself that I put you in harm’s way. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

  For the first time since they sat down, Nadia looks up. As her eyes meet his, Jack feels an ache in his chest.

  “This wasn’t your fault,” she says softly.

  “Jack, I appreciate your honesty, but I agree with Nadia,” Shepard says. “These missions are meant to be learning experiences. No one expects you to execute a covert operation perfectly while you’re in training. You both conducted yourselves professionally and with honor. Nadia, in the future I would prefer that you not chase after gunmen without backup, but otherwise, well done. For all intents and purposes, you completed the mission.” She turns to Jack. “Are you sure you got out clean?”

  He nods, turning his attention back to the dean. “Absolutely. We wiped every surface she may have touched.” He doesn’t mention that Nadia retrieved her data chip. He’ll have to write it up in his final report, but he needs a few hours to decide how the information should be presented.

  “Good.” Dean Shepard exhales and sits back in her chair. “Let’s keep this incident to ourselves. There’s no sense alarming the other recruits.”

  “Will you share your information with the police?” Jack asks. “That hotel staff members are involved?”

  “I can’t without compromising the Academy. You two would be interviewed, questioned, suspected. My job is to protect you and to safeguard this program. Unfortunately, the police are on their own.” She pauses. “It’s been a long day. You’re both excused.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Jack says. He stands and waits for Nadia, then follows her to the sitting room. “Talk about the wrong place at the wrong time, huh?” he asks, as they cross to the hall.

  “Mmm,” she says.

  He steals a sideways glance. It isn’t like her to keep her opinions to herself. They reach the front door and he holds it open. “What’s on your mind?”

  She sighs and looks away, then after a moment locks onto his eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Nadia leads Jack down the stone steps outside Hopi Hall. Right or wrong, she hasn’t told him about Damon because she knows he’ll have to report it, and she hasn’t yet decided on her course of action. But something else bothers her more.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she turns to him. Quietly, she says, “My op-specs were to plant evidence on the resident of room 760. We both assumed that the data storage card was empty—a prop, right?” He nods and she continues. “What if it wasn’t? What if we were sent to frame a guy for a crime he didn’t commit?”

  “I admit, there are a number of coincidences—”

  Nadia shakes her head. “It just doesn’t feel right. Something else is going on here—something bigger than your senior project.” She pauses. “Is it possible you did something illegal? Something that some guy named Oliver Westlake will now take the blame for?”

  “Who?”

  “The guy in room 760. It doesn’t make sense that I would be sent to a civilian’s room, and you know it. What if he’d been there? What if we’d gotten into a physical altercation?” After a beat, she continues. “You need to tell me the endgame of your senior project.”

  “Come here,” he says, taking her wrist and pulling her across the parking lot. When they reach the back wall, he glances around to make sure they’re alone. “I can’t do that. Shepard specifically instructed me—”

  “I don’t care what she told you. How can you not see that there’s a larger issue?”

  “You know, everything’s so easy for you.” Jack shakes his head. “You don’t like how the mission’s going, so you change up the rules. We don’t have the luxury of questioning orders. What if every agent decided for themselves whether or not a mission should be completed? It can’t work like that. There’s a hierarchy. I’m not given access to all the information. Someone else makes the high-level decisions—someone who knows the whole story, not just the bits and pieces shared with us. I can’t break protocol because you have a weird feeling.”

  Nadia narrows her eyes. “Did you seriously just say that everything’s so easy for me?”

  “When you join the CIA, you need to decide, yes, I trust the people above me, the ones making the tough de
cisions. If you can’t do that, if you are incapable of following orders, then don’t sign up. I hate to remind you, but in this instance, we are not peers. You are not my equal. I’m the team leader. I have the burden of responsibility.”

  A flash of anger floods her body. She takes a breath, looks away, then back into his eyes. “At what point will you ever stand up and say, this is unacceptable?”

  “It’s not my call,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “What if she’s setting us up? What if Shepard’s a Nighthawk? What if your mission is actually real?”

  “You sound paranoid. And it’s not possible. She didn’t even design the senior projects. They were created by active CIA officers.”

  Oh no.

  Nadia’s stomach drops. She forces herself to ask the question. “The code name of the agent who designed your mission—what was it?”

  “I have no idea. What does it matter?”

  She shakes her head and turns away. A chill runs down her spine as the pieces fall into place.

  Jericho orchestrated Jack’s entire mission—she can’t prove it, but she knows it to be true. Jericho is Simon’s father. To protect himself, he falsified the DNA results of a deceased agent. In case they got caught, he used his own daughter to frame an innocent Gentech employee.

  Jack continues. “And why would the CIA assign an actual mission to a bunch of half-trained recruits? It makes no sense.”

  “I don’t know, maybe it’s off-books,” she says. “Plausible deniability? So there’s no paper trail back to the CIA?”

  He looks at her like she’s crazy. After a minute, he says, “You’ve had a very difficult few weeks. I suggest you get some rest. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

  Nadia turns away. The lights of the dormitories glitter in the darkness. Telling him about Damon definitely isn’t an option. Jack doesn’t trust her. At the very least, he doesn’t trust her soundness of mind. And until she knows exactly how her dad is involved, she can’t share any more of her suspicions about his senior project, either. Jack continually chooses procedure over loyalty to her.