Dark Divide

by Sonja Stone

  She turns back toward him and nods. “You’re probably right. I’m just really tired. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “You can’t tell anyone about this,” Jack says. “You know that, right?”

  With the strangest sensation of weightlessness, she moves across the lawn, thinking about her father, how he used her. Thinking about Damon and his mom. Worried about her own mother. What if Roberts goes after her?

  Inside the lobby of the girls’ dorm, Casey’s desk sits unoccupied. Nadia sighs; she’s dreading another night without Libby. If she could just talk to her, make sure she’s okay. Something to assuage the guilt.

  Down the hall Nadia unlocks her bedroom door. She rips off her sweater and kicks the shoes from her feet, then pushes the door shut and feels along the wall for the light switch.

  Before her fingers make contact, someone grabs her from behind and clamps a hand over her mouth.

  Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark, and Simon intends to uncover the stinking corpse. He’s been lied to—either earlier, about his dad being dead, or more recently, when CIADIS identified a new man as his father. If Simon can’t trust the DNA database—if science isn’t his ally—then he doesn’t have a prayer.

  That left him one remaining option: check the student database and compare the DNA himself. But Nadia destroyed it, and with it, his only chance to uncover the truth.

  As such, she has no one but herself to blame for this current invasion of privacy, which is why Simon feels no guilt as he rifles through her unmentionables.

  So far, his search proves fruitless. Inside Libby and Nadia’s bathroom, he shines his torch along the baseboards. He checks the shower drain, the wastepaper basket, tosses their drawers for a hairbrush or blow dryer—anything with a scrap of DNA.

  He’s literally never seen such a pristine bathroom in his entire life.

  After fifteen minutes of wasted effort, Simon heads back into the bedroom. He’s about to press duct tape along the shoulders of their sweaters when a noise outside catches his attention.

  A key slides into the lock. Simon clicks off his torch and ducks behind the door. Nadia walks in, kicks off her shoes. As she’s reaching for the light switch, he moves from his position and wraps his hand over her mouth, not to hurt her—only so she won’t scream bloody murder.

  Before he knows what’s happening, Nadia stomps the top of his foot, grabs his elbow, and heaves him over her shoulder. He lands on his back across the tiled floor, sucking for air.

  She switches on the overhead and viciously whispers, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Simon gasps and holds up a finger. He rolls to his side. Unable to speak, he mouths, “Help me up.” Nadia raises an eyebrow in response. He drags himself off the floor and onto a crisply made bed. “Dear God. I can’t breathe. How did Damon get the jump on you?”

  Nadia rolls her eyes and goes into the loo, returning with two glasses of water. She hands him one and, without taking her eyes off him, chugs the other. He sips carefully, curious to see whether she’s punctured any internal organs.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks again.

  “DNA,” he whispers. His lungs feel rather depleted. “It’s your fault I’m here.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I need to compare DNA. I could’ve used the database, but you destroyed it, so I’m forced to go old school.”

  She nods. “I see. You knew Damon was being framed for shooting Bishop because you know he’s not Jericho. Because Jericho is the CIA officer who secured your position here.”

  Simon narrows his eyes. “How did you know that?” And what else does she know?

  “Jericho is not your father. And I’m not giving you my DNA, so get out.”

  Why would she even mention Jericho? And why would she think he was looking for information about Jericho in her bedroom? “What a peculiar thing to say.” He studies her carefully as she shifts her weight, then transfers the empty water glass from her right hand to left.

  “Not really.” She turns away to set the glass on her desk. “You said your father got you in here, and then you said you knew Damon was being framed, because the guy who shot Bishop is called Jericho. Ergo, that means you know Damon’s code name isn’t Jericho. The only way you could definitively know that is if Jericho is the code name of the agent who got you here. Simple deductive reasoning. I don’t know what any of this has to do with me, and why you’re in my bedroom remains a mystery, but I know you’re looking for information about Jericho, right?” She crosses her arms. “I am a little confused about one thing: you said you found your father, and that he’s deceased. Milo Riazotti, correct? So why are you here, and what are you looking for?” Now she studies him.

  “Firstly, there was absolutely nothing ‘simple’ about your deductive reasoning. Secondly, I was mistaken. My father did not secure my position here, Jericho did. To what end, I don’t yet know. But they are not one and the same.” It had occurred to Simon that Jericho might be playing him, using him to expose his father, perhaps to ruin his political career. But if that was the case, Jericho was certainly taking his leisurely time. “I believe I’ve been manipulated.”

  She looks at her feet. “Really? What makes you say that?”

  “Let’s just say it’s not your DNA I’m interested in.”

  Nadia’s eyes shoot to Libby’s dresser, to the framed pictures of her family, then back to Simon. “Seriously?”

  “As you know, a few weeks ago my DNA flagged a match in CIADIS.”

  “Wait—I destroyed the student database. How’d you get a match?”

  “I did a takeaway kit with a private lab.” He sips his water, works up the nerve to say it out loud, then plunges forward. “The night Bishop was shot, I received another message—an error message indicating a duplicate match. Which means that unless Milo Riazotti was Bishop’s identical twin, someone tampered with my results.”

  “No kidding.”

  He nods. She doesn’t look as surprised as he expected. “I investigated and found a chain of evidence leading to a Gentech Labcorp employee by the name of Oliver Westlake. About an hour ago, someone sent an anonymous tip to the feds and they’ve issued a search warrant for his place.”

  Nadia shakes her head. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Jack’s senior project. They won’t find anything on Oliver Westlake.”

  “How do you know?”

  She pulls a small plastic square from her pocket. “Because I didn’t leave the evidence.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Did you know that CIADIS is stored at Gentech Labcorp?”

  “What?”

  “Your mission was to infiltrate the mainframe. My mission was to frame Oliver Westlake for tampering with the database. Do you see where this is going?”

  Simon frowns. Why would Jack try to conceal my dad’s identity? “I don’t—”

  A look of understanding crosses Nadia’s face. “Of course—that’s why Jack was given this assignment.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This mission—they gave it to Jack instead of an actual CIA team because we all have a motive for keeping quiet. If anything goes wrong, they probably assume we’ll lie to protect our parents. Better yet, it could be argued that we were acting independently and for our own gain. I suppose the CIA could deny any involvement whatsoever.”

  Simon holds up a hand. “Too much, too fast.” He takes a breath, hoping she’ll do the same. “Now, did you say Jack knows about this cover-up? Did he orchestrate it?”

  She shakes her head. “No, he thinks his senior project is entirely fabricated. You think Bishop is your father?”

  “I don’t know what to think. My mum told me the story of how she met my dad. If he wasn’t part of the CIA team, it means everything she told me is a lie. It makes no sense. I don’t know when she ever would’ve met the senator. Do you have any idea what it feels like to discover that every bit of your
past is completely false?”

  “I have some idea. So you need Libby’s DNA to see if Bishop is actually a match.”

  “Precisely.” Simon nods. “If she and I are genetically related, it’s settled. And you may or may not be aware that there is not one single blond hair in this entire room. How is that possible?”

  “Come on, it’s Libby.” Nadia hesitates a long moment. Finally, she says, “I might not have her DNA, but I do have a picture of the senator when he was younger. And it was taken in London, so theoretically, he could’ve met your mom.” She moves to the other bed and drops to her knees.

  Simon shifts uncomfortably. “Are you praying? Shall I wait in the loo?”

  She ignores the question and says, “Coincidentally, I recently learned that everything my parents have ever said to me is a lie. And now I want the truth.” Thrusting her arm between the mattress and box spring, she extracts a large envelope from the bed. She withdraws several photographs from a folder and hands them over.

  Simon takes the pictures, scans the faces, and feels his heart seize. “Where did you get these?” She doesn’t answer right away, and he yells, “Where did you get these?”

  She scowls and loudly whispers, “Lower your voice. It’s from a case file I stole from the library. I found the intel when I was with Damon.”

  “Nadia.” Simon’s voice shakes. “Why would Damon have intel about my mum?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Simon holds up a photograph. His mother, laughing, as a man kisses her cheek. The back reads James and Maggie, Hyde Park, London. “Who is this man?”

  “That’s my father.” She hesitates, and then says, “Jericho.”

  “Jericho is your father?” Simon flips the picture back over. “Nadia—that’s my mum!” He taps the photograph.

  Nadia eases herself onto the bed opposite him. “Your mom is Maggie Pearle?”

  Simon pushes off the bed and paces the small room. “Yes, Maggie Pearle. And Jericho secured my spot here, and Bishop is my father. Your dad shot my dad.”

  “Okay, stop saying that until we have all the facts.”

  “Yikes.” Simon sits back down. “It seems we all have daddy issues.” A few seconds pass before he asks, “May I see the whole file?”

  She seems reluctant, but passes him the folder.

  He feels her stare as he flips through the documents. She wasn’t kidding, her entire life is fabricated.

  When he gets to the marriage license, he smiles. His mum’s flowery signature is drawn on the bottom of the page. “My mum witnessed your parents’ wedding.” He finds a picture of his mum holding a baby and raises an eyebrow. “Looks like you witnessed your parents’ wedding, as well.”

  Nadia leans forward, rests her elbows on her knees. After a few moments she says, “I don’t think we’re here by accident, Simon.”

  He pulls his eyes away from the file to look at her. “What are you on about?”

  Nadia shakes her head. “I don’t know exactly, but I think—I feel like we were recruited for a reason. All of us. Like we’re playing out someone else’s agenda.” She glances at the clock on the nightstand and asks, “Do you feel like getting some air?”

  “Yes. Only give me a minute. This is a lot to take in.”

  As Simon reviews the body of lies that is her life, Nadia runs down her list of facts. Her father lied about everything. He conspired to ruin Bishop’s career by bringing Simon to the Academy, where Simon would discover his sister, Libby. Bishop launched into damage control and tampered with someone else’s DNA profile. Nadia’s dad grew impatient and shot him. Apparently, after he was shot, Bishop’s DNA was immediately loaded into CIADIS, where Simon got a proper hit.

  Her dad knows Libby’s father, Alan’s grandfather, Agent Roberts, and Simon’s mom. And somehow, Damon uncovered the truth and connected the dots.

  What about destroying the student database? Did her father mastermind that mission? Was he worried she would discover that he’s CIA? Or did Bishop do it, to prevent the link between Simon and Libby? To hide the fact that Simon is his son? Did he hire Damon and arrange Jack’s senior project? No—Bishop isn’t CIA. How would he even know the database exists? On the other hand, he sits on the Intelligence Committee—maybe it’s common knowledge.

  That still wouldn’t explain how Jack got his assignment. It was issued by an active CIA officer. And it would’ve gone off perfectly if Bishop hadn’t been shot and entered into the DNA database. But it had to be Bishop, right?

  Nadia stands, pulls on her shoes. Her father’s callous disregard for her safety—knowingly sending her to a black-ops training facility and blatantly lying to her mother about it—clearly demonstrates that he is unwilling to protect his family. She will not follow suit. She will not abandon her mother, leaving her at the mercy of Roberts’ men.

  And what about Damon’s mom? She’s been held captive for months. How does someone recover from that kind of trauma? Damon said Roberts would kill her if Nadia didn’t show.

  She glances at Simon, still poring over the file, as a familiar anger rises in her chest.

  Pawns. Every one of them. One way or another, this ends tonight.

  “You ready?” she asks.

  “Always,” he says.

  After checking the hall, she waves Simon through her bedroom door. “Hurry up before anyone sees you.” Halfway to the lobby she asks, “Can you check out a car?”

  “Will they ask to see my license?”

  She glances at him. “I assume so.”

  He shakes his head. “Then no. But Alan can.”

  They reach the lobby unscathed and Nadia pushes through the door. “We can’t take him. He can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

  “We won’t have to. We’ll have him check out the car, then we’ll drop him before the errand commences.”

  “But we need him to drive.”

  “No, we need him to check out a car. I happen to be an excellent driver. I just don’t have a license, per se.”

  Nadia rubs her face. “This isn’t gonna work.”

  “Really, it will be fine.” Simon starts down the sidewalk to the boys’ dorm. “Alan will be relieved to settle his debts.”

  * * *

  —

  Fifteen minutes later Alan drives their black sedan away from the security gate. Nadia watches the guard house shrink in the passenger-side mirror as Simon stretches out across the back seat. Alan pulls onto the highway and accelerates.

  After he sets the cruise control, Nadia says, “Tell us about your mock mission.”

  “I cannot. I was informed that discretion is critical.”

  “That’s fine.” She shrugs like she doesn’t care. “I already know it was with Gentech.”

  “How do you know that?” His question sounds like an accusation.

  “All of our missions were with Gentech,” she says. “Was yours off campus?”

  He scowls. “I really cannot say.”

  Nadia narrows her eyes, studies him. “No, Jack would’ve had you working from school.” Alan’s face flushes—she’s on the right track. “Tech-specs?” He exhales—slight relief. So it wasn’t tech-specs. Not language and translation, not comms….Someone had to access Simon’s wifi-enabled thumb drive. “You hacked into Gentech’s mainframe.”

  Simon leans forward, over the center console, watching Alan closely.

  Alan clears his throat. His Adam’s apple protrudes as he swallows.

  Bingo. “Let me guess,” she says. “Your mission involved replacing the genetic sequence of someone already in the database with a new string of DNA.”

  Hives appear on his cherry-red neck. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Was it Milo Riazotti?” she asks.

  The car swerves and Nadia steadies the wheel. Alan regains control, then asks, “How do you know about my mission? Did you read my op-specs? I destroyed them immediately. Simon, was I talking in my sleep?”

  Simon leans back. �
�No worries, mate. It’s not your fault. You did everything right.”

  Nadia looks out the window across the darkened desert as they continue in silence. For the next twenty minutes she turns the details over and over in her head. Without knowing extenuating circumstances, she finds it difficult to gauge her level of anger at her father. He shot Bishop. But Bishop orchestrated an entire cover-up. Still, an assassination attempt trumps tampering with a genetic database. She shakes her head. Whatever the circumstances, they’ve all been used. Libby, Alan, Simon, Damon, even Jack. Used to cover up their parents’ mistakes. And somehow, at the heart of the conspiracy, lies Agent Roberts.

  As they approach town, Nadia asks Alan to pull into the parking lot at a shopping plaza off Scottsdale Road. He eases into a spot at a snail’s pace.

  “Now get out,” Simon tells him.

  “What? Why?”

  “Faster, please.” Nadia scans the lot for surveillance vehicles.

  Simon climbs out and opens the driver’s door. “We’ve got something to do and you can’t come.”

  “What am I supposed to do until you get back?” Alan asks as he steps from the car.

  Simon gestures to the plaza. “Pizza, bookstore, get your nails done. Whatever. I’ll be back in a flash.” Alan crosses his arms. Simon says, “The other option is we stuff you in the boot.”

  Alan scowls. “And then we are even?”

  Simon smiles. “As a level.”

  Nadia leans toward Alan and says, “Thanks for your help.”

  “Maybe after this you will owe me one,” Alan mumbles.

  Simon chuckles and winks at Nadia. “Let’s not push it, mate.”

  * * *

  —

  The bus station smells like diesel and greasy French fries. To one side is a small snack bar and sundries shop. Backless benches, bolted to the floor, fill the center of the room. On the far side of the station, Nadia finds the wall of grey lockers. Simon stays on her heels as she slides the key into locker 213.