Dark Divide

by Sonja Stone

  Inside she finds a small envelope, a burner phone, and a hand-written note: last number called. She pulls up the call history and presses send.

  Damon answers. “Open the envelope. Go outside and wait for me. If I see any surveillance, I start picking off civilians, got it? And ditch the phone.” He hangs up.

  Simon’s brows pull together, questioning. “What’s he on about now?”

  “I think this is where you and I part ways.” Nadia rips open the seam of the envelope and plucks the tiny comms device from inside. She tosses the cell phone in the trash can and nestles the comms into her ear.

  Simon looks over her shoulder and nods toward the entrance. “Ready?”

  “Give me a sec.” Nadia stops by the shop and purchases a pre-stamped postcard with a picture of a coyote on the front. She borrows a pen from the cashier, scribbles a message and her home address on the back, then hands it to Simon. “Can you mail this for me?”

  “ ‘I know about you.’ That’s the best you’ve got?”

  “We’re a little pressed for time.” They move through the sparsely populated station and out into the night. When they reach the side of the building, out of the streetlights, away from the parking lot, she asks, “You’re clear on the plan?”

  “It’s a very simple plan. I’m beginning to feel a bit insulted.”

  Nadia smiles. “Humor me.”

  “I go back to school, tell everyone Damon popped me and snatched you against your will, cry a wee bit, Bob’s your uncle.”

  She nods. “Don’t forget to stop and pick up Alan.”

  “Oh hell, I’d already forgotten.”

  “Simon.” Nadia waits until he makes eye contact. “Thank you.”

  His face softens. “No worries, love. I wish you’d let me tag along. If anything happens to you, Libby will see me drawn and quartered.”

  Her eyes search the parking lot. Across the street, taking up half a city block, is a gas station and convenience store. The bright lights spill into the street. “Not this time.” Truth is, she’d love to take Simon. But she knows Damon won’t allow it—plus, it’s not fair to ask Simon to risk his future, possibly his life. This is her fight as much as it is Damon’s, but it’s definitely not Simon’s. “Maybe for my next act of treason.”

  “It’s a date.”

  She turns back to Simon. His blue eyes bore into hers. The resemblance, now that she’s looking for it, is uncanny. “Are you going to tell Libby?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not sure what to do. What would I even say? ‘Turns out your dad dipped his wick in someone else’s ink pot. Surprise, I’m your baby brother!’ ”

  “Who’s this clown?” Damon says into her ear. “Did he just say he’s Libby’s brother?”

  Nadia looks around. “Where are you?”

  “Right here, love,” Simon says. “I’m right here.”

  She shakes her head and mouths, “Not you.” She points to her ear.

  “Who is he?” Damon repeats.

  “He’s the new you,” Nadia says.

  “Did we run out of American teens to exploit? Now we’re importing?” Damon asks. “Hurry up and say your goodbyes.”

  Nadia rolls her eyes and asks Simon, “You ready?”

  He nods once and takes a deep breath. “Mmm. Ready.”

  She steps forward with her left foot and draws back her right arm. Without hesitation, she strikes. The contact with Simon’s mouth is perfect.

  “Damn, girl,” Damon says in her ear. “That was a nice crossover.”

  Simon’s hand comes to his lip, split and already swelling. He wipes the blood and licks the cut.

  Nadia winces. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No worries. I’ll tell everyone it was Damon.”

  “Tsk,” Damon scoffs. “I would’ve knocked him out cold.”

  “Yes, Damon,” Nadia says. “We’re all wildly impressed.”

  Simon leans forward and gives her a hug. “Good luck. Don’t be too long.”

  His embrace lasts longer than it should. “Okay then.” Nadia pulls away.

  “Wait there and don’t say anything,” Damon says.

  A minute after Simon drives off, a black BMW with heavily tinted windows pulls into the lot. The car rolls up, the window rolls down.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Damon says.

  Nadia shrugs. “I heard you needed a little muscle.”

  Thursday night, an hour after his botched assignment with Nadia, Jack receives a coded message from his handler, Dean Shepard. The final piece of Operation Royal—this part a solo mission—directs him to the Stay Connected Internet Café in downtown Phoenix. From there, he’ll spoof an IP address, log onto the wifi-enabled thumb drive that Simon planted at Gentech Labcorp, and then activate the self-destruct code. Lastly, he’s to dead drop the entire operational report in a trash can at the first light-rail stop in Tempe by 0100 hours, thereby erasing all evidence of his team’s involvement.

  He glances at the clock, annoyed that he’s getting an assignment minutes after completing the last assignment. I don’t know what I expected—this is life in the CIA. He shakes his head, changes into a fresh polo, grabs a cotton pullover, and heads out the door for a little study time.

  After a few hours at the library reviewing the mission and plotting out his route, Jack returns to the lobby of his dorm. He’s surprised to see Libby sitting on the sofa. “When did you get back?”

  “Oh, Jack, thank goodness you’re here.” She rushes toward him, hands clutched together. Her clear blue eyes are filled with tears.

  “What’s the matter? Is it your dad?”

  “Nadia’s gone,” she says. “I came back and she was gone. I can’t find her anywhere.”

  Jack sighs. “I can’t help you there. She’s not exactly confiding in me these days.” The lobby door opens behind him, and Simon and Alan join the pair. Simon, uncharact­eristically disheveled, sports a split and swollen lip.

  “Darling, you’re back.” Simon wraps Libby into a hug. “We missed you.” He pulls away. “What’s wrong?”

  “What happened to you?” Jack asks him.

  “Nadia’s missing,” Libby says.

  Simon shakes his head. “She’s not missing. She’s just not here.”

  “Hey—what happened to your face?” Jack asks again.

  Simon leans toward Libby. “Listen, I really need to speak with you. Privately.”

  She nods, her eyes wide. “Yeah, we definitely have some catching up to do. But first, where’s Nadia?”

  Simon shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

  Libby says, “But you just said—”

  “He does that all the time,” Alan says. “It is maddening.”

  Jack shakes his head. It’s like herding kittens. “Will someone please tell me—”

  Simon turns to Jack. “I dropped Nadia at the bus station.”

  “What?”

  “She had some errand. Something to do with Damon.” Simon points to his lip. “That’s what happened here. Oh, but if anyone asks, she was taken against her will.”

  “How could you leave her with that psychopath?” Jack asks.

  “I’m not her mum.”

  “We have to go after her,” Libby says.

  “She’ll be long gone by now,” Simon answers.

  Jack narrows his eyes, fists clenched at his sides. “How could you do that? Who knows where he’ll take her—or what he’ll do to her?”

  Simon shakes his head. “Not to worry. I slipped a tracking device in her pocket. She should be live in about thirty minutes.” He winks at Libby. “I set a delay in case she’s scanned for surveillance.”

  “You just happened to have a tracking device with you?” Jack asks.

  “Yeah, of course. I always carry a few, courtesy of Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Why, don’t you?”

  “Well, let’s go,” Libby says.

  “Right, when do we leave?” Simon asks cheerfully.

  Jack shakes his he
ad. “No way—it’s out of the question. She made a decision to risk her life for him. She doesn’t get to make that call for everyone else.”

  “Fine,” Libby says. “Then you go.”

  “I have my final mission in less than two hours. If I don’t complete it, I don’t graduate.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Simon says.

  Before Jack can respond to Simon, Libby jabs at his chest. Jack scowls. “Stop it.”

  Anger flashes through her eyes. “She is your responsibility. We are your responsibility, whether you like it or not. You are our team leader—at the expense of all else, I might add.”

  Jack’s about to fire back when he realizes something: Libby is right. If anything happens to Nadia tonight, can he live with that? If there’s the slightest chance that he could’ve helped her? His first priority should be the safety of his team. He’s always done right by his country. It’s time to do right by his friend.

  Even if it costs him his future.

  Jack nods. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. She made a stupid decision and put herself in danger, but this is my team, and she’s still my responsibility.”

  “And the love of your life,” Simon says.

  “Yeah, that too.” He glances at his team. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do.” Jack opens his laptop and pulls up a satellite map of downtown Phoenix. “When her signal goes live, I need you running comms,” he tells Alan. “Simon, search the map for seldom-used or recently leased buildings and warehouses. When we locate her, I’ll need an entry point.”

  “Got it,” Simon says.

  “What can I do?” Libby asks.

  “Compare their results with live satellite imagery. Use the infrared filter. We’re looking for activity in a nonresidential section of the city. Probably a couple guys, mostly stationary—like standing guard, right? So one out front, one in the rear, stuff like that.”

  “That sounds pretty high-tech. Where can I find a program like that?” Libby asks.

  Jack and Alan answer in sync. “Simon’s laptop.”

  Across the street from a deserted-looking warehouse, Nadia crouches behind a blue dumpster as Damon shoves his rifle and a bag of gear underneath. She surveys the layout. A single streetlight casts a beam over the front entrance, narrow windows run high across the top, a chain-link fence surrounds the exterior. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  She shakes her head. “This is insanity. There’s gotta be a better way. You remember the cyanide pill, right? We’re walking straight into the arms of the man who wants you dead.”

  Damon’s eyes don’t leave the warehouse. “Then I’ll try to be particularly charming. Here.” He hands her a Glock.

  She drops the magazine, checks that it’s loaded, then reinserts it and racks the slide. “Listen, my life depends on you, so you better bring your A-game.”

  Damon scoffs. “Please. Worry about your own self.” He readies his gun. “Roberts has a single body man—the guard out front. We’ll surround him from the rear. I’ll go around the right side, you take the left. You ready?”

  “Not really,” she mumbles, as she follows him across the darkened street.

  They approach from the back of the building to flank the front door. Nadia rounds her corner, leading with the gun. The guard moves toward her, reaches into his jacket. Damon, now standing behind him, whistles. The man turns, sees he’s surrounded, and lifts his arms. Damon waves him inside.

  Nadia follows after them, her gun raised, finger resting on the trigger guard. Inside, a second man immediately lifts his weapon and points it at her. She aims back and moves her finger to the trigger. “Damon?”

  “Roberts,” Damon yells. “Get down here.”

  The office door on the mezzanine level opens and Roberts steps into view. He’s older than she expected, and no longer in military shape. The metal stairs clang against his weight as he descends to ground level.

  She debates whether or not to move her sights onto Roberts. He’s not armed, and the second guard still has a gun pointed at her head, so she holds her position.

  “What is this?” asks Roberts.

  Damon shifts his aim from the first guard to Roberts. “Where’s my mother?”

  “Soldier, lower your weapon,” Roberts says to Damon.

  “Where’s my mother?”

  “She’s on her way. Now lower your weapon.”

  “No way,” Nadia says, answering for Damon. “Not until this guy does.” She steps back with her right foot, bracing for the kickback. Her eyes move between Roberts and her target.

  Roberts turns his head slightly toward the stairs and lets out a shrill whistle. Two more men emerge from the office, both armed, both aiming at Nadia. He stares evenly at Damon. “You think I didn’t expect you to double-cross me?”

  “You set me up,” Damon says, gun still pointing at Roberts. “You framed me for shooting Bishop. You put a bounty on my head.”

  “No, I didn’t. In fact, I thought you bid on that contract to get back in my good graces.”

  Nadia narrows her eyes at Roberts. “That was your doing? You ordered the hit on Bishop?” He doesn’t answer.

  Damon continues. “Then who shot him? Who framed me?”

  Why is my father doing the Nighthawks’ bidding? Her hand shakes. She takes a deep breath, tries to steady her nerves.

  “I have no idea,” Roberts says. “He has no shortage of enemies. Nor do you, which is probably why someone leaked your name. Make a list of everyone you’ve screwed over. See if you can narrow it down.” He shrugs. “The contract wasn’t fulfilled, so I haven’t received an invoice. And thanks to the failed attempt instigating additional security and excessive publicity, I’ve had to revoke the contract.” He lifts his chin. “Now, for the last time, lower your weapon, and let’s finish our business together.”

  Damon takes a step back, then lowers his gun.

  Nadia shoots him a look. This isn’t part of the plan. “What are you doing?”

  “Put your gun down,” he says. “We’re significantly outmanned.”

  “Are you kidding?” Her heart drops. She glares at Damon. “So you’re just giving up?”

  “I’ll take that,” Agent Roberts says, reaching for her gun.

  “I’m sorry,” Damon says.

  “You’re sorry?” She thrusts the gun at Roberts’ midsection. Nadia’s eyes move from Damon to Roberts to the four bodyguards, all of whom have their weapons trained on her. “What about your—”

  “Enough,” Roberts interrupts. “Damon, cuff her to that chair.” He nods to the single wooden chair in the center of the near-empty warehouse.

  “No, I want my mother. Now.”

  “She’s right outside.”

  Damon wraps his arm around Nadia’s neck. Before she can respond, she’s in a chokehold. The muzzle of his gun presses against her temple. “Let me see.”

  “Or what? You’re gonna kill her?” Roberts nods toward Nadia. “Be my guest.”

  Nadia grabs Damon’s forearm, a steel vice against her throat. “No—wait.”

  “You need her alive or she’d already be dead. Which, incidentally, would’ve saved me a whole lot of trouble.”

  “We both know you won’t do it,” Roberts says.

  Damon presses the muzzle harder against her head. “Try me.”

  “Wait!” she says again.

  Roberts raises a placating hand. “All right, enough. Put down your gun.” He nods to one of his bodyguards.

  The guard raises the garage door at the back of the warehouse and waves his arm. A minute later a silver sedan pulls inside. He opens the rear passenger side. A woman sits on the back seat, bound, gagged, blindfolded.

  Nadia’s fingers tighten around Damon’s arm as she sees his mother. He has to save her.

  The guard slams the door before anyone speaks.

  Damon’s arm flexes, tightening against Nadia’s neck as he points to the guard. “Tell him to move the car outside so it faces the
street. Leave the driver’s side open and come back in.”

  “We have one more item of business,” Roberts says. “Your files?”

  “Nadia, inside my bag. Get the file.”

  With a sick feeling of resignation, she reaches into the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. A quick hand sweep for weapons yields nothing, so she removes the sealed manila envelope.

  “Open it and give it to me,” Damon says.

  She rips the top off the envelope and pulls out the files. Stacks of papers and photographs held together with paper clips.

  Damon snatches the papers from her hand. “This is it,” he says. “We are done.” He throws the stack to the ground. The papers slide across the slick floor, spreading out like a deck of cards.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You can go.” Roberts turns to his hired gun. “Cuff the girl.”

  “I’m happy to do that on my way out,” Damon says, dragging her toward the chair. “Sit down.” He wrenches her arms behind her back. “I’m really sorry it has to end like this.”

  A pain shoots between her shoulders and she flinches.

  He cuffs her hands. “If it were me being locked up, here’s where you’d promise to wait for me.” He leans against her body and says, “You’ll wait for me, right?”

  What is he talking about? Nadia waits until he circles around the chair, until he looks into her eyes. “Did you know about this? That he would have extra security?”

  He shrugs. “It occurred to me.”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “What do you want from me? I can’t abandon my mother.” Damon turns his back on Roberts’ men and whispers to her, “Brace yourself.”

  “What?” Nadia asks.

  “She’s your problem now,” Damon calls to Roberts. “And let me tell you something, she’s a handful.” He presses his boot against the side of her chair and kicks.

  Nadia’s chair falls onto its side as her shoulder slams against the concrete floor. She cries out before she can think. Her lip pulses as the taste of blood seeps into her mouth. He stands over her and says, “You wanna know what your problem is?”