There was more going on here than she was telling him, he was certain. It couldn’t be an accident that she had come to him, an experienced agent, when she needed help defecting.
And yet he sensed that their time together had been real, or real enough. And to be fair, he had not exactly told her the truth about himself. Was she also intelligence?
If so, where did that leave them? Could a relationship be built on such a foundation? He decided they would have plenty of time to talk about those issues when she was safely out of the country.
For now, Conley simply returned her embrace. This moment between them was real, he was sure of it. He also understood it was what she needed—all that she needed right now.
And he found that he was happy to give it.
Chapter 12
“Do you have a plan for tonight?” O’Neal asked Alex earnestly. Though she realized that earnestly was a pretty good description for the way that Karen O’Neal said everything.
“This is just a getting to know everyone meeting, a welcoming of new members,” Alex said.
“I understand you are not, technically, a new member,” O’Neal said.
Alex had to work not to wince at that. Yes, when she was young and foolish she had been a member of Americans for a Peaceful Society, but that had been high school and now seemed like it was decades ago and light years away.
“Well, not of this chapter, so I may have a little credibility with these people but I’m practically a new member. Look, Karen, a lot of what you are going to hear is going to sound silly. Working at Zeta you’ve seen too much about how the world works. These kids don’t have the benefit of your experience, or even mine. They think we—the West, the United States—can solve all of the world’s problems if we just stop using our military and making trouble.”
“That is reductive and short-sighted,” O’Neal said.
“Exactly, but that doesn’t mean they don’t believe it strongly. And they need to think we believe it just as strongly,” she said.
“I see,” O’Neal said, but Alex wasn’t sure. Karen was a high-level math genius and, technically, an intelligence analyst. But she wasn’t a field agent, with even less training in that area than Alex herself.
And while Bloch would not have sent her on this mission with Alex if she didn’t have faith in O’Neal, Alex wondered if the older woman could lie convincingly, let along play a part for which she would have to shut off the analytical part of her brain.
“Remember, you are an old friend of mine. Let me do the talking until you feel comfortable. This could take a while. We’ll want them to trust us. Then we will try to wrangle an introduction to the group in the bio department that works with Professor Spellman. The only question is how long we have before the threat your software identified materializes.”
“Strictly speaking, the software identified a potential threat only, though a serious one. There is no time-frame indicated, that’s not how the system works. With luck, our mission here will help me optimize the underlying algorithm.”
Alex tried to hide her frustration. The mission was a fishing expedition as it was. Alex had made peace with that, with the understanding that she would develop important skills for undercover work. But would she and Karen be here for a week? A month? A whole semester?
She checked her watch. It was time to go. She put on a tight smile and said, “Let’s get started.”
They headed out to the door. Alex pulled out a campus map as they walked down the hallway.
“You can put that away. I know where the meeting is,” Karen said.
Alex kept scanning the map. “You sure? It’s a big campus.”
“I memorized the campus map last night,” Karen said.
“Of course you did,” Alex said, smiling. “Lead the way.”
Ten minutes later they were at the lounge in another dorm. There was a hand-made sign on the door that said: Americans for a Peaceful Society, Meeting Tonight.
They stepped through the door and it was pandemonium inside. There were maybe forty people there, loudly chatting. The group was split fifty-fifty between men and women—assuming you went with the traditional definitions of gender.
The group was different from the mostly clean-cut, earnest high school students in her old chapter of the APS. At least half of the guys had beards, varying from traditional goatees to full mountain man. A lot of the girls had short hair and, from what she could see, quite a few piercings.
She saw that the guys had piercings too. They usually didn’t have as many, but they tended to be more extreme. Two of the guys she saw had large circular holes in their ear lobes with rings so large that a quarter could pass through them.
Most of the kids were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Quite a few Che Guevara tees, a number of rainbow tops, and others with angry slogans whose key words were “oppression,” or “resistance,” or “justice.”
The one that made the least sense to her was the t-shirt that had an upside-down image of the globe and said: Cartographers for Social Justice!
One of the guys in the back started speaking. When the crowd didn’t quiet down, he started yelling. Finally, people hushed enough so Alex could hear him.
He started talking about his “journey” and a number of things he was angry about, from poverty to the state of the environment. None of the things he mentioned—she noticed—had anything to do with peace, or even with war for that matter.
When he was (finally) finished, someone else started speaking. She talked about fracking, which she maintained perpetuated the system that gave us nuclear bombs and white supremacy. To her credit, at least nuclear weapons bore some relation to war and peace.
This went on for a while. As far as Alex could tell no one was in charge. When there was a brief lull, Alex started talking.
“I get it. I get that you are angry,” she said, in a tone that was loud and firm. She realized that she had inadvertently borrowed that tone from her mother. Surprisingly, it worked and the crowd quieted.
“We are ALL angry. We are angry at poverty. We are angry at injustice. We are angry at inequality. We are just angry,” she added. She realized that she now had their complete attention. Moreover, for the first time since she and Karen had arrived, all other conversation had stopped.
“But we know where all of those things come from, where all the trouble we face starts…”
She let that hang in the air to sink in. The guy with the giant holes in his ear lobes said, “Where?”
It took a physical effort for her stop herself from sighing. Did these people even know why they were here? Had they even read the sign on the door outside?
“Because the world, and this country, is not committed to the one thing that will solve all of these problems: peace. Instead, we have a system that perpetuates war. That’s the real disease, and human beings are the carriers,” she said, raising her voice at the end in conclusion.
Someone started applauding. Most of the room soon followed. When it died down she said, “My name is Alex and this is my friend Karen. We’re both bio-chem majors and we are not leaving this school until we make a difference.”
They were surrounded by students. Some of them had questions, but most of them just wanted to talk about their own pet issues—most of which had nothing to do with peace, or war, or things that had any relationship to the real world.
When they were alone, Karen said, “That was…impressive. They really responded to you.”
Alex shrugged, “They’re hungry for leadership, but that’s not why we’re here. I just wanted to get us noticed.”
“Why did you tell them our major? No one else did,” Karen said.
“Excuse me,” someone said behind them. Alex turned to see a tall girl with blond hair whom Alex would have pegged for a cheerleader. “Hi, I’m Margaret. I really liked what you said—about making a diff
erence,” she said. Then she scanned the room and added, “Frankly, I don’t think most of these people know what they want. Look, I’m in bio-chem too.” Then she lowered her voice. “We have another group. It’s kind of informal but we’re all from the biology and bio-chem departments.”
Alex followed along with interest.
“Have you heard of Professor Spellman?” she asked.
Alex flashed her eyes and said, “Of course, you could say he’s the reason we’re here. We heard his…”
“The speech? You heard the speech?” Margaret asked.
“I thought maybe you had when you talked about people being the disease,” she said. That wasn’t exactly what Alex had said, but she wasn’t going to correct Margaret now.
“So Professor Spellman has this group that meets tomorrow,” Margaret went on. “Like you, we want to really make a difference before we graduate. Anyway, there’s a meeting tomorrow after lunch. The professor has some surprise planned, some sort of special guest.”
“We’ll be there,” Alex said.
“Give me your number, I’ll text you the details,” Margaret said.
A few moments later they were in the hallway and headed outside. “That is why you told them our department,” Karen said.
“Yes.”
“And now we’ve been recruited into Professor Spellman’s…”
“End of the World Club,” Alex said.
Outside they said good-bye and Alex headed back to her dorm. Maybe she really could do this job. Not bad for her first day undercover.
And it wasn’t even nine o’clock.
Nine o’clock…
Ouch, she’d told Jason she’d be at the floor meeting. She started rushing toward the dorm. Of course, it was just a floor meeting—not exactly essential to her mission. Yet it had seemed important to Jason. And part of her mission was to fit in. Taking part in normal activities would certainly help with that.
It was two minutes to nine. She wouldn’t make it in time. Well, if she hurried, she would only be a few minutes late.
Alex knew there was something wrong as she approached the lounge at the end of the hallway. It was silent.
Alex stepped into the lounge. There was a Welcome to the 3rd Floor! hand-made sign on the wall. There were couches set in front of the fairly large flat-screen TV and a few café tables here and there.
And yet all of the seats and couches were empty.
Alex checked her phone. It was 9:06. Had she missed the meeting?
Then one of the couches moved.
Not, not the couch, the figure slumped on a couch that was facing away from Alex. A head turned and she saw Jason looking at her. His eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet.
“Alex, you made it,” he said.
She scanned the room and said, “I thought I was late and missed it. Am I early?”
“Aren’t you adorable? I think you are the whole meeting, I mean, besides me.”
She saw bowls of chips and bottles of soda spread throughout the room. And then she saw a platter of Oreo cookies shaped into a rough pyramid.
“Was I the only one invited?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, was this an elaborate ruse go get me alone for…I don’t know, murder, or something?”
He shot her a nervous grin.
“No, I mean. I wouldn’t…Actually, the school frowns on that sort of thing,” he said.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a chance I’m willing to take. You do have Oreos,” she said, returning his smile.
He said, “People are busy, and floor spirit isn’t exactly a priority.”
“Yes, but I’d expected more. We are the 3rd floor, we should hold ourselves to a higher standard,” she said.
Alex remembered the talk her mother had given her when she started going to parties in middle school. “When you accept an invitation, you’re also accepting a responsibility. Being a good guest is more than just having fun, it’s about helping the host make sure everyone has fun.”
Alex saw that she had a lot of responsibility here.
“That’s just more food and more floor spirit for us.”
With that, she headed over to the Oreo pyramid. She noticed that there was something odd about the Oreos.
“They’re orange,” she said.
“Well, yeah. For Halloween,” he said.
“Isn’t it a little early for Halloween?” Alex asked. Then she noticed that he had changed. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a black bird on it, a raven. Underneath, it said Nevermore.
Well, fair enough. When you went to a party—or a meeting—why not wear something that told people a little bit about who you were? Certainly, the people at the Students for a Peaceful Society meetup had done it. And their t-shirts were mostly angry.
“Well, you can get the orange ones early if you know where to shop,” he said.
That answered the question of how he got the orange cookies, but not the why. She decided to let it go. She realized that she couldn’t decide if he was weird or cute.
“Let me just put some of this away, he said. I can save it for the Halloween party. By the way, signup for the haunted dorm is right over there.”
Not knowing what else to do, Alex put her name on the list. Hers, of course, was the only name on the list. She felt a pang of guilt when she realized that she might not still be at the school by the time the Halloween rolled around.
They packed up most of the food and carted it to his room—which was a surprise. So far the guys’ rooms she had seen were either full-on frat-boy with posters of beer and girls, or decorated with movie or music stuff, or various political slogans.
His room had a lot of books and a full-sized cardboard standup of Edgar Allan Poe.
“Haven’t seen many of those here,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m a real rebel,” he said with a grin. “How much time have you got? I can tell you how he changed everything that came after him. Then I can tell you about my senior thesis.”
“Sure, why don’t you tell me at the party,” she said.
When they returned, Alex was not surprised to see that the lounge was empty. They had some left some chips and cookies, and soda—and Alex realized that her first college party was nothing like she had expected.
Judging by Jason, it was probably not a typical college party.
He did a quick monologue on Poe and it was actually pretty interesting. If nothing else, his enthusiasm counted for something. Then she realized that she had now met someone who fit in here even less that she did. Remarkably, it seemed to not bother him at all.
“So what was that other meeting you had earlier?” he asked.
“Americans for a Peaceful Society,” she said without thinking.
She saw a flash of disappointment on his face. “Oh,” was all he said.
She shrugged. “I was a member in high school. I was thinking of getting back in…but it’s changed a lot.”
Why am I making excuses? she thought. She was undercover at Berkeley to pass for a campus radical. She shouldn’t care what one guy that she’d never met before thought of her choices. He was—to be blunt—at best, irrelevant, and at most, an asset.
Yet she did care. She didn’t want him to think of her the way she thought of those angry, clueless kids at that meeting.
“We could watch a movie. I have a bunch of DVDs in my room,” he said.
They decided on Rosemary’s Baby and watched it on the lounge’s big screen.
The film was great, and after it ended they just talked. He asked about home and told her about growing up in North Carolina. She talked about growing up in Boston. He was genuinely interested when she mentioned that her father was a classic car dealer. It had been a while since she’d had such nice time with a guy.
In high s
chool there had been a few first dates, and a few more second and third dates. And then there had been Dylan. But she’d met him through APS and they’d spent most of their time discussing the organization or some outrage of the week.
This was different.
“Look, I had a really good time tonight. I’m glad you came to the party,” he said. There it was again, the grin.
“Me too,” she said, grinning back.
There was another silence, but this one wasn’t awkward.
Then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him.
A few seconds later, he pulled away.
“I’m sorry, that was wrong,” he said.
“No, actually it wasn’t so bad. I mean, in terms of technique—”
“I mean I’m your RA, I shouldn’t be putting the moves on you,” he said.
That made her chuckle. “Listen, Jason, I don’t think anything you’ve said or done tonight could be legitimately considered a move.”
That made him laugh.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better. Even so—”
She interrupted him by kissing him. This time he didn’t pull away.
When they separated, she studied him and thought: cute.
“What?” he replied and she realized that she had not just thought it; she’d said it out loud.
Clearly, she needed to practice her undercover skills.
“Before, I was trying to figure out if you were cute or weird. I’m going with cute,” she said.
“I say it doesn’t have to be a binary. Why not—”
Alex interrupted him again, even more firmly this time.
Chapter 13
Morgan spared a quick look in his rear view mirror and saw one black SUV, then the other. They were too close. On the other hand, the Russians were driving standard-issue vehicles for high-level Russian mobsters—Cadillac Escalades. The cars were reasonably fast, but not as fast as the Mustang, and nowhere near as agile.
As if to prove his point, Morgan slipped around a minivan and pulled a hard right at nearly sixty. He’d have to get off of the residential streets if he wanted to maximize this car’s advantages. Ironically, he needed a bit more traffic than there was on these sleepy summer cottage-lined roads. He needed enough other cars on the road to act as obstructions to the larger vehicles.
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