by Juno Rushdan
Cutter looked at her as if he was gearing up for conversation. As soon as he angled his shoulders toward her, Kit kicked off on the rollers of her chair, gliding toward the other end of the section where Willow sat alone, facing a wall with her back to everyone else.
Kit understood why someone like Castle worked for the Gray Box. This was a natural extension from his time as a SEAL, duty and country, killing baddies and whatnot.
But Kit had more in common with Willow than anyone else here. They were from the same world, spoke the same language. Why in God’s name would this brilliant analyst choose to work six floors below ground in a cave? No windows, no easy access to fresh air, no likeminded people to bond with. Willow could easily make double whatever she earned here in their hacker community and be worshipped on a pedestal.
It made no sense.
Kit rolled into Willow’s line of sight, with her elbow propped on the armrest, her chin lodged in between the crook of her pointer finger and cradle of her thumb.
Willow’s gaze lifted to her and the analyst pulled out earbuds. “Can I help you?”
“I don’t get it. Do you like working here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Kit asked, genuinely curious.
“It’s a good job, with clear goals and measurable objectives. There’s a routine. I’m constantly challenged and rarely bored. The dental plan and health insurance are excellent. The director makes accommodations for me to provide an amenable work environment. It’s not as cold in here as it was when I worked at the NSA, and I met my fiancé here.”
Kit perked up in her chair, her gaze falling to the diamond-covered black bird pendant and the exquisite engagement ring. “Who? Cutter?”
Willow recoiled. “No, no. Of course not. Gideon.”
Kit had caught most of the names: Maddox was Castle’s sister. Reece, Alistair, Knox, Janet, Reaper and Ares, Grace. No one had mentioned a Gideon. “The name’s not familiar.”
“They call him Reaper.”
Dear God! That menacing man was her fiancé?
Granted, Reaper was stunning, but also serial-killer scary. Willow was definitely a full convert of the government brainwashing program.
“Doesn’t it concern you,” Kit asked, “what institutions like the Gray Box do to our community? How they snatch hackers off the street and make them disappear? Like me? Like what they did to Simon ‘the Wyrm’ Peterson?”
Did Willow have her pretty head buried in the sand, refusing to acknowledge or address the kind of danger her employer and others just like it presented to people who wanted to safeguard rights on a virtual level?
Willow’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Simon didn’t disappear.”
“Yes, he did.” Kit straightened. “Right after he created and used a program that someone deemed a risk to national security.”
“You’re right,” Willow said. “He did disappear, but not because anything nefarious happened to him. The government offered him a job. He wiped himself off the grid and cut all old ties because he didn’t want anyone to know he’s working for the NSA.”
The information knocked Kit sideways. The Wyrm would never convert. “Are you sure?”
“I worked with him. I slept with him. It was awful.” Willow made a guttural groan. “He smelled like oatmeal. I’m one hundred percent certain about Simon.”
“Does he like it?”
“He loves it. Simon gets to hack, spy, and stalk with more powerful resources and cutting-edge technology than he’d have as a regular civilian. And he gets to do it all legally.”
The appeal for a hacker was suddenly obvious if money wasn’t a factor.
Kit saw why Lincoln had liked Willow. She was savvy and didn’t play bullshit games. In another lifetime, she’d have fit in with the Outliers.
Maybe in this one, Kit and Willow could be friends.
Doc strolled into the area, carrying a mason jar and spoon, and caught sight of Kit. She detoured away from her desk and over to Willow’s cubbyhole.
“Hi, Kit,” Doc said warmly. “How are you doing? I know this can all be a lot to acclimate to and you’ve already been through so much.”
Kit wasn’t sure what to make of her. No one was such a genuine Goody Two-shoes without being annoying and Doc wasn’t that. There was something about her that Kit couldn’t put her finger on. Doc had the personality of a Cinderella, or Aurora, or Snow White.
Who could be friends with that in real life?
“I’m managing,” Kit said.
Doc took a spoonful of what appeared to be a yogurt parfait topped with…granola.
“Do you make your own granola?” Kit asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Of course she did. It was a wonder there weren’t animated creatures following Doc around, prancing to Disney music.
“Being in protective custody can’t be easy,” Doc said. “If you need anything, toiletries, clothes, or even to talk, I’m happy to listen. And once you’re safe and you’ve had a chance to consider a memorial service for your friends, I’d like to help you plan it. I know you don’t have anyone else. It can be difficult, emotionally, arranging a service to say goodbye. You don’t have to do it on your own.” Doc flashed a sympathetic smile.
Kit hadn’t taken ten minutes to think about a memorial service for the Outliers, but Doc had. Even offered to help plan it. Kit’s throat clogged with emotions and tears prickled her eyes.
She took it back. Everyone could use a friend like that.
* * *
Castle waited outside Sanborn’s closed office door, speaking with Janet about Achilles.
When the door opened, Maddox stepped out. “Hey.”
“How’s the manhunt going?” Castle asked.
“Not good. We’ve all seen the video. We’re running out of time. There’s no telling how many people could die if we don’t find Khan.”
He gestured for her to follow him into the hall, away from prying ears. “Did something happen?”
“We just got back from raiding one of Khan’s suspected safe houses. It looked like we’d missed him by minutes.” She smoothed back the wild curls that’d fallen loose from her ponytail and expelled a breath. “It feels like we’re chasing our tails.”
“Has there been any other intel reporting?”
“A lot of SIGINT chatter about two imminent coordinated attacks on U.S. soil. Anthrax was mentioned heavily for one attack. We think some higher-up political figure is the target of the other. We’ve just recently connected mention of a water treatment facility to whatever Khan is planning.”
There was always some intelligence corroborating a pending attack when dealing with radical extremists.
“Every agency is looking into this. But we could use your expertise. If we can find Khan before the attacks, we might be able to prevent them.”
Castle was already torn. He didn’t need his sister compounding his conflict. “It always comes down to the wire.”
She nodded in unfortunate agreement.
“The more skilled bodies you have working this, the better,” he said. “I get that. But with the manpower and expertise available in Black Ops at the moment, you don’t need me. Besides, the FBI, DHS, and NSA are on this too.”
Maddox took a step back. “Let me get this straight.” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re choosing babysitting over serious action. You?”
There was only one person who Castle had to explain his decision to and that was Sanborn. “Ms. Westcott…” Ah, to hell with the pretense with his sister. “Kit is over in Intel. Could you make sure she doesn’t need anything?” Being inside the Gray Box made Kit antsy and Cutter wasn’t going to reduce her anxiety. “Stay with her until I’m done with the chief. And put on your nice face.”
Maddox pursed her lips. “What’s wrong with this face?”<
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“It’s a little bitchy.”
“Don’t expect me to do smiles and cuddles.”
“Why not? You do with Willow.”
“Willow isn’t a POI. And she’s with Reaper.” Maddox narrowed her eyes, staring right through him. “Wait a minute. Are you boning her? Is that the reason you want me to go over and hold her hand?”
“It’s not like that. And I didn’t say shit about holding her hand.”
“Unbelievable. Where is my brother and what have you done with him?”
“Ha. Ha,” he said in his driest tone. “Do this for me, and the next time I see Cole, I’ll play nice.”
A broad smile spread across Maddox’s face. “I want cookies and whipped cream nice.”
“Don’t get crazy and ask for the impossible.” Castle spun on his heel and walked away. “Thanks,” he called back to her.
“Yeah, yeah, but you owe me. Or rather Cole. Cookies and whipped cream.”
Castle strode up to Janet’s desk.
“You can go on in,” she said.
Castle nodded his thanks and knocked on the doorframe. “Sir, can I have a minute?”
“One.” Sanborn looked up from whatever he was working on. “I have to make a call.”
“This won’t take long.” Castle entered, closed the door, and stood in front of the desk with his hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m glad you stopped by. To put your mind at ease, I’ll have Danny take Ms. Westcott to the safe house. I assume you’ll find that acceptable.”
The development was unexpected but not enough to sway Castle from his current course of action. “Chief, I’ve given serious consideration to everything you said to me yesterday, and I’m afraid my position on the matter regarding Ms. Westcott hasn’t changed.”
That earned him a narrow-eyed stare. “What do you mean?” Sanborn steepled his fingers. “I gave you a direct order and you’ll follow it.”
“No, sir, I won’t.” Castle drew a deep breath. “As I said, I gave Ms. Westcott my word to protect her until there was no longer any danger and I intend to keep that promise. If that means I have to do so as a civilian, then so be it.”
Stark silence fell in the wake of Castle’s bluff. Was he willing to resign, walk away from the Gray Box, for Kit? Hell if he knew.
Castle lived for the job, the adrenaline high and sense of accomplishment, but he also had to dilute the dark stress with booze. Hit a punching bag to stop it from festering inside him. The more he gave, the more it took, ripping giant pieces right out of him. He’d already lost his heart until Kit somehow brought it back, but he didn’t want to wake up one day and find his soul missing too.
There had to be more to life for him than this never-ending grind. Maybe he was finally willing to find out what that might be.
Undermining Sanborn’s authority with insubordination was dicey. Castle was banking on their rapport, the years of grooming, how his boss sometimes called him son. The relationship wasn’t something either of them took lightly.
The odds were high Sanborn didn’t want to lose him and might yield to keep him.
“I hope you’ll extend me the latitude to finish this mission under the purview of the Gray Box,” Castle said, “as one of your operatives, but I understand if that’s not possible.”
Sanborn tipped his head back. “You realize the magnitude of what you’re saying to me?”
“Yes, sir. I stand by it.”
Tense energy whipped around the room as neither man spoke. Castle was tempted to say something, anything, but it would’ve put him in a position of weakness. He had to ride out the discomfort and let the chief speak first.
“You’re really that besotted with her?” Sanborn asked in a tone that was somewhere between utter disbelief and what in the hell is wrong with you. “It’s going to be hard to protect her when the head on your shoulders is clouded by the one in your pants.”
Castle cleared his throat. “I’m committed to finishing what I started. I’ve never bounced in the middle of an assignment. My gut is telling me not to start now. I gave her my word and I need to honor it.”
Duty to his team tugged at him, but his duty to Kit pulled harder in the opposite direction.
Sanborn’s gaze raked over him as his boss was assessing, deciding. Finally, in a soft voice, he said, “Every man must choose his own path and accept the consequences. I hold you in high esteem and will respect your decision, even if I don’t agree with it. I’m putting you on a leave of absence until this situation is resolved.”
Castle released the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you, sir, for understanding.”
Sanborn leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. His patrician face darkened as he held Castle’s gaze. “It’s a slippery slope down the rabbit hole. Don’t forget who you are or which side you’re on. I’d hate to lose you, Castle.”
38
Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia
Wednesday, 3:02 p.m. EDT
Suspicion niggled at the edge of Emily’s mind.
She knew and accepted that complete transparency with Sanborn wasn’t possible. Or realistic.
But she wanted it anyway.
Sanborn was having his secret meeting today. With Ashley.
Emily didn’t know what time or where, but she’d found ways to keep tabs on him in the facility. Giving him CDC updates and asking him operational questions. They’d already had lunch together earlier, but she found herself strolling to Sanborn’s office yet again.
She hoped she wasn’t being a nuisance. “Hi,” she said to Sanborn’s assistant.
Janet sighed. “You’re back.”
Emily gave a tight smile, trying to hide her embarrassment over being such a pest. “Is he free for one minute?”
“I’m sure he’ll drop whatever he’s doing for you. Go in.”
Doc fluffed her hair and walked inside. “I hate to bother you again.”
“You’re never a bother,” Sanborn said while typing. “What do you need, darling?”
She loved when he called her darling. It sounded old-fashioned and sweet and warmed her heart every time. Reminded her how perfect he was. Maybe she needed to go for a jog to work off her paranoia. “Should I make a reservation for dinner?”
“As much as I’d love to,” Sanborn said, looking up at her, “I have an appointment this evening I can’t cancel. It’s work.”
That was it. His clandestine meeting. And the little niggle returned.
She waited for Sanborn to elaborate. Confirm it would be at Langley with his CIA colleague. And she waited.
No clarification came.
“All right.” She conceded the losing battle. “What time is your appointment? Maybe we can have a late supper afterward.”
“Raincheck,” Sanborn said, not answering her question. “But when I’m done, I can swing by your place, or you can come to mine. Whatever you prefer. I should be free by nine. Unless that’s too late for you.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed he had a way of not answering her questions, using some slick evasive technique. She always made excuses for it, explained it away, but this was the first time that it bothered her. “No. That’s not too late.”
“We can…what do you call it, Netflix and chill?” He flashed a rare smile.
Sanborn never seemed to sleep. They had late dinners, made love, watched a movie, and she’d still find him awake at some godforsaken hour. And none of it stopped his morning workout. She wanted half his energy and stamina.
“Sure. Sounds like a date.” Emily leaned across the desk, gave him a quick kiss, and left.
She went back to her desk and pretended to work. For three hours. Distracted. Anxious.
Healthy adults in a monogamous relationship trust their partners. You deserve happiness. That was what Emi
ly told herself.
She repeated it as she poured a cup of coffee in the break room. As she walked to Sanborn’s office and checked if Janet knew the details of the appointment that he’d left for thirty minutes ago. As she found out that Janet knew nothing. As she picked up the phone to call Sanborn for the sixth time only to find that he’d turned off his cell.
Yes, he’d been on a suspicious phone call at two o’clock in the morning, but he had explained that. The man was the director of a spy organization, hunting terrorists, coordinating multiple missions, and liaising with other agencies. Calls in the middle of the night were the norm.
Then why was she a bundle of nerves twisted into a Gordian knot?
Who is Ashley?
I’m sorry?
Rather than giving her truth the first time, he’d done that evasive thing. If Ashley was a male colleague at the CIA, why not be upfront about it? Before her hysterics provoked the response.
Sitting back at her desk, Emily vacillated as she played with the charms on her bracelet. Sanborn wasn’t abusive and he wasn’t a cheater, but there was something she was missing. It kept niggling at the back of her mind.
I will never cheat on you. Never hurt you. Never take you for granted.
He’d made her a solemn vow that she’d taken to heart.
Funny, he’d never said he wouldn’t lie to her.
Evasion and lies were the modus operandi of a cheater. She’d been through that dance twice, more than enough to know.
To trust him, she had to believe him.
But to believe him, she had to be sure he wasn’t lying.
“Hi,” Cutter said low into his phone. “Would you mind checking on her? Make sure she has some vegetables and not just pizza for dinner.”
He must’ve been talking to his neighbor, who sometimes looked out for his teenage sister who was in his custody.
“No, that’s okay. I wasn’t calling to ask you to feed her,” Cutter said, turning his back. “I’ll pay you back by stocking your fridge.”
Emily looked over at Willow, the only person who could help her. It was a minor miracle she was even still here.