Everywhere to Hide

by Siri Mitchell

  The agent came out of the sunroom, several plastic bags in hand. “I’m done here.”

  Leo rose and walked him to the door, locking it behind him. Then he returned to the couch. And the conversation.

  “How long have you been protecting him?”

  “End of my freshman year.” That’s when my scholarships ended and I had to start taking out loans.

  “So basically, you’ve been lying to him for . . . what? Ten years now?”

  My shivers were gone. “I haven’t lied to him. I just haven’t told him the truth.”

  “So if you think about him, sitting at home, thinking of you, what do you think he’s thinking? When he imagines a typical day for you, what do you think he sees?”

  I knew exactly what he saw. I didn’t answer.

  “I’m betting his typical day for you doesn’t include you working at the coffee shop or coaching high school students or shoveling all your money into paying off loans.”

  “It would break his heart if he knew any of that. It would kill him. He’s so proud of me. He wanted more for me than he had.”

  “So basically, everything he thinks he knows about you is a lie.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “But he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Essentially, he thinks you’re the same person you were ten years ago.”

  I pressed into the corner of the couch, trying to buttress myself against his unexpected onslaught. “I don’t want him to know who I am, okay? After I’ve passed the bar, after I land a job at one of those law firms in the city, that’s when I’ll catch him up and—”

  “You mean that’s when you’ll just skip over the last ten years of your life.”

  “And what would I tell him? ‘Guess what, Dad—know how you’re so proud of me? For going to an Ivy? And then law school? Well, guess what I did with all that education? I buried myself in a mountain of debt and I’m working in a coffee shop and coaching kids and trying really hard not to get murdered. So yeah.” I flashed two “rock on” signs. “Rock star.”

  “He’d be proud of you if you were living under a bridge. That’s what my grandmother used to say about me.”

  “Well, you’re a police detective! And with the way things are going, let’s not jinx me, okay? Besides, it won’t even matter. It will be like fast-forwarding to the good part. And then he’ll be all caught up and he’ll never have to know.”

  “All I’m seeing is that you’re keeping people who love you best at arm’s length at exactly the time when you need them the most.”

  “He needs me to be the person he thinks I am.”

  “What he needs is the truth.”

  “And how do you know?” I was practically yelling. “You don’t know anything about this at all! So just—stop trying to tell me what to do.”

  “Listen. I’m sorry. You’re right: I overstepped. I’m just making a suggestion. I’m not trying to force you to do anything.”

  He wasn’t. I knew he wasn’t. Because he was the exact opposite of Hartwell. I held the pillow up to my face. “I am screwed up, Leo. I am so messed up.”

  “Everyone is messed up.”

  “Not like I am. I can’t even tell my father the truth about my life. I am a first-in-class student who wasn’t smart enough to realize what all these degrees would cost. And I am a twenty-eight-year-old woman who thought I knew what love was. If I were you, I would just stay away.”

  “Well, here’s the thing.” He leaned close, put an elbow on the back of the couch, then reached over to pull the pillow away. “You’re not me.”

  “I could get you killed.”

  “Or maybe even fired.”

  I felt myself frown.

  “It was a joke.”

  “I’m not funny.”

  “But you are fierce.”

  I voiced my deepest fear. “What if I don’t get to be saved?”

  “Is that a question? Or an answer?”

  I couldn’t tell.

  “If it’s an answer, then I don’t think you understand the question.” He kissed me and then he enfolded me in his arms.

  Maybe Leo was right. Maybe it was time to tell my dad the truth. I was an adult. I shouldn’t have to hide it from him anymore. I picked up my phone and called him.

  “Whitney! I’m so glad you called.”

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

  “This is perfect timing. I just asked Frankie to marry me.”

  Um, what?

  “You still there?”

  “Yes. Wow.” What was I supposed to say? “Did she say yes?”

  “Yes. Yeah. She said yes.”

  Did I hear beer bottles clinking in the background? “Congratulations, Dad. I’m really happy for you.”

  “Thanks. But what was it you wanted to say?”

  “What?”

  “You said you’d been wanting to talk to me.”

  “Oh. Yes. Just wanted to hear your voice. That’s all.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

  After I hung up, Leo took my phone from me and then took my hand.

  “I couldn’t tell him. He just got engaged to his girlfriend. There’s really nothing to say.”

  I sat there on the couch for a long time with my head on Leo’s shoulder. We stared into the fireplace where a fire should have been.

  * * *

  Eventually, when the agents were done outside, Leo woke me up. Together, we went upstairs. He reached inside my room and turned on the light for me.

  When he turned to leave, I grabbed his sleeve. “Sleep with me.”

  He came back. Squatted in front of me. Captured a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind my ear. “I don’t think you’re in any condition to make a decision like that.”

  “Just sleep. That’s all. Please.”

  He cupped the back of my head. Pressed his forehead to mine. And then, shaking his head, he stood and slid his shoes off. “Just for the record? I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Please, Leo.” I lifted the covers and scooted so I could feel the wall at my back.

  He slid in. After a moment I threw an arm around his waist.

  He caught my hand and tugged it up toward his chest. For a long time, I lay there in the dark, listening. And then I let my cheek fall forward to the warm skin of his back and I slept.

  Chapter 48

  The next morning, I gave Mrs. Harper a call to see how she was doing.

  “Whitney Garrison!” she sighed. “I have to be truthful. Loudoun County isn’t Arlington. But I’m fine.”

  She told me about the trials of life in a cast. And how much she missed the club. And Heidelberg Pastry Shoppe.

  “And how about you? Did you get that package?”

  “Yes. Thank you so much for sending it.”

  After chatting for a few more minutes, she said good-bye. “You take care of yourself, Whitney.”

  I was trying.

  As I was getting set up to study, I got an email from one of my professors passing along a job opportunity. One of the big tech firms had a philanthropic arm that was looking to set up a cryptocurrency model that could be used to send aid to developing countries.

  I thought of you.

  Use me as a reference.

  The big tech firms were all trying to figure out a way into cryptocurrencies. They all wanted to try to harness the power of the blockchain. But in many ways, they were late to the game. It was nice of her to think of me though. I visited their career portal. Shot them a copy of my résumé. What could it hurt?

  As I got out my study guide, Leo called.

  “I checked in with the team, just to see what they could tell me. Rumor is Hartwell does have an alibi for the storage unit.”

  “Really?” How could that be?

  “That’s what they say.”

  “An honest-to-goodness alibi?”

  “Beyer checked it out.”

  “Then who switched my unit? A
nd who took my journal? I’m confused. All the evidence points toward Hartwell.”

  “When there’s a conflict between what you want to be true and what’s actually true? You have to go with what can be proved.”

  “I know. I just . . . Now I don’t know what to think.”

  After studying for a while, I made a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. Reviewed the topic of secured transactions as I ate.

  A news alert pinged my phone.

  Housing Market Tips into Slump in FL, TX, CA, NYC, MA.

  Florida, Texas, and California?

  That group of states sounded familiar. I clicked through to the article. It was a standard news report citing statistics from the current year as contrasted with the year before along with the five-year trend in the housing market. There was a rapidly growing glut of prestigious properties for sale in the major cities in the US. What had begun as a blip in the Northeast had turned into a trend across the country.

  Developers overbuilt when foreigners like the Chinese had been investing in real estate. But since we’d become less-than-reliable trading partners and friends, the US had become a less desirable place to live. And people from some of the foreign countries who had previously invested could no longer obtain visas to enter the country. In Boston in particular, there had been a sharp uptick in real estate coming on the market.

  And that brought to mind a long-ago conversation. Who had been speaking? I wished I could remember.

  “. . . My sister’s a real estate agent up in Boston. Says it’s crazy up there. Chinese nationals, all those foreign students, showing up at her office, dropping off their keys. Signing their power of attorney over to her so she can handle the sales. It’s nuts. They’re leaving everything! TVs, stereo systems. Those fancy exercise bikes. Cars in the garage.”

  “What’s she supposed to do with all that?”

  “Whatever she wants, I guess. Some pretty hot properties are on the market. Lots to choose from. She wants me to come up and take a look at a couple.”

  I’d stuck my head into Congressman Thorpe’s office to drop off a file. When the congressman waved me off, I turned around and went back out. I ran into Cade at lunch. Told him I had a real estate tip—we were always talking about what we’d do after we finally made our millions. So I told him there was a buyers’ market up in Boston. And then, if I remembered right, I contrasted the life of the average starving American graduate student and the apparently fabulous life of the average Chinese graduate student.

  “Wonder why they’re leaving all of a sudden like that?” he’d asked.

  I remember thinking Who cares? and then wondering who would be lucky enough to get a hold of what they’d left behind.

  But Cade had asked the million-dollar question. Why were they leaving all of a sudden like that?

  Could be that China wanted tighter control over the students they sent overseas. Could be they were worried those students might be turning into dissidents. But they’d recalled their students in such big numbers that at least one real estate agent had taken notice.

  If China had sent graduate students to America to do a job—to see what they could learn from us and about us—then it stood to reason that they would pull them back when they had all the information they needed. When there was no more left to learn and nothing more for them to do.

  What did Boston have?

  Harvard, MIT, Northeastern, Boston College, Tufts, and several dozen other universities.

  It was difficult for me to believe there was nothing more for any of those students to learn at those schools. So why was it more advantageous for them to be back in China than it was for them to be here?

  As I thought about that, everything finally clicked.

  Leo had told me I should focus on the things I could do, not the things I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t remember a face.

  I’d been looking over my shoulder for a killer and I’d focused on not being able to recognize his face.

  I should have been looking instead for a pattern.

  I was excellent at putting together an argument, at discerning patterns. I lived my life by patterns. The way people wore their hair. The way they walked. The way they talked. It was the details that counted.

  Details.

  Details created patterns.

  I’d been overlooking some details, but now I’d figured out the pattern.

  Cade had discovered something at the FDIC.

  The FDIC was meant to ensure the stability of the American economy. So I had to assume China was making a play to destabilize it.

  The 2010 hack gave China access to data on millions of people. They could use it to access existing accounts. They could also use it to create new, fake accounts in the name of actual American citizens.

  China had also hacked the verification mechanisms for the new stablecoin launch. The system was supposed to verify that all the users of the system had FDIC-backed accounts. They could also make the system accept accounts that wouldn’t have normally been backed by the FDIC. There could be thousands of accounts now in FDIC-backed banks that belonged not to American citizens but to Chinese citizens. Or even to the Chinese government, hiding behind proxies.

  But that wasn’t, perhaps, the worst scenario. Our economy worked because people trusted that when they deposited money into a bank account, it would be there, no matter what. If China controlled access to those accounts, they could do anything.

  They could drain them.

  They could block access to them.

  Even worse than that, by establishing and funding fake accounts, if the economy did tip into recession, they could push it into depression by using all of those accounts to overreact to the markets.

  They could also use those fake accounts to route money to politicians in exchange for votes to weaken our banking laws. I thought about all of the congressmen who had inexplicably changed their votes on the financial systems bill in between the committee vote and the House floor. Maybe China had already used those accounts to route money to politicians.

  They had already isolated us in the world markets. If they decided to dump all the government debt they owned, the standard assumption was that we could lean on our allies to help us by buying it up. That was the assumption I’d used in my project for Congressman Thorpe.

  But we didn’t have many friends anymore.

  Due to the trade wars, due to the fact that we had unceremoniously pulled out of most of the major international treaties and alliances, no one owed us any favors. No nation with the reserves to do so would feel compelled to rescue us.

  So if our economy tanked, what nation wouldn’t question why the dollar was still the world’s reserve currency? Why should the dollar be given that honor when the nation’s citizens didn’t seem to trust their own country? Why should the dollar be given that honor when that nation had encouraged bad behavior on the world’s stage? When that nation increasingly demonstrated that it stood for nothing but its own self-interests?

  Even more—and this is what I had missed—why should any nation’s currency be used as the reserve? Didn’t that imply favoritism? If the United States of America could fall prey to misguided policies and economic forces, then couldn’t any country?

  How could China completely destroy our economy?

  By using market chaos as an opportunity to offer up a new cryptocurrency as the solution to all of the world’s problems as the world’s reserve currency. It was a genius move. Why should the world’s reserve currency be shackled to any one nation’s interests? Why shouldn’t it be so stable that it wouldn’t be subject to market downturns, global pandemics, or regional conflicts? If China could offer a new cryptocurrency and have it accepted as the reserve, then that would be a coup.

  A generation ago, no one would have trusted China with a cryptocurrency. Now? After they’d spent billions on public aid projects in Africa? After they’d become the biggest trading partner in Asia? They had a solid UN voting bloc and global goodwill o
n their side.

  As I’d told my interviewer at the law firm, they could set the rules. All of them. Or change them at any time.

  And Cade had implicated HARTAN in a possible new attempt to hack the FDIC’s systems.

  It wasn’t difficult for hardware and software developers to leave back doors in their products that would allow hackers to slip into systems from the outside. Cade’s find seemed to support that. Maybe that’s why HARTAN swapped American parts for Chinese during the manufacturing or installation process.

  The thing I didn’t understand was why. Why had Hartwell done it? The value of HARTAN was that they didn’t have to rely on Chinese parts.

  In fact, when he’d first started his company, no one believed he could do it. China supplied most of the rare earth minerals required for advanced technology. They had cheap labor. They had less restrictive environmental laws. The idea that HARTAN could produce the same components at a competitive price was laughable. The company had almost gone under.

  At the eleventh hour, an angel investor had supplied the boost that was needed. And then he’d won the federal contract, and now he was Wall Street’s darling.

  The killer had to be Hartwell. He’d killed Cade to keep him from reporting what he’d found.

  I called Leo.

  * * *

  “So it’s an attempt at world domination by China? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not breaking news.”

  “I think it is. I think all the pieces are in place now.”

  “Okay.” He paused for a moment. “Let’s say they are. Let’s assume that they’re going to do everything you just told me. So what?”

  So what? “Do you not understand? Economy tanks. Country in chaos. China becomes the dominant world power.”

  “But what does that have to do with the hacks back in 2010?”

  Had he not been listening? “That’s when it all started. That’s when they got access to—”

  “No. I get all that. But what does that computer part Cade gave you, what does HARTAN have to do with that hack ten years ago?”

  “It’s stepping-stones. They did that first hack, then they hack something else. They put all that information together. It’s an accumulation of actions over time.”