Everywhere It's You

by C. B. Salem

  She stood up and Kristina did likewise. The agent reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. “If you hear from Mr. Tatum, please give him this ID,” she said, handing the card to Kristina. “Be advised that failure to do so could lead to charges of obstruction of justice.”

  “Of course,” Kristina said, turning the card over in her fingers.

  Agent Carter nodded and turned to the door. “I’ll let myself out. Don’t forget to call. I hate it when they don’t call.”

  With one last withering look, she left.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Kristina watched her leave, then walked over and shut the door, her heart still thumping. She wiped her hands against her pants and took several steadying breaths. Somehow, this situation was getting even worse.

  She stood up and walked over to examine her safe. The smooth metal showed no signs of tampering or distress. Not even a scratch. Which meant someone must have broken the code, somehow. Even for someone good, that would take at least twenty minutes.

  Clenching her fists, she stood up and walked back to the door. She swung it open. “Ryan?” she called out.

  His head—she assumed it was his head—popped up from the pool of receptionist that made up the middle of the floor. “Yes, Kristina?”

  She walked over to his station. “Did anyone go into my office while I was gone?” she asked.

  Ryan shook his head. “Not that I saw.”

  “Were you at your desk all afternoon?”

  He shook his head again. “I was in a meeting until about an hour ago.”

  She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. “Do you know if anyone has been sitting here all afternoon with a view of my office door?”

  He pressed his lips together and seemed to think for a moment. “I don’t think so. Is something wrong?”

  She gave him a fake smile. “Nothing wrong. Just being a little extra cautious today with the FBI around.”

  He narrowed his eyes, looking at her skeptically. Before he could ask any more questions, she turned heel and walked back into her office.

  Something was going on. She looked down at the card Agent Carter had left on her desk. How much did the agent know? It felt like more than she was letting on, but there was no way to figure out anything more concrete.

  She ran the card between her fingers tightly. Felt at the corner. A little bump, nearly imperceptible. She smiled. Agent Carter clearly didn’t trust her very much. That was a mic/sensor combo.

  She threw the card on her desk, not wanting the agent to know she knew she was being monitored. If Carter was good, she would guess anyway, but there was no sense in giving away even the easy ones when she didn’t have to.

  She went back to the safe and pulled out the items she had dropped off minutes earlier. The safety deposit box key went into her pocket and the instructions for how to get at Tatum’s communications went onto her desk.

  She rolled her chair back, sat down, and swiped her tablet on. A man like Tatum must get a ton of communications a day. Sifting through them was going to take a long, long time. And she couldn’t enlist any help because she was supposed to be keeping her operations on this case secret.

  Hunkering down, she followed the instructions to log into his work email first, since it was at the top of the list. The screen showed 252 messages waiting to be read.

  She looked up from the screen, then back down. Maybe she could research something else. She navigated to the website of Atlas Pharmaceuticals, which was owned by Fordelli.

  They were a smaller company than Tatum’s, founded only two years ago. She’d thought nothing of Fordelli attending the Totti party because of a distant blood relation she’d found in her search—he was still rich enough to have no business there, but he had a good excuse.

  On a whim, she did a cross-search between Fordelli and federal government contracts, curious if the company supplied the FBI. Maybe there was a reason Carter had been hanging all over him at the party.

  She scanned the results, searching for the name.

  Bingo. She’d been right.

  More than right, even. Fordelli looked to have many lucrative contracts with the government. Enough that it was probably a good chunk of the company’s business. It was a wonder she hadn’t seen it before. Her investigation had been more focused on the man than his company, but at the moment she was starting to think that was a mistake.

  She slid back from her chair. Interesting. It wasn’t proof of anything, but it helped clarify the picture with Carter a little bit. If Tatum was under investigation, it probably wouldn’t break Fordelli’s heart.

  She swiped back to Tatum’s messages, intent on seeing any communications between him and Fordelli. There had to be some lead to follow there. They were both in the same industry, right?

  Almost involuntarily, she looked back at her safe. She just couldn’t help it. How had someone gotten in?

  She stood up and examined the lock on her office door. Again, no signs of damage. She thought to test it, but there was no need. She’d had to unlock it when she came in, so the lock definitely worked. If someone had picked it, it hadn’t been damaged. But still. Someone had gotten in. Her office was not as secure as it needed to be.

  She looked from her place in the doorway at her tablet, then at the card on her desk. 252 messages, and those were just the unread. This was going to take all night and then some.

  Add to that, the card Carter had left was surveillance. She could dance around it, or she could just leave and work away from it.

  With another deep breath—she’d really had a long day—she decided to pack up and do the rest of this from the comfort of her apartment. Preferably with a glass of wine as a pick-me-up at some point. And maybe some more coffee.

  She grabbed her bag from its spot by the door and quickly shoved her tablet and comm in, along with the instructions for accessing Tatum’s other accounts. When she turned around to leave, a man was standing in her doorway.

  “Going somewhere, Ms. Andersen?”

  She wracked her brain, trying to place where she had seen that suit earlier. Her guess was Brantley.

  “Working from home for the rest of the day,” she said. “It’s going to be a late night.”

  His nostrils flared. It was definitely Brantley. “Ms. Andersen, I don’t need to tell you how important this is for the firm.”

  It was all she could do to keep from rolling her eyes. “You don’t.”

  “I have to say I’m disappointed. You don’t seem to be taking this as seriously as I’d hoped.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. She could kill him. “I assure you,” she said instead, “I am taking this very, very seriously.”

  “Do you have any progress to report?”

  She took a deep breath. “Strides have been made, but I have nothing concrete to report as of yet.”

  Brantley narrowed his eyes. “I certainly hope that changes soon. You really should be working from here, Ms. Andersen.”

  Kristina met his gaze. “I will do what I think is best.”

  He looked back toward the work stations in the middle of the office then toward Kristina. “Another question, then. Ryan said there was an FBI agent here waiting to see you. What was that about?”

  She swallowed, conscious of the business card on her desk. “Nothing related,” she lied. “Some follow-up on another matter.”

  “Care to be more specific?”

  “Not especially, no. I have another focus at the moment.” She stepped forward. “Which, if you’ll excuse me stating the obvious, you’re keeping me from. Is there anything else you need?”

  Brantley stood firmly in place. “You had better not be hiding something from me, Ms. Andersen.”

  She tried to bite her tongue, but her mouth was open before she even realized it. “Or what? If I don’t find the man responsible for two-thirds of this firm’s billings, whether I’m hiding something from you is going to be the least of your problems. You’ll be the laughing stock of the town. So if
you’ll excuse me, Mr. Brantley, I’m leaving. Now.”

  Brantley’s nostrils flared again, his face red. It was such a wrong combination to see on Tatum’s features. “I’m going to enjoy firing you,” he said. “After you find him.”

  “We’ll see what Ms. Dunn has to say about that,” Kristina shot back.

  With a final glare, Brantley stepped aside. Kristina shouldered past him, waited for him to walk, then shut and locked her door.

  She turned to Ryan. “Ryan, please keep an eye on my door for the rest of the day. I’ll be working from home. Forward calls, okay?”

  Ryan nodded and said nothing more. Shaking her head, Kristina headed for the elevator. On the way, she messaged the hot link Kevin had set up to tell him and his team she was heading home. Without waiting for a reply, she got into the elevator and headed for the lobby.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  She’d parked her car in a garage about a five minute walk from the office. The sidewalks were busy, but not as bad as she was used to during rush hour. Even with her hallucination, she was grateful to be out of the office.

  Her eyes flicked back and forth, trying to spot the men Kevin had posted to watch her building. It would be a mistake for them to let her see they were there, and the Agent Smith coursing through her veins made it even more difficult, but she tried anyway. They were nowhere to be seen.

  She checked her comm to see if Kevin had responded to her message. Nothing. A bit strange, but he said he was busy.

  She made it to the parking garage and took the stairs up to her spot. As she walked to her car, she realized her heart was still pounding. Subconsciously, she was watching for any movement in the garage. She hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder. Even if she wanted to tell herself things were going to get slightly more relaxing, her mind wasn’t going to let her believe it. Kevin would be proud, in his way.

  Her black Mini Hydro was right where she’d left it. She smiled at the prospect of driving. Ever since she’d gotten her license, she loved being in her car alone, being able to listen to her music and go let a part of her brain zone out. Even with more people going AI every day, it wasn’t something she wanted to give up.

  After a quick peek in the back seat to make sure nobody was inside, she got in, turned the ignition, flicked through to her favorite satellite stream, and backed out. A few minutes later she was street level.

  Her usual route home—at least this time of day—was to get over to Lakeshore and head north before cutting west to her condo in Ravenswood. She checked the traffic on her dash quickly, having the route pre-programmed. Nothing major. In fact, the estimate rated it better than average. Shouldn’t be more than twenty-five minutes before she was home.

  She made her way east toward Lakeshore Drive. Traffic was light, exactly as her dash had predicted. She looked out her window at the lake. Even though she’d lived in Chicago all her life, she still savored the view. This drive was probably the nicest stretch of the entire city. Up there with some of the views around the river, anyway.

  She checked her rearview mirror. A large black sedan with darkly tinted windows was three cars behind. Her intuition told her it looked off.

  Hoping it was nothing, she accelerated past a few cars in front of her. It was one advantage of driving a Mini: they were incredibly agile in city traffic. After a few minutes, she had passed half a dozen cars.

  She looked in her mirror again. The black sedan was still there. It had followed.

  Heart pounding, she called Kevin over the car’s comm integration. She was so distracted by the car in her mirror she had to keep mentally reminding herself to focus on the road.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kevin answered. “Kris?” his voice rang out in the car. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m being followed,” she said breathlessly.

  “Shit,” Kevin spat. “Where are you?”

  “Lakeshore and Chicago Ave.”

  “On Lakeshore?”

  “Yeah.”

  A brief pause. “I’m sending an intercept now. Who’s following you?”

  “Black sedan. Tinted windows. Looks like a Chrysler.”

  “Following at a distance?”

  The exit for North Avenue flew by. “So far.”

  “Get off at Irving like you would normally. My men will cut them off. Stay on the line.”

  She took a deep breath, fresh adrenaline surging again. “Got it.”

  The exits flew past in tense silence. First Fullerton, then Belmont. Next was Irving Park. She was looking at the updated traffic when she heard tires squealing behind her.

  Her eyes flew up to the mirror. The Chrysler had crept up right behind her. It accelerated. Her heart flew up into her throat. She hit the gas herself and swerved to the left, hoping to squeeze in before a pickup truck that was coming on fast. She just got in.

  “They’re going aggro!” she screamed. “I’m not going to be able to get off at Irving.”

  “Fuck!” Kevin yelled. “Where’s your next likely exit?”

  She checked in her rearview mirror. The black sedan was on her right and gaining on her. Gritting her teeth, she hit the brakes hard, let the sedan fly by, then gunned the engine and cut across three lanes of traffic to get in the right lane. Cars honked and rubber squealed on the road, but she made it. The black sedan braked hard but was caught up in the traffic and missed the exit.

  “Getting off at Montrose,” she gasped. Her heart threatened to pound through her chest.

  “Are they following?”

  Glanced up at her mirror. “Not yet.”

  “Turn for the beach. Sending a car there now. We’ll need to ditch yours.”

  “Okay.”

  “Alright, got a geo-lock on you. Should be two minutes. When they get there, ditch the comm device.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We’ll get you a new one. I don’t know if whoever is chasing you can trace the one you have, but they might.”

  She turned toward the beach and began looking for an innocent place to park. It wasn’t as parked up as it could get on the weekend, but she was surprised as how many people were out.

  “Okay.”

  She looked in her rearview mirror. Nothing. She continued to look for an innocent spot. Found one. Another look. Nothing. She pulled in.

  “You see where I am?” she asked.

  “Got it,” Kevin answered. “Incoming in two minutes. Turn off your comm.”

  She turned the engine off and waited. Turned off her comm as Kevin had instructed, no matter how vulnerable it made her feel.

  And waited. She could have been killed back there. This day had been tumbling by, one twist after another, and could have ended with her car wrapped around a pole. Someone wanted her, maybe dead. It had been a long, long time since she’d had to deal with that.

  Looked at the clock in the dash. A minute had gone by.

  Checked her mirror. Still nothing. She waited. Rose had tried to give Landon Tatum something and now she was dead. Someone had broken into her office and then her safe. Carter tried to spy on her with a business card. Even Tatum’s assistant Bruman seemed suspicious. Kristina had no idea where to turn next beyond Kevin. Every option looked bad. Maybe if she got a chance to look into Tatum’s messages she would find something.

  Tires squealed in the distance.

  She sat up straight, looking for the source near the park entrance. Her hands unbuckled her seat belt before she even knew what she was doing.

  Instinct kicked in and told her she needed to get out of the car now. Whoever was after her was closing in. She took one look at her comm, threw it under the passenger seat, took her bag and got out of the car.

  A black sedan approached. Fifty yards away, maybe. She ducked down behind the row of parked cars, hoping she hadn’t been spotted.

  Gravel crunched from the direction of the squealing tires and Kristina’s heart pumped hard. They had turned the corner to where she was parked. If it was the car from earlier
, they would definitely recognize her car. She needed to get away.

  She scanned the landscape around her. In one direction were the tall buildings of Lakeshore Drive. In the other was Lake Michigan. She couldn’t let herself get pinned up against the water, and her clothes weren’t going to blend in on the beach. Why the hell had Kevin sent her here? Must have thought they would assume she was headed into the city. Maybe they had her comm tracked.

  She scurried toward the sound of the crunching gravel, staying low to the ground and hoping to stay out of the sight when the sound passed her. Once they found the car they would probably assume she’d run back into the beach. She hoped. At the very least she would see Kevin’s men earlier if she was closer to the main entrance. Assuming they went in the main entrance. She wasn’t even sure there was another way in.

  Five vehicles down from where she’d parked, the sound of the oncoming car became close enough that she ducked and held still. Seconds passed.

  The crunching sound came to a stop. Kristina held her breath. A car door opened out of her sight, followed by boots on gravel. Her pulse drummed in her ears. She wished she had kept her comm so she could update Kevin. She held still.

  Muffled voices drifted over. She strained to listen in.

  “It’s her,” a man’s voice said. He spoke crisply and without an accent. Didn’t sound like he’d spent much time on the street. Army, maybe. Fifteen yards away. “She’s around here.”

  Her heart sank.

  A brief pause. “Comb the area.”

  Panic coursed through her. She had to get out of there now. There was no way she could hide behind these cars for long.

  Which way to run? She surveyed the area again and decided to make a break for a security house near the entrance, through the grass so they couldn’t hear her. It was about a hundred-fifty yards away.

  Staying low, she scurried forward along the grass just next to the gravel, listening hard. One car, then another. Every second brought her further from her potential captors. She held her bag close and kept going.

  Another peal of rubber against road came from the direction she was running toward. She froze. Had they called in backup? Panicked, she turned back. Nobody coming yet. If she was lucky she would have another minute. Getting lost in the city was her best hope if she couldn’t find Kevin’s men. Where the hell had they been when she left, anyway?