There was a pause and then the voice answered. “A 16-ounce iced mocha-something-or-other.”
Emily’s face split into a wide grin and she hurriedly unlocked the door.
“I’m sure that wasn’t the right answer,” Brent said, slipping through.
Emily closed and locked the door and grinned up at him in the semi-darkness. “That’s how I knew it was you. It was a 16-ounce iced soy latte, but only someone with a clue about coffee would remember that. I knew you, my friend, would never get the right answer.”
Brent’s teeth gleamed white in the dimness as he grinned sheepishly at her. “Well, that’s not the usual logic behind a challenge question, but I have to hand it to you. How’s Dr. Novak?” he asked, moving away from the door.
“Sleeping on the couch,” Emily said, gesturing to her tiny living room. “It’s been a busy day for a man of his age.”
Brent nodded and stepped into the kitchen—the only room partially lit by the lamp in the adjoining breakfast nook.
“Good gracious, Brent! What happened to you?” Emily gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. She pushed him to sit in a chair. The tall man before her was covered in grime, sweat, and a smear of blood from a scabbing cut over his eye. A sickeningly purple bruise bulged his right temple, and his lip was split.
She touched the bruise gingerly and winced on his behalf. “Did you get into a fight? Let me get you an icepack...”
“Um, Emily, there’s—”
“...and a wet rag for all that grime.”
“I’m sorry to say—”
“On second thought, maybe you should just borrow my shower.”
“Emily—”
“Your clothes will still be dirty, but at least the rest of you will be clean. Oh! I saved you some dinner, too!”
She turned away from the freezer with a bag of frozen peas she’d specifically bought to use as an icepack. Brent was silently holding up a key. Her car key. At his penitent expression, her flow of words stopped and she stared.
“Brent?”
“I’m sorry, Emily. I was trying to tell you.”
“What happened?”
“I—sort of crashed your car into the enemy agents’ car.”
Emily’s mouth opened in a silent “Oh.”
“I’m really sorry it came to that. If there had been a better way, I would have—well, I just want you to know I’ll make it right. The agency will likely pay for a replacement, and if they won’t, I will.”
Emily suddenly felt very tired. She nodded and handed him the frozen peas. Wetting a clean washcloth, she went to work on the worst of the blood and grime on his face.
After a moment she let out a small giggle. Brent looked up at her in surprise.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m not laughing at your predicament. It just struck me that Old Blue went from not starting up to sort of saving the day. You did catch the guys, didn’t you?”
“Sure did,” Brent said. “Left them handcuffed to a lamp post, and called the agency to send someone to pick them up. They’re used to getting that sort of call from me.”
“I bet they are,” Emily snorted. “What agency is this, exactly?”
Brent rolled his eyes as if to say, “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Oh, right, if you told me you’d have to kill me.”
“Sheesh! I should hope not. Let’s just refer to it as ICS.”
Emily nodded, thinking fast. “ICS. All right then.” After a moment, she murmured, “International Covert Society. Interim Coding Setup. Ice Cream Sandwich.”
Brent laughed and then grimaced, applying the icepack to his face again.
“Well, you had to know I’d try to work out what it stood for!” She stepped back to look him over. “Well, your face is cleaner. That will have to do, I suppose.”
Movement in the living room made them both look up. Dr. Novak stretched and shuffled to the kitchen. “Oh, Nighthawk—thank God! When did you get back, and what did you get into?” He blinked in the light of the lamp.
“Just got back a bit ago. After quite the chase, I stopped the guys following me with the—her—car. Got into a fight, won, tied them up for the pickup team, and hiked back here.”
“Hiked?” Emily asked. “Oh my goodness. You walked all the way back here?”
“Well, yes. I couldn’t exactly take public transit looking like this.” He turned to Dr. Novak. “I assume you don't have the papers on you?”
“What do you think I am, an amateur?” Dr. Novak asked with a low chuckle. “No, I have them stashed somewhere safe.”
“Good. We’re going to get you to a secure location tonight and send a team to pick up the intel once you get there. Let me make a call.”
He removed Emily’s flip phone from his pocket and plugged the encryptor into the bottom. “Last call and then it’s all yours again,” he assured her.
“No worries,” she said. “I’m just surprised you’re not using the phone in your shoe.”
He looked up from punching the number into her phone. “The phone in my—oh, Emily that’s movie stuff again.” He shook his head, looking amused.
“Bummer,” she said, tossing the frozen peas back into the freezer. “I thought for sure that’s why you insist on wearing those particular shoes all the time. Come on, there has to be something special about them—” She nearly asked if they would explode if he clicked his heels together, but he was already talking to someone from North Pole on the other end of the line.
After a couple minutes, Brent ended the call. “Thanks, sir. You’re the Best.” He removed the encryptor, looked at it for a moment, and then plugged it back into the bottom of Emily’s phone before tossing it to her.
A real spy gadget!
She could hardly believe it.
“All right, Dr. Novak, my boss is sending a couple agents to pick you up and take you to a safe house. They’ve called an Uber for me.”
“An Uber?” Emily couldn’t help herself. “Spies take Ubers?”
“When we’re trying not to blow our covers, yes we do. Remember I’m just an average dude working at a coffee shop. Both vehicles should be here in about 10 minutes.”
Brent put on the sweatshirt he’d loaned to Dr. Novak before, hiding his filthy shirt.
“Goodbye, Emily,” he said, shaking her hand. “Thanks for everything, and I’ll be in touch about the car.”
“This has been exciting; thanks for letting me help out.”
Brent and Dr. Novak slipped out the door and made their way down to the parking lot, keeping to the shadows. Emily watched from the window as Dr. Novak entered a dark SUV and a minute later, Brent entered a blue Prius. They drove away in opposite directions.
She wasn’t sure what kept her at the window, but a minute later, she faintly heard the squeal of tires. An uneasy feeling settled over her.
Chapter 11
EMILY TRUDGED UP THE stairs, two bags of groceries in each hand. She glanced behind her and assured herself she was alone on the metal stairs leading to the apartment building’s second floor. A car pulled into the parking lot and she hurried up the last couple steps and into a shadowed area of the balcony.
Without Old Blue, everything she’d done that day had taken far longer than it should have. Walking to and from church had been a hot, sticky endeavor. She’d laid down for a nap afterward and woken up late. As much as she hated going to the grocery store late in the day, it was either that or have nothing to eat in the morning.
Walking home at dusk was making her jumpy. Just a few more feet and she’d be at her own door. Realizing the car belonged to one of the downstairs residents, she relaxed, left the shadows, and made her way across the balcony to the her door. Setting three of her grocery bags down at her feet, she kept the one containing heavy canned goods in her right hand.
She caught herself thinking about how it could be used as a weapon if someone were to jump out— she stopped and shook her head.
She’d been nothing but jumpy s
ince the crazy events of the day before. Her phone had been silent all day—not that she expected a call, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Brent and Dr. Novak were having a long chat about spy secrets and if they’d successfully picked up the top-secret papers he was delivering to ICS.
She fumbled with her keyring, feeling for the right key in the darkness. There it was. She inserted it into the lock and turned it. Tried to.
Except the key didn’t budge. She jiggled it to make sure it was in all the way. It still refused to turn in the lock.
What is going on? Why am I locked out of my own apartment?
She double-checked the number on the door, hoping she’d find she was standing at the wrong door. As embarrassing as that would be, at least it wouldn’t mean she wasn’t locked out of her little home.
The brass numbers read 204, though, and she tried to squelch the rising panic. Why would someone change her lock? She remembered paying her rent. She hadn’t requested a lock change, hadn’t been in trouble with the apartment manager, hadn’t had a recent break-in.
Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, she nearly dialed the on-call emergency maintenance number, but hesitated.
What if this is something more sinister? What if whoever was after Dr. Novak somehow found out he came here, and now they’re after me?
She opened up the call log and stared at the most recent call: a strange, 7-digit number. The one Brent had called to talk to North Pole.
Thrusting her hand back into her purse, she closed her fingers around the smooth black plastic of the encryptor Brent had given her. By feel, she plugged it into the bottom of her phone and then pressed “dial” on the recent call.
Taking a deep breath, she put the phone to her ear and listened to it ring. After a moment, a woman answered.
“Hello, how may I direct your call?”
“Um, hello, I’m terribly sorry, but I was hoping you could put me in touch with Brent Peterson?” She hadn’t realized how nervous she was until she heard the quiver in her own voice.
“I’m sorry—how did you get this number?”
“Well, he left it in my phone.” That sounds bad, she realized.
“This is highly irregular. Please wait a moment.”
Emily could tell the woman was frowning. She scanned her surroundings anxiously as she waited. After a moment, the woman came back on the line.
“What is your codename, Ma’am?”
“My—?” Emily was speechless for a moment. “Um... either Frostbite or Princess Em,” she muttered, wondering why Brent found so much delight in assigning her oddball codenames.
“Thank you,” the woman said, “And what kind of drink did Nighthawk spill on your first day working together?”
“A 16-ounce iced soy latte,” she answered, nervous, but still thrilled to be answering a challenge question from ICS.
There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the line, and Brent’s voice greeted her, flooding her with relief. “Emily! Is everything all right?”
“Oh, it’s you! I’m locked out of my apartment, and I’m scared,” she gasped.
“Did you forget your keys?” she asked.
“No, I have my key, but I think someone may have changed my lock while I was at the grocery store.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then Brent said, “Emily I want you to find a safe spot, preferably in a shadowed area. Stay there until I get to you.”
“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.
“Hang tight and stay safe.”
Chapter 12
EMILY CHECKED HER WATCH again. Brent hadn’t given her a time estimate, and she didn’t know how far away ICS headquarters was. She suspected it was probably hidden in the back of a benign-looking office building somewhere in Phoenix.
She bent over and felt her groceries. They were still cool to the touch. She sighed, rustling the bags shut. Sure hope we get this figured out before the food spoils.
Something touched her shoulder, and she suppressed a little shriek, turning and swinging the bag of canned food still clutched in her hand. The tall figured behind her blocked the bag’s onslaught with a quick raise of the forearm and caught her by the wrist.
“Emily! It’s me!”
“Ugh, Brent! Don’t do that! You’re so stealthy! I could have—!”
“Shh...” Brent said, “I'm sorry for startling you. Good thinking with the cans, though.”
“Well, thanks, but—”
“Let’s check on your door.” Brent had been cautiously scanning the balcony area, the parking lot below, and the stairs for anything out of the ordinary. He moved to her door and clicked on a flashlight he’d removed from his pocket.
He carefully inspected the brass-colored lock. “It doesn’t seem like a new lock—looks worn. Let’s see your keys.”
Emily handed the keyring to him, and he turned back to the door, sifting through the few keys.
“Which one is it?” he asked after a moment.
“Oh, the top part is round. The mountain key is to my dad’s house.”
“The mountain key?” Brent sounded amused.
“You know, the one that’s got a more triangular top?”
“That’s what I thought you meant. Okay, but which rounded key?”
Emily frowned and came to look. In the light of the flashlight, she saw Brent staring at two nearly-identical keys. One was silver and one was bronze. The teeth had different patterns, but otherwise, they were exactly the same size and shape.
“Oh my goodness!” Emily smacked her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Brent! I think I called you out here on a wild goose chase. Try the silver one.”
Brent did so, and the deadbolt popped back with a satisfying click.
“Ugh, I must have grabbed the wrong key by feel in the dark. I totally forgot about Dr. Novak’s key being on there—” Her eyes widened as Brent clapped his hand over her mouth and pushed her into the darkened apartment.
He pushed the door shut behind them and whispered. “Maybe don’t say that name out in the open?”
Emily breathed in sharply at her mistake. “Sorry, I was just so relieved. I totally didn’t think—”
“It’s okay, now what’s this about Dr. Novak?”
Emily turned on a light and eyed Brent.
“What do you know?” he asked, a look of strain around his eyes. “Because if you have information that could help us—” he broke off and ran a hand through his hair distractedly.
“Brent, what’s wrong?”
He looked at her for a long moment before sighing. “Emily, Dr. Novak was kidnapped on his way to the safe house last night.”
She blinked.
“We’re still working out how the enemy agents knew what vehicle he was in, but whatever the case, they took out the driver and guard and took him prisoner. We have no leads. I’ve been working on it almost non-stop since last night.” He rubbed his face. “Haven’t really slept.”
“Oh, Brent, that’s awful. Do you think they’ll—kill him?”
He shook his head slowly. “They want to know what information he’s bringing us.”
Emily couldn’t bring herself to ask about the alternative—torture. Instead she turned into her tiny kitchen to put the groceries away and said quietly, “He must have thought something like this was possible. While we were waiting for you to come back yesterday evening, he gave me a key. Asked me to keep it on my keyring and deliver it to the authorities if something should happen to you or him.”
She closed the refrigerator and looked at him, a wry smile on her face. “I guess my wild goose chase wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”
“No, I guess not,” Brent agreed with a crooked grin. “You never would have known he was missing, and I never would have known about the key otherwise.”
Emily dropped her keyring back into his hands, and he inspected the bronze key. After a moment, he murmured, “They really are so similar. It’s no wonder you couldn’t feel a differ
ence in the dark.”
A thought popped into Emily’s head. “Brent?”
“Hmm?”
“Are there, by any chance, numbers on Dr. Novak’s key?”
Brent flipped the key over. “Yeah,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “They’re worn, but yeah. It says #311”
Emily’s heart did a little flip-flop. “Brent, look at my key.”
Chapter 13
HE GLANCED DOWN AT her, looking as surprised as she felt. “Your apartment number is on your key. You think Dr. Novak’s key fits number 311 in this same apartment building?”
She gave a little shrug. “If the key fits...”
“C’mon,” he said, giving her a little tug toward the door.
They exited Emily’s apartment and headed for the stairs. On the next floor, they hurried to the opposite end of the balcony, treading as quietly as possible.
“There’s 311,” Emily said, stopping before a door identical to her own. No lights shone through the window overlooking the balcony.
Brent glanced to the left and right before stealthily sliding the bronze key into the lock. It went in smoothly as it had in Emily’s door. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Here goes nothing!” and then turned the key. The deadbolt moved with a click that sounded deafeningly loud to Emily’s keyed up nerves. She and Brent stared at each other for a long moment.
Brent undid a flap built into the front of his button-up shirt and withdrew a handgun from the shoulder holster Emily hadn’t realized he was wearing beneath the shirt.
“Stand there to side,” he said softly. Her heart hammering, Emily hurried to where he’d indicated. Brent pushed the door open slowly, wincing as it creaked. Holding his flashlight in his right hand and resting his left hand with the gun on his right wrist, he clicked the beam on.
“Hang tight, Princess Em,” he whispered.
Emily pressed herself against the brick exterior of the apartment, waiting as agonizingly long moments passed in silence. She jumped when Brent reappeared at the door.
“All clear,” he said in an undertone, holstering his weapon. “C’mon.”
Red Rover, Red Rover Page 5