Vortex

by Julie Cross

  “The family business,” Michael said. “My parents own a restaurant in Jersey. More like a diner. But I was always creating new meals and sometimes they’d even put one on the menu.”

  Michael was a tall, slim, average guy who probably would have had no idea what to do with that knife he’d tried to threaten me with earlier, other than dicing onions. How did he end up crossing paths with a CIA agent and then hooking up with her?

  After dinner, Kendrick walked me to the door while Michael was cleaning up the kitchen. “Thanks for … going along with my story. I should have told you. It’s just—”

  “That’s what we do, right? Lie to civilians?” Forget who we are … who we were. I opened the door and looked out into the hallway. “See you in the morning.”

  “You know where your place is?” she asked.

  “Well, you’re twenty B and I’m twenty F. I think I can find it.” I only had to walk about forty feet down the hall to find my new apartment. I pulled out the key Marshall had given me and opened the door and then shut it behind me. The smell of mildew and dust filled my nostrils as I searched for a light switch.

  “Somebody must have died in here,” I mumbled to myself.

  “Just needs a little cleaning,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned around instantly, whipping my gun out and pointing it toward the farthest corner of the apartment, where I could just barely make out the shadow of a man.

  “Relax, Jackson. I’m just here to deliver a message from your boss,” the man said.

  My feet moved on their own, toward him. “What’s the verification code?” I demanded, following standard protocol.

  He recited this week’s code words perfectly, then took a step closer to me. Headlights drifted past the window and I got a one-second glimpse of his face. I lowered my gun and fumbled around for a light switch. There was one on the wall by the front door.

  A single light filled the whole apartment. An old man with gray hair grinned at me.

  “Uh … Senator Healy?”

  “So, you do recognize me,” he said.

  Only because we’re planning on crashing your ball next week.

  “Yeah, from TV and the newspaper,” I stuttered. “What … what are you doing here?”

  And why do you know our top-secret verification code?

  “Months of training have gotten you wound a little tight. You’ll have to loosen up and slip into the real world again.” He unbuttoned the front of his suit jacket and slipped it off, tossing it over one arm. “I know everything about you, Jackson. No secrets between the two of us, understood?”

  Yeah, right, maybe if I was five I’d fall for that. “Sure.”

  He smirked at me, like he knew what I was thinking. “You have no idea how excited I am to see you reaching this amazing potential.”

  Okay, I’m in the CIA and even I think this is super-creepy. “You said you had a message for me?”

  He nodded. “Just a few items that Chief Marshall couldn’t tell you in such close proximity to the others … Very good work you did in Heidelberg, by the way. I hear Agent Stewart has taken a liking to you.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” He’s not the substitute chief, is he?

  He drifted into the very small kitchen area and ran a finger over the countertop. “We’d like for you to pursue that. Stay on her good side. Maybe even take things a little further if you feel the urge.”

  Now I was just confused. “Um … are you trying to tell me Chief Marshall wants me to hook up with Agent Stewart?”

  He shrugged. “Do what you can with that one. We’ll understand either way.”

  Obviously he’s met her.

  “Is that all you … wanted?”

  “No, there’s more.” Senator Healy turned to look at me and the casual expression dropped from his face. “Lily Kendrick is very important to this project, to this division, and we can’t have her … distracted.”

  “She’s a fantastic agent. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” The words came out firm and straightforward, but I had a feeling we weren’t on the same page.

  “Great. But keep in mind, so are you, and even more gifted than the others. Whatever assignments you’re given, don’t lose sight of who you are. More importantly, don’t forget what you can do. What you were made to do. I have a feeling you haven’t even come close to reaching that potential.”

  Was he telling me not to stop time-traveling? It sounded that way. Marshall had basically forbidden me from even thinking about jumping without his approval. “But why do it if I don’t need to? Aren’t there risks?”

  “Yes,” he said. “You can’t screw around anymore, but I can guarantee you’ll find yourself in a situation where it’s the right thing to do. Perhaps you know exactly what I’m talking about…?”

  That might have been his way of trying to find out if I’d been to the future. Maybe he already knew something about his future and wanted to make sure I saved his ass even if it meant time travel?

  He was already heading for the door while I was still trying to catch up. “Don’t worry about Kendrick, we’ll take care of that situation. You just work on Stewart.”

  I put my hand on the door, preventing him from going out. “Wait, what are you going to do to Kendrick?”

  “Don’t worry. I already told you, Lily is very important to this division. As is her safety.” He pulled the door open the second I released my hand from it. “We’ll see each other again soon. You’ll be a very important guest at my party.”

  “Guest?” I thought this was a mission. Wouldn’t I be dressed in black, lurking in the shadows of the Plaza Ballroom?

  “You’ll be attending as a guest on behalf of your father’s company … in his absence, of course,” he said before ducking out the door.

  I bolted the door shut and let my eyes sweep over the studio apartment that smelled like death. Kendrick had two bedrooms in her place. And she had furniture. Which I didn’t have, other than a bed that pulled down from the wall.

  No wonder Marshall was so quick to comply with my request for an alternative place to stay. I could go home, but then he’d win this game that I didn’t even know we were playing.

  I yanked the frame of the bed to lower it and got one glimpse of the mildew-covered, cat-piss-smelling mattress and immediately slammed it shut again.

  Instead, I threw my backpack on the hardwood floor and laid my head on it. I wanted to call my dad and tell him about Senator Healy, but I knew he was already off on his mission with Marshall.

  I spent at least an hour tossing around on the hard floor, going over and over the implications the senator had made. And why the hell did he bring up Stewart? Maybe he knew something about the future, like we get in a fight and cause some major disruption. Didn’t seem that unlikely. This was the most alone I’d been in months. The stringent training schedule and the closeness of our rooms in the underground headquarters kept me so exhausted, I hadn’t thought about much else. Eventually I forced myself to fall asleep because the irrational thoughts were increasing and I needed to stay on top of my game. Always.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JUNE 11, 2009, 6:30 A.M.

  “Dang, Jackson. What kind of shithole place did they give you?”

  My eyes weren’t even open yet, but I could already see the sun shining through the uncovered windows. “How did you get in?” I asked Kendrick.

  She reached out a hand to help me up and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I picked the lock. You should consider getting a better deadbolt. I can’t believe you slept here.”

  “I think Marshall is still punishing me.” I brushed the dust off my clothes and started digging through my suitcase. “I don’t suppose you have soap at your place?”

  She nodded toward the door. “Come on. You should bring the whole suitcase, otherwise rats might crawl in while you’re gone.”

  Twenty minutes later I came out of Kendrick’s shower smelling more fruity than I would have liked, bu
t it was better than having bacteria crawling all over me. Kendrick was in the kitchen, wiping the counters down.

  “Where’s Michael?” I asked her.

  “He went to help his dad with something at the restaurant.”

  “How come you didn’t tell me that you lived with someone?”

  “It’s sort of his unofficial residence. He goes to school here and was commuting from his parents’ house in Jersey … he stayed over a couple times and eventually I told him to leave some of his stuff here. It’s no big deal, and it’s not like I’m here all the time anyway.”

  “Does Chief Marshall know about Michael?” I asked.

  She eyed me warily. “Not that I know of … I haven’t lied or anything … It just never came up.”

  “So, what … you’re just gonna ask Marshall for time off so you can get married? And you think he’s actually gonna go for that?”

  “I don’t know!” She tossed the sponge into the sink and gripped the countertop with her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? You’re going to tell him, just like you told him about the helicopter when I wouldn’t stitch up your dad … and the rain thing … when I slipped up.”

  So that’s why she was so pissed at me a couple days ago.

  “I didn’t tell Marshall anything … Someone else must have.”

  She shook her head, looking defeated. “What do you want, Jackson? What’ll keep you quiet?”

  “Answer a few questions for me.” I knew very few things about my partner. Before, it didn’t bother me too much, but now, after Senator Healy’s little visit last night, I wanted to know why she was so important. “How long were you training … before France?”

  “Six months with Tempest,” she said immediately. “But most of it was here and some in D.C. last winter during break. I joined the CIA two years ago. That’s when I moved to New York and started med school.”

  So, she joined at nineteen, too. I slid a chair out from the dining room table and sat down. “Where did you live before New York?”

  The smile dropped from her face. “Chicago … but not in the city. The north suburbs. Is that all?”

  “One more question.” I hesitated for a second. “It’s weather, isn’t it? It’s altered by time travel?”

  She leaned against the counter, taking in a deep breath before finally nodding. “That’s how we track them … weather patterns changing. Think about it … Tempest … Eyewall?”

  “A storm … that’s what Tempest means … a strong and violent storm. And Eyewall—”

  “A ring of towering thunderstorms, the most severe part of a cyclone,” she said.

  I swallowed back my fear. “Eyewall … as in Tempest has finally met its match.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Kendrick said.

  Why wouldn’t Dad or Marshall want me to know about the weather changes? What if I time-traveled by accident? Shouldn’t I know these things just in case? Or was Dad afraid I’d start studying weather-pattern changes and go on suicide missions alone, hunting down EOTs? And maybe Marshall didn’t trust me not to find them and decide to join up with the opposition.

  “Are we cool, then?” Kendrick asked.

  I shook off the shock of this new information and focused on the here and now. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

  Relief washed over her and she even smiled. “We’ve got a few hours before we meet up at the Plaza. I think we should clean your new apartment this morning. And I also need to pick up some books from the NYU Bookstore. Maybe you should get some stuff, too, just to keep in your apartment as a student cover or whatever.”

  “You want to clean the apartment?”

  “You have cleaned before, haven’t you?”

  “Are you going to start with the rich-kid jokes, too, like Stewart?” I swatted her in the head with an envelope lying on the table. “For your information, I do have experience in the custodial arts.”

  She tossed me a pair of rubber gloves. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  * * *

  I clapped my hands together, inhaling the scent of new books. “Okay, what should I get to fill my borrowed apartment with studentlike evidence?”

  “Textbooks, lab coat, flash cards,” Kendrick listed off.

  “So, I should follow in your footsteps, Dr. Kendrick? Pretend to be a med student?”

  “That or the Unabomber.”

  We wandered the store for a good twenty minutes, forming a large stack of supplies. I tossed them on the counter and handed the girl at the register a credit card. “You don’t think this will look too staged?… We’re only here for a week, right?” I asked Kendrick, speaking in whispered Russian to avoid listening ears.

  Kendrick opened her mouth to respond, but I tuned her out immediately. I had just heard a very familiar voice coming from behind a shelf in front of us. A voice that sent my heart racing.

  Holly … my Holly … 009 Holly.

  “I just like to look at the required reading and see what might be interesting.”

  “That’s a unique way to choose a course,” a male voice said.

  I leaned against the counter for support and took a deep breath, trying to figure out why Holly Flynn was in the NYU Bookstore at the same time as me.

  She doesn’t know me. She isn’t my Holly. Not anymore.

  I just had to hold it together and not run over and kiss her or something else completely idiotic. I’d survived this in 2007. I could do it again now. I didn’t want to see her—not now, after I’d endured three months of reprogramming. But it would be very irresponsible to leave without at least seeing with my own eyes that she was all right.

  “I’ll be right back, okay?” I said to Kendrick, who nodded, her nose stuffed in an advanced biochemistry book.

  I felt more nervous and sick at that moment than I had standing in front of the line of EOTs in Heidelberg a few days earlier. I peered around the aisle where Holly stood next to a sales guy. I thought my heart would stop beating completely. I hadn’t seen her in months and nothing had faded. I wanted to run away, but at the same time, I couldn’t. I spun around so my back was to her, concealing my face. A few seconds later, someone bumped into me from behind and a pile of books tumbled off the shelf onto the floor.

  “Oh, damn, I’m sorry,” the sales guy said.

  I bent over to help him pick up the books, and seconds later Holly’s feet were right in front of me, and then we were reaching for the same book. I knew what would happen next and I didn’t stop it.

  I couldn’t.

  Her eyes lifted to meet mine and she drew her hand back from the book and grabbed another one. “This goes on the shelf right behind you.”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out, and I was sure my staring had to be a little on the creepy side. “Uh … yeah.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Kendrick approach us. A giant bag swung back and forth in front of her legs. “Ready, Jackson?”

  I stood up slowly and Holly did the same, dropping the book in my hands. I continued to stare.

  And so did she.

  “Do I know you? You look … familiar,” she said.

  A long moment of silence followed her question, and finally Kendrick waved a hand in front of my face. “Hello? Jackson Meyer?”

  I can do this. Stick to my cover. It’s simple. I shoved my mind into agent mode and took on my role. “I don’t think so.”

  Holly’s cheeks turned a little pink. “Oh … sorry. That’s so weird, because there’s a Jackson Meyer in my Modern Lit class.”

  There is? And she’s taking a summer class? I don’t remember her doing that before. This was what I got for telling Dad not to give me too many details.

  “It’s a fairly common name,” Kendrick said.

  “Or I paid someone to take it for me and now my cover’s blown,” I answered with a grin that I hoped was fairly convincing.

  Holly laughed. “Well, you should get your money back because he looks nothing like you.�
��

  “Hopefully I still have the receipt.” My voice was the perfect casual tone, but I was sure my face wasn’t equally calm.

  Holly glanced toward the door, where a buff, jock-looking guy with dark curly hair grinned when he spotted her. My heart beat twice as fast as he walked closer, then stood behind her and kissed her on the cheek. I stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep from clenching my fists.

  Who is this guy? What the hell happened to David?

  “I’ll be looking at the T-shirts, Hol,” he said before walking away again.

  “Who’s that?” I blurted out. And yeah, I sounded exactly like a raging jealous boyfriend.

  Holly looked confused for a second and then smiled. “You’ve probably seen him on TV, right?”

  “Brian Belmont,” Kendrick said with a little bit of a girlie squeal I had never heard from her before. “Starting quarterback for UCLA. Broke the record yards thrown by any UCLA player in history during his freshman year.”

  Holly nodded, but put a finger to her lips. “He’s not up for football talk right now.” She pointed to her shoulder. “Just had surgery and he’s out for an entire season.”

  “I heard about that,” Kendrick said with a sympathetic nod. She must have misinterpreted the shock on my face, because she nudged me in the shoulder. “I’m an obsessive college football fan. No making fun of me.”

  “Yeah, I guess I have seen him before,” I said, staring at Brian sifting through a rack of NYU T-shirts. The original 009 Holly and I had run into him at a carnival in Jersey. He was with David and they caught us making out on a bench right after their big breakup. Brian went to her high school. But he was a year ahead of her, like me.

  Now she’s dating him? How the hell did that happen?

  “I’m sure he won’t drop-kick you or anything if you really want to say hi,” Holly said to Kendrick.