Opening the tiny browser on the phone, she did a Google search. It yielded very little, mentioning only an economic zone in China. That was no surprise to her, as many Chinese websites and servers were blocked from the west. She went to Yandex next and found a few more articles and a company website. What she saw made the blood drain out of her face.
Closing the flip phone, she opened the back and pulled out the SIM card. She dumped the used burner phone in the trash can before grabbing her bag to get the fuck out of there. In an alley a few blocks away, she pulled out her pack of cigarettes and lit one up. She didn’t smoke it. That was for show. She used the lighter to burn the SIM card. No one was getting a chance to figure out what she had just discovered.
Because it was much worse than she thought.
She plopped down in the chair and shivered from head to toe. It was a warm, spring day, but hell, this kind of thing chilled her to the bone. She hadn’t felt this way since her mother—
Right there in front of her was the “Janine’s Bride Tribe – Nicole” water bottle sitting on her desk like a fifth-grade participation trophy.
Scheming fuckers.
It had purposely been placed there after she left for lunch. Someone had made a distinct point of letting her know where they’d found it. Bob, Doyle, Bernhardt, Ryan, or, hell… even Matio could have returned it to her desk as a clear and concise message.
They know.
Nicole tried to compose herself when all she wanted to do was run screaming out of the building. She needed to do something – fast. Protect herself. Cover her bases. Fuck that, cover her ass.
She gathered her things together and slid her messenger bag and purse over to the far side of her cube. She made sure her keys were securely in her pocket, as well. Returning to her chair, she logged on to the network and started up her programming software—that was monitored at all times—and clicked some autocode to run automatically to check over the work she’d done over the weekend. It would buy her some time to figure out what the hell to do.
Milton, a junior level programmer, stopped at her cube. “Hey, Nic,” he said. “Did you hear Sherman blew chunks all over the kitchen at lunch and they sent him home? Stomach flu.”
“Gross. Poor guy. I hope the rest of us don’t get it.”
Milton shrugged. “Did he give you the specs for the firewall coding for TDE-5X?”
“No, sorry, he didn’t.”
“No worries. I’ll ask Ryan. Can I help you with anything?”
She didn’t need a thing from Milton, although he’d told her everything she needed to know. Sherman’s cube was open and available. He was the only non-manager on the TDE-5X team with a higher level clearance than her. Perfect.
“Actually,” she started. “Can you go down to the server room and reboot drive K? It’s running a bit slow and probably hasn’t had a good cold start in a while. And, please stay with it to make sure it’s back online.”
“That’ll take forever.”
“Fifteen minutes, at the most,” Nicole said with a sweet smile. “Please?”
Milton blushed and said, “Anything for you, Nic.”
She watched her colleague walk off and then moved into action. To protect herself, she needed a trump card, an ace up her sleeve, and other analogies that added up to she didn’t want to be up shit’s creek without a paddle. Safeguard herself at all costs. She opened the top drawer to her desk and retrieved a brand new USB drive and put it in her pocket.
Hitching her bag up onto her shoulder, she crouched down a bit, looked both ways, and covertly went to Sherman’s desk. He had a messy cube in the corner behind the tall filing cabinets, so Nicole figured she’d be out of sight while she did what needed to be done.
Dancing her fingers quickly over the keyboard, she noted that Sherman hadn’t logged out of his system before the great barf-fest and his dismissal for the day.
“Amateur,” she said with a snicker. Sherman damn sure knew better than that. He must have been awfully sick to do something so stupid. Her luck, though.
She snuck over to the security logs that were kept in the staff forum. They were there in case anyone needed proof or justification of work hours on certain client projects. Nicole scrolled through the data and saw her own access leaving the building Saturday morning. Page back, she noted an access around six a.m. of only Bob Worthington’s card. Nothing about registering Luis or the three Chinese men. Oh wait, there was a screen capture of Bob entering the building with the men. Three excellent shots of the faces of Mr. Wu and company. She did a print screen and swiftly tabbed over to Cooper’s graphics program that was opened and pasted in the shot.
The overhead announcement buzzed out, taking her attention away. Madison’s voice said, “Would Nicole Hunt please report to the executive board room. Nicole Hunt to the executive boardroom.”
“Oh, hell no. Not again,” Nicole said and sped up her process.
Right now, she couldn’t dig too far on who the Chinese men were. She had a bigger prize to nab. She went to the DOS prompt screen and initiated a backdoor workaround into the secure server where all of the files to TDE-5X were stored. With her breathing out of control and her stomach doing nervous somersaults—God, don’t let me puke all over the place like Sherman—Nicole pulled an encrypted thumb drive from the pocket of her blazer.
She had to do this.
She had no choice now.
Nicole
If overhearing that conversation put her in danger, copying these TDE-5X specs would kill her for sure. She plugged the USB dongle into the side of Sherman’s computer and dragged the files over with the mouse, clicking to save them to the drive. She also copied over the security camera date, and the screen shot she’d nabbed.
As she watched the progress bar on the copying, her knees felt weak, and she couldn’t stop the heart palpitations threatening to send her to the emergency room. “Come on, come on, come on!” She checked out her left and right to make sure no one saw her tucked away here. “Stupid slow-ass server. Save, dammit!”
“Has anyone seen Nicky?” Ryan asked loudly from several cubes over.
“I saw her at her desk a while ago,” someone responded.
“She’s not there,” Ryan said.
“What’s up, man?”
Nicole heard Ryan take a long pause. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s good.”
Fuck! I have to get out of here ASAP!
She bit her bottom lip watching the progress bar… 80%... 85%... 92%... done!
“Yes!”
She tugged the USB dongle out of the drive, cleared the cache, history and activity log, and stuck the drive in her front pocket, pushing it down deep. Popping up, she saw Ryan’s head of hair above the cubicles as he wandered the office, probably searching for her. She hunkered down and waited a moment until she didn’t hear the sound of his voice.
You can do this.
Just like those times when she’d dash across an open field in two seconds flat while her dad was peering off in another direction, Nicole was grateful for those play dates pretending she was a spy. Who the hell knew it would actually come in useful and—what—save her life?
“Anyone seen Nicole?” she heard someone else shout out.
It was time to get out of there, get home, and make a plan. She’d clearly overheard something she wasn’t supposed to and Bob, Doyle, and… fuck, maybe even Ryan, who knew?
Glancing around Sherman’s cube, she pulled down his San Jose Sharks cap from the shelf above his desk, tucked her hair up underneath it, and dragged it to cover her face. She took a deep breath and then stood up, walked firmly gripping her bag, and headed straight for the staircase.
She ran like a triathlete down the steps all the way to the parking garage where she’d stashed her bike. Riding like the wind, she made it home in record time, abandoning the bike inside the front hall as soon as she burst into her apartment.
“Think, Nicole, think.”
Sitting on her couch, sh
e withdrew her laptop from her bag and set it next to her. When her cell phone rang with Ryan’s name appearing in the readout, she clicked “Reject” and started grumbling. “Fuck you, asshole,” she muttered at one point.
Logging into a Tor browser for an incognito searching, she started looking for anything about a Mr. Wu and Delta Shandong. Three links down… “Bingo!”
Nicole read as fast as she could seeing two news articles from a Chinese technology company’s website. When she clicked on the link, it took her to a 404 error. “No longer available. Fuck.”
She added in a few more strokes and went to a website that would take you “back in time” to archived copies of websites. Scrolling back three years on the site’s calendar, she found a cached page on Delta Shandong, owned by Chao Wú, Hung Jaing, and Ling Zhang. They worked for this Chinese corporation with strong ties to the Republic of China Armed Forces. With her hand to her mouth, she covered the gasp escaping from her. If she weren’t so terrified of what was going on, she’d have to make a sexual joke against all of these loaded names.
It was more than that, though. Ling Zhang had a connection to someone Nicole knew. Little had she known then that she’d been betrayed with the ultimate treachery. The one friend Nicole had made while she had worked in Shenzhen, the same person who recommended her for the position at Terratech and, in fact, got her the interview.
Mei-Ling Zhang.
That rebellious, purple-haired, down-with-China, freedom-for-all, social media manager of the Chinese software firm where Nicole had worked may not have been any of those things. The five minutes at the back table in Starbucks had shown Nicole the truth—that Mei-Ling was some kind of double agent and it traced right back to her own fucking father! Delta Shandong turned out to be a Chinese cyber-security firm—and Mei-Ling’s father owned it lock, stock, and barrel.
Laughter bubbled from deep within her, bursting from her throat as she cracked herself up. Not one goddamned thing was funny at all, but it was the only reaction she could muster up without having to shove her head in the toilet. However, the humor transformed into tears. Hot, salty, fat blobs of water rolling down her cheeks at an impressive pace. Her breathing quickened. She was close to hyperventilating. She knew she had to get control over herself or else she was going to need the ER—which was not an option because they would actually call fucking Ryan as her emergency contact.
“Why is this hap-hap-happening to me?” she got out as she tried to breathe. With her head between her legs, she filled her lungs slowly and did her best to calm down.
She knew what she had to do. As much as she hated to do it, she had to call the one person who would know what she should do to solve this shit show.
Dialing her second burner phone, she waited for the man to answer.
“Well, I haven’t talked to you in a long time,” he said flatly.
“I know. I’m sorry… work has been really busy for me. In fact, I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Really? Let’s hope it’s not going around.”
She bit down on her bottom lip. She shared another one of their code phrases, one of many between them. This last one was to let him know that she was in trouble, someone could be listening, and she needed assistance. “I think it is. It’s pretty rough from what I can tell.”
There was a brief silence between them. “Use the eye drops,” Dad said. “You’ll be just fine.”
“That’s a good idea.”
She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her. “Use the eye drops” meant whatever was going on was bad enough that she needed to get the hell out of the country and get to London, where he would meet her. At the London Eye. She’d get her passport, the stash of cash she had in a hidden compartment in her underwear drawer, a few toiletries, enough clothes to last a week her computer, phone, and the all-important USB drive. Whatever else she needed, she’d buy with cash. Even though she always traveled out of the San Jose airport, she was headed to SFO—the San Francisco International Airport—as soon as possible.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she breathed out before ending the call.
Nicole braced herself.
She had to disappear.
Nick
San Francisco, California
The international terminal at the San Francisco International Airport was busy as shit when his fourteen-hour flight arrived.
As his handler had said, he arrived at Gate 93 after spending a luxurious flight in the care of his doting flight attendants, Penelope from Perth, Australia, and Chenguang, from Hong Kong. They certainly lived up to their job titles attending to him the entire way from China across the Pacific. From the complimentary champagne to the shit ton of movies and internet browsing available, Nick took full advantage of his sleep pod to stretch out and get a good nine hours on coma-like rest before powering up with a giant breakfast, courtesy of his two new friends. He was sure either of the lovely women would have curled up in his sleep pod with him if given the slightest encouragement or even slipped into the first class bathroom for a mile-high quickie. Nick had experienced a lot of casual sex in his life—especially overseas in the military—but the airplane experience was a mystery.
None of that was even an option on this flight because Nick was not only preoccupied with his new assignment, he was also completely exhausted from all he’d been through in the last forty-eight hours. Even though he was in the best shape of his life, a body could only go so long without food and sleep. Nick did manage to get an invite to surf Australia’s west coast with a free place to stay from Penelope and complimentary passes to some amusement park in Hong Kong from Chenguang. He’d have to remember that for it or when The Company ever allowed him to take a vacation like a normal person.
Two cups of java later, a fresh shave in the restroom, and a flawless touchdown on the tarmac later and Nick thanked his charming flight team and was now ready to go to work.
When his feet hit the terminal, he immediately went into full surveillance mode. He couldn’t help it. Habit. Besides, he didn’t even know what his target looked like yet. He only knew she was a… she.
He placed his Ray Bans over his eyes to hide his perusal of everyone and everything. He was trying to locate the Coach designer store he’d been told about. Whenever assignments came on short notice like this, airports, bus and train terminals, metro stations, and malls were always the most likely place for The Company to pass on instructions. Plenty of people around, the general public going about their business, and basically no one wanting to make a scene or draw attention to themselves in such an environment.
As Nick already knew too well, The Company hired operatives who excelled at blending into a crowd without being noticed. Like him. Hell, he’d had a seventy-year-old granny pass information to him in Miami a few months back. After exchanging the appropriate code words to establish identity, she handed him the package and then proceeded to worry over his dog-tired appearance as if he were one of her brood. She suggested he take some ginseng to supplement his immune system and give him energy boosts while traveling and such. He took it in stride, appreciating her concern, though mostly mulling over how the hell a sweet old thing like her even landed in this line of work. Shit… she must have been recruited by The Company right after World War II!
That was the way of the job. So, as things stood here in San Francisco, he had to accept whoever it was this time had probably already spotted him and knew their role in the exchange of information.
There it was: the Coach store. Fancy women’s purses, wallets, belts, and other accessories were showcased and featured in the window display, as well as on the strategically-placed, chic white tables inside the well-lit retail space. Several travelers sorted through merchandise not even bothering to check out the price. He supposed if you had to ask, you probably couldn’t afford it.
He spotted a black and brown leather sports bag being displayed by an acrylic male figure. Nick had to laugh in spite of it. There was no way he was toting
a man purse like that no matter how stylish or designer it might be considered.
A smartly dressed sales woman, probably in her early twenties, approached him knowingly and said, “That’s our new flag backpack in pebble leather. It’s very convenient for a rugged man on the go.” She stopped to look him up and down with her hazel eyes. “Someone like you?”
Nick had to snicker at her forwardness and self-assurance. Appreciated it, even. Of course, she wanted a sale, so she was pouring on the charm. “No, hon,” he said in a syrupy sweet accent. “I’m actually here to pick up a pre-paid order. For Sterling.”
Her eyes widened immediately as if he’d announced the arrival of a movie star to see her, and she smiled brightly. “Yes… of course,” she said. “I filled the order myself, Mr. Sterling.” She tossed a glance over her shoulder and added, “You are Mr. Sterling, right?”
Grinning back, Nick said, “I am.”
The sales girl continued as she moved him deeper into the store. “Well, I certainly hope the lady in your life will appreciate this most exquisite gift. I know I would.”
She nearly danced over to the checkout counter and withdrew a designer gift box from down below. Nick followed in her wake playing up his role. The woman carefully lifted the lid, peeled back layers of tissue paper, and presented the bag to him as if it were the first born son of a king.
“It’s stunning,” she said. “The Rouge glove-tanned leather with whip-stitched genuine crocodile trim with cross-body shoulder straps and hand-held handles, as well. It’s an absolute steal at only four thousand dollars.”
Nick bit his tongue to keep from busting out, What the fuck? The Company spared no expense when they wanted to get shit done the right way. Whatever. They had a fleet of accountants to write everything off, Nick was sure. The winner in this transaction was the ambitious sales girl who’d have her daily tracked sales figures blow everyone else out of the water. It might actually net her more in her paycheck that twelve bucks an hour.
Two Firefighters Next Door: A Bad Boy MFM Romance Page 19