by Sonja Stone
“Don’t flatter yourself. You were chosen because it was convenient. Because we did something for you, and, as a result, you owe us.”
“First of all, I owe Agent Roberts, not you. Secondly, the only reason I am indebted is because Roberts wanted me, so he figured out how to get me. And lastly, I know my role. Does it seem like this is my first day? My training began long before I arrived at school.” And I was taught by better men than you. “Instead of a lecture, how about you just give me my orders?” The student glanced over his shoulder.
“Fine. Get rid of Nadia Riley before she connects the dots.”
“How do you want me to do it?”
“I don’t care, but make it look like an accident.”
16
NADIA
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 12
Late Monday evening after dinner, Nadia and her roommate stepped out of the Navajo Building into the blazing night. “Any chance we’re done for the day?” she asked.
“’Fraid not. We’re off to the library. Alan and Damon’ll meet us there.”
“This has been the longest day of my life,” Nadia said. Afternoon classes had consisted of Arabic, Mandarin Chinese and Spanish. Thanks to her uncles, she knew a few phrases in Arabic, though nothing she could repeat without getting detention. But she found herself physically unable to make some of the sounds.
“I know. I can barely speak English, let alone Arabic and Chinese.”
“And this heat! I can’t breathe. Doesn’t it bother you?”
“You get used to it. At least, that’s what they keep telling us.”
“Do you guys always study together after dinner?”
Libby nodded. “After dinner, between classes, during breakfast, on weekends. It’s a habit we fell into this summer. We had so much material to process. Add that to the physical training; it’s the only way we could keep up. I couldn’t do it alone. None of us could. Well, except maybe Alan, who never passes up a chance to mention how much smarter he is than the rest of us.”
“Not a team player?”
Libby laughed. “You could say that.”
Nadia frowned. “I’m really behind, aren’t I?”
“A little,” Libby admitted. “But I promise you, if you want to be here, we will not let you fail. I wasn’t kidding when I said I do not like living alone.” They reached the library. “And can you imagine being the only girl on the team?”
“I don’t know. Damon’s undivided attention might not be such a bad thing,” Nadia said, smiling at Libby.
Libby grinned. “He has this way of talking to you like you’re the only person in the world. So I can enjoy his undivided attention and have a roommate.”
Nadia pushed through the revolving doors. Cool air and the smell of freshly printed books surrounded her. Dark glass walls framed with brushed steel beams rose from the carpet. A row of black cabinets ran perpendicular to the front door. The sign above the enclosed area read Authorized Persons Only.
“What’s in there?” Nadia pointed.
“Restricted case files,” Libby said. “Some of the information is classified, so it’s not available for student review.”
“Case files of what?”
“I really couldn’t say. Keep moving.” Libby ushered Nadia out of the entryway.
Polished wooden bookshelves filled the room. A student climbed a ladder and glided silently along the brass bar, reviewing the row of books. The girls walked down a few open steps to reach the lower level and found Alan and Damon in the back corner of the room. The boys were speaking Arabic.
“English, please,” said Libby, smiling sweetly at Alan. “He’s already fluent,” she said to Nadia, “but he won’t tell Dr. Shaheen because he likes feeling superior to us. You believe that?”
“Lucky you. My mom’s Lebanese, but I never learned,” Nadia said.
“Good for her,” Alan answered.
“Are you Arabic?”
“My last name is Cohen.” When Nadia didn’t answer he continued, contempt soaking his words. “I am Jewish. You have heard of Israel, right?”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with Israel. Isn’t Israeli Mossad the only intelligence group better than the CIA?” She’d learned a little about both agencies while studying the origins of ancient ciphers.
“What? Why would you even say that?” Alan demanded. “You do not know anything about either one, do you?”
“Have you guys started the math assignment yet?” Libby asked.
“What’s your problem?” Damon asked Alan.
“I just wonder where her loyalties lie,” he answered.
Nadia turned to Damon. “He’s kidding, right?”
“Easy, tiger. Complimenting Mossad doesn’t necessarily make her a traitor,” Damon said.
“Because we really should get started,” Libby said.
“Historically, our people do not get along. The Arabs and the Jews,” Alan said.
Damon nodded. “Well that explains the open hostility.”
“It is her.” He pointed to Nadia. “Your kinsmen are a bloodthirsty group.”
Is he serious? Nadia did her best to ignore his jab. “So how do you know Arabic?”
His cheeks flushed. “It is none of your business. Why are you interrogating me?”
“Not interrogating. Making conversation,” she said.
“Well, how about you do not.”
“I had a little trouble with the second section,” Libby said.
“It’s a simple question,” Damon said. “Just tell her.”
“I have no inclination to share my life story with her,” Alan answered.
“All right, now! That’s enough,” Libby said, her voice too loud for the library. She glanced around. Softly, she continued, “I’m sorry, but we’ve really got a lot of ground to cover.”
Nadia’s teammates went over their lessons in surprising detail. Back home she’d never taken school this seriously—she didn’t know anyone who did, not even Matthew. Is it possible I’m in over my head? Everyone else had been recruited months ago. She was only invited because someone had died. That made her the last choice—the least capable student here. She wished she’d asked Dean Wolfe about her academic standing when they met. ’Course, then he’d know I constantly doubt myself. He probably would’ve cut me from the program right then. And I will not go back home.
“Are you even listening?” Alan asked.
Oh, fantastic. They’ve been talking the whole time and I have no idea what anyone said. “Of course I’m listening.” She couldn’t ask them to start over. She’d look like a complete idiot. I’ll ask Libby if I can copy her notes.
Nadia sighed and looked around the room. Her classmates sat in huddled groups, hunched over foot-high stacks of index cards, open texts, piles of notebooks. Yeah. I don’t belong here.
And that’s when she saw him. Her breath caught in her throat.
He stood at a bookshelf skimming the titles. His forehead furrowed in concentration, full lips moving slightly as he read. His skin was a beautiful dark olive; it almost glowed. He ran a hand over his cropped black hair. Then, as though he could feel Nadia’s stare, he looked up—directly into her eyes.
Her cheeks flushed and she quickly looked away. She took a deep breath and glanced back. He walked toward her; his lean body taking long, smooth strides. His eyes did not leave hers.
He reached the table and offered his hand. She took it to shake hello. With his other hand he gently pulled on her arm, forcing her to stand. He smiled, his eyes still locked on hers. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t find words. For what seemed like minutes (but was probably only a second or two) they stood staring at each other. She couldn’t look away.
Finally, Libby broke the silence. “Nadia,” she said, “meet Jack.”
17
JACK
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 12
Earlier that day, during his Advanced Documents class, Jack had received a summons from Dean Wolfe. He was halfway out the door before the bell f
inished ringing, a flutter of excitement in his stomach. He rushed to Hopi Hall.
Maybe it’s a commendation for my analysis of Slavic satellite surveillance. His instructor had insisted Jack read the paper aloud in class.
He adjusted his shirt collar and checked his reflection in the glass bookshelf. Jack ran a hand over his black hair—more out of habit than necessity—before knocking. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Close the door,” said the Dean. “Please, have a seat. How is your semester progressing?”
“Excellent, thank you.”
“And your summer?”
“No complaints.”
“You worked as a camp counselor, right? With inner-city kids?”
He’s been keeping track of me. That’s a good sign. “Yes sir. My summer was very rewarding, but I’m always glad to be back at school.”
“You strike me as a loyal, dedicated student. A patriot. Would you say my assessment is correct?”
“Absolutely.” Jack straightened a bit. “I’d do anything for the Academy.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.” Dean Wolfe thumbed through an open file on his desk. “It seems your peers think highly of you, and your instructors offered glowing end-of-year-reports. Last spring you reported a student for cheating on an exam; he was expelled. You two were close.”
“He was my best friend.” It almost killed Jack, turning him in. But lying and cheating—not to mention disobeying orders—were absolutely unacceptable. No excuses.
“And one of your biggest rivals.”
Jack hesitated. Does he think that’s why I spoke up? “Yes sir. I suppose that’s true.”
“Relax, son. It wasn’t an accusation. In fact, your choice of friends indicates you aren’t intimidated by other people’s accomplishments. You stick with the winners. That’s part of what makes you a successful leader.”
The compliment sent a warm feeling through his chest. “Thank you, sir.”
Wolfe paused for a long moment, tapping his pen against the desk. “Jack, I’m afraid I have troubling news. We’ve suffered a serious security breach. It appears Drew Anderson’s death was not an accident. Furthermore, I believe one of our students may be a double agent. Immediately following the incident with Drew, Marcus Sloan came to me recommending a new student, a transfer. Her name is Nadia Riley.” Dean Wolfe’s chair rasped as he rocked back.
Nadia Riley. She must be the one I saw him with yesterday. “Drew was murdered? I don’t understand. You suspect the new recruit? Or the recruiter?”
“At this point, I don’t know what to think. Albert Vincent, our CIA director, has received intelligence that we have at least one double in our student body. Until we discover who has penetrated our network, no one can be trusted. Since nothing implicates Drew Anderson as the traitor, her murder leads me to one of two conclusions. Either she discovered the identity of the mole, or—”
“Or the mole wasn’t initially invited and she needed to clear herself a spot on campus.”
“Exactly. To explore the first hypothesis, tell me what you know about Drew’s roommate.”
“Liberty Grace Bishop, only daughter of Senator Wentworth Bishop. She’s from Savannah, Georgia; parents married; older brother. She’s attended a series of prestigious private schools. Good grades, excellent standardized test scores. Her personality inventory reveals a slight tendency toward obsessive-compulsive behavior, but it also indicates that she respects authority and is extremely loyal. Her family is from the Deep South; I suspect she’s a patriot, born and bred.”
“Excellent assessment. Tell me about Damon.”
“Damon’s a natural. He’s attentive, perceptive, intelligent, well-spoken. His manners are impeccable. His mother is a librarian. His father died of a heart attack.” Jack cleared his throat. “He has no siblings. His psychological profile describes his sense of justice as very black-and-white. He despises weakness. I don’t see him waffling between right and wrong.”
“Alan Cohen?”
“Alan is the team’s greatest intellectual asset. He’s an only child. His father is a doctor, his mother sits on the board of several charities.” Jack paused. He didn’t want to bad mouth his subordinate.
Dean Wolfe seemed to sense Jack’s reluctance. “Go on.”
“Alan does not share Libby and Damon’s gift for putting others at ease. I can’t imagine he’d be selected for undercover work. As you know, a covert agent must be nuanced, captivating. At the very least, unassuming.” Alan was the antithesis of disarming. “How can I put this? His awkwardness makes others uncomfortable.”
Wolfe nodded approvingly. “Good work, Jack. It sounds like you really know your team. Let me tell you a bit about the new girl. Our recruiter suggested her last spring and I refused to admit her. I didn’t want her attending our school.”
“She’s not qualified?”
“On the contrary. Miss Riley earned a perfect score on the questions the CIA embeds into the standardized tests. Marcus Sloan thinks she’s a genius.”
“And you?”
“No one scores perfectly on that exam. It’s possible to have too much of a good thing. She fits the CIA’s profile too well, as though she’s been prepped. And even if she wasn’t, bringing someone like her onto campus is like starting a nuclear countdown. Overqualified applicants turn into rogue agents. I’ve seen it before at the CIA. It’s only a matter of time until something snaps. And when that happens, regardless of her allegiance, her handler will cease to be in control. The security of Desert Mountain Academy is my highest priority.”
“Why take the risk? Can’t you just expel her?”
“Not without reason. Especially since her mother is Middle Eastern. We can’t be accused of racial profiling. Now, I could rearrange the teams and assign her to someone else, but I firmly believe you are the best man for the job.”
Jack looked down as his cheeks warmed. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”
Dean Wolfe nodded. “You’ve earned my trust. I want you to keep an eye on her; report any unusual activity to me. But don’t assume anything. We must be certain before we move—we get one chance. When we find the double, we need to arrest and interrogate, not expel. And if we make a mistake, the real double will disappear.”
“I understand. Given that off-campus communications are carefully monitored, I assume a double agent would need an on-campus handler. Any leads? Maybe a faculty member?”
“I’ve been considering that question myself.”
“Does anyone travel extensively over the summer?”
“The foreign language professors all take refresher immersion courses. Our recruiter travels constantly. He takes three to five days off every month, during which time he is not required to report in. He has more freedom than any of us. And, of course, Hashimoto Sensei says he spends his summers in Japan, but I never see his receipts so I really don’t know. He doesn’t seek reimbursement for travel expenses because his trips are not school-related. But I have no other reason to suspect him.” Wolfe continued, “Obviously, this information is well above your pay grade, so to speak. I’m placing my trust in you. Do not disappoint.”
“No, sir. Thank you.”
“Excellent. That’s all for now.” Dean Wolfe waved his hand in dismissal and resumed the paperwork on his desk.
Jack hesitated. “Sir, may I ask a question?”
“What is it?” The Dean did not look up.
“How did Drew Anderson die?”
Wolfe stopped his work and rubbed his forehead. His fingernails were buffed to an understated shine. After a moment he looked at Jack. “She was shot in the back of the head, execution style. I don’t need to tell you: this information does not leave this room. We teach strategies of war, Jack. Techniques of clandestine service, skill sets specific to Black-Ops. If this information were leaked, a foreign agency would know exactly how we train our up-and-coming agents, which would inform their counter-intelligence training.” Dean Wolfe leaned forward and lowered
his voice. “More detrimental, however, is the devastation that would be inflicted on our government if an enemy organization managed to plant a mole at this level—the beginning of training. Such an individual would have the potential for an extended and damaging career posing as an agent of the United States of America.”
After dinner Jack headed to the library. First-year students always gathered for evening study sessions. He’d catch up with the new girl there.
Jack forced himself to stop smiling. He was elated Dean Wolfe had confided in him. To be trusted with something like this was unprecedented. This assignment had implications far beyond the academy, to his career and future with the CIA.
He spotted Damon and Alan at their usual table. Damon, the natural, with his back to the wall. Alan, the less-natural, scowling at the girls at the next table for whispering too loudly. Knowing Libby would be along soon, Jack positioned himself between shelves.
Desert Mountain demanded excellence in all things. Competition was fierce among his classmates, but it was nothing Jack couldn’t handle. He’d been competing with his brothers his whole life. Now, probably to please their father, they were both in medical school, while Jack studied here at the Academy, content with the secret knowledge he was serving his country.
He straightened the books directly in front of him, then checked his watch. Where are they? This is cutting into my study time.
A minute later Libby and Nadia walked through the door. Nadia moved confidently, shoulders back, chin high. Her hips swished a little as she walked. She laughed at something Libby said, a quiet laugh with a slightly crooked smile. Jack realized he was smiling with her. He moved closer, to a bookshelf near their table, pretending to be deep in thought.
After a few moments he glanced in their direction; Nadia stared at him. Am I being too obvious?
If she is a double, she’s been trained to read body language, he reminded himself. Maybe she saw right through me. I guess there’s only one thing to do. He adjusted his messenger bag and marched to her table.