Absent all threats, I felt . . . let down. Rudderless. Aimless.
I sat in my suite’s dark kitchen drinking my first cup of coffee, wondering where I’d find the “juice” to start over. In my up-and-coming guise, I could go anywhere, do what I liked. Make friends. Get a job. Have a real life.
Dr. Bickel had healed enough to dismiss his nursing aide, and the FBI had cleared him of all charges and allegations. DOE even restored his security clearance and asked Dr. Bickel to return to Sandia and rebuild his lab. I had to assume that my friends in D.C. cleared the way for his quick reinstatement.
“Don’t worry; I won’t be building another ion printhead,” he’d confided to me, “at least nothing like the one I used to print the nanomites. In fact, I plan to take my research in a different direction. A safer direction.”
Speaking of different directions: I wouldn’t be applying for any jobs at Sandia. Just the thought made me anxious. Perhaps I’d return to school and take up another degree program, but I’d need to look for work before too long.
I yanked myself back to the task at hand. Back to my new name.
I sighed and slid the page of proposed names toward me. Had an idea.
“Nano, what does the name ‘Gemma’ mean in other languages?”
They laid out a long list, and I scanned through them, hoping something would catch my eye. I had always liked Gemma because, in English, it is derived from the word gem or jewel. Even in my child’s mind, my name had made me feel special and precious—when I often felt forgotten and stupid.
I read on and saw, The name Jemma in Hebrew is a diminutive of Jemima which means “little dove.” Jemima was one of the three beautiful daughters of Job.
“Little dove.” I snickered. “Right. So me. Not.”
I went back to names and their meanings. Had a second idea. “Nano, what is the name ‘Jewel’ in other languages?”
The list began with Amber and variations on Amber. I started down the list. Some of the names were derived from specific gemstones such as amethyst, crystal, diamond, emerald, garnet, jasper, ruby, pearl, and sapphire.
I didn’t care for any of them.
Then I went back to the “J”s. Looked closer.
Jayda: Elaborated feminine form of the English for Jade.
Jayda.
“Huh.”
I didn’t hate it. It also sparked the glimmer of yet another idea.
“Nano, look up the surname ‘Keyes’ in various languages.”
I found the Keyes surname and its motto: In Domino confide. I trust in the Lord.
“Wow.” Goosebumps washed over my skin. Lord? Are you leading me?
“Nano, look for the word ‘Trust’ in other languages.”
That didn’t pan out.
“Okay, so not a variation on Keyes.”
I concentrated. “Keyes” and “key” aren’t actually related, but they sound the same, right?
“Nano. Look for the word “key” in other languages.”
Nope. That didn’t turn up anything that resonated with me.
I puzzled around further with no results. “Keyes. Trust. Confide: confidence.”
Nothing.
“A key opens a door. A key fits into a lock that opens a door. And a lock is—”
Lock? No, “Lock” with an added “e” at the end like “Keyes.”
Locke?
Jayda Locke?
Could I live with that? Abe would accept it. Could Emilio? I wasn’t considering Zander. He and I would remain friends, but nothing more.
“Nano, I’ve decided on my new name: Jayda Locke.”
I needed a middle name, so I added “Lucia” as an homage to Aunt Lucy: Jayda Lucia Locke.
“Nano, what do you think?”
I didn’t exactly hear a “harrumph.” I didn’t hear any enthusiasm from the nanomites, either.
They replied, If that is your decision, and left off the Gemma Keyes tag I was so accustomed to.
Fine! Be that way! Stupid, stubborn nanomites.
But I felt my chest tighten. I would never hear them say my name again.
***
Over the next week, the nanomites fabricated and brought the pieces of Jayda Locke’s persona together: birth certificate, social security number, immunization and medical records, high school diploma, college transcript and degree, and New Mexico driver’s license. Even a passport.
And seven years of tax returns? That trick had to have taken some serious manipulation of data—behind some seriously well-protected firewalls.
Firewalls? Meh! No firewall could keep the nanomites out.
Wherever paperwork should properly reside, the nanomites produced a digital copy and filed it there. They backstopped my identity in one-hundred-twenty-seven separate places, including the files of grade schools and middle schools, social media, online shopping accounts, and “former employers” (the last being Lockheed Martin in Littleton, Colorado). They even provided Jayda with a heritage.
Seems Jayda had parents and grandparents (deceased, of course) and a family tree that went back seven generations. I figured out how they did it, and it was quite clever, really. The nanomites went back five generations and altered two separate genealogy records to add another sibling to each record, a male to one and a female to the other. They “married” the man and woman and created a whole new line of Locke family members—of whom Jayda was the present sole descendant.
Like I said: clever.
In a move that forever removed Kathy Sawyer from my life, I went to my bank and closed out her checking account. The nanomites had already closed her online shopping accounts, paid off her credit card, and canceled it.
Kathy’s month-by-month lease on the apartment ran out at the end of the week. I hadn’t renewed it. In fact, I’d given my notice and wouldn’t be returning to the apartment after today. Everything I owned fit into one suitcase, and I placed that suitcase in the back of the Escape—also soon to be discarded.
I left the apartment for a beauty salon. I asked for highlights and a shorter cut. When I left the salon, I looked exactly like Jayda Locke’s license photo.
With driver’s license in hand (and the nanomites altering my appearance as we’d designed Jayda), I rented a new apartment and moved in. The nanomites provided a written reference from Jayda’s “previous” rental; however, since I didn’t want my new landlord calling Jayda’s “previous” landlord, I plunked down three months’ rent and an exorbitant damage deposit.
In cash.
I guess money really does talk.
I took my new lease agreement and opened a checking and a savings account, depositing a modest amount in both and planning to deposit smallish amounts into my accounts over the next weeks. Walked away with a debit card in my hand and a credit card in the works.
Ready money wouldn’t be an issue for a while: I still had half of the cash I’d dug up in Mateo’s back yard, and I’d returned to Dr. Bickel’s safe house to retrieve the cash embedded in the cinderblock wall next to the alley. The explosion had demolished the top half of the wall; I was grateful when the nanomites found the wrapped bundle buried beneath the rubble of broken cinderblock.
Afterward, I wandered my way through the remains of the house. There wasn’t much to see. I nudged and toed chunks, pieces, splinters, bits, and shards of building materials and furnishings, most fragmented or burned beyond recognition.
Then I saw it.
You know how tornados and wild fires are notorious for leveling entire neighborhoods or forests but leaving a lone home or a single tree untouched? The debris of the safe house proved such caprice.
Face up, rinsed clean by a recent shower, I spied one intact bathroom tile. The faded turquoise gleamed up at me from the rubble. I picked up the tile, ran my fingers over its glossy surface, and tucked it into my purse.
“Thank you, Lord. I will keep this as a reminder of the many ways you sheltered me through those dark times.”
~~**~~
Ch
apter 31
A new furnished apartment, some new clothes, and a nice, late-model vehicle purchased from a private party (all legal and in-person) and Jayda Locke became an established resident of Albuquerque—but the dreary winter days dragged on.
I picked up a new phone, bought a new Bible, shopped for new dishes, kitchen gadgets, sheets, towels, and blankets. Picked out a new laptop. Ordered new Kamagong sticks—from a different (and, yes, new) vendor.
New, new, new.
I’m starting to hate “new,” I groused.
With more energy than I needed coursing through my body and not enough physical or mental activity to keep me from going bonkers, I returned to my long morning runs and nightly regimen at the dojo. Ten miles of running during the day and four or five hours of intense workouts with Gus-Gus ensured that I could sleep the few hours my body required.
As for Gus-Gus? He worked me as hard as I could bear—which was pretty hard, considering normal human tolerances. What irked me was that no matter how good I got at stick fighting, he was always an increment or two better than me and was never entirely satisfied with my performance. He was forever egging me on to do better.
I figured the nanomites had programmed him to keep challenging me, and I guess I was good with that—but, oh man. Somedays I wanted so bad to wipe that smug, superior look off Gus-Gus’ face!
In my spare time, I explored my new-to-me Facebook and Pinterest profiles. Apparently, I’d been on Facebook for six years and Pinterest for four. My Pinterest boards centered around historic themes, especially early New Mexico photos.
Interesting. The nanomites know me well.
While I had “acquired” lots of followers on Pinterest, I had few friends on Facebook. I browsed my posting history and found that my Facebook experience centered around various pages and groups rather than interpersonal relationships. It would have been difficult for the nanomites to build Jayda Locke a friends list that had history to it. No matter; I liked what I saw in my newsfeed.
Facebook popped up a page it thought I would like: Downtown Community Church.
“What the heck.” I clicked on it, read through the list of events and activities—and got stuck on a Friday evening Bible study for young adults.
The group was led by DCC associate pastor Zander Cruz.
My finger traced his face on the screen, and I stared at the images of a circle of chairs and the earnest faces of men and women around my age discussing Scripture. I was hungry to know God’s word better. Longed to learn more.
Well, why couldn’t I?
I looked up the meeting time and place.
***
I checked myself in the mirror a third time. No, it was not Gemma Keyes looking back at me. The reflection was disconcerting on one hand and reassuring on the other. I took a deep breath, got my purse and Bible, and headed out the door.
The young adult study group met in the fellowship hall at the rear of the DCC building. Maybe ten cars in the lot told me that some of the group’s members had already arrived. Feeling nervous, I waited until another car arrived and a young woman got out. As she started for the doors, I joined her.
“Hi! Are you new?” she asked.
“Um, yeah. Yes.”
More “new” than you’d ever believe.
“Welcome. I’m Nance Peterman.”
“Jayda Locke.”
“Good to meet you, Jayda. I’ll introduce you around.”
She grabbed my arm and steered me toward the coffee bar. “Hey, Izzie. This is Jayda. This is her first time here.”
Gah! My legs almost buckled. It hadn’t dawned on me that Zander’s sister might—would almost certainly—be at the study!
Izzie, boundless energy personified, ran out from behind the coffee bar and grabbed me in a tight hug. “Hi Jayda. I’m Izzie Cruz. I’m so glad you’re here! Since it’s your first time, you get a free cup of coffee.”
“Um, cool. Thank you.” I struggled to find something else to say. “So, uh, what is the group studying right now?”
Izzie bounced back behind the counter and picked up an empty cup. While she filled it, she chattered on about the study.
“We’re in the Book of Romans. My brother leads the study, but don’t worry. He’s not one of those pontificating kind of teachers. He’s more of a facilitator of conversation. Says that applying the word to our hearts and lives is the most important aspect of a study.”
I shivered with relief. Izzie didn’t recognize me, didn’t have a clue—but, then, she and I had only met a few times.
The real test would be Zander—Zander, who knew me so well. Would he see through the nanomites’ disguise? Even though I no longer looked or sounded like Gemma Keyes, would he see past those things? Would some intangible part of me sneak out and speak to him? Or would I remain anonymous?
I took my coffee and followed Nance to a circle of chairs. We took seats together and Izzie joined us, plopping down on my other side.
Zander had been talking to a group of guys. At a signal from him, the guys broke up and found their seats in the circle.
I hadn’t seen Zander until that moment, but one glimpse set my heart pounding.
He looked tired and wonderful at the same time.
“How’s everyone tonight? Shall we get started? But before we do, it looks like we have a visitor. Izzie, would you please introduce her?”
Izzie jumped up and gestured toward me. “Hey, all. This is Jayda Locke. Jayda, this is ‘everyone.’ I’ll let you tell the group a little about yourself.”
Talk about on the spot! My throat closed and I choked on my coffee and started coughing.
Zander nodded. “Don’t be alarmed, Jayda. We don’t bite—well, not too often anyway.”
The fifteen or so within the circle laughed. I did, too—when I caught my breath.
All eyes were on me. Izzie patted my leg. I cleared the lump out of my throat.
“Well, um, as Izzie said, my name is Jayda. I’m a new Christian, and I . . . found this Bible study group on Facebook, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
“We’re glad you’re here, and I hope we make you feel welcome. What do you do, Jayda? What are your interests?” Zander asked
I relaxed a bit. “Let’s see. I’m an Albuquerque native. I lived out of state last year, but I’m back and looking for work.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Zander prompted me.
“Mostly project management, although I’ll take whatever comes my way first.”
“Well, that’s serendipitous,” one of the guys to the right of Zander said. “I work at Raytheon and saw a posting for a project controls specialist this morning.”
“Really?” Raytheon was a solid company with contracts in various government branches.
“Yup. Give me your number after the meeting, and I’ll text you the link.”
The guy next to him snorted. “Riiiight, Josh. Way to get the new girl’s number.”
Amid hoots and more ribbing, the same guy yelled across the circle, “Jayda, I’m Todd. Give me your number, and I’ll do a job search for you.”
Well, that set everyone off again, and I couldn’t help but laugh with them. It looked like Jayda was attracting the kind of attention Gemma never had. I didn’t mind—in fact, it was flattering, except . . . Zander, with a tolerant smile on his face, was paging through his Bible. It seemed that he had no interest in Jayda.
He was kind. Cordial. Personable. And insensible to my disguise.
He raised his hand, calling for order. “Now that all the guys have made Jayda feel about as welcome as a lone wildebeest stumbling onto a pride of lions . . .”
More laughter.
He caught my eye across the circle. “If they get too annoying, just beat them off with a stick, Jayda. You have my permission. I’ll even help.”
The girls cheered and the guys groaned. I admit that I snickered.
“Let’s open to Romans 2. We had a lively discussion on judgment from verses 1-3 last week,
but this evening we’re going focus on two points found in verse 4: The relationship between God’s many loving attributes and repentance. Yes, repentance.”
That drew a collective groan from the group.
With that same patient smile, Zander ignored their protests. “All right, everyone. As soon as you all find Romans 2, we’ll read the verse together.”
While Zander waited for the group to open their Bibles to the right chapter, Izzie leaned toward my ear. “Don’t mind my brother. If he’s a little subdued, it’s because he recently lost a good friend.”
My head snapped up. “Oh?”
“Yes. You might have read about her or seen her on the news. Her name was Gemma Keyes. She and her sister were killed when their house blew up. Just horrible. Really hit Zander hard.”
I licked my lips. “Was . . . was this girl special to Zander? I mean, well, you know.”
“I don’t know for sure. Zander is cautious and careful not to play fast and loose, if you take my meaning. But . . . well, I think she was special to him. I just can’t be sure.”
She shook her head. “To tell the truth, he won’t talk about it—which only makes me think he is hurting more than he lets on.”
“This . . . Gemma. I heard, um, things about her.” I couldn’t help it. I had to know what Izzie believed about me. About Gemma.
“You mean how every law enforcement agency in New Mexico was looking for her? How the media painted her as a terrorist or said she had committed some kind of national security crime? The weird part is that none of those things jibe with the Gemma Keyes I knew.
“Well, actually, I didn’t know her all that well, but Zander? When I asked him about the accusations, he just got this angry look in his eyes like he knew something I didn’t and lectured me with, ‘Don’t believe ill of someone until they’ve been proven guilty in a court of law,’ and—”
“Izzie? Something of importance you’d like to share with the rest of the group?” Zander skewered his sister with one of those arched-brow, reproving looks I’d seen him use during their playful sibling banter—which only brought on more laughter from the group.
“Nope. It’s all girl talk over here, bro.” she sent him her own wide-eyed, innocent, stare, “Nothing you’d be interested in.”
Stealth Retribution Page 32