Breaking the Honor Code

by Stanalei Fletcher

  And what about the IP Tom said originated from Idaho? Was that a clue? Had she made a mistake by exposing the location? What if apprehending her had forced her hand? They’d tightened the noose back at the safe house. Maybe she had to supply a location to keep suspicion away from herself. And Sloan took the bait. Despite his personal conviction of her innocence, he had no choice but to question her story again.

  No. He mentally shook off the doubt. His gut told him something was off. Allison wasn’t a criminal—he’d stake his reputation on it. There must be another explanation. He hoped to find it soon.

  An hour after they’d raided the apartment, Tom had finished unhooking the cables and prepared the machines for transport. One by one, the monitors, CPU, modems, routers, and even the table were carefully packed for the ride back to the FBI house.

  Sloan paced beside the SUV as the boxes were loaded. He was anxious to return to the safe house. Tom may be good, but Allison was better. If she looked through the computers they were bringing back, maybe she could find clues to the location of the real hacker.

  It was nearly midnight when they pulled into the safe house’s driveway. Sloan was excited to see Allison again. He’d never felt this connection with any woman before. He longed to see her smile. Hear her laugh. Tom thought they were returning with more evidence against her, but Sloan knew he was bringing back the tools to prove her innocence.

  He sprang from the car and rushed to open the front door for the agents caring the confiscated equipment.

  The door was already open.

  He kept a hand on his weapon and cautiously walked inside. The place looked the same as when they’d left. Agent Kane probably saw them arrive and opened the door for them, then returned to guard Allison and Mitch. He lowered his hand as Agent Roberts came in and cleared a place on the tables to set up the confiscated computers.

  While the others were occupied unloading the boxes, Sloan looked around. Allison was probably in one of the back rooms with Agent Kane and Mitch. It was late. She’d want to rest with Mitch.

  The house was too quiet. He couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.

  He strode down the hall and stopped at the room where Agent Kane took Mitch earlier. The door was ajar and the light was on.

  A bad feeling crept up Sloan’s spine. He slowly pushed on the door to look inside.

  Bedcovers were rumpled. On the floor, next to the bed, Agent Kane lay facedown—a dark pool of blood under his head.

  Sloan knelt beside the agent and pressed fingers to the side of his neck. There was a faint pulse. “Man down in here,” he shouted. “Call 9-1-1!”

  Agent Roberts and Tom rushed to the room. Tom paled when he saw the blood. Roberts swore and pulled out his cell phone.

  Sloan left the room to search the rest of the house for Allison and Mitch. His heart pounded as he turned on all the lights, looked in every corner and closet, hoping to find them.

  He found no one. Allison and Mitch were gone.

  An ambulance arrived five minutes after Agent Roberts made the call. Confusion reigned while the agent’s unconscious body was lifted onto a stretcher and rushed away in a flurry of lights and sirens.

  A team of forensic specialists arrived next. Soon the house swarmed with men in white coveralls and plastic gloves. Prints were lifted. Trace evidence collected and tagged. Bloodstains were photographed. Everyone stayed out of the way—touched nothing—until the forensic investigators left.

  A somber mood settled over the occupants of the safe house. After reporting in to O’Neal at Northstar and getting his ass chewed for losing Allison, Sloan wandered from room to room once again, searching for any sign of where Allison and Mitch might have gone. He struggled to stay calm. At the firm, he was the voice of reason when others overreacted from the emotional trauma of a case. Now, at the center of his worst nightmare, panic clawed at him.

  With Allison and Mitch missing, the only clue rested with Agent Kane—and he was fighting for his life. While the task force worked on the computers, Sloan wandered back to the room where he’d found Agent Kane. The bedroom was taped off. He didn’t breach the barricade, but couldn’t stop staring at the blood and crumpled bedding.

  He imagined a frightened young boy helplessly watching while his FBI protector was gunned down. Had Allison been with Mitch? Had she relived the terrifying moments of her own shooting? Or had she pulled the trigger, like the FBI thought?

  Sloan wouldn’t—couldn’t accept that Allison had shot Kane. She wouldn’t have traumatized Mitch by shooting someone in front of him. Sloan believed in her innocence, and he would prove it.

  Tired of his thoughts racing in circles, frustrated at feeling useless, he walked back into the main room. Tom had the computers’ hardware scattered all over the table.

  “How’s it going?” Sloan hoped for some good news.

  “Slow.” Tom’s forehead scrunched in concentration. “We’ve got the hard drive out, but I can’t get a good connection.” The tech pulled a lead off the hardware and picked up another.

  Sloan nodded, although he didn’t really care at the moment. “I’m stepping outside for some fresh air.”

  Agent Roberts looked at Sloan with a nod of understanding. Tom grunted, his attention already returning to the hardware.

  Outside, no stars or moon shone through the dirty night air. In Idaho, after the snow had stopped, the air was crisp and clean. Sloan had seen what a true night sky should look like. He couldn’t believe the heavens held so many stars. They were so close, he could have almost reached up and touched them.

  He understood Allison’s need to get away from surroundings that reminded her of the shooting, but he’d wondered how she could leave such a magical place. That was another item to add to his “ask Allison” list. He just hoped he’d have the chance.

  Although the sky wasn’t clear, the cool air cleared his mind a little. Prowling around the house wasn’t helping Allison, nor was it locating the hacker. They had the register of names Allison’s program generated. There must be a clue there. He’d start profiling the most likely candidates with reasons to hack into Northstar’s system. From that information, maybe he could develop a lead on Allison’s disappearance and Agent Kane’s shooter.

  Dragging his gaze from the sky, he turned toward the house. As he started up the walkway, the porch light reflected off an object half buried in the weeds. He reached down and pushed the weeds aside.

  Mitch’s tablet. The screen was black, but the power LED glowed.

  Sloan’s pulse pounded with excitement. Picking up the tablet, he felt reconnected with Allison and Mitch. He missed her, and Mitch, too.

  Mitch would never leave his tablet behind by choice, not if Allison had taken him with her. He definitely wouldn’t have tossed it away.

  Sloan’s stomach bottomed out. Finding the tablet was proof enough for him that Allison and Mitch were in trouble. The boy must have dropped it or had it taken away by force. They must have been taken against their will.

  Clutching the game, Sloan turned toward the SUVs. “Please,” he whispered to the night. “Please let them be alive.”

  He jumped inside the nearest vehicle, determined to find Allison and Mitch before anyone else. He reached for the ignition, but the key wasn’t there. Nor was it tucked inside the visor. Pounding the steering wheel, he felt as if he were perched on the edge of a cliff, anticipating a plunge into a never-ending abyss. As far as the FBI was concerned, the entire case had moved from the ranks of cyber-terrorism to attempted homicide. And Allison Richards topped their suspect list.

  He rarely asked for divine intervention, but he sent another request heavenward for the agent to survive. Until Kane regained consciousness, no one would know exactly what happened.

  This was all Sloan’s fault. His pride and damned self-righteousness had manipulated Allison and Mitch to come to Los Angeles. Guilt burned in his gut. It didn’t matter that he’d been following orders. Allison and Mitch’s lives could be forfeit. T
he thought of them dead seared his soul.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Allison was tossed to the floor, hands bound behind her back. Although blindfolded, she heard Mitchell struggling. His shouts were muffled as though his mouth was taped shut, like hers. Thank God, they hadn’t been separated. She didn’t know what she would do if they had taken Mitchell away from her.

  The ominous click of a knife blade snapping into place triggered a hot-cold rush over Allison’s skin. She couldn’t scream with her mouth taped. This is it, she thought. I’m going to die. Mitchell, too. All my fault. I didn’t protect him.

  A hand on her back forced her to her knees and then onto her stomach. Cold metal pressed against her wrist. Her body clenched in a defensive reaction. She sent a silent apology to her sister. Then the blade slit the tape, freeing her wrists.

  Allison rolled onto her back, sat up, and lifted her blindfold. The room was dark except for a faint light around the edges of the door. She squinted, searching for Mitchell. Movement to her left told her whoever cut the tape was still in the room. Her eyes adjusted, and she saw a shadow hovering over her nephew. She started to launch at their captor, then paused as she heard the tape sliced, freeing his wrists, too. As the shadow moved away and opened the door, she glimpsed a massive man silhouetted in the door before it closed.

  “Wait,” she tried to shout, but the word came out in a muffled bark through her still-taped lips. The only answer was the snick of the lock.

  She listened as the footfalls grew distant, then peeled the tape off her mouth. “I’m over here,” she whispered to Mitchell, trying to keep her voice steady. She was scared. Not for herself, but for her nephew.

  Mitchell had removed his blindfold, and followed her voice, scrambling to her side. Allison gathered him in a tight hug. He laid his head on her shoulder with a muffled whimper and squeezed back.

  After a moment, she leaned away and peeled the corner of tape over his mouth. “Hold still, this will hurt.” She jerked the tape quickly, wincing as she did. “Are you okay?”

  “Ouch!” He rubbed his lips. “Yeah. I’m okay. Are you?”

  “I’m not hurt.” Even if she was, she wasn’t going to say anything that would frighten Mitchell.

  “Where are we?” He twisted his head trying to look under the door.

  “I don’t know.” She had attempted to count the turns and identify how long they’d traveled in the van before they stopped and were shepherded into this room, but worry for Mitchell had derailed her effort.

  “Why are we here?”

  “I don’t know that, either.” For the life of her, she hadn’t been able to figure out why anyone would want to abduct them.

  “Will they hurt us?”

  “I don’t think so.” Her voice wavered. She didn’t want to scare him. “If they wanted to hurt us they’d have done it by now.”

  “Do you think Agent Kane is dead?”

  Allison swallowed. It wasn’t fair to give her nephew false hope, but in their situation, they needed all the hope they could get. “I’m sure he’s fine. We need to think positive thoughts for him, okay?” Even though she’d seen him go down when he was shot, it didn’t mean he’d been killed.

  “I thought the FBI couldn’t be surprised like that.” Mitchell was probably thinking about how quickly the men invaded the house. The attack had happened fast, like the ambush that had killed Reggie and injured her.

  “Surprise attacks happen before anyone can react.”

  “I’m scared.” Mitchell grasped her tighter.

  “You’ve been very brave, kiddo. I’m proud of you.”

  “I don’t feel brave.” He buried his face against her shoulder. “How long will it take Sloan to find us?”

  His question surprised her. With all that had happened, she wasn’t sure what to expect from Sloan. Mitchell still had faith in the man, but she had doubts. Sloan’s goodbye kiss had been as bewildering as it was heart-wrenching. She’d hoped it meant he believed in her, but when he forced her to stay behind, that hope turned to bitter disappointment.

  With Agent Kane possibly dead or dying, and her and Mitchell missing, everyone, including Sloan, would think she’d shot the agent to escape. She’d make that same assumption if she were in their place. Sloan had no way of knowing what had really happened to them. Their abductor wouldn’t have left a calling card at the FBI house.

  “I don’t know when Sloan will come,” she replied. Sloan would search for them, of that she was certain, if for no other reason than to turn her over to the FBI.

  She thought back to the abduction. Agent Kane never had a chance when the two men suddenly appeared in the FBI house. They seemed to know exactly what they wanted.

  One of the kidnappers shot Agent Kane. The shooter didn’t even look at Kane as he stepped over him and leveled his gun at Allison. “Make a sound, and the boy dies.” He had whispered in her ear as he yanked her hands behind her and wrapped the duct-tape around her wrists. The other man had Mitchell bound and blindfolded before she could react. A proficient hit, by professional assailants.

  Why did they want her? And how had they found her?

  The trip to Los Angeles had been unscheduled. Only the FBI task force, Sloan, and O’Neal knew she had left Idaho. Even her sister, Caroline, didn’t know where she was. Since Allison couldn’t call the cruise ship, she’d left a handwritten note on the kitchen table, in case Caroline and Ed returned home early.

  More and more, it looked like there was an informant or double agent, either at Northstar, or inside the FBI. Everyone was ready to believe she was the hacker—why couldn’t it be someone else in one of the organizations? She’d suspected an inside job from the beginning; now she wished she’d been able to prove it.

  Instead, she’d chased in circles, searching for the source of the hack when she should have been looking closer at a motive. What did they want? Why had she and Mitchell been taken? There were too many questions. One thing she knew for certain: there would be no rescue.

  Mitchell shivered. She tightened her arms around him and tried to curb her thoughts, so her nephew wouldn’t sense her feelings. She didn’t want to frighten him even more.

  “Try to relax.” She stroked hair away from his eyes.

  “I can’t.” He tightened his arms around her. “Can’t you find a way to get us out of here?”

  She stared at the closed door. Maybe it wasn’t really locked. “Stay here.” She released him and crawled the short distance to the door. She reached up and turned the handle. It didn’t budge. “It’s locked.”

  “What about your cell phone?”

  The day had been long and tiring, with an emotional roller coaster thrown in for good measure. How else could she have forgotten something so simple? She could text for help.

  Patting her pockets, she came up empty. Damn. Then she remembered she’d left the phone in her purse, which was back at the safe house. No, that wasn’t true. She’d seen one of the kidnappers grab it as they were dragged out of the house. “I don’t have it.” She returned to Mitchell, feeling more exhausted than before. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

  “Hey, I know what would work!” He sat up excitedly. “My tablet has wi-fi.”

  Of course! If there was service nearby, she could hack the password and get a message to Sloan. “Let me see it.”

  Mitchell searched all his pockets. “It’s gone!”

  “Gone? You never let it out of your sight.”

  “I know, but I was trying to get away when they carried us out. It must have fallen out of my pocket.” He sidled up to her and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Aunt Allison. I didn’t mean to lose it.”

  She pulled him close. “We’ll get you another one as soon as we’re out of here.”

  “If we get out of here.” He gave a deep sigh.

  “We will. And you need to be ready when the time comes. Why don’t you try to sleep?”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  She knew exactly what he mean
t. However, a lot had happened since they’d left Idaho. Kids also had a way of rebounding. She was sure if he just closed his eyes, he would eventually fall asleep. “You have to try. I need you to be rested so we can deal with whatever might happen next.”

  “Like an escape?”

  “Yes. If we can find a way out.” She gave him a smile even though he couldn’t see it in the dark room.

  “Do you think we can? We’re locked in here.”

  “I have a hunch we won’t be here for too long.” She didn’t want to offer false hope, but she wanted Mitchell to be ready if they found a chance. “Do you remember some of the escape techniques I taught you?”

  “Yeah…sorta. Why?”

  She squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t know what will happen, but if we can make a run for it, there’s a good chance you’ll need to be ready if someone tries to grab you. Do you remember how to spin out of a hold?”

  “I have to move the opposite way, right?”

  “Right.” She was glad she’d taken the time to teach him some martial art techniques when she was home last summer. “What about how to break away if someone grabs you like this?” She wrapped her hand over his wrist.

  “That’s easy.” Mitchell gave a little smile. “I just do this.” He rolled his wrist until the narrow part was at her thumb and lifted up as if he was scratching his nose. Her grip broke and Mitchell was free.

  “Good for you.” She squeezed his shoulder again. “So we just need a signal in case I can’t be right beside you.”

  Mitchell was quiet for a moment. “What if I can’t see you? They blindfolded us before.”

  “Good point. What about a word?”

  “I know! That word you and Sloan used back at the house. Booshee.”

  “You mean Bushido?”

  “Yeah. That’s a good word.”

  “It is a good word.” Allison smiled and hugged him. “Bushido. You’ll remember, right?”

  “I’ll remember. It means honor.”