by Dana Marton
Until now, the danger part of the mission hadn’t seemed real. She had told herself all she would be doing was what she had always done: work on some program. She would definitely get out before things got too hairy. But the game they were playing was riddled with some heavyweight players. What if she got caught in the crossfire?
She was here for herself, but she was willing to help as long as she could—she had realized lives were at stake. It didn’t hit her fully until now that her own life was one of them.
Doubts were surfacing faster than bugs in freshly written software. Compared to being dead, a few more years in prison suddenly looked like a reasonable option. Nonsense. She was getting spooked, that was all. If she were going anywhere it would be to freedom, not back to where she’d come from. The sooner, the better.
She switched screens to the Internet, checked a confidential bulletin board for any word from the guy from whom she was buying fake IDs. Nothing yet. Her browser listed the main news items on the bottom of the screen. The mine bombing was still among them.
She clicked on it to see if there were new developments and was assaulted by the images again. Of course she wanted to help. Who wouldn’t? She would stick around if she thought she could stop the next attack, sure. But what were the chances of that? And she could die trying. She had already come close.
Who the hell did Nick Tarasov think he was to lecture her?
She had one chance in a million that their team would succeed and would save lives down the line. The chance of losing her own life in the process looked pretty high right now.
Why risk it?
She stared at the screen without seeing the words on it, chewing on her lower lip.
What the hell was she supposed to do? Why on earth was she spending most of her time working on the mission instead of working on her plan to get away?
On the one hand there was the healthy urge to run, on the other the pull of the challenge and something else, too, on top of that. She would be part of something big, something worthwhile.
Something dangerous.
She stared at the picture of that little boy as he watched his mother trying to piece together his father.
She’d been eight when her father had died—her father and her little brother. A truck had crossed the center line and hit them in a head-on collision as they were coming home from fishing. She’d had to stay home that day because of chicken pox. She rubbed the scar on her arm absentmindedly where she had scratched too hard and left a permanent mark.
If she went through with the mission, she would see things people weren’t supposed to see, do things you weren’t supposed to do. If she lived through it, she wouldn’t be the same person at the end as she was today.
How much did she owe to society? She’d already spent most of her twenties behind bars, for heaven’s sake.
What more did they want from her?
What did she want? She wanted to be free and live in peace and for everything to be back to normal, like before.
But the world wasn’t like before. Not like ten years ago. She knew that better than most. She’d been made to see it over and over at her trial. She wanted peace and people to be safe but, she realized now, she had wanted someone else to make it happen. People like Brant Law and Nick Tarasov. It was their job.
Was it? Or was it everyone’s?
Hers.
God, she’d really had too much coffee. Questions were just spinning through her head. Questions that she had asked before and half answered, back when it hadn’t been this painfully clear just what was at stake.
She switched back to the query she was working on, looked at the printouts. It felt right to be working on this, right beyond anything she had ever done.
And it occurred to her, coming out of the blue like programming solutions did every once in a while, that if the world she wanted to live in didn’t exist, it was up to her to make it.
This was the secret that Brant Law and Nick and countless others who risked their lives daily, in what previously had seemed futile foolishness to her, understood.
She had to make the world she wanted to live in.
Nick Tarasov, the self-righteous bastard, was right about one thing. She’d spent most of her life chasing after challenges. She sure found one now. The question was, what was she going to do about it?
This wasn’t about a deal she’d made with a couple of men at Brighton Federal Correctional Institute a few weeks ago. It wasn’t about making up for mistakes she’d made in the past. And it had nothing at all to do with the government or what they expected of her. This was bigger.
Nothing was the way it had been. And it never would be, especially not if she ran, she realized for the first time. She would have to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life. She was screwed either way. At least, if she stayed, she might save a couple of lives.
The others would be lost without her. She was the one who had to find a link to Tsernyakov; she had to get a location on his finances so Anita could track movements of money coming to him. It was up to her.
She hated the way Nick had thrown his contempt into her face. As if he’d seen to her heart and found it lacking. And she hated it even more that maybe he was right. A phase of her life had closed; a new phase was beginning. What did she want it to be about? Who did she want to be?
She drew a deep breath then made her choice. If she could in any way help to bring Tsernyakov down, she would do what it took. Hey, she hadn’t been a master-level spy in XX-4 Spy Empire video game for nothing.
She let the air out of her lungs and felt steady, her head clear. Maybe she would leave for parts unknown after this Tsernyakov guy was in the can.
Time to get to work.
She read the list of file names on the screen in front of her. She’d been provided with a laptop for home that was just as powerful as the PC they’d given her at work. Since Nick had treated her arm—a very uncomfortable experience, having him touch her and pay that close attention to her—she’d broken through the defenses of another shady company on her list. She was scanning the contents of the largest directories when the phone rang.
“It’s Nick. I’m coming back.”
She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes after midnight. “Okay.” She straightened her pink T-shirt and combed through her hair with her fingers.
He was knocking on her door by the time she made it to the hall mirror.
That was quick. She glanced into the mirror and made a face. She looked all googly-eyed, like someone who’d been staring at a monitor a few hours too long and wrestling with life-altering decisions while she was at it. It didn’t matter. He never noticed what she looked like anyway, and she sure wouldn’t have cared what he would have thought if he did.
“Forgot something?” she asked as she opened the door.
“I moved in.”
She looked at the plastic bag in his hand as her heart leaped into her throat. What was he talking about? “We’re not that good friends.”
His lips twitched as he walked straight to her bedroom. “I’m your new neighbor.”
She followed and stared as he opened her closet and dumped her clothes on her bed, hangers and all.
“What are you doing?” Her brain finally got off the code she’d been writing when he’d interrupted and focused on him as he stepped inside the closet.
“Making a shortcut.”
He took a small tool from his bag, something that looked like an oversized switchblade with a serrated edge. He shoved the point into the drywall in the back of the closet and turned it on. The thing made about as much noise as an electric razor.
He cut a rectangle, about two feet by four, and removed it. She could see into the next apartment. A piece of drywall about the same size and a pile of yellow insulation lay on the carpet on the other side.
“When did you do that? I didn’t hear anything.”
“I cut while the air conditioner was going.” He stepped through the hole. “Welcome
to my place.”
Nick Tarasov was her new neighbor, with a secret door to her bedroom. That woke her up as no double espresso could.
Why was he doing this? Was he trying to protect her or keep an eye on her? Had he figured out what she’d been up to? She had found his little spy program on her laptop, and wasn’t impressed by it.
“Wait a minute.” She held up a hand, unsure how to proceed, knowing only that this was way too close for comfort. “I don’t think you should do this.”
“Somebody tried to kill you.”
“It could have been a coincidence.”
“And until we know for sure, I’ll be keeping as close an eye on you as I can. This will give us quick access to each other. Plus, think of it as an alternate exit in an emergency.”
“How about the others?” She peeked through, but stayed on her own side. “What if this is about all of us and not just me?”
“They know to keep their weapons close and operate on full alert. If any danger is detected that threatens them, we’ll reevaluate. The fact remains, you are the only one who was targeted so far.” He stepped back over to her side. “Are you going to bed anytime soon?”
She blinked a few times, untangling the thoughts in her head. “I was going to work maybe another hour. I cracked LexNux.”
“Yeah?” He arched an eyebrow then nodded. “Good work.”
She shrugged off the acknowledgment, but it felt good. “I’m going to scan through the folders, see if anything pops. I’ll do a more thorough search tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll fix this then.” He nodded toward the hole. “I want to make it so if someone comes in and searches the place, he won’t know that there’s a door here.”
She stared at him. That she wouldn’t be safe in her own apartment hadn’t occurred to her until now. Having him next door didn’t seem like such a bad idea all of a sudden.
“I—” She hesitated, wanting to tell him about the decision she’d made. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. What could she say? That until now she’d been going at her own sweet pace, playing for time? That she’d been too stupid to realize how serious this all was? That after basically playing around for weeks, she was now finally committed?
He stopped what he was doing and turned toward her. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. I just wanted you to know that I’m doing everything I can.” She would go through with the mission, the implications of which left her mouth dry.
He watched her face for a long second or two, then gave her a killer smile that had all kinds of things mixed in it: surprise and understanding and maybe even a little pride. Nobody had ever smiled quite like that at her before.
He knew.
Some of the tightness in her chest eased.
For the first time in a long time, she felt herself on the same page with another person, no pretenses. The feeling was scary, but at the same time, decidedly good. Although, if she had to pick a person to have that kind of connection with, she wouldn’t necessarily have picked hard-ass, commando Tarasov.
He seemed able to figure out what was going on inside her head with frightening accuracy. Something to keep in mind, she thought. That way lay trouble.
Chapter Five
“Are you okay?” Anita came out of her office as Carly walked in. “What happened last night?” She wore a light silk suit that matched her eyes, looking every bit the high-ranking executive she’d been before she was shipped off to prison. Vice president of accounting—that was what she’d told the women, as if it had been no big deal.
Gina walked by the admin station in the middle and stopped next to Sam.
“I took a spill.” Carly shrugged, eager to get behind her PC and cross-reference the client lists for all the companies she’d gained access to so far. Any client that had business with more than one money-laundering firm, she considered big fish. And if Tsernyakov was all that, he wouldn’t be swimming with small fry. If she got a handle on who the real players were, it would be a major step in the right direction.
“Does your arm hurt?” Anita came closer. “Can I help with anything?”
“It’s fine. Thanks.”
“We shouldn’t have left without you. But you seemed so wrapped up in what you were doing. Sorry,” Anita said and looked it.
“It’s okay. None of us expected this.”
“You never saw the guy before?” Gina asked.
“I don’t think so. I only caught a glimpse. I was too busy trying to get out of the way.” Carly inched toward her office, uncomfortable with being the center of attention.
“It’s weird, you know.” Sam came around her desk. “Like, wow…When Nick called last night, I thought he was joking. Testing us or something. I didn’t think we would really be in danger.”
“Thinking like that will get you killed,” Gina said, but with no bite to her voice.
“So now what? What if whoever it was tries again?” Sam asked.
“We’ll be extra careful,” Anita said.
“Damn right,” Gina added. “It’s time we started to act like a team and have each other’s backs.”
Carly stopped to look at them. Team? For the most, each worked at her own desk on her own piece of the puzzle. Anita was going through financial records Brant Law had gotten them from the IRS on the major players on the island and whatever Carly had been able to turn up on the target companies so far. Gina had been given access to most of the classified law-enforcement databases and was looking for connections there. Sam, when not helping one of them, sulked at having to play the underling.
After two weeks, it was abundantly clear that they didn’t trust each other. They didn’t even seem to like each other, although Anita wasn’t half bad. You wouldn’t know she had four mil stashed away by looking at her. She had this odd tendency to mother the rest of the team, make sure everyone was okay. Which was pretty amusing considering the team members. They weren’t a pack of debutantes, for heaven’s sake. They were ex-cons, every last one of them.
Some might have been semi-successful criminals on their own, but as a team they sucked. They had about as much chance as an unprotected network against a coordinated Trojan virus offensive. And yet, they had to make it work. And she had to take responsibility for her own role in building the team. She could no longer sit back and wait for it to happen, weigh the chances with detached skepticism.
“Nick said he’ll keep a close eye on the office,” she offered. “We’ll do our part.”
Anita nodded, her face softening into a cautious smile of relief. “I just thought…We still barely know each other. At the firm where I worked we had this consulting company who used to come out once a year to do team building. We would ask questions like, how about we tell each other one thing we don’t normally share with others?”
“I hate consultant mumbo jumbo.” Gina sneered. “They tried that once at the precinct. When it didn’t get everyone ticked, it had us laughing our asses off. Does anybody believe in that stuff?”
Carly pretty much agreed with her, but wanted to make a good faith effort. They had to do something. Anita was at least trying. “I jumped out of a helicopter once. Parachuted. In college.”
“No kidding?” Gina actually looked impressed.
Back when she’d done it, most of the kids in her class had thought she’d made it up. Nerd trying to look cool and all that.
“We’ll have to keep that in mind for the mission,” Anita said. “Okay, I was married once. A long time ago. No use to the mission whatsoever, but it’s something I don’t normally talk about. We were young. He was killed in a drive-by. He wasn’t in a gang or anything. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Gina’s face softened. “Seen that happen too many times. Kids?”
Anita shook her head.
Gina drew a slow breath. “I was married, too,” she said. “Divorced. No kids either.”
All eyes turned to Sam. Silence stretched in the office.
“Leave me out of t
he touchy-feely stuff.” She walked back behind her desk, careful not to look at any of them, her face showing disinterest and defiance.
Anita didn’t seem offended. She looked as if she might go over and hug her. Carly was pretty sure Sam wouldn’t appreciate that just now. Anita must have drawn the same conclusion because she didn’t move.
“As far as the bad guys are concerned, anyone gets up here with misguided intentions, you take cover and leave him to me,” Gina said, breaking the tension.
Carly nodded. Fine with her.
Sam gestured between the front door and her desk that faced it. “Guess who’s first in the line of fire?”
Gina stared at the reception desk for a second. “Looks like you’ve just been promoted. We’ll switch places for the time being.”
And if that wasn’t weirdly teamish, Carly didn’t know what was. “I better get to work,” she said and fled in the direction of her office before Anita brought up the idea of a group hug. That was more progress than she could handle in one day. “About the name I sent around yesterday,” she called over her shoulder. “If you come across anything on Peter Alexeev, I’d love to know.”
She didn’t look back until she was safely behind her monitor. Maybe they were bonding. Or maybe, after the time they’d spent together, after the sobering events of the night before, they were simply accepting that they would have to work together to make it.
She logged on and brought up the files she was planning on working with that morning, focusing on things that she was much better at than the intricacies of relationships.
Peter Alexeev.
Hackers had instincts as sharp as TV-drama detectives. And hers said she had something here.
NICK PULLED THE VIBRATING cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “Ready?”
“On my way down,” Carly said.
He had already given the other three women an invisible escort home. As always, Carly had stayed at the office longest. She was like a pit bull when she sank her teeth into a problem.
And this time, she sank them deep. Something had happened between him taking care of her arm and coming back to move into the apartment next door.