Occidis: Sophia Moreau, Book 1

by Aisha Tritle

“Thanks,” said Sophia, as he handed the plate to her. She had gulped down most of her food by the time Ilya sat down.

  He looked down at his plate as if deliberating if he should give his food to Sophia, then shook his head. “I’d offer you more, but it’s best not to eat too much so soon after waking up. I don’t want you to get sick.”

  “It’s fine,” mumbled Sophia. After she scooped the last piece of bacon into her mouth, she pushed the plate away and rested her head on her hands.

  “How long was I out?”

  “About thirty hours.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” said Ilya, “it was so hard dragging you around, it would’ve been nice if you’d woken up sooner—“ he met Sophia’s gaze “—but that probably wouldn’t have worked actually, never mind.”

  Her mood was starting to perk up, despite finding the situation she was in to be absolutely shitty.

  Ilya cleared his throat. “I noticed something,” he said.

  Sophia froze. His tone was pensive.

  “Your necklace…what does it mean?”

  So, he wouldn’t answer questions about his family, but he would ask her this? Sophia scoffed. “’What does it mean?’ It’s just a necklace. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It does mean something,” said Ilya. “To you.”

  Sophia’s fingers found their way to the pendant. Why was he pressing her about it? Of all people, she didn’t want to talk to him about it.

  “You’ve always had it on,” said Ilya. “Ever since I’ve known you.”

  Sophia shot him a glance. He’d noticed? But her silence discouraged him.

  “Sorry, you don’t have to te—“

  The words fell out of Sophia’s mouth before she knew what was happening. “My father gave it to me. Right before he died.” Sophia clenched her fist. Why did she tell him? And why did he look so…understanding?

  “He obviously meant a lot to you,” said Ilya.

  His blue eyes were uncomfortably close and steady. Sophia shook her head. It was time for a subject change. “What do you think Norbert thinks of you running off with me?” she asked.

  Ilya paused, fork in mid-air. “I don’t know,” he said.

  His cheeks were red; he was uncomfortable. But why exactly? It was obvious that thoughts were racing through his brain. Sophia wanted to know what they were.

  “Surely it doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Norbert’s pet recruit kidnapping the girl who was probably gonna get eliminated soon.”

  Ilya shrugged. Sophia wanted to press him more…but it wasn’t wise to irritate her captor. Was “captor” even the right word? That was technically what he was; he’d kidnapped her, brought her here. But she could probably walk out the door anytime she wanted…or not. She really didn’t know.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes as he finished his food. Finally, Ilya spoke. “You don’t know for sure that you were going to get eliminated.”

  Sophia stayed silent. She knew.

  Ilya pulled a small smartphone out of his pocket and set it on the table.

  “What’s that?” asked Sophia.

  “This phone was laying here when I got to the cottage,” said Ilya, picking up his plate and taking it to the sink. “Robert said I’d get a call the day after we arrived. Although now that he’s dead…I’m not so sure.”

  Sophia recalled how the man had met his death. Robert had definitely known the fate that awaited him. “I’m sure he made arrangements before his death.”

  Ilya stared out the window grimly. “I hope you’re right.”

  Sophia walked to the kitchen counter and examined the phone. It was basic—and not one of Norbert’s designs. She’d never seen the model before.

  Setting it back on the counter, she crossed her arms. “Also,” she said, “I do know that they were gonna get rid of me.”

  Ilya looked at her curiously. “How?”

  “I started having panic attacks—only when I was on the job…well, it happened a few other times as well. But mostly when I was on the job.”

  She stole a glance at Ilya, not quite sure why she was bothering to tell him this. “So you see,” she said, “I wasn’t going to last long.”

  Ilya turned around. The expression on his face bothered Sophia; it was one of pity. “How did I not know this?”

  “Well, you never really talked to anyone.”

  “So Davey and Kristin know?”

  “Yes.”

  Ilya pulled his hand across his face, distressed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “What for?”

  Ilya looked at her mournfully. His voice became hoarse. “I don’t know.”

  His behavior continued to confuse Sophia. She couldn’t tell if he genuinely cared about her or was only bothering with her because Robert Ingram had told him to. Why had Robert Ingram told him to get her out in the first place? Davey and Kristin had more to offer; they were far more lethal than her.

  A blaring noise broke her out of her thoughts. Ilya picked up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  9

  “You’re sure he said he’d be here within an hour?” Sophia cautiously peeked through the curtain; she couldn’t stop fidgeting with it. A pistol was in her right hand.

  “Yes,” said Ilya. “He definitely said within the hour.” He sat in an armchair, slightly more relaxed than Sophia. Another pistol sat on the table next to him.

  “You don’t think you’re gonna need that?”

  Ilya looked thoughtfully at the pistol. “No. I don’t think so. If Robert made all the arrangements, then there’s no need.”

  Sophia stepped away from the curtain and put her pistol in the waistband of her denim shorts. The cottage had come fully stocked with food, clothes, toiletries…and weapons. The selection in each of those categories was limited—except for the last.

  “So he didn’t say his name?”

  “No.”

  Sophia crossed the room and sat down in front of Ilya. “Why didn’t he say his name?”

  “Do you think I know that?” asked Ilya impatiently.

  A few seconds of silence followed.

  “No,” sighed Sophia.

  “Then stop asking questions you know I don’t have the answer to.”

  He got up and went to the window Sophia had just left. She rubbed her forehead, frustrated. Almost every time she’d start to warm up to Ilya, he’d say or do something to ruin it all. He was a difficult book to read—and she didn’t like it.

  She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, then took it back down. What if they were going to be ambushed? Maybe Robert Ingram had failed to make plans before he died, or maybe the plan had been hacked.

  But he couldn’t have been working alone, could he? There must be others. Others that were working to take down The Org.

  “Are you alright?” asked Ilya.

  Sophia’s eyes narrowed.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You just seem—“ Ilya paused “—a bit agitated.”

  A small laugh escaped Sophia. “What, do you think I’m panicking?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

  Why was he suddenly concerned again? Sophia picked up his pistol and went to the window.

  “I’m not panicking,” she said, handing him his weapon. “If I were, you’d definitely know.”

  “Just remember, I’m here if you need me.”

  Sophia scoffed before she could stop herself.

  Ilya’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sophia.”

  “Alright,” she said. “What really puzzles me is sometimes you act like you actually care.”

  Ilya’s eyes seemed to grow even wider. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that—“ she stopped.

  A black Cadillac was nearing the house. Ilya turned off the safety on his pistol.

  Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Thought you said you wouldn’t need that.”

  “I probab
ly won’t,” said Ilya. “But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Keep watch from here, and I’ll go to the door.”

  His commanding attitude bothered her again, but Sophia cautiously peered through the slit between the curtain and window. A tall man exited the vehicle. His skin was incredibly pale, his hair jet-black. The suit he was wearing looked very expensive. He began heading up the walkway to the door, leather briefcase in hand.

  “Does he have a weapon?” asked Ilya quietly.

  “I don’t think so,” said Sophia. “It’s hard to tell. But I think he looks clean.”

  Two brisk knocks resounded. Ilya waved Sophia over. “Stand here,” he said, pointing to the side of the door.

  Reluctantly, she obeyed his orders and braced herself.

  Ilya hid his weapon behind him and opened the door. The few seconds of silence that followed caused Sophia to tighten her grip on the gun nervously. Why didn’t Ilya say something?

  Finally, a clipped English voice spoke. “You’re Ilya, I presume?”

  “Yes,” replied Ilya, discreetly putting his gun in the back of his jeans. “Please come in.”

  The man stepped in, and Sophia almost gasped at his ethereal beauty. It was hard to gauge old he was, but if she had to guess, she’d say he couldn’t have been older than 35. His bone structure was finely formed; his cheekbones looked as if they could cut glass. He fixed his piercing green eyes on Sophia, then on the weapon in her hands. “I assure you, there’s no need for that,” he said, with no change in self-composure.

  Sophia quickly put the Walther back in the waistband of her shorts.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, then felt like a fool. Why had she just apologized? She had every right to be cautious.

  “That’s perfectly alright,” said the man. “You’re Sophia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jonathan,“ he held out his hand, and Sophia took it “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  The civility he displayed was a stark contrast to the tense situation. But his hand held hers a little longer than it should have; Sophia could feel Ilya’s eyes boring into her, and a chill ran down her spine. Jonathan shifted his gaze to Ilya. “May I sit down?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Jonathan settled into an armchair and set his briefcase down. Sophia and Ilya uncomfortably occupied the sofa across from him.

  “I’m guessing Robert didn’t tell you too much.”

  “He told me quite a bit, I believe,” said Ilya.

  Jonathan crossed his hands beneath his chin and looked at Ilya pensively. “Did he?”

  “Yes.”

  Sophia sensed a strange cloud of animosity beginning to form between the two men…or was she just imagining it?

  Ilya leaned forward. “Who exactly are you?”

  A bemused smile appeared on Jonathan’s face. “Could I have a cup of tea before I answer that?”

  Ilya’s countenance darkened; Sophia saw his muscles tense up. “I’d prefer if you just answered the question,” he said.

  A minute of awkward silence followed before Jonathan spoke. “My father was a part of the think-tank that came up with the original idea for Program Occidis,” he said. “I wasn’t aware of this until Robert contracted me as a security consultant for a few of his companies.”

  “Your father didn’t tell you?”

  “No, my father died before it was discovered that Norbert had continued with the plan for Program Occidis.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Sophia.

  Jonathan’s green eyes drifted back to her. “Thank you.”

  Ilya cleared his throat. “How did your father die?”

  “Cancer.”

  “Oh…”

  “Not what you were expecting?”

  “No, I was expecting…”

  “Something a little more violent?” Jonathan looked unimpressed.

  “Sophia, I have something for you.” Reaching into his briefcase, he pulled out a prescription pill bottle. “It’s your new medication.”

  Sophia felt her cheeks get warm, and a wave of self-consciousness swept over her. “My new medication?” she asked.

  “Yes, from Dr. Roth. He wanted to make sure you would get it.”

  So he already knew all about the panic attacks…or did he? Sophia studied the man for a moment. Who was he, really? Here he was, saying he had something for her from Dr. Roth. But was he telling the truth? Was Dr. Roth really on their side?

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, taking the bottle from him.

  Jonathan leaned forward, his cool composure starting to break. “I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a fix here,” he said, almost apologetically.

  Ilya frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “A wrench was thrown into the plan Robert had, so we’ve had to scrap it.”

  So Robert had had a plan after all? But that was gone now. Sophia sat on the edge of her seat. “What do you mean by a wrench?”

  Now Jonathan looked uncomfortable under Sophia’s gaze. He hesitated before speaking. “You were the wrench, Sophia.”

  “What?”

  “The original plan was for Ilya to remain in Program Occidis. We planned to use him in coordination with an outside agent to infiltrate Norbert’s communications. We would’ve used the information we learned to track down the members of The Org and terminate them.”

  Sophia felt the pit of her stomach was sinking. Everything that was happening felt so unreal— was Jonathan even really telling the truth?

  “So what happened?”

  Jonathan sighed before replying. “We had to get you out, Sophia. It was obvious that Robert’s last plea with you to leave did no good…we didn’t really expect it to. So the only way to get you out was through Ilya.”

  A lump appeared in Sophia’s throat. So she’d been right; they did plan on booting her. But why had Robert even cared? Why did Jonathan care?

  She turned to Ilya. “Did you know this?”

  Ilya’s countenance was grave; Jonathan cut in before he could reply. “He did,” he said. “He was the one who was supposed to kill you.”

  A wave of fury swept over Sophia.

  “You didn’t tell me!”

  “I’m sorry,” croaked Ilya hoarsely.

  Sophia scoffed. “You pretended like you didn’t know they were gonna kill me, but you knew the whole time.”

  “I understand you’re mad,” said Jonathan. “But could you have this tiff later? I’ve got to leave soon; I have a pressing engagement tonight.”

  Sophia turned her head away from Ilya, who had buried his face in his hands. She never trusted Ilya before, but she was sure she could never trust him now.

  “A more pressing engagement than this?”

  Jonathan ignored her question. “So,” he said. “Considering we’ve now lost our key player inside of Occidis, I’ve had to improvise.”

  He pulled a sleek laptop out of his briefcase and set it on the coffee table. “I hear you’re close to David Kang, Sophia?”

  His question took Sophia back. What did he want with Davey?

  “Yes, we’re good friends.”

  “Perfect,” said Jonathan, opening up the laptop. “Let me show you something.”

  He turned the screen toward Sophia, and a familiar sight greeted her eyes. It was a case file, like the ones she’d always gotten for jobs.

  “What’s this?” she asked, pushing it away. But Ilya grabbed the laptop and began scrolling through the file.

  “We thought that once you and Ilya went AWOL, Occidis would go into lockdown,” said Jonathan. “With Davey and Kristin grounded until further notice.”

  “I see that didn’t happen,” murmured Ilya.

  Jonathan nodded. “Kristin is still in therapy for the time being; I don’t think she’ll be going anywhere. But David is being sent to France to finish the job that you two didn’t complete.”

  Ilya set down the laptop. “According to this file, it’s in three days.”

>   “Yes, they’ve delayed the job. But it’s due to happen in three days in Nantes,” said Jonathan.

  “You won’t be able to recruit him,” said Sophia. “He’s worked too hard to protect his family. He won’t give it up to help you.” She ran a hand through her hair. Why was she even helping them? She’d been pulled out - for what? To be guilted into going along with some misguided revenge mission?

  Jonathan settled back in his chair. “I know. That’s why I’m not recruiting him; you are.”

  Sophia’s jaw dropped. “I can’t do that to him.”

  “You can, and you will,” said Jonathan matter-of-factly. “I’m sending you to Nantes.”

  “If she’s going, I’m going, too,” said Ilya.

  Jonathan shook his head. “Why would you go? That’s not part of the plan.”

  Ilya lowered his voice. “Well, it is now.”

  The two men stared at each other in silence for a minute. Finally, Jonathan relented. “Very well.”

  Sophia now knew she wasn’t imagining the animosity between them. “So tell me what the plan is. What am I supposed to say to Davey when I recruit him? What are you going to even use him for?”

  “I told you we’re going to have to intercept Norbert’s communications,” said Jonathan.

  “You can’t do that,” said Ilya, horrified. “They’ll catch him.”

  Sophia’s eyes widened. Ilya cared? That was surprising. But he was right. “You can’t do this,” she said. “What right do you have to ask for his help?”

  “I won’t be doing this, you will,” said Jonathan. “If we think he’ll be caught, we’ll get him out.”

  Sophia scoffed again. “Oh please, that’s such a bullshit answer. He barely goes off BASE—how would you even get him out? He kills tech now, not people.”

  “Norbert has been temporarily staying out on BASE since the death of Simon Graham, and according to Dr. Roth, it seems he plans to stay there to sort this mess out. I do know that this will sound risky— but all David has to do is install a device in Norbert’s room. He won’t even be the recipient of the communications; someone else will.”

  Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Norbert’s a tech genius. There’s no way you can monitor anything without him knowing.”

  “I’ve got someone who’s smarter than Norbert,” said Jonathan. “I can’t tell you the specifics as it’s beyond me, but this device will be able to absorb all the data off of Norbert’s phone and computer and transmit it once. It’s no larger than a stick of gum. After it transmits, it’ll self-destruct; it won’t actually be destroyed, but there will be no recoverable information on the device. Nothing will ever be traced back to us.”