by Liz Wolfe
DEDICATION:
For John Frey.
Because he convinced me I could do anything I wanted.
Published 2009 by Medallion Press, Inc.
The MEDALLION PRESS LOGO
is a registered trademark of Medallion Press, Inc.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment from this “stripped book.”
Copyright © 2009 by Liz Wolfe
Cover Illustration by Adam Mock
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Typeset in Adobe Caslon Pro Printed in the United States of America
ISBN:9781934755068
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
I want to acknowledge my husband, Keith, for his belief in me, his support, the hours he spent listening to my plot and making invaluable suggestions—and for the name Drake Leatherman.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
1
September 16, Outside Bethesda, Maryland
“YOU LIED TO THEM? ABOUT your own father?”
“I lied about my entire life to them, Dad. I’m not even using my real name.” Zoe didn’t expect her father to understand.
“What name are you using?”
“Drummond. I’d been using it for a while when I met Shelby.”
“Why were you using a phony name? What’s wrong with Alexander?”
“I told you. I was trying to get out of the life. I was going to school to be a CPA. The few thefts I did were just to pay my tuition.”
“You hate being a thief that much?” Her father looked genuinely hurt. Zoe knew he’d always thought being a thief was an honorable profession. He had his own code of honor that he lived and stole by. Besides, she’d realized that Zeke had wanted a son to follow inhis footsteps. She could steal better than almost anyone, but she couldn’t be his son.
“It just isn’t for me, Dad. Hey, what happened to that kid you were working with?”
Zeke waved a hand in dismissal. “He didn’t work out. No finesse.” He stood and walked to the sideboard that held a silver tea service. “What’s so bad about me? About your life?”
“Well, we could start with the fact that you’re a thief. Then we could add that you raised me to be a thief. Shelby used to be with the FSA and Paige used to be a cop. I don’t think they’d really want to work with someone whose father taught her that stealing other people’s stuff is an acceptable way to earn a living.” Zoe watched her father’s hand and saw the telltale tremble. The housekeeper, Agnes, had told her about the Parkinson’s her father had developed. So far, it was mild and didn’t affect his life very much. And he’d quit doing jobs, so at least she didn’t have to worry about him ending up in prison for the rest of his life.
“But you said you were a thief when you met this Parker woman. So, she knows you were stealing.” Zeke filled his teacup. “You want some more tea?”
Zoe nodded and held her cup out while he filled it. “I made up a whole life for her. Told her I was an orphan, in and out of foster homes, learning to steal from some other thieves I met. And I really was goingto school to become a CPA, so it looked like I was doing it to survive, like I didn’t have any other skills.”
“Not like your father used to be the best thief in the world?” Zeke asked.
“Exactly, Dad.”
“So, what do you do for these people?”
Zoe set her teacup down and leaned back on the sofa. “Right now, I’m just doing paperwork. Keeping their books, taking phone calls. Stuff like that. But Shelby’s training me to be an investigator.” She grinned at her father. “I’m pretty good at it, too.”
“I’m not surprised. I’ll bet some of your thief skills come in handy, too.”
Zoe frowned at him. She wasn’t about to tell him that she’d used those very skills several times already. Besides, Shelby hadn’t been exactly thrilled about it.
“I have to get back to work, Dad. I’ve been here over a week already.”
“And you’re not going to tell them your real story? Just going to keep using a phony name? Somehow that seems like you don’t have any respect for me.”
“It’s better this way, Dad. There’s absolutely no reason they need to know that I’m the daughter of a master thief. Or that I used to be one myself.”
September 29, Portland, Oregon
Shelby punched the conference button on her desk phone and picked up her coffee cup. “Hi, Ethan. Is this a social call?” She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of coffee.
“Not exactly. I wanted to let you know that I’ve been reassigned to Langley for a while.”
“You’re working with the CIA?” Shelby asked. “Must be something pretty important.”
“It’s important, all right. And it’s bad news. The Dominion Order is up to something again.”
Zoe’s ears perked up at Ethan’s announcement. She kept her head bent over the pile of receipts she was logging, hoping Shelby would forget she was there.
“Crap. I thought you took care of them after that last nightmare we went through.”
“I thought I had. But they worked too fast for us. By the time we traced the money transfers, all the accounts had been closed. They managed to get to several of the Eastland executives and Order operatives that we captured. When that happened, the others clammed up.”
“So, what are they up to now and why are you telling me?”
“First of all, I thought you and Paige and Zoe should know, since you thwarted one of their operations. Not that I think they’ll bother trying to find you. They don’t seem interested in revenge,” Ethan said.
“What are they interested in now?” Shelby asked.
“I’m still trying to find out. We’re hearing rumors that they’re looking for a thief. And not just an ordinary burglar. It seems they want the best of the best.” Ethan’s sigh was audible over the conference phone. “I just wish I knew why.”
“I’d think you need to find the thieves they’re looking for and keep an eye on them. Then if the Order contacts any of them, you could find out what they want to steal.”
“That was basically my thought, too. I’ve got Jeremy Barstow set up. He’ll pull a few high-end jobs under our supervision, then when the Order comes calling on him, we should be able to get the information.”
“Jeremy’s one of the best,” Shelby agreed.
“Barstow’s a hack, and if the Order knows anything, they won’t be interested in him,” Zoe said.
S
helby turned to Zoe. “Just because you used to be a two-bit thief doesn’t mean you know everything about the thief world. Jeremy worked with me on a mission once.”
“Then you were just lucky. Jeremy always worked with partners. He had the brains for setting up a job but he always blew it when it came to actually getting the goods. His partners were the talent. But they didn’t get any of the credit and, knowing Jeremy,probably not much of the profit either. And I wasn’t a two-bit thief.” Zoe clamped her lips together. She’d come close to revealing her real identity. And it was too bad that she couldn’t. She’d be perfect for what they wanted.
“Is Jeremy the only one you’ve got, Ethan?” Shelby asked.
“No, actually, I’m talking with Zeke Alexander. Now there’s a thief that would get their attention.”
“He can’t do it,” Zoe blurted.
“He says he can. And the man was the best thief in the world for years. Still is, as far as I can tell.”
“Why would he want to help you anyway?” Zoe asked.
“I don’t know. He said something about it being time for him to earn some respect. I’m just glad he’s considering it.”
Damn it. Her father had suggested that she didn’t respect him and she hadn’t really done anything to tell him otherwise. She couldn’t let him do it. Not with the Parkinson’s.
“Zeke Alexander has Parkinson’s.”
“What?” Ethan asked.
“How could you possibly know that?” Shelby asked.
“Because I just saw him a few weeks ago. Zeke Alexander is my father.”
October 9, Fort Meade, Maryland
“Forrester.” Logan tucked the receiver between his ear and shoulder and continued typing a report that was already late.
“I have a message from your uncle.”
Every cell in Logan’s body went on alert. His uncle, Giovanni Castiglia, had disappeared three months earlier during a visit to his nephew. Logan still didn’t know what had happened. He’d left for work that morning after Giovanni had told him he was going to visit several museums. That afternoon, Giovanni had called Logan’s cell phone to tell him that he was returning to Italy. When Logan had questioned the abrupt end to his uncle’s visit, he’d been told to leave it alone. That he’d be in touch soon. Logan hadn’t heard from him since. It was as if the man had evaporated.
Since the death of Logan’s parents several years earlier, Giovanni was his only family. They visited each other every year or so, taking turns flying across the Atlantic. In between visits they called and e-mailed frequently. Logan had exhausted his resources in trying to find his uncle. Most of his resources. He hadn’t called the authorities. Partially because he knew theywould just explain that there was no reason for alarm. Giovanni had told Logan he was leaving, and the eccentric physicist was known to go into hibernation when he was working. Logan also knew that if he raised an alarm he’d probably lose his position at the National Security Agency. The NSA couldn’t allow a cryptanalyst to have access to national secrets if his only relative might have been abducted. But even when Giovanni had disappeared into his work, he’d always stayed in contact with Logan. Not this time.
“Take your cell phone outside. I’ll call you in ten minutes.” The caller disconnected.
Logan locked his computer, slipped his cell phone into his pants pocket, and walked down the aisle. Minutes later, he walked past the security guards in the lobby of the National Security Agency building and out onto the sidewalk. He paced around the corner and waited, checking his watch. How had the man gotten his cell phone number? Two more minutes. Logan pulled his cell phone out and stared at the dark display. The phone chirped, and he flipped it open. The caller ID showed only Private Number.
“Yes?”
“He wants you to know that he’s all right.”
“Where is he? I want to speak to him.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. Trust that he is well cared for and will continue to be so. He has a request for you.”
“A request?”
“He wants you to join us.”
“Who are you?”
“You don’t need that information at this time. You will resign from the NSA immediately. We have need of your services for an indeterminate amount of time.”
The voice was smooth and unemotional. A bark of nervous laughter escaped Logan, and he cleared his throat. “I can’t just leave my job.”
“Of course you can. And you will if you want to see your uncle again.”
Was this man really relaying a message from his uncle? Or was he delivering a veiled threat? Logan fought down the panic and pushed the confusion aside. There was no real choice to be made, but could he buy some time?
“I’ll need to give two weeks’ notice.”
The man’s laughter rumbled in Logan’s ear.
“Oh, please. You’re a cryptanalyst. One of their best, we understand. The moment you give notice, the NSA will send a guard to watch you pack your belongings and then he’ll escort you to the door.”
Logan couldn’t argue with the voice. That was exactly what would happen.
“Meet me in the lobby of the Trump Tower in New York at eight tonight. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to come alone and to not alert the authorities.”
“Will my uncle be there?”
“You’ll recognize me by a red and black tie. It’s identical to the one you’re wearing.” The caller disconnected.
Logan looked down at his red and black striped tie. How the hell had the man known what tie he was wearing? It had been in his briefcase until he’d put it on for a meeting that morning. He looked at the street and parking lot but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He shook off the creepy feeling and closed his phone. His mind raced over a plan. He opened the phone again and punched in the number of an old college chum.
“Zach Hansen.”
“Hey, Zach. That offer of a job still stand?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. I’m all yours. If you still want me.”
“Hell, yes, I still want you.”
“I’ll need a few months to get everything in order here, but I’m leaving the NSA today.”
“Hot damn! I didn’t think I’d ever be able to lure you away from your spy job.” Zach laughed. “Hey, you aren’t in trouble there, are you? Selling national secrets or anything?”
“No, asshole. I’m just burned out on it. And your offer is pretty lucrative.” Logan laughed and hoped it didn’t sound forced. “Look, the NSA will probablycall you. They investigate everyone who leaves. It’s no big deal; they’ll just ask if you’ve hired me.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Great. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks. I’m going to take a vacation, then we’ll talk about what you’re paying me so much for.”
“See you soon, buddy.”
At his desk, Logan logged back on to his computer and started a message to his home e-mail address. The few personal documents he had on his computer were sent, then deleted from his hard drive. He typed up his resignation and printed it out on the ink-jet printer on his desk. Another e-mail delivered all his notes about his current project to one of his co-workers. A phone call assured him that his supervisor would be available for the next hour.
He looked around his cubicle. His only personal belongings were a slightly wilted plant, a picture of his Uncle Giovanni and himself when he was about ten, and his coffee cup. He slipped the picture into his briefcase and tossed the cup and plant into the trash can.
The irony of the situation didn’t escape Logan. He lived in a world of spies. His job was to find ways to figure out what spies were saying on cell phones and in e-mails. There were others who found ways to keep what U.S. spies were saying on cell phones and in e-mails a secret. The thought that someone had spied on him seemed ridiculous.
He closed his briefcase, slid the resignation into the outer pocket, and walked down the hall, stopping at the desk of his superv
isor’s secretary.
“Hi, Maxine.”
“I told Greg you were coming. He’s expecting you. You want some coffee? I’m getting a cup for him anyway.”
“Thanks, but I won’t be that long.” Logan pulled the single sheet of paper from the outer pocket of his briefcase, and opened the office door. He walked directly to Greg Sullivan’s desk and held out his resignation.
“Logan, what did you want to talk about?” Greg took the paper from him and scanned it. His face lost all expression for a moment, then he frowned and looked up at Logan. “No way. I don’t accept it.” He held the paper out to Logan.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”
“Why? If you need some time off, we can arrange that. If you’re burned out on the job, we’ll move you to another position. We’ll work out the problem.”
“That’s not it. I’ve accepted a position with Micro Technologies. As a software developer.”
“A software developer?”
“I majored in computer science. And I’ve kept my skill set up to date since I’ve been with the NSA.” Logan resisted the impulse to shift his feet.
“You’ve been with the NSA for almost ten years, with the CIA for two years before that. You’re one of our best cryptanalysts. Are you sure you want to end your career with us?”
“I’ve enjoyed my work here. But I miss software development.” He grinned at Greg. “And I won’t mind making that kind of money, either.”
“There’s more to job satisfaction than just money.”
“I know. I’ve thought this through and it’s what I want.”
Greg laid Logan’s resignation letter down, lining it up with the edge of his desk. “I guess there’s no talking you out of this?”
“No. But thanks for asking.” Logan allowed himself a smile. He and Greg had always been on friendly terms. He admired the man and respected his position. “My desk is clear. I’ve e-mailed Ron all my notes on my current project. He won’t have any problem seeing it through.”
Greg held his hands up. “I know when I’ve lost an argument.” He picked up the resignation letter. “I’ll put this through. But if you ever want to come back, just let me know. If you’re ready, I’ll walk you out.”