Rundown (Curveball Book 2)

  If the CIA is responsible for O’Conner’s death, then they also put Everett and I in that sketchy hotel.

  “Why’d you fabricate the story about me getting wasted with two women and then stash us in a hotel?”

  Mark chuckles and I’m finding it extremely hard not to pummel him.

  “We needed an explanation for your memory loss. Given your history of partying and womanizing, it was the only scenario that was plausible.”

  “And the most convenient for you given your intentions toward Breanne.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “When is this going to end?” I ask.

  “Soon,” he says with certainty before walking back to his car.

  When I get back to Breanne’s place, I find her sleeping on the couch and my heart swells. She tried to wait up for me. I carefully scoop her up and she immediately stirs.

  “Go back to sleep. I’ll tuck you in.”

  “Don’t go,” she mutters.

  “Did you not see my suitcase? I’m staying here until you’re ready to move to our house. We are, however, getting a new mattress tomorrow.”

  She chokes me with a bear hug around my neck and hums sleepily in appreciation while I take long strides up the stairs.

  “Tell me what happened tonight,” she requests.

  I set her down on the bed and change into a t-shirt and sweats. I walk over to where she lies and stare for a long minute. I intended to sleep on the couch but the spot next to her is looking much more inviting. I swore I’d never consider this. Sleeping in the bed she shared with Mark isn’t all that appealing, except I’m the one who gets to be here. Shouldn’t that count for something? Does it matter that she has a past? Not once has she judged me on mine.

  No, I decide. It doesn’t matter. Joining her under the covers, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her as close as possible.

  Breanne nestles her back against my chest. “So…tell me about tonight.”

  “Practice was good,” I say, squeezing her midsection as a reminder that the house is bugged. “You’re tired, let’s talk about in the morning.”

  “This should be interesting,” I mutter.

  Standing with my arms folded over my chest in front of an oversized corkboard that extends the majority of Spencer’s apartment wall, my eyes trail over various pictures, documents and small pieces of paper with phrases and arrows linking different people and events. It’s like I’ve stepped onto the set of Law & Order.

  This shit actually happens in real life?

  At 10am, Everett pulled into an apartment complex on the outskirts of the city where our crew met Spencer and Mark. We’re apparently going to review a plan to bring all of this to an end. Why they can’t arrest Vivian knowing that she’s the devil incarnate is beyond me. I have no idea what Mark wants or how we can help, but after what Mark shared with me last night, I’m at least more interested in hearing what he has to say than in wanting to beat the shit out of him.

  “Before we get started, I’m going to remind you that this information is classified and therefore cannot be shared with anyone outside of this room. Are we clear?” Mark asks.

  Breanne, Everett, Corinne and I look to each other as if group consensus is required. Once we’re all in agreement, we’re ushered to the couches and chairs opposite of ‘the board’.

  “Black Widow Threads, more often referred to as ‘Threads’, is an anti-technology group.”

  I close my eyes as a memory flashes images of a black widow spider with the word ‘THREADS’ overtop.

  “Their original charter was to educate Americans about the dangers of technology.” Mark sifts through the papers on the table. Finding what he was looking for, he scans the paper and hands it to me. “Look familiar?” Mark asks.

  It’s the same logo I just envisioned. I look to Mark expectantly.

  “The organization was named after the way their members communicate–stealthily through carefully designed channels. Black widow spiders are known for their intricate webs. The female species have a reputation of killing their partners. While that’s not accurate aside from some classification of the black widow family, the Threads adopted that ideal by using their female members to make connections with powerful men, thereby increasing their influence and capital. Overtime those relationships, which the women controlled, proved they could be deadly.”

  He walks over to the board, takes down a picture and circulates it amongst our small group.

  “I found out about Threads by chance. While on another case I started working at the VC firm where we met,” he says to Breanne. “It lasted for nearly seven years and toward the tail-end of that assignment, I discovered Vivian’s involvement in Threads. At first, I kept a watchful eye, keeping my supervisor and mentor abreast of their activity. I infiltrated the organization by getting Vivian to confide in me and kept a watchful eye for several years. Nothing noteworthy was going on and the agency was at the point where they were going to back off. That was the plan until the founding leader, referred to as the Architect, suddenly disappeared.

  “The new leader was an unknown; an extremist. He believed that if Americans wouldn’t listen to the dangers of technology, they needed to be shown by using their own advances against them.”

  “That’s a bit hypocritical if I understand you correctly,” Breanne states.

  “Aren’t all extremist groups?” Mark counters before going on. “Believe it or not, Vivian and another member of Threads are the only ones who have met their new leader…even after years of building their trust I was never given access. Because of their new philosophy the CIA decided that I needed to get closer in order to figure out their true intentions. This is what led to me faking my death.”

  Mark takes a sip of coffee and turns his attention to me.

  “Alexis’s involvement began just shy of a year later. She became aware of a breach in Innovation Airways network, and ultimately came across the first email between Vivian and her manager, Henry Ridges, regarding Threads. She performed digital forensics to recover deleted records and personal folders on their computers by hacking the Threads’ network.”

  Standing, I walk over to ‘the board’, looking at where Mark had pointed when he said the name Henry Ridges.

  “You said Henry Ridges was Alexis’s boss. This,” I say pointing to the prick’s headshot, “is a picture of the pilot.”

  Breanne gets up and joins me, trying to recall seeing him, I think.

  “That’s correct,” he replies, taking the picture down and studying it himself. “You know what happened to the actual pilots. Henry was responsible for that and he flew the plane that day. He had been an airline pilot in his late 20’s, before his license was revoked for flying while intoxicated. He spent a few years doing odd jobs while he pursued his Associates Degree in computer science. After that, he held a few jobs in IT security for other airlines and ultimately secured a managerial position with Innovation Airlines.”

  “How’d he get involved with Threads?” Breanne asks.

  “Black widow,” Spencer says. “A female member of the organization recruited him.”

  Turning my attention back to the board, I follow a line from Henry to Alexis. Above the line is a piece of paper that reads ‘manager’ and below the line is the word ‘accident’. I remove the tack from the latter and rub the paper between my thumb and forefinger.

  Mark hands me a document and points to an email exchange between [email protected], who we’ve confirmed is Vivian, and [email protected].

  Perplexed, I look to Mark.

  “Pilots use the phrase, ‘dashes two’ as slang for a co-pilot. In this instance, Henry was the actual pilot of the flight. However, he was Vivian’s second in command, her co-pilot so to speak, which is where the nickname came from.”

  “I feel like I’m missing something,” Breanne says. “What does any of this have to do with Innovation Airways?”

  “The airline was targeted by Threads because of the technology. Membe
rs of Threads thought linking people’s thumbprints to their bank accounts and storing it was wrong. In their opinion, the misuse of that information was imminent so they set out to show the world that technology could be used against them by redirecting a plane that shouldn’t have been susceptible to an attack.”

  “Killing all those people was justified to them?”

  “The people aboard the plane were never supposed to be killed. As you’re well aware, many people aboard were heavily involved in high-tech charities. Several owned their own companies in Silicon Valley or were involved in government decisions that resulted in funding being given to those organizations. Redirecting the flight was intended to be a scare tactic.

  “But when the new leader got wind of a financial opportunity if the passengers were killed, their objective changed. This of course wasn’t widely known. Only Major Arnold, Vivian and Henry Ridges were part of that plan. No matter how close I got to Vivian, she never confided that piece of information, and I’m sure that was to limit the amount of people with whom they’d have to share their wealth.”

  “How would they get rich off of people dying?” I ask.

  “The code Henry asked Alexis to develop was…I’ll try to simplify how it would have worked. Someone is targeted for a few months before they die, maybe even longer. The person’s death could have been brought on by an accident or it could be a cancer patient who didn’t have long to live. Their home systems are hacked to gain access to bank accounts. Purchase history and basic lifestyle choices are monitored. Once Henry had access, the code would have allowed him to take small amounts of money over time, and override bank statements and other account history so that the missing funds wouldn’t draw attention. Essentially, they were rewriting history while pocketing the change.”

  Spencer steps forward and points to an advertisement that boasts Innovation Airways value proposition.

  “Major Arnold wanted to test the software on a large scale. They were already moving forward with rerouting the maiden flight and they fundamentally disagreed with the values of the people onboard,” Spencer explains. “And because of how passengers’ thumbprints linked to all the personal records they were looking for, Threads decided to use those passengers as subjects for their test case.”

  “If they didn’t have the code Alexis was supposedly developing, why’d they go forward with the plan?”

  “Simple,” Spencer replies. “It had been their plan all along. They couldn’t back out or they risked raising flags with other members. Henry also thought he could figure out the code himself, but he was unsuccessful.”

  “When the two of you survived,” Mark interjects, “the amount of information you had about what happened was unclear to Vivian and Major Arnold. That’s why they tried to track you down before anyone knew you were alive.”

  “So why’d they kill innocent people if they got nothing from it?” I press.

  “We aren’t positive, but we have reasons to believe that Vivian and Major Arnold thought Henry could figure it out up until the end. Now that Vivian knows there’s information potentially linking Alexis to knowledge of my death and Innovation Airways, she’s convinced Alexis had information hidden at her house. Vivian doesn’t know that I’m aware of the code Alexis was developing, only that they planned on diverting the plane. When Vivian left the gala, she was agitated and told me that she was concerned that her involvement in the organization was going to be exposed, though she wouldn’t elaborate. I convinced her that it was a good idea to go to California and see what she could find out about who had been there. Right now she’s probably concerned that Major Arnold will throw her to the wolves to save himself, and she’s probably right.”

  “If you knew Vivian and this Henry guy were plotting to do all of this, why is Vivian still running free?” Breanne asks.

  “Because unless we can find the information Alexis had, Vivian is the only one who can provide it. I’m talking about names of high-level, influential people who are supporters of this organization. More importantly, we need to identify their leader. Without him this organization will just rebuild itself under another name and we’ll be starting from scratch. Any downtime will cost more time, money and lives.”

  “What is it that you think we can do to help?” I ask.

  “We’re going to convince Vivian that you have incriminating evidence,” Mark says, looking straight at me. “We’re going to force Major Arnold out of hiding.”

  NINETEEN

  Likely Story

  “This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” I mutter.

  For over two hours I’ve had to listen to Mark and Spencer go on and on about their plan, which to me sounds more like a suicide mission starring Drew as the victim. I’m trying not to be too condescending, but let’s be honest; I don’t have the energy to care about sparing their egos. Not when Drew’s life could be in danger.

  Sick of fidgeting with my necklace, I pile my hair on top of my head and secure it with a rubber band. I’m so anxious that my hands won’t stay still, nor will my feet. While fidgeting with my necklace and wearing the carpet thin, I come to the conclusion that I’m having a moment—one that thousands of women have experienced since the beginning of time…

  Say you’re in the kitchen and you have a hot dish in your hand and need to get a trivet from the drawer adjacent to the stove. Only the stove and drawer aren’t just next to each other, they’re placement creates a 90 degree angle which prevents you from fully opening the drawer unless the stove is open. Why? Because when the stove is shut there’s an inch of overlap. Try as you may, the two objects always clash.

  Or imagine that you want to dry your hair in front of the mirror, because hello, where else would you dry it? Unfortunately, the only outlet is across the room. Without an extension cord you have to dry your hair in the corner.

  The placement of the drawer or the outlet might be esthetically pleasing, but when you actually sit back to analyze it, you realize it’s utterly preposterous. No one gave the designs a second thought besides the superficial requirements. They’re not functional. They’re useless. You ask yourself, ‘who would do such a thing?’ And then it hits you…they were designed by a man.

  That’s how I feel about this plan.

  “You have a better idea?” Spencer retorts, snapping me back to the present.

  Yeah, just about anything…

  “Let me make sure I understand this. You want me to call Vivian and ask her to go to dinner tomorrow night since Drew has plans with his teammates at some bar. With spring training coming up, the Red Sox will be leaving for Florida soon, and as a way to celebrate the beginning of the season, they’re going out to get shit-faced?”

  I look back and forth between Spencer and Mark until both confirm what I’m saying. Spencer appears downright defensive and Mark…I can’t quite read him, though he’s not a man that likes to be challenged.

  “Where was I? Oh, right. By hyping up the part about the team partying hard, you’re expecting Vivian to turn me down for dinner, and instead show up at the bar Drew’s supposed to be at…because drunken men apparently have loose lips and spill top secret information.”

  Mark believes that because Vivian approached Drew at a bar months ago, attempting to get her hands on similar information, that she’ll deny my invitation. Instead, she’ll head to the local watering hole and seduce Drew into giving her information. But wait…it gets better.

  “Not only have you tasked Drew with pretending to be drunk, he then needs to convince Vivian that he’s in possession of evidence that no one knows about. Vivian will take the bait, ask what it is and when Drew tells her that he found a computer chip but can’t break the password, she’ll miraculously offer to bring Drew to Major Arnold. The CIA rolls in, case closed. Did I miss anything?”

  “What specifically do you have an issue with?” Mark asks.

  Is he kidding me right now?

  My expression must do the talking for me because Mark visibly backs off.r />
  “Why can’t the two of you figure this out on your own? You’re putting Drew in danger…it’s not right.”

  I cannot for the life of me be ok with a plan that puts Drew in direct contact with either Vivian or Major Arnold. The guy masterminded some really messed up things. Who’s to say he won’t hurt Drew? And with the animosity that so clearly exists between Drew and Mark, am I really supposed to believe that Drew would be saved no matter what the cost?

  “He’ll be protected the entire time. We’ll give him a wire and a weapon if he wants one,” Mark assures me.

  “Why can’t I be the bait? Vivian’s more likely to show up for me. Plus—”

  “No!” Drew and Mark shout in unison.

  Annoyed at my participation being vetoed, I walk over to a table that has a few gadgets lying out. Watches, bracelets, pens, a Swiss Army Knife, MP3 players…you name it.

  “What’s all this?” I ask, picking up a silver women’s bracelet.

  “These are listening devices, all of which have GPS.”

  “How do they work?” I ask skeptically.

  Mark tells me to put the watch on and presses a button. He then takes a small, black gadget that’s half the size of a cell phone, and turns that on as well. “Put that on and then go out in the hallway. Say something, but quietly and then come right back.”

  I slide the bracelet on and venture into the hallway, accompanied by Corinne.

  “What should I say?” I whisper.

  Corinne laughs. “The ABC’s I guess.”

  As I recite the alphabet, we walk up and down the hall, and then return to the apartment.

  “Ok,” I say. “What’d I say?”

  “You’ve got to see this,” Drew waves me over to where he and Mark are looking at an iPad.

  I lean in so that I can see what he’s raving about. It’s a map with a dot, which at first isn’t highly impressive. What is impressive is that on the right hand side of the screen are the coordinates of my movement. I didn’t go very far, but it captured exactly where I went.