“So what exactly did we come here for?” Sani asks, bringing us back to business.
“I need to talk to Wallace and make sure doing that doesn’t give away our position. This is the only place I can currently walk into with access to a computer that will hide my position from the CIA.” I hope, anyway.
Sani watches over my shoulder as I pull up Wallace’s custom internet browser and type in a website address. He snorts and I have to laugh; Sani is so rarely caught by surprise.
Dominic glances at the screen. “Are you kidding? Myspace? Nobody uses Myspace anymore.”
“I know. Wallace said that’s why it’s the best public way to get a hold of him. Government bots don’t trawl them much anymore and the low traffic makes it that much easier for Wallace’s to.”
“With all this technology at hand,” Sani gestures at the room, “he couldn’t come up with a better way of covertly contacting him?”
I shrugged. “Something about keeping it stupid simple or whatever.” I log in to my fake account and pull up Wallace’s. “Here goes nothing.”
I type: Hey Number One. I made it to Oz. If you have time, I could use a little help with my phone. ~Unlucky Yeah, Okay. Probably not the best secret message on a public forum, but it should work.
…
I realize I haven’t blinked for the past two minutes while staring at the screen waiting for—well, I’m not sure exactly what I’m waiting for. My eyes are sticky and slow to reopen. But when they do, there’s a nice surprise waiting for them: Wallace’s and Simon’s faces battling for space on the screen. Wallace’s hair is a strategic mess, as always. Simon’s brown eyes blink back at me under the glare of stylish black-rimmed glasses and a shadow of thick black hair hanging half in his face. They look…okay. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I’m relieved they seem unharmed. Whichever idiot thought it was a good idea to put Simon, our top intelligence guy, and Wallace in the same room together needs to be fired.
“Kitty,” Wallace’s soft accent admonishes me. “Please tell me you didn’t just risk both of our arses for phone tech support.”
“Not exactly,” I say, smiling. “How’d you manage to get a hold of a webcam? Or, you know, the web?”
Simon chuckles. “We whined about how bored we were until the guard took a hundred dollars to let us ‘play games’ on his iPad for one day. He figured it was safe since the CIA turned the wifi off.” He elbows Wallace. “It took Number One about thirty seconds to get us connected.”
Wallace’s gaze falls in a fit of modesty. “We’ve been connected for hours. One of CINDY’s auxiliaries notified me of your post.”
Sani leans over my shoulder. The press of his chest against my back shoots feelings through my body that I really shouldn’t be distracted by when so much is on the line. Still, heat builds in my stomach and inches its way to my cheeks. A blush spreads across my entire face. I hope the webcam aimed at us has terrible resolution.
“Hey, guys,” he says. They give him manly, terse nods in return. Guys.
“What do you need?” Wallace asks me.
“The guard comes in every now and then; we shouldn’t take more time than we need,” Simon explains.
I press my hands together, interlacing my fingers, and squeeze them closed until it hurts. When I was just four, my father taught me how a little bit of pain helps to clear the mind. I need to think as clearly as possible right now; I’m wading out into unknown, treacherous waters. How much should I tell them? What if the line is bugged somehow? I decide to take a play from Wallace’s book: Keep it Simple for Stupid. Or whatever it was.
“I got a phone call from an unknown number,” I say. “A number that probably has top of the line encryption and all that. Is there any way you can trace who it came from? Maybe even where?” I know—under normal operating circumstances—this would be a piece of cake for either Wallace or Simon—but now? All they have is an iPad and a dodgy internet connection. And I’m probably crippling them by not saying who I spoke to, but I know I have to give out as few details as possible. Wallace is the best in the computer business but, as my father used to say, there’s always someone better.
The tension in my shoulders collapses, and I fall back against Sani when a grin breaks out on Wallace’s face.
“Yeah, mate,” he says. “CINDY can do that in her sleep. Just make sure she can access your phone via Bluetooth or wifi and ask her.”
“Are you kidding?” I say, the breath coming out of me like air from a punctured balloon. “That easy?”
“Don’t act so shocked,” Wallace says. “I designed her myself, you know.”
Dominic speaks up for the first time since Wallace and Simon appeared. “Well, that was…anticlimactic.”
Wallace and Simon exchange frantic glances. “Who’s the suit?” Simon asks.
“Uh… He’s… Well, you see…” Oh Kitty, you are so freaking eloquent.
“He’s a friend.” Sani uses that voice he has that makes anyone believe whatever he says.
“Right.” Wallace’s eyes track Dominic as he moves around the room.
“Don’t worry, Wallace,” I say. “CINDY’s got him on a leash.”
The British dragon’s posture relaxes. The blowhard trusts a computer more than he trusts me!
Simon glances behind him and to the left. “We really should get off here.”
“Unless there’s anything else you need,” Wallace adds. For the first time, a trace of nervousness flicks across both men’s faces.
“What’s it like inside?” Sani asks. “Have you heard anything?”
“Nada,” Simon says. “They’re not telling us a single thing except that this is all for our own benefit and safety.”
“And they’re buttoned up even when they think we’re not listening.” Wallace’s grin from earlier is gone, replaced by a tight line with lips pressed together. “They don’t let more than three of us in any room at the same time.”
“Thanks, guys,” I say. “I’ll put a line out if I need anything else. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
“Will do,” they both say, in sync. Soul mates.
I want to ask about my parents. I know they’re only two of several hundred being held prisoner, and I should focus on the mission, but I can’t help myself. “And if you see them…” Impossible-to-shed tears choke my throat, and I trail off.
Wallace nods slowly. “I’ll make sure to tell your parents you’re okay.” He pauses, swallows hard, like he’s unsure if he should say something.
Simon isn’t so sensitive. “They’re spending all of their time together in here. Attached at the hip. Commander Lung uses his condition as an excuse, says she needs to take care of him, but we all know the old man is more than capable. Don’t tell them I said this, but it’s actually kind of adorable.”
“At least something good has come of this.”
I can hear the sweet smile in Sani’s voice. It fills my heart with bittersweetness, overflows and fills my other heart and threatens to spill out of me.
As always when this kind of emotion threatens my calm, I return to protocol. My posture straightens and I raise my head. “Thank you, agents.”
“No problem,” Simon says.
Wallace nods. “Good hunting. Oh, CINDY? Override all protocols. Give Agent Lung access to all of your programs and capabilities.”
A chill runs through me at his words. She was holding back?
I flick my phone’s screen a few times to turn on the Bluetooth. “Wallace says you can do this in a snap.”
CINDY’s voice fills the room, coming from nowhere and everywhere. “Well, it will take some time.”
Sani meets my eyes, his own filled with concern. It’s already one in the morning. “How much time?” he asks.
“At least five, maybe six minutes,” comes her reply.
All three of the organic life-forms in the room erupt with laughter. It’s the first time since before the Lebanese embassy that I’ve laughed freely, without a trace of
irony or sarcasm. Sani’s eyes squint and crinkle with his laughter, and they meet mine, holding them there as though there’s a physical force keeping our gazes locked. It heals me through and through.
We pass the next five minutes with circular talk about what we should do next. We don’t agree on a single thing. Five locations, none more likely than the others. When CINDY interrupts us with her cheerful but bland voice, I think we’re further from a plan than we were before we started.
“I have your results.”
It’s too simple and insipid a phrase to make my hearts explode against my ribs, but that’s what happens, just the same.
“What’d you find?” I ask.
Sani moves to stand next to me, and we both end up staring at the same arbitrary spot on the domed ceiling. The heat radiating off him is a comfort, and I feel like I could survive anything as long as he’s standing next to me.
“The phone is not registered to anyone,” CINDY says matter-of-factly.
Dominic, Sani, and I all speak at the same time, something to the effect of, “What? How? Huh?”
“I was able to retrieve the phone number, but it is not and has never been assigned by any carrier or to any person.”
My brain rattles inside my skull trying to figure out how a computer could possibly say something so illogical. How can you find a phone number that has never existed? Trying to understand this is like a dog chasing its own tail while running down a Mobius strip.
“What’s the phone number?” Sani asks, voice calm. He’s obviously processing this impossible information better than I am.
“555-264-8736.”
Sani writes it down. “We could try to call it, maybe?”
His voice doesn’t sound so sure now, and his forehead is creased with confusion and worry. We’re all grasping at straws here.
“Would you like to know where the call was made?” CINDY asks.
“Oh, darling,” Dominic says. “You buried the lead.”
I bounce on my toes. “Yes, CINDY. Definitely yes.” I’m not sure how accurate she can get with all the protections that are probably on the director’s phone—I mean, he was able to make it look like the phone number itself had never existed, after all—but if we could just narrow it down by state, at least it would be somewhere to start.
A map of the US appears on the computer screen closest to us. “I was only able to narrow it down to a one mile radius due to all the satellites that bounced the signal around.”
The sound I make is somewhere between a choke and a laugh. “Only?” I’m pretty sure CINDY is my new BFF.
The screen zooms toward the west coast. California. Los Angeles. A square of L.A. city streets that looks eerily familiar.
Three human—okay, humanoid—mouths drop open in unison. I shake my head like a Magic 8 Ball as if the picture might change to something less crazy, but it’s still there. The same L.A. city block Dominic pointed to in the cafe: the U.S. home base of the Yakuza mob.
“Are you kidding?” I scream at the ceiling.
“I don’t kid,” CINDY says.
I snap my head around and look at Dominic accusingly. “Please tell me this is some kind of joke you two are playing on me.”
He shakes his head. He looks just as dumbstruck as I feel. “She won’t even let me check basketball scores.”
My dragon roars as feelings of treachery flood my veins. The pieces are falling together, creating a terrible picture neither of us is prepared to face. Director Bean called me from within the Yakuza home base to dissuade me from rescuing the boy they kidnapped. It all makes sense, but my brain can’t accept it as truth.
Sani continues to stare at the screen like he doesn’t fully see it, like he can’t make sense of the lines and colors on the screen. He takes a step closer to it and stumbles. I don’t believe it.
Sani. Stumbles. Just the thought of it is enough to silence my dragon.
The most graceful and stealthy being on the planet just tripped over his own feet. His eyes are unfocused, and his hands shake. I don’t need to be able to sense his emotions to know what he’s feeling. Betrayal. An emotion so devastating it changes every part of you, causes irreparable damage. Faith isn’t shaken, it’s shattered. Atomized. Especially the second time around.
Seeing Sani stumble and lose control of his body isn’t the worst part. I’m absolutely terrified by what I don’t sense. His dragon is silent. No roaring in rage, no calling out to mine for retribution. Nothing. He’s not angry. I would gladly help him through an uncontrolled change one thousand times if I didn’t have to see this.
“Well, I guess it makes sense, after all,” Dominic says. “Kitsune are Japanese, Yakuza are Japanese.” He makes a balancing motion with his hands.
“It doesn’t make sense!” I yell. “That Director Bean would work with the Yakuza and a kitsune to kidnap the president’s son? In what world does that make sense?” I’ve never completely trusted Bean, but is he really capable of something like this? He knew more about my assignment than anyone outside of my Secret Service contact, but why would he do this?
“I mean, strategically—” I cut the agent off with a glare that would wither a cactus.
I turn to Sani and take a single step toward him. “Sani?” I say softly. I’m scared, I don’t mind admitting it. I’m not prepared to deal with this. I’m not a counselor, damn it. I’m a spy and a soldier; that’s all I know how to do. So yeah, that’s what I’m going to do right now.
“CINDY?” I say.
“Is your boyfriend okay, Kitty?” CINDY asks. “I’m picking up some strange fluctuations in his vitals.”
I ignore CINDY’s creepily insightful evaluation of our relationship and look at him, frozen to the spot, his dragon still silent. “He’ll be okay.” It’s not a statement, it’s a wish. A prayer to the Gods, to his God, to my ancestors, to anyone who’ll listen.
I force my gaze away from him and back to the map of L.A. “Can you find the address for the Yakuza headquarters?”
An address and the picture of a huge warehouse appear on the screen next to the one I’m staring at before I’ve even finished the word “headquarters.” I pull air into my lungs until they feel like they might burst if someone pokes me. The air spills out slowly, taking its time on its journey back into the world.
I have no idea what CINDY’s capable of. It’s time to test her limits. “Blueprints?”
The screen to the left lights up and digital pages flip on the screen, tiling as they’re pulled from the ether.
I cross my fingers for the next request. “Satellite?”
“One moment,” she says, like I just asked her for a tissue.
Thirty seconds later, a live aerial view of the building in the picture pops up on another screen. Even if the picture wasn’t fuzzy, I wouldn’t be able to see too much, but there are definitely a few dark spots moving on the roof and loitering on the streets around it.
I walk over to the screen with the blueprints and flick slowly through them. Basic warehouse construction, nothing too special. They probably keep all the cargo doors locked unless some kind of shipment is being unloaded, so I won’t be able to go in in dragon form. There are only three of us, but I’m confident we can do it. They’re just a human crime syndicate, after all. And maybe a kitsune who can instantly immobilize all of us. And probably the leader of the (until recently) most clandestine of all covert agencies. Piece of cake.
“What’s the probability that Jacob is there?” Dominic asks.
“Ninety-six percent,” Sani says. Joy rips violently through me at the sound of his voice. It’s a little dull, but it’s calculating and lucid. I glance at him and he nods once. He can do this.
“What’s the plan?” Dominic asks. He may be annoying and clumsy, but—despite all the bad things I’ve said about him—I know the president wouldn’t have sent him if he couldn’t get the job done. He looks at me, waiting for my orders.
This is my team. My team. They’ll follow me into hell if
they have to. A team lead couldn’t ask for more. As terrifying as it is, I have to take charge, and do it now.
“I’ve always wanted to see that Hollywood sign,” I say. “Tomorrow, we fly to L.A.”
Dominic’s face pales to the color of bleached cotton. “Fly?”
“Of course. We don’t have time to drive.”
He swallows hard. “Fly, as in, dragon-style?”
“It’s not like Sani and I can go on a plane; the entire country is looking for me.”
“I can go on a plane,” he says. “Nobody’s looking for me, and I get priority.”
My eyes narrow at him. “No way I’m letting you out of my sight.”
Sani gently puts a hand on my elbow and pulls me close. “You can’t carry both of us the whole way.”
“I can manage it, with frequent rests.” I say, chewing my lip. I remember how tired I was just flying from the National Mall to a suburb. Stubbornness will only get me so far. “Maybe.”
“Even if you could, you’re going to need your strength when we get to L.A.,” Sani says.
“But—” I start. Sani interrupts me.
“You’re going to have to start trusting him sometime,” he says.
“I’ll be good,” Dominic says. He holds up his right hand with three fingers pointing up, his thumb and pinkie touching in front of his palm. “Scout’s honor.”
I scowl at him. “I don’t know what that means.”
I jump when CINDY’s cheerful voice cuts in on our tense conversation. “Shall I make the reservations?”
I look at Dominic; he’s trying his best to look cooperative. Maybe it’s genuine. CINDY has already figured out I’m going to give in, and that crazy computer chick knows everything. Sani’s right, I have to trust him sometime. And hope the kitsune doesn’t find him again. “Yeah, go ahead.”
“Done,” she says. “And where do you want to sleep tonight?”
“I figured we’d just crash here.” I look around. There’s a single cot in the corner, but the rest of the cement floor doesn’t look exactly comfy. The computer chairs are perfectly ergonomic, but still made for sitting, not sleeping. We could make do for one night, though.
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