That stung him a little bit. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
“I bet after this flight,” Jackson said, “we’ll feel a little more familiar than strangers.”
“And I’m totally appreciative,” she said. “Please don’t get me wrong.”
Logan said, “No, it’s totally understandable.”
It was so understandable.
Jackson had returned to his seat slowly, then, brushing the wrinkles out of his pants, said, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better if we explain our position a bit.”
“Please,” Holly said. “I’m sure you’re all nice guys and everything, but, like I said . . .”
“Too nice, right?” Jackson smiled and said, “Don’t worry, there’s something in it for us, too, besides reining in our little spitfire over here.” He had reached over and grabbed a firm handful of Logan’s shoulder. “Let’s just say there’s some overlap in this case. Some unfinished business on our end, some new business on yours. I think we can come together and work together and find a mutually beneficial result.”
Logan had watched her face for the change, to see if she bought it. It seemed like a reasonable explanation of DARC Ops’ interest, even though he had no idea about what case Jackson was referring to. If it had even been a real case at all. But he silently and very quickly reminded himself that he was the new guy, and there had likely been a shitload of cases before and after him.
He could feel the jet taking a sharper turn, and then pausing at the foot of the runway.
“Here we go,” Jackson said. “Everyone buckle up.”
11
Holly
When the jet lifted off into the sky, the vibration of runway speed turning into the stillness of flight, she felt as close to Beth as she had in the previous several days. With each step of the way, each new development, every move closer to DARC and closer with Logan, she felt herself finally catching up to her cousin’s shadow. Holly’s shadow now, with the plane, could be visible several thousand miles below on the sun-burnt countryside of southern Texas, the small black shadow of their jet traveling over a sparse grid of dirt roads and highways.
She felt closer with these strange men, too. One of them not so strange, but still slightly unfamiliar after so many years. But even Logan, the way he insisted on sitting beside her for takeoff, and the way he kept checking in on her, even he became less strange.
Holly was prepared for him to remain distant and cold and businesslike. In her mind, she figured it would have been easier that way. Easier and understandable, and far less confusing for both parties involved. There was a serious matter to be dealt with and hardly any time or space for even a friendship to develop. Or redevelop. But the way all three of these men had taken her in, whether it was self-serving for them or not—Logan included—it showed her that she’d indeed made the right decisions. A good move not to talk to the police. An even better move not to go to Gary Johnson. Better than being alone.
She thought about that again, while looking back at Logan’s soft expression and chiseled face. Yes, better than being alone.
She’d been alone for so long. Long enough to know the pros and cons. She was through with the drawbacks, welcoming the new challenge that lay before them, the current flight with her new-found DARC Ops crew. A new bond with an old friend.
“I know it’s a little fast,” Jackson said, coming back to his seat in front of her. He offered her a tray of snacks from the bar.
She waved them away with a thanks and said, “It is a little quicker than I’m used to. But I guess I’m not used to having my cousin get kidnapped and sold into an intercontinental slave ring.”
“Not yet,” Jackson said. “She’s not sold yet.”
“I have three days to get them their data.”
“The dirt on Andrei Godev?”
“Yes. The source files. They also want access to the server so they can make sure there’s nothing left. No traces left of that shit head.”
“They won’t need traces,” Jackson said.
“Huh?”
“The government, I mean. The authorities. We’ll have a lot more than traces to go on, to get these guys behind bars. All of them.”
“Do we know how many there are?” Logan said.
“Not yet. I’ve got Tansy already working on trying to get a sense of what and who we’re dealing with. Very likely, it’s a little more people than just that one guy’s voice on the phone with you, Holly.”
“I know that,” she said.
“Of course you do. We’ll get ’em,” Jackson said. “We’ll get them for sure. We’re already doing it now, right now up in the air. It’s started.” He leaned back, looking over to Tansy, who was working at a laptop. “Hey, Tansy?”
“Yes, getting them, yes,” Tansy said, without looking away from his screen.
Holly said to Jackson, “Is he really already . . . already working on this?”
“He’s always already working on something,” Jackson said. “Which reminds me, we’ll be touching down in a few hours. I want to hit the ground running.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Holly saw the ankle of Logan’s crossed leg begin to twitch rapidly. Then she noticed her own knee was doing the same spastic twitching, the adrenaline running through both of them. It was like what Logan must have felt before the start of some inevitable enemy engagement.
“So I know what they want, generally. But what do they want from you? What specifically?” Jackson asked.
“Specifically,” she said, “I think they want me to—”
“No,” he said, “not what you think. What do you know? What did they specifically ask of you?”
“They want me to upload a file to the CIA’s system, something nasty they cooked up.”
Holly saw Tansy’s head perk up, not looking over but cocked and listening as she said the word “file.”
Holly continued with, “I’m supposed to pick up a package with some instructions, and maybe the virus itself. Once I transfer it to the CIA, it’ll snake through their system and remove all traces of the info they want gone. I think it’ll also make it next to impossible for me to go in and work on anything, reverse anything. But that’s more of that speculation you’re not yet interested in.”
“So you don’t have anything yet?” Jackson said. “No files? No package?”
“No. That’s supposed to come through this afternoon.” She glanced at Logan and then back to Jackson, saying, “Where will I be this afternoon?”
“In good hands,” Jackson said.
She was tempted to look at Logan again, tempted very badly, even just the slightest glance. Good hands. His good hands. Maybe his house for the night, too . . . For increased safety measures, of course. And for a friendly session of catching up. That’s all it would be.
“And in Washington, too, I presume,” she said.
“We’ll start at our headquarters,” Jackson said. “Tansy’s ready to go, right Tansy?”
“Aye, Captain.”
“How about me?” Logan said, not seeming to care that he was injecting himself straight into the plans. Holly had always known him to act that way, wanting to help any way he could, even beyond emotional support. He could do more than quiet listening and soft hugs.
Jackson looked at him for a moment, his mouth twitching slightly as if stifling a laugh.
At least he was laughing around Logan. It was a big departure from how she imagined their last meeting went.
Nothing like an old ex-lovers’ personal tragedy, and a new project, to bring the two men closer.
“Holly?” Tansy called from across the compartment.
“Yeah?”
“Have you checked your mail recently?”
“My email? No . . .” She rummaged through her purse for her phone and pulled it out. Then, blank-faced, she said, “Wait, which one?”
“Not that one,” Tansy said.
She was feeling dizzy. Holly wasn’t sure if it was the flight or the reason for the fl
ight. It couldn’t have been the lunch cocktail. And it couldn’t have been Logan. So far, he was the only real stability she’d had. Solid ground, right with her, thousands of feet up in the air.
Tansy said her name again. Holly’s head snapped back up to see his smile. “I’m talking about your work email,” he said.
“I can’t access that from here.”
Tansy said, “I can.”
She stood and wobbled on weak legs to where he was sitting, then hunched low to read the screen of his laptop. It was the main page of her email interface. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, except for a new email from a strange address, and the fact that she was seeing it on someone else’s computer. A man known in the industry as perhaps the world’s best hacker. That was out of the ordinary, but definitely not surprising to Holly. She took it in stride, quietly watching as he clicked and opened the email. Now reading the text. Reading a standard, broken-English phraseology about where and when she would meet with the Russian kidnappers.
“Is this real?” she asked Tansy, who responded with a mildly disgusted look.
Jackson, from his seat, asked what it said.
“They want me to meet them at some warehouse,” Holly said. “An abandoned friggin’ warehouse outside Baltimore.”
Logan said, “Meet them for what?”
“Meet them for a delivery. They want to give me a USB with the virus on it. Then I’ll take that and . . .”
Jackson said, “And you’ll infect the CIA servers with it, erasing all traces of Andrei Godev before he can be brought to justice. Sounds pretty simple.”
Holly thought of how simple it would really be, purposely infecting the CIA computers, ruining decades of hard work—work that people had died for. She thought of perhaps destroying her own career for just the slight chance of saving her cousin. She knew, given the people she was dealing with, that there would be no guarantees. The first of that worry was about her own safety.
“I’m guessing they want you to infect the servers before they release Beth,” Jackson said. He turned to Tansy. “Is that correct?”
Holly nodded. “Yes,” thinking more of how slim the chances were that the Russians would make good on their deal. But what other option did she have?
Well, she had DARC Ops.
She turned to Jackson. “What do you think?”
“I think we can do a lot better than that. What do you think, Tansy?”
Tansy’s gaze never left the screen, his fingers pounding away on the keyboard. “I think I’d like to take a good look at what’s on that USB.” He was still typing when she walked back to her seat. Jackson gave her a nod on the way and reminded her that it was a long flight.
When she returned to her seat, Logan next to her, he wasn’t working on anything. He sat, watching her. She could feel how carefully his focus moved across her. She could feel his attention.
She might have indeed been in very good hands, in great support with everyone, technical specialists, an ex-military billionaire. And with Logan next to her, a support that she couldn’t even describe.
12
Logan
From the airport, they were immediately whisked away by another of Jackson’s helicopters, heading toward downtown Washington D.C. to land on the helipad atop Jackson’s DARC Ops headquarters. The chopper was loud, and the vibrations were strong, yet he’d watched Holly, her head slumped against the side of her headrest, nodding off into sleep, her eyes slowly coming to a close.
She must have been exhausted.
Logan was glad that she had been able to get at least twenty minutes of sleep before the chopper made its decent. The change had awoken her, Holly looking down through the window and saying something that Logan couldn’t make out. Instead, he reached over and held her leg for a moment, at her knee, patting it.
Her muscles tensed up under his hand as the helicopter came feet away from the roof, swaying back and forth until it leveled off for the touchdown. The rotors kept whining and spinning. Jackson shouted, “Let’s go.” As they stepped off the chopper, Logan brought up the rear, hunching low unconsciously to avoid the rotors.
A man had been waiting for them at the roof door, holding it open and motioning for Logan to rush in. Inside the cool quiet of the upper floors of DARC Ops headquarters, Jackson led them down another flight of stairs, then a short hallway, Holly’s voice echoing through it. She finally sounded awake and almost chipper. He was glad he’d been able to take care of some of her stress, take care of her. Logan had no doubt that he and DARC Ops would be able to take care of the situation.
She looked even brighter in the conference room. It seemed almost to be giddiness in her voice, the fatigue and excitement of it all. And the possibility that someone had stepped in to help.
“Looks like they’re going for a cinematic quality,” Jackson said. “With the meetup spot.”
Logan nodded. He didn’t really give a shit about all the theatrics. He just wanted the job done. “Where is it?”
They were all sitting around the table, Jackson’s screen having been pulled down and illuminating a map. He zoomed in to the map, an old industrial neighborhood. “There’s your warehouse,” Jackson said. “From what I can gather, it’s long abandoned.”
The image came up on the screen, a street-view photograph of a huge, gutted shell of a building.
“Looks creepy enough,” Logan said.
Jackson said to Holly, “You okay with this?”
“No, but I’m going anyway. You’ll be watching me, right?”
“We’ll have eyes and ears on you, of course.”
“So, I’ll meet up and grab the USB and walk away.”
“Just walk away,” Logan said.
“What kind of eyes and ears will I have?”
“For one, a tracking device.” Jackson opened a small cardboard box that one of his assistants had brought into the room and placed on the table. He pulled out a foam insert, and then popped out a small plastic-wrapped tracking device. “That’s probably the most important, to track you wherever you go.”
“Hopefully not wherever they take me,” Holly said.
“We won’t let that happen,” Logan said. “I know I definitely won’t.” And then he turned to Jackson. “How close can I physically get to their exchange point?”
Jackson’s brow furrowed. “Don’t do anything crazy, Logan.”
“How close?”
Jackson turned to Holly and said, “Did he tell you he’s on probation with us?”
“I don’t want to get him in trouble.” She looked at Logan, her eyebrows raised. “Right?”
“I’d rather I get in trouble than you.”
“No one’s getting into trouble,” Jackson said.
A small snort-laugh came from Tansy. “Except for Godev and his boys. They don’t even know the type of ass kicking that awaits them.”
Jackson spent the next few minutes going through a 3D diagram of the location on the screen, showing the various meetup points. He finally said to Logan, “That’s how close you can go. That’s as close as you can get. Got that?”
Logan nodded and continued watching the briefing. He was still half surprised how fast the DARC team could pull a mission together. He could only guess how Holly was feeling about it—aside from apprehensive.
Probably a little scared, too.
He would fix that. Whatever the cost.
In the two hours of downtime before the meeting, Logan made sure the code words were well established and memorized. He went over them with Holly, over coffee, sitting together in a public cafe in one of the building’s lower floors. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he could sit across from her.
“So,” Holly said, “for when shit hits the fan . . . when I need someone to—”
“Me,” Logan said.
“When I need you to run in there to rescue me . . .”
“As soon as you feel like something’s going wrong,” Logan said. “Don’t wait until it’s too late. I’ll st
art making my way over to you on your signal.”
She stared at him for a moment.
“I think it’s best if we make it a question,” Logan said. “A real question.”
“Okay.”
“Ask what they want you to do with the USB after you’re done with the upload. If you should destroy it not.”
“What if they already tell me?”
“Then ask it again,” Logan said. “Double-check.”
“I’m not sure if I want you to run in there, to take a risk like that.”
“You’re the one taking the risk.”
“What about Jackson and the guys?”
“Forget it,” Logan said.
“What about probation?”
“Holly, forget it. Forget me.”
She sat there for a while, thinking it over. She took a sip of coffee and said, “So when I say that, it means you’ll come rushing in to save the day?”
“Or at least I’ll try.”
“What if things get so crazy that I won’t have time for an actual question?”
“You want to change the code phrase?”
“I want to simplify it,” Holly said. “Let’s boil it down to one word.”
“Okay. You pick.”
“Okay,” she said. “Remember your nickname?”
He’d had many nicknames through the years, from different people and different contexts. He thought back, somewhat painfully, to their years together and each term of endearment they’d shared. From the elaborate, ‘Bushbaby,’ then to the easier, ‘Baby,’ then just ‘Babe,’ and then, finally, to nothing. First names. He wondered what term of endearment she was referring to.
The more he looked at her, the more uncomfortable she seemed to become, as if her line of thinking had gone similarly back through a painful history.
“Maybe,” she said, looking down into her steaming cup of coffee, “maybe we’ll just stick to the question.”
He hated seeing how fragile she looked. How scared. “You know, I’m gonna talk to Jackson about that other thing. The weapon thing.”
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