Higgins

by C. G. Cooper

  “I almost want to follow him,” Higgins whispered.

  “Don’t even think about it,” York said, grabbing his arm. “That was a close call. We got lucky. And he’s right. That was stupid, you know.”

  Higgins walked beside her back down the hall. “You followed me.”

  “I’m really wishing I hadn’t.”

  “Do you know something?”

  “About what?”

  “About all of this.”

  York’s mouth twisted to the side, and she cast him a side glance. “No, but you do, don’t you?”

  He stopped outside the doors to the training room and turned to face her directly. He looked both ways, then continued. “This isn’t the only problem they’ve had,” he said slowly.

  “It’s almost as if someone doesn’t want the EIU to succeed,” she said.

  “I would agree.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you telling me this, Higgins?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you trusting me with this? Is it so I won’t kick your ass again on the mat?”

  She smiled at him. It was tight-lipped and slightly crooked. Then she pushed the door open and led the way back into their session.

  “Glad you two could join us,” Kinkaid said. All amusement was gone from his voice. “Higgins, you’re up. It’s time to climb.”

  Kinkaid, a sadistic gleam in his eye, was holding out a harness. Higgins looked up at the rock wall. It was completely vertical until it got to the top where an overhang jutted out, the handholds looking impossibly tiny.

  “If you fall,” Kinkaid said, “you must to start over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  After barely touching his dinner that night, Higgins left the cafeteria and walked briskly over to York. He nodded at her. She nodded back, and the two left for Decker’s office in silence.

  There was a mounting pressure in his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was because he wasn’t sure what Decker would say, or if it was because he was once again in close proximity to York.

  “Why are you here?” Higgins asked.

  “Excuse me?” York’s step faltered.

  Higgins searched her face. He was still having a difficult time getting a read on her. She dressed as sharp as ever, always professional and ready. She was beautiful, to be sure, but it was so much more than that. Her dedication and intelligence impressed him. She made him nervous without trying.

  He cleared his throat. “Why did you want to be a part of this program?”

  Her face went plastic, like she was on a job interview. “Because I knew I could.”

  “That’s not the real reason.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You’ve got to have a stronger drive than that.”

  York stopped in the middle of the hallway. She waited until two agents passed before turning to Higgins. “Have you ever been told you can’t do something?”

  “Of course,” Higgins said. He laughed and gestured to himself. “My whole life.”

  “Then you know how that can either crush your spirit entirely or drive it to excel.”

  “I don’t buy it.”

  “Lucky for you,” she said, walking away from him, “I don’t need your approval or your acceptance.”

  Higgins had to jog to catch up to her. “That’s not what I meant—”

  “We’re here,” she said, and before he could say something else, York knocked on Decker’s office door.

  “Come in. Shut the door,” Decker said. He was sitting at his desk, shuffling through a stack of papers. “Sit down.”

  Higgins clicked the door shut behind him and lowered himself into one of the stiff chairs. York was sitting with her back ram-rod straight, her hands folded in her lap. Her knee bounced up and down as if keeping time, though her face betrayed no emotion.

  Decker looked up, folded his hands on his desk, and surveyed the two of them for a moment before beginning.

  “Once again,” he said, “that was an incredibly stupid move you two decided to pull today.” The cold anger in his eyes was worse than anything Higgins had seen from Zyga. “I thought you were better than that. Both of you.”

  ” I’m sorry, sir—” Higgins started to say.

  “It was a rash decision—” York said at the same time.

  Decker held up a hand. “Shut up until I’m finished. And for the record, I don’t need groveling or petty excuses. What’s done is done. The question is, where does it leave us? Normally indiscretions such as this would mean immediate expulsion, but I vouched for you. I’m not sure why.” He put two fingers to the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply. “Just know that the others will be keeping a closer eye on you from here on out, especially given the current climate.”

  “The current climate, sir?” York asked.

  Decker’s raised an eyebrow. “You can drop the act, York. He knows about as much as you do.”

  York dropped her gaze toward her lap. Her foot stopped jiggling, her back relaxed. Even a vein that was popping at her temple had disappeared.

  “Sir?” said Higgins, turning back to Decker.

  “She pegged Abrams much earlier than you, I’m afraid. I guess that’s what we get for putting some of the most brilliant people-readers in the same room together. I knew pretty early on I wouldn’t be able to get anything past you two, so I decided to stop trying.”

  Higgins shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Someone leaked Agent Spencer’s identity to the press.”

  “Yes.” Decker sighed. “How much did you hear?”

  York looked guilty again. “Agent Spencer killed a prisoner, which the media is saying led to the Beirut bombings.”

  “But they don’t have his name – not yet, anyway.” Higgins looked at Decker.

  “Correct,” said Decker, “The latest word is that they’ve gotten ahold of his alias. It won’t be long before his name comes out. And trust me, when it does, and the media connects all the dots, this thing is going to blow higher than anything you’ve ever seen. The implications for the agency are immense.”

  “So, the story is true.”

  Decker looked torn. Anger had given way to exhaustion. “It’s more complicated than you think, but yes, for the most part, it’s true.”

  York nodded her head like she could see the puzzle pieces coming together. “And so, that was the catalyst that led to the formation of the new interrogation program.”

  Decker leaned back in his chair, the anger long gone. “Righto.”

  “How many people knew about the mission?” said Higgins. “How many people knew Spencer’s alias?”

  “Only a handful,” Decker said. “The field is narrowing.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” York asked.

  “The field is narrowing,” Decker repeated, “and the only people left on the other side of the line are those for whom I would lay down my life. It’s not a simple slipup. It’s an immoral betrayal. It’s treason.”

  Higgins swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to say what his gut was screaming to him, but if he didn’t speak now, more lives could be taken. “Zyga.”

  Decker was staring at the ceiling, half lost in thought. “What about him?”

  “I think he’s the mole.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Decker froze, then slowly lowered his gaze. “You better have a damn good reason for saying that, son.”

  Higgins was momentarily thrown off by Decker’s sudden shift in tone. “Sir, I—”

  “You what? Out with it.”

  Higgins had to swallow several times to get his voice back. “Zyga hates this program. He doesn’t want it to succeed.”

  “And?”

  “That could be his motivation.” Higgins couldn’t find the words. What he had been so sure of moments before, what had felt so right, now felt laughable. No one was laughing.

  “I’m going to give you three seconds to retract that statement.” Decker’s voice was a low r
umble, like distant thunder. Higgins could feel the storm moving closer, but he was paralyzed by the fury directed at him.

  “Sir, I—”

  Decker stood up. His voice was still low, barely controlled. “When you have evidence and a motive, then you can bring accusations like that to my table. I don’t condone guessing, and I won’t let you spread rumors about one of the most capable agents I’ve ever known. I expected better from you, Dr. Higgins.”

  Higgins had to swallow the lump in his throat again, but this time he kept his thoughts to himself. “Yes, sir.”

  “You two are dismissed.”

  York led the way out of Decker’s office and shut the door quietly behind them. She turned to Higgins, her mouth agape, unable to find the words. After a moment, she gave up, shook her head, and walked away.

  Higgins remained on the spot, running through the conversation again and again. He had never seen Decker so close to losing his temper. That was Zyga’s job.

  Zyga. Higgins balled his hands into fists. Zyga got under his skin in a way few people did. There was something about him, something hidden and dangerous. Zyga was close to Spencer. Spencer was the one whose identity was at risk. Maybe Zyga was protecting the agency, his own job. Let Spencer hang for his sins, and the agency could move on.

  Higgins let a sharp exhale hiss from his chest. While Decker was right – that he had zero proof –he did have his intuition. He was used to squashing down intuition, being that it was a cousin to personal bias, which was anathema to reason. But he found he couldn’t squash this feeling any more than he could dismiss the hardest piece of hard evidence in any other case.

  Higgins looked down the hallway in the opposite direction from where York had stalked off. This was the way toward Zyga’s office. He made a decision.

  He never actively sought out confrontation, but he needed proof if only to satisfy the itch of intuition that was quickly becoming a burn. Observation was the key toward evidence, and the only time he could gather any information on Zyga was when Zyga was in front of the class. He needed more.

  Zyga’s office was five doors down from Decker’s. He rapped once at it, weakly.

  “Come in.” Zyga’s voice, as gruff as always.

  Higgins pushed the door open, noting Zyga’s confusion when Higgins entered.

  “Higgins – excuse me. Doctor Higgins.”

  Higgins bristled at the patronizing greeting.

  “Agent Zyga, sir.” He hated how his voice trembled.

  “What do you need?”

  Higgins pursed his lips, trying to find the words to being with.

  Zyga shook his head with annoyance. “I don’t have time to chit chat, Higgins. If you’re looking for a hug, go ask Decker.”

  A dam broke inside of Higgins. “What the hell is wrong with you?” His voice cracked. He leaned forward on Zyga’s desk, towering over the man. Zyga kept his gaze steady, apparently unconcerned.

  “Excuse me?” Zyga’s voice was controlled, but the edge was there. Higgins had no doubt the viper would rise from behind his desk and strike at any moment. It spurred him on.

  “You have a chance to save the agency from public humiliation. You could solve the problem in two seconds flat, but instead you cling to the past. All in the name of, what? Pride? Ego? You have a team of candidates here willing to help change the game when it comes to interrogating hostiles. All you do is stand up there like you have an army of fresh recruits ready to carry on business as usual -- wasting time. You’re just digging everyone more rooted into the muck.” Higgins took a deep breath, fighting a creep of hysteria. His voice grew louder in response.

  “Instead of treating us like a gift you can’t return, why not try utilizing us for once? Or are you really that dense that you don’t recognize the resource you have at your fingertips?”

  Zyga leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. Higgins was out of breath, spittle dotting his lips. He felt a bead of sweat start to fall from his temple.

  “Sit down, Higgins.” He was calm as ever.

  “What?”

  “Sit down.” Zyga gestured to the chair opposite his.

  Higgins slid into the chair, ready to defend himself, with his fists if he had to.

  “Can I get you something? A glass of water? I don’t have alcohol in the office; otherwise I’d offer you a drink. But I have bottled water.”

  Higgins was flummoxed. “No, sir. Thank you.”

  “Right,” said Zyga. “Now, was there anything you left out? Anything you wish to add?”

  Higgins had a thousand things to say, and he couldn’t think of a single one. “No... I- sir.”

  Zyga gestured around his barren office. “Look around, Higgins. Look at this shithole I work in. Now why would a man like me choose to work in such an environment? You’re a smart guy, Higgins. I want you to think about it and pick your best guess.”

  Higgins thought about it. “Because you were forced to.”

  “That’s the best you got, huh? Well. I guess that’s the reason that makes the most sense. No, Higgins, it was because it was my fault.”

  “Sir?”

  Zyga closed his eyes and enunciated, “Beirut.”

  Another thousand questions populated Higgins’s mind, and all of them died on his lips.

  Zyga showed his palms. “I made a mistake. A lot of people died. I can’t change the past. What’s done is done.”

  “Sir,” said Higgins, his voice perforated, “if I may – you have a chance to start fresh here, to try something new.”

  “It won’t work.”

  Higgins bristled. “You’re biased.”

  “And you’re arrogant and insufferable. All that time spent holed up in some dank little room with nothing to show for it but near-sightedness. How dare you lecture me on life when you haven’t even stood up to live one yourself. You don’t belong here.”

  Higgins stood up so abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor as it was pushed back. “You think bullying will make this place better? Do you think your attitude will fix what you’ve done?”

  Zyga rose. He looked calm, but his eyes were steel. “If you want coddling and a pat on the back, Decker’s office is just down the hall. If you want the truth, I’ll give it to you.”

  “So, tell me the truth.”

  “You are arrogant. You’re not the smartest person in the program, and I see how much that bothers you. You are not the best person for this job and now I see you’ve got a self-righteous streak that would make the pope himself want to smack you.”

  Higgins clenched the edges of the desk, then let go. The rage in him was beyond control. He wanted to smash something.

  Zyga must have sensed it, for he held up a disarming hand. “Easy there, tiger. Let me finish. I said you don’t belong here, and I stand by that. But you could belong. You’re brilliant. You’re adaptable. You just need to toughen up. I don’t know what you expected, but this isn’t Disneyland, and I’m not Mickey Mouse. We don’t hand out second place trophies here, Higgins. People’s lives are on the line. The second you stop growing, stop learning, that’s when people die. I’m hard on you because I know you can do better. Simply negative reinforcement. Psych 101, Higgins. I know you understand that. If you can’t put your trust in me or your instructors, then you should turn in your visitor’s badge and leave.”

  Higgins had no choice but to let the words hang in the air. Zyga was right, and it took the wind out of his sails. He was so ready to let his rage flow like lava, to tell Zyga how wrong he was. But he couldn’t.

  Zyga continued. “I might not agree with how this program is being run, but I agree that something has to change. Beirut can’t happen again. Not on my watch. If this program is the solution, then I’m all in.”

  It was the first time Higgins heard any sort of humility in Zyga’s voice.

  “Do you understand?” Zyga asked. “Do you realize I’m doing this, so my mistakes won’t ever be repeated?”

  “Yes, sir.�
��

  “Good.” Zyga sat back down and returned to his papers. “Now get the fuck out of my office.”

  Chapter Thirty

  When Decker arrived in Director Thatcher’s office, Zyga was already sitting in one of the dark leather chairs.

  “I assume both of you know why I’ve asked you here,” Thatcher said as Decker took the seat next to Zyga.

  Zyga spoke first. “The leak.”

  “Leaks. Plural.”

  Decker couldn’t help but stiffen at the subtle admonishment. “We’re handling it, sir.”

  “With all due respect, if you were handling it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” He paused to rub the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “What do we know?”

  Zyga crossed one leg over the other. “The first incident was a security breach. No collateral damage there.”

  “We think it could’ve just been a distraction,” Decker chimed in.

  “The second incident was the bomb. It could’ve been targeting one of us.”

  “Any idea of intent?” said Thatcher.

  Decker lowered his head. “We believe the perpetrator’s intent is to kill the program.”

  “How did you come to that conclusion?” the director asked.

  Decker looked over at Zyga, whose face was unreadable.

  “Just speculation in light of the third incident, sir,” said Decker, “the one where Agent Spencer’s classified status was leaked to the media.”

  “Rumors have been circulating,” Zyga said. “Certain interested parties believe that I leaked the information.”

  The director’s attention narrowed. “Interested parties?”

  “Some of the candidates, sir,” said Zyga.

  Decker interrupted before the director could come to any false conclusions. “We asked some of the most brilliant minds to be a part of this program. We shouldn’t be surprised by their... proclivity toward figuring things out.”

  “I’m not surprised, Decker. I’m concerned.”