Trade Secrets

by Beth Ryan

  It wasn’t the hostile response I was expecting from someone who knew I was involved in her husband’s death—just the grief-stricken plea of a woman who wanted to be left alone. She probably hadn’t received the autopsy report yet.

  “Mrs. Espinosa,” I said, looking her in the eye. “Your husband’s death was an accident, but it saved a lot of people. It saved me, and everyone I love. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  I walked away before she could ask questions. I didn’t bother checking with her that the credits for this information transferred over. Every confession I made brought the profilers one step closer to my location, and there was only so much that Audry’s hacking could do. I was running out of time.

  As I entered the dim foyer of building six-oh-nine, I told myself that it was the drywall dust causing pinpricks of pain at the back of my nose and the corners of my eyes. I sniffed, trying to get a clean breath of air, and wandered up the stairs.

  I stopped in my room first, grabbing the deed to the building from underneath a pile of dirty laundry. Then I headed down the hall to room forty, where a sharp knock was received by a soft call to enter.

  I set the deed on the table in the kitchen before moving on to the living room where Beverly sat with an afghan across her lap and the television running quietly in the background.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, turning away from me as she poured another glass of whatever dark liquid was the choice of the evening. The knotted scar across her neck drew my eye as it always did, reminding me of everything I didn’t know about this woman.

  “I’m leaving town,” I replied.

  “Of course you are. He caught up with you, didn’t he?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I left the deed on the table for you.”

  “It will be there if you come back.”

  I nodded and looked away, uncomfortable with the confessions we weren’t quite acknowledging. Bev’s chair rolled forward, and I knelt down beside her, taking her hand.

  “You’ll take care of yourself, won't you?”

  “I always do.” She smiled, but it was as bitter as the brew in her glass. “Go on then, Nathan. I never was one for sentimentality.”

  I accepted the lie for what it was. Beverly was stuck in that chair and in this building. She hadn’t left it since long before it had become mine. She wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. If I did by some miracle survive, then I could come back here and know that she would be waiting.

  “Be safe,” I whispered, more to the door closing behind me than to the woman on the other side of it.

  With all my goodbyes said, I moved on to my final target. Only a few doors down the hall, behind a peeling, steel door, Clyde Cavanaugh greeted me with the greedy look that was always in his eyes. This time, I was going to give him everything he had ever dreamed of.

  The next two hours were the longest of my life. I sat on Clyde’s couch, waiting as he puttered back and forth between rows of beakers and stacks of textbooks. Every so often, he’d stop to consult a screen before shaking his head and tweaking some chemical or another.

  “In this lifetime, maybe?” I muttered to myself.

  Clyde looked up at me with a grunt and then turned back to his work. I’d never seen someone as focused as he was right then. I’d never offered anyone my entire life savings for the exact readings a chip would need to assume death had occurred, either.

  Audry’s coding could only do so much.

  “Tricky business,” Clyde said, peering into a test tube full of what I was certain I didn’t want to know. He flicked the glass with his stubby fingernails. “Death is not like lying, you know. It’s more complicated. Intangible.”

  “You said you could do it,” I reminded him, glancing out the window at the rising moon. At this rate, I would die of old age before I could get my hands on the information I needed. “I’ll pay double if you can have it figured out in the next ten minutes.”

  “Lucky me, having just written it all down for you then.” Clyde looked giddy, holding his notebook to his chest and staring at me from across the room.

  If I had any use for the credits anymore, I might have cursed him and demanded a better deal. There was no better deal right now.

  I reached out for the notebook, and Clyde stepped back. Rolling my eyes, I patted down my pockets before remembering that I’d given my credit card to the homeless man on my way here.

  “You do have payment, don’t you?” Clyde asked.

  “Of course I do,” I replied.

  Without my card and my glasses, I couldn’t see what my most valuable secrets were or how much I was about to give away. None of it mattered in the face of what I knew would happen next.

  “Clyde Cavanaugh, tonight I am going to die.”

  31

  Ivonne’s old transporter broke down half a mile from the second layer of forcefields. I slammed the door shut behind me and didn’t even think about trying to hide the damn thing. The weight of it was too much for one man to move, and I didn’t have the time even if I could manage it.

  Striking out into the woods, I stopped about ten feet from the car and turned back around, remembering that I had left the remote that Josh and Audry had cobbled together. After I shoved the little thing into my right-hand pocket, I slammed the car door again. The sound was just as satisfying the second time around.

  I stopped several times to just listen to the woods, but if they had anything to say, they kept it to themselves. There were no patrol guards wandering the sickly forest in fear of intruders. They would all be on the other side of the forcefield, where the trees grew stronger and the risk of anyone actually forcing them to do their job was minimal. My long march through the forest ended abruptly as I reached the massive blue wall that separated the Lemniscate from everything they feared.

  I pulled the little remote out of my pocket and held it up to the dim light that the forcefield generated. It was a rush job, but Audry’s tech was always flawless. If she thought I was in danger, then she never would have allowed me to come.

  Pointing it at the mansion in the distance, I backed up to give myself a running start, and then took a deep breath. I pushed the remote’s single button at the last minute and the forcefield gave no sign of change, but there was no time to stop.

  I landed on the other side with a face full of dirt and a still-beating heart.

  Dusting myself off and cursing the root that had the gall to get in my way, I spit bits of dried leaves from my tongue and turned toward the mansion. Behind me, the rustle of the trees drew my attention back through the blue. I stared at the darkness, but there was nothing out there and I didn’t have time to keep stalling anymore.

  When I reached the edge of the lawn, I darted from the line of trees to the mansion’s southernmost wall. I pressed up against it, hooking my fingers on the invisible ledge between the bricks and pushing as hard as I could.

  The hidden door scraped open. I slipped through and then I was inside the government’s most secure building easier than anyone had ever thought possible. Not that any of this was going to be easy, but I could still hope for some of the luck I’d always refused to believe in until now.

  I took off down the hall, not bothering for subtlety anymore. If anyone saw me on the cameras, then Audry hadn’t done her job, and all of this would be for nothing. I had to trust her with this.

  I rounded the first corner, and the hallway came to an abrupt end, splitting off in either direction. Faced with the choice between left or right, I cursed. The mansion was huge, bigger than I remembered it being. I wasn’t lost, per say, I was just tired as all hell and hungrier than I’d thought possible. Things were starting to spin, like the aftereffects of a CAPS.

  I closed my eyes and dug through my sluggish brain to find the memory of Ivy leading us through the mansion the first time around. I’d been distracted, uninterested in the maze of empty rooms and meaningless extravagances in the face of too-high odds. I remembered an elephant, though. Some little s
tatue that I’d thought was almost beautiful amongst all the pretentious riff raff.

  I opened my eyes, looking first left, then right. And there, the elephant figurine in pure silver, raised on its hind legs with its nose in the air.

  I turned right.

  When I came to the next dead end, there was nothing to guide me. I picked right again with nothing at all to indicate if it was the correct choice. Ten minutes later, as I wandered the empty halls of Kingsland Mansion, I was on the verge of accepting that I had gotten myself well and truly lost. That’s when I caught sight of a tapestry that I knew was only three hallways away from the front entrance.

  I didn’t know how I’d ended up on the second floor when I was quite certain I’d never climbed any stairs, but knowing which way to go again was relieving in a way I couldn't have articulated.

  The front staircase was just as grand as I remembered it. One moment, I was running down the hall, and the next, I was standing at the top of a long, curved staircase. It stretched out for miles before reaching the marble floor of the foyer.

  I was about to fling myself down those steps three at a time when I heard the sudden echo of laughter drifting into the room. The sound held a sharp edge, deep and cruel. I knew that laugh.

  I ducked back into the hall as Eisley's laughter became louder. The click of his low-heeled boots was sharp on the glossy marble flooring. My breathing was ragged. The din of several more people piling into the vestibule covered any sounds I made, for which I was grateful. The chatter was a mix of words I understood and those I did not. The accents were strange, even when the words were familiar. The Argentinians had arrived.

  I peeked around the corner only long enough to glimpse Eisley raising a flute of champagne. I ducked away again before anyone could spot me.

  “As pleased as I am to have all of you here to enjoy what America has to offer, I cannot take all the credit," Eisley announced. "Without Elijah King and his children, none of us would be where we are today. To the Kings!"

  "The Kings!" the gathered people cheered.

  I bit my tongue, impatient as I peeked out again. President King stood closest to the receiving room door. His face was blank and his knuckles were white. I ducked away as his eyes shifted my direction. My heartbeat rattled on, loud in my own ears. I held very still as I waited for him to announce my position.

  "Should we adjourn to the dining hall?" he proposed instead.

  He hadn't seen me.

  I released the breath I'd been holding.

  However, I could only breathe easy for a moment, before the small group was on their way past me, climbing that long staircase. I pressed my back against the wall and slid my hands along the paneling, praying there was a passage entrance there. The universe held true to my beliefs that luck was a false concept. The wood was flawless, and the wall behind it was as solid as any wall I'd ever been slammed against.

  A high-pitched giggle rang out, too close for comfort. I considered the option of racing down the hall the way I'd come. I wouldn't be fast enough to keep them from seeing me, or quiet enough to not be heard. Running wouldn’t get me very far, but it would give me precious extra seconds of life.

  The sound of shattered glass stopped me from my tactical retreat. It stopped the others too. As I dared to look out at them, I was relieved to see that everyone on the wide staircase had turned in the direction of the sound, focused on the wide expanse of marble floor.

  In the center stood President King, his champagne glass in pieces at his feet. He looked stupidly down at the mess and then stumbled on nothing before catching himself and grinning at a nearby woman dressed in green.

  "Ah," Eisley said, and even I could hear the disapproval and judgment in that single sound. "I think we could all use some air. A stroll through the gardens before dinner, perhaps?"

  The crowd wandered out the front door at his words. I waited far longer than I needed to before stepping from my hiding place. The front door was firmly shut against the gaggle of gentry who had come so close to catching me, and the receiving room door was left wide open.

  I flung myself down the steps and skipped the last three with a flying leap. My dusty boots squeaked against the smooth white floor. I was off to the left and through the open door before the echo of it could fade.

  Joshua's explanation of how to open the panel beside the fireplace had been hurried. There had only been minutes left before Ivy and Cooper returned, and we both knew they would have tried to stop me. Still, it wasn't hard to find the latch hidden behind an old clock on the mantle. I pressed it down hard and heard a click. The wall to my right slid open. I stepped into the hidden room with mounting apprehension, but found it empty.

  The space behind the wall extended past the length of the receiving room. It was dim, lit only by the light of the screens that lined the far wall and the light that entered through the two-way mirror above the fireplace. I closed the door behind me with a soft click and stepped further into the security center.

  I marveled at the arrogance of the Fraud Department. Whoever was meant to watch the security feeds was long gone. I imagined they were mingling with the guests, ignorant of how their actions would ruin the entire kingdom they’d built.

  I didn’t waste any time exploring the room. It was barren aside from the long, low desk that held half a dozen office chairs. Mixed in with the screens and keyboards were a few empty wrappers, a photo of a young boy holding a stuffed bear, and a half-filled mug of cold coffee. There were people who worked here, who watched the security cameras and had seen Cooper and I sneaking about the place, and they’d been stupid enough to leave it unattended.

  Ignoring the little signs of the people that usually spent their time in this room, I swooped to the closest keyboard and screen, kicking the wheeled chair out of the way. I didn’t have time to get comfortable. I had to get this done before anyone came back. I had to ensure the others’ safety before I was caught.

  The tech in the room was far superior to what I was used to working with, but the mechanics were the same in the end. Pulling off one end of the little remote, I plugged the small drive into the port and began typing away at the program Audry had built for me. Several long, stressful minutes passed. I wiped my brow with the back of my shirt sleeve. The security center was much warmer than the forest had been.

  The hum and buzz of electronics whirred through the air as the computers processed Audry’s code. The sound of electricity in my ears was so very familiar, almost comforting, and the only other sound in the room was my fingers on the keys, tapping away each time the code prompted for a human intervention. I didn’t understand the mechanics behind it, but I knew that Joshua’s explanation of the Lemniscate security system had earned an impressed whistle from Audry before she got to work building something that would bypass it.

  Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Audry’s program brought up the secure access I needed. I could feel the beads of sweat working their way down my forehead, but I knew I didn’t have time to wipe them away. I didn’t have time for anything other than my furious typing.

  I began with my own profile to be sure that the process wouldn’t be harmful to the others. One by one, I began to disconnect each of the original files from the system and, through my remote connection to my chip, I faked my death, providing readings of how my body would have reacted to a sudden explosion, the specific codes and chemical reactions coming from the little notebook Clyde had provided me.

  I felt a sizzle, and the hairs on the back of my neck raised like static electricity centered there as my profile declared me dead. Then the chip shut off entirely. In a single moment, I went from being one of the wealthiest and most elite men in the world to being a corpse in the eyes of the Lemniscate.

  There would be no harm to the others once I killed their profiles. The chips would only be bits of metal in their necks, and they could become whoever they wanted to be, go anywhere they pleased.

  As I worked on the others’ profiles, I imagi
ned Audry was out there somewhere, wearing my coat and watching through her thick-rimmed glasses as Ivy’s profile vanished next. Then Joshua’s. Then her own.

  Then my fingers hovered, poised over the keys as a dawning horror broke over me.

  I didn’t know his name.

  Cooper Hall, the man I’d come here to protect. The one person that made all of this worth the risk. Cooper Hall was a myth. I’d created him, built up his profile and given him a name. I’d redacted all the information that would lead me to knowing the truth of who he was. Confidentiality was the basis on which my business had flourished and the single thing I’d prided myself on throughout the years.

  Now it would be his downfall and my greatest failure. I couldn’t locate and destroy his connection to the system if I didn’t know his real name. The secondary profile would die, but his chip would still be active. His true name would live on. There was nothing I could do without it.

  “Mr. Donovan.”

  My back stiffened at the sound of Elijah King’s voice breaking through my panic. King didn’t sound nearly as intoxicated as he’d appeared when he’d stood over his own shattered champagne glass.

  I stared at the computer screen for a long moment, berating myself for losing track of my surroundings. For not staring longer at the family names on Alice Giovanni’s missing person’s report. For letting myself get caught before Cooper was safe.

  For failing to finish what I’d started.

  I could see the outline of King in the reflection of the computer. It did little to divulge anything other than the older man’s position, and that there was someone else with him.

  Then I heard the click of the safety being removed from a gun and knew there was nothing left for me to do.

  This was it. There was no more time to fight back, to find another way. The game was up, and I had lost.

  32

  As awful as I’d felt before I saw him, nothing compared to the moment my eyes landed on King and his gun. The whole world fell out from beneath me as I realized everything I’d done to get here was all some cosmic joke.