“That was five hours ago.” Brian looked up the road in the direction of Marla’s house, though it was hidden behind a copse of pine trees. “That’s crazy.”
“Pretty much. Welcome to my neighborhood, a treasure trove of unstable individuals. With any luck, you won’t meet any of them.” Sophia held out her hand for her keys.
Brian looked past her to where a wide black puddle stood out against the weathered grey length of her driveway like a pen that had exploded on a piece of paper. Yellow plastic tape stretched across the drive, keeping people from diving on to the surface until the blacktop sealant cured. Brian squinted as if he were processing why in the world someone would do that. It was hard to fathom even for Sophia, who knew that splotch was covering up the murder victim outline that had been painted there in the wee hours of the morning. Why Penny and her crew decided that this was “fixing things”, she hadn’t a clue. It was a problem that could be put off for another day.
Brian pulled his focus back to Sophia, looking for an explanation, which she didn’t offer up. He settled on, “Do you have my keys? I’ll help you move the car seats back over to your vehicle.”
“They’re on your dash,” she said, moving toward her van. It was spotless on the outside. She walked around to look at her tires, and two new ones were plump and functional on the right-hand side. She saw through the back window that her tire was still in the back. Sophia popped open the side door. She barely recognized the minivan as hers. There was a box that held her kids’ debris, crayons, daycare art, and that light up Bubble Guppies shoe she’d been looking for for the last week. The seats and carpet were free of dirt, spills, and the general schmutz that normally decorated the backseat. It smelled—Sophia stopped mid-thought to inhale the fresh citrus scent that replaced the odor of stale vomit she’d never found a way to remove—so good.
Her skirt hung on a hanger, cleaned and pressed. She searched the front where the chai puddle had saturated the cloth seat. Gone. Sophia wasn’t sure that her van had been more pristine, even when she drove it home from the used car lot. Sophia was vaguely disoriented as Brian ambled over with the two car seats dangling in his hands. She stepped out of the way.
“Everything okay?”
“I think you brought me the wrong car.” She lay a cool hand on her forehead.
“Iniquus likes to impress our clients. Our automotive team is stellar.”
“They cleaned my skirt.”
Brian leaned in to reattach Turner’s seat. “I think they could tell you were having a bad day. I hope this makes it a little nicer.” He sent her a warm smile that stalled her.
Sophia refused to acknowledge a single thought. She hung there in space and time, aggressively seeking a sense of nothingness, because the emotions that hovered in the air between them were reckless. She held herself in the void while Brian’s expression turned quizzical. She only released herself when he turned to push a knee into Turner’s seat and pulled the safety belt taut, like he’d done it a thousand times before. Sophia wondered how he knew to do that. There. That’s a safer line of thought.
“I wish I could have thanked them in person.” Sophia picked up Chance’s seat, wincing as it hit the burns on her thighs. Before she could do anything more, Brian took it from her and went around to the other side of the car to maneuver it into place.
Sophia stood there awkwardly with Brian hunched over his task. “I should apologize to you.” Her voice was so soft she wasn’t sure Brian could hear her. “I left without telling you goodbye. I had my reasons.” She rubbed her hands together as if in supplication, thankful he couldn’t see her. “I was thinking about your best interests when I decided…” She caught her lower lip in her teeth to stop it from trembling. She wasn’t good at confrontations. She deserved his resentment, at the very least. She couldn’t imagine what he’d thought when he discovered that he was assigned to her security team.
Brian pulled himself from the doorframe, turning slowly. “Sophia, I’d like to apologize to you. I got caught up in the moment when we first met. I thought we were on the same page—that we were experiencing the same things. I was trying to be honest about my feelings. It was too much. I get it. No hard feelings.” He extended his hand for a shake. “Let’s let bygones be bygones and start fresh.”
Sophia had wrapped her arms around herself and was shivering, though it was over eighty degrees in the sunshine. She blew out a breath through pursed lips. She should stop him from taking the blame. And she should tell him the truth—she couldn’t keep him safe. And she couldn’t bear the thought of destroying yet another life. It was better that she’d walked away. If they had to work together, she hoped he’d stay angry with her, or at least leery. Certainly, he needed to keep his distance.
“Shake my hand, Sophia. Let’s pretend this is the first day we’re meeting.”
Sophia forced herself to slide her hand into his.
“Now invite me in to see your computer,” Brian said, turning and plucking the hanger with her skirt from the hook before he shut the car door.
Inside, she walked directly to the dining room that she had converted into an office space. It was big enough that Nadia and she could work together without getting in each other’s way. One wall was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with reference texts and file cabinets. She had a wraparound desk, and her computer systems—a series of wide screens—were arranged in a semi-circle, so she could compare visuals with ease.
Brian scanned the room, then turned toward the stairs. “Are your children here?”
“Chance is sleeping upstairs. Turner didn’t want to come home, he was having fun with the clay volcano project his teacher had going on. I’ll need to go get him in a little bit.” Sophia checked her watch. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” She lifted a house phone and dialed a number, moving into the kitchen to speak. “Lana, I’m at home with Chance and have someone here, I was hoping you might be able to get Turner for me.”
“I’m so sorry, I can’t. Remember my car’s at the mechanic? And I’m running out the door. Jeff’s boss is in town, and I’m going out to eat with them. I’m waiting for my Lyft.”
“Do you need me to watch your kids?”
“I have a babysitter here. I’m sorry I can’t help.”
“Not a problem. I can figure this out. I’m thinking positive thoughts for you and Jeff tonight. Do you think he got the promotion?”
“No idea but I—oh, the car pulled up.” Sophia could hear the excitement in Lana’s voice. “Keep thinking those good thoughts. I’ll catch you up tomorrow. Bye.”
Sophia moved back to the office to find Brian examining her digital code creator.
“Security?” he asked.
The device gave her a new pin number every forty-five seconds. The idea being that as long as no one got hold of the display, they wouldn’t be able to hack her files. As Iniquus had pointed out that morning, her data was highly sensitive. Sophia blinked at the device. She had been sure it was in its hiding place that morning. Maybe Nadia had run by on her way in to Iniquus to check on something last minute.
Sophia reached out her hand to take it from him. “Where did you find this?”
“On your desk. You didn’t leave it there?”
“As you might have noticed, neither Nadia nor I are comfortable talking in front of groups. We lead introverted lives. One of us must have missed it this morning in our anxiety.” Even as she said it, the story sounded off. She’d have to remember to check in with Nadia. “As my security liaison, maybe you can help me find a better way to handle the computer safety issue.” She pocketed the coder. “Are you going to teach us some basics in self-defense before we head down to Peru?”
“What were you thinking of?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at the floor for a moment, then up to catch Brian’s gaze. “Maybe some basic ways to get away. Punches and kicks. Maybe you could teach us how to handle a gun.”
“Do either of you own a gun?”
“N
o.”
“Have either of you ever shot a gun?”
“No.”
“You’ve been going out on digs for a long time. What was your strategy before?”
“I haven’t been on a dig since 2011. My strategy? Scream really loudly. Possibly run.” She tipped her head. “Well, run if safety isn’t too far away.” She sent him a smile. “And it’s not uphill.”
Brian smiled back. “There. That’s the Sophie I met. You have the most beautiful eyes when you’re sincerely smiling.” The startled look Sophia sent him must have made him realize he’d stepped over the line. He cleared his throat. “You’re right, we need to consider your home security. The intelligence you have on your computer is bound to be of interest to lots of different people.”
Sophia’s brow furrowed. “Like who?”
“Pirates? Treasure hunters? I’ll get a better idea as I learn more about your job.”
The phone rang and Sophia snatched it up to keep the sound from waking Chance. “Dr. Abadi,” she said.
She heard five staccato beeps followed by a dial tone. Sophia replaced the receiver and grabbed her keys. “Sorry. I need to make a phone call. Will you excuse me for a minute?” Without waiting for an answer, she walked to her kitchen. She slid open the battery compartment on her keychain flashlight to reveal a code creator and waited for her cell to ring.
“65A27C990,” Sophia read off in Hebrew.
“Is someone’s there with you?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Yes, an operative with the security firm AACP hired. He’s sitting in my office.” She paced over to the fridge and opened the door to let the air cool her face. Milk, butter, and organic juice boxes sat in the otherwise empty fridge.
“Are you sure he can’t understand you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll be careful.”
“We followed through on this morning’s call. The location didn’t pan out the way you expected, though it wasn’t futile. We’re sending you a courier this evening. It’s scheduled for around eight. Will you be home to sign for the package?”
“I will.”
“This project is time sensitive. We need a quick turnaround. Tonight, if possible.”
Sophia needed to decompress. To sleep. To catch up on some chores. To take care of Chance. “I’ll do my best.”
“When I say time sensitive,” the woman’s voice lost its friendly tone, becoming cold and threatening in an instant, “I’m not fanning a flame because I like the sound of a whistling tea kettle. You know personally what the stakes can be if information isn’t obtained in a timely manner.”
Sophia reached up and wrapped a hand around her throat. “I’ll make sure you have what you need in time.”
Sophia stood in the middle of her kitchen forming a plan. This day was ricocheting out of control.
One step at a time. She’d have to shoo Brian away and get the baby up. Her priority right now was fetching Turner.
She was startled to find Brian in the doorway. “Mommy issues,” she said. “I need to get Turner from daycare.”
“I can stay here.” Brian offered. “Go get Turner and let Chance sleep.”
It was a practical solution. But it felt too chummy. Sophia had to keep Brian at arms’ length, and that meant they could only interact on a professional level. She looked up the stairs. It would be better if Chance could sleep. Her brain refused to help her out of the situation. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t sound rude?
“Go get Turner,” he repeated. “I’ll sit in the office and take a look at your bookcase, so I can feel thoroughly intimidated by your wealth of knowledge.” There it was again, that slow smile that wanted to thaw the ice in her veins. With her keys squeezed in her fist, Sophia left before she could defrost.
7
Brian
Tuesday a.m.
“Morning.” Brian sauntered across the war room, threw himself into a chair, and banged his heels up on the tabletop.
Nutsbe was clicking away at the computer, and without shifting his gaze called, “You okay, man? You look like your beauty sleep got messed with.”
“Trying to settle into this case. It was a hell of a jump from personal protection for two archaeologists to taking down ISIS.” He glanced at the door as Thorn made his way in, a travel cup of coffee in his hand.
“Did you start without me?”
“Just got in. What are you printing off, Nutsbe?”
“The translation of Sophia’s phone call. She was speaking Hebrew, by the way.”
Brian sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah, my Arabic and Farsi are tactical—I only know how to say enough to get my job done, but I would hope I could at least pick out the languages in a conversation.”
“It didn’t sound conversational. She was receiving orders,” Nutsbe said. “Let me play it again, so you can listen to the tone from both ends. Thorn, this conversation took place in Sophia’s kitchen while Brainiack was in the office. He palmed her phone and loaded the listening software while she was having car problems. He replaced it when she took his car.” He glanced at Brian. “Good work.” He tapped his computer and the men leaned forward to listen.
“Short and to the point. So what were they saying?” Thorn asked.
Nutsbe passed them each a sheet of paper, and they looked it over. “Let’s play good cop, bad cop.”
“All right, I’ll start,” Thorn said. “She spoke in Hebrew. She was trying to hide the conversation from Brainiack.”
“Maybe the other caller doesn’t speak English. Or maybe she was talking about sensitive information that even her security team doesn’t need to know,” Brian countered. “This phone call was preceded by another phone call, in which she didn’t say anything, that came to the house phone. To me, it seemed to identify that she was at home and signaled her that another call was going to come through—she moved to receive the call in the kitchen. And oddly, she took her keys with her.”
Thorn rubbed his thumb against his chin. “What are these numbers and letters she’s rattling off?”
“Might be part of the security protocol that she follows with her colleagues.” Brian stood and moved to the coffee station at the side of the room. Another cup of coffee might rev his brain cells. “We know that she and Nadia are interfacing with different preservationist groups in the Middle East, especially Syria, that are working to document the antiquities and keep them off the black market.”
“Get me a cup too, would ya?” Nutsbe asked. “Sugar, no cream. This call didn’t come from Syria—it came from Jordan.”
“Still, the scenario could apply.” Brian’s back was to the guys while he doctored the coffee.
“Except that Nadia usually handles the identification and cataloguing, and they called Sophia,” Nutsbe said as he reached out to take his cup. “Thanks.” He took a sip. “Jesus H. Christ.” He grimaced. “This tastes like swill from a cow pasture.”
“Probably ‘cause it is.” Brian took his seat. “We don’t know that they were specifically calling Sophia—Nadia works out of that office. The call might have gone to either of them.”
“Not true,” Thorn said. “The follow up call went to Sophia’s cell.”
Brian read the words over again. “How about this? It could have something to do with locations instead of items. And we don’t know how cleanly Nadia and Sophia draw the line on their work. There could be overlap like there is here with us.”
“I wonder what the courier had—maybe we can trace it,” Thorn said.
“When Brian sent the audio, Titus thought it was odd enough that he pushed it to the top of the queue over at the translation desk,” Nutsbe said. “He thought that package was an opportunity we didn’t want to miss. Since Brian didn’t have a chance to get our monitoring equipment installed, Titus sent Gage over to get a license plate.”
Brian laced his hands behind his head, slouching into a more comfortable position. “Interesting. I wonder why Titus didn’t get back to me with that.”
“Dunno, man, but he put his head in earlier and said when you finish up in here, he’d like you to meet with him.”
“Wilco. What did Gage find out?”
“The license plates are registered to a company called ReadyMan. The address is a boarded-up house,” Nutsbe said.
“Huh,” Brian said.
“Yup.”
“What happened after the courier left?” Thorn asked.
Nutsbe read from his computer. “Gage had watch. Lights were on until zero-three-twenty-seven. An interesting log note—just after midnight, he saw someone walking around the side yard. He moved in to take a look but they were gone by the time he worked his way over. Gage checked the windows and doors. It all looked tight. Sophia has alarm system stickers on her windows. There was no siren, so he kept watch until he was sure she was done for the night and he headed back to the barracks.”
“I’ll figure out a way to get in her house today and install surveillance.” Brian turned to Thorn. “What went on with Nadia?”
“Looks like I got light duty so far,” Thorn said. “I synced our phones to install the software while she was packing up from the presentation. She made no calls. She texted her sister Lana and someone named Cathy to plan a girls’ night out for Wednesday. There was some back and forth about that. It didn’t read like code, and Sophia wasn’t part of the exchange. Once Nadia left Iniquus, she had a massage, stopped at a flower shop for a bouquet, then the Godiva store and home. She settled in until dinner, when she headed to a restaurant. At that point, I had time to do a search and plant the electronics at her home. Nice place. An end-row townhouse in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. Tastefully decorated—nothing elaborate. No pets. Vegetarian diet. Nothing that points to her living above her means. Yesterday’s pampering seems like a one-off.”
“Sophia said that they were both introverts and found talking in front of strangers difficult,” Brian threw out. “Could be that was her celebration that it was over.”
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