by D. L. Line
“Shut up, Bobby.”
“Shutting up now.” His comment died in the air as she checked monitors and the sound level of the interior microphones. Bobby completed a similar equipment check, reached under the rearmost monitor, retrieved two headset/microphone rigs, and handed one to Terri. He plugged the headset into the jack on his end, while Terri did the same on hers. She adjusted her weapon, holstered in the small of her back, so she could sit comfortably. Bobby watched and shook his head as she turned to ask what was wrong this time.
“I still don’t get why you won’t do the shoulder holster thing. It works better.”
“I’ve told you before. The damn gun is too big. Makes me look like Quasimodo. This works better for me. Not like I’m allowed to use it anyway.”
“About that, Terri...” She stiffened as she became aware that it was time for “the talk.” “I seem to remember that we were talking about your enigmatic behavior before work interrupted. We need to talk about this.”
She grimaced. “Why? Why does everyone want to hear about my dark, scary thoughts?”
“You know damn well why. Because they’re dark and scary and because you don’t talk about it. It’s been six months and you’re still restricted.” He held up a hand as she started to interject something. “Maybe you’ve been so busy trying to slay the dragons in your own head that you’ve forgotten that this affects me too. That makes it my business, whether you like it or not.”
Terri stopped as the realization hit that Bobby was indeed correct. “Terri, I do get it. I really do. I’ve always respected that you like to keep some things, especially big things, to yourself. And I’ve never pushed before, but this isn’t getting any better. This need you have, this—” He waved his hand indicating that the right phrase wasn’t available. Terri filled in the blank.
“Patented Agent McKinnon stoicism.”
He pointed right at her, indicating that the phrase was exactly what he was looking for. “Yes, patented Agent McKinnon stoicism. That sounds like something Jen made up.”
“Yeah, that’s one of hers.”
“Well, she’s right. I guess that’s why she’s a college professor. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that this is eating you up from the inside. I want to help. I know you’re not sleeping right. I can see it all over your face. You’re exhausted and it hurts to see you like this.”
As she watched the monitors and listen for any sign of life in the dimly lit warehouse, Terri tried to collect her thoughts. “You know, Bobby, Jen and I had this same conversation two nights ago. She said exactly the same thing that you’re saying now. Considering that I now have two corroborating testimonials that my own attempt to fix things is failing miserably, I should probably listen to both of you.”
“Fuckin’ A right you should.” She turned to look, registering the edgy tone of his comment, as he waved it aside. “Sorry, that sounded harsher than I meant it. I just worry about you; that’s all.”
“I know you do. I’m really sorry about that.”
“Terri, we’re way past the time for sorry. Besides, I know you are. How about if you tell me what’s going on.”
Terri pushed the button to activate the proximity alarm for the camera. Allowing the electronics to take over, she sat back. She knew he was right, just like Jen had been. “Bobby, it’s like this. You know that I’ve had trouble with nightmares. I did tell you that much. I relive the shooting over and over again, except it doesn’t turn out the same way. I told the shrink this last week. My gun doesn’t go off and I have to watch Jen get her brains blown out. It’s really horrible, Bobby.”
He blew out a long breath, evidently collecting himself to respond. “Jesus, Terri. No wonder you can’t sleep.”
“No kidding. And there’s also the issue of all the stuff that Davis told me about Jen. Do you remember that? When he called me?”
“I sure do. He said some nasty shit about her working you and some kind of illegal stuff that she was into. That wasn’t true, was it?”
“Actually, some of it was true. I finally asked her about it.”
“Which part?”
“The illegal hacking part. The details don’t matter. She did something stupid a long time ago, and I just didn’t want to know about it. Too honest for my own good, I guess.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“I guess I am. Well, honestly, I wasn’t when she told me, but I’ve figured out that she’s right. It was a long time ago, and she knows better now.” Terri sat forward, crossed her left ankle over her right knee and began to idly pick at the ever-present white cat hair around the hem of her blue jeans. “You know, it’s like I found this really cool, happy thing, and I just wanted it to be perfect. And now I find out that it’s not. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I came so close to losing her, and I royally screwed up along the way. You got hurt, I got shot, and it was entirely my fault. It was only dumb luck and the power of Kevlar that let me get to her in time. I just don’t trust myself right now.”
“Terri, I get that. I was worried at the time that you weren’t thinking clearly, and I should have done something. Been more insistent that we needed help, but I wanted to believe you. I knew you were thinking with something other than your head, but I didn’t call you on it, so that makes me just as responsible. It wasn’t all your fault.”
“What did you think I was thinking with?”
“I was going to accuse you of thinking with your dick, like you always tell me, but I realized that you can’t think with something that you keep stuffed in a sock in the top drawer of your nightstand.” He let the crass nature of his comment sink in and watched Terri’s mouth fell open in shock. “I knew that you were thinking with your heart and not your head, because I could see the way you just turned to Jell-O when she looked at you. I should have done more. This really isn’t completely your fault, Terri. You have to believe that.”
Terri noted that the pall of guilt that had become such a fixture in her mind suddenly felt a little lighter. Maybe he was right. She couldn’t fix everything, especially considering that it wasn’t all her fault. It wasn’t all her fault.
“Terri, are you okay? What are you thinking?”
“First off, we don’t keep it in a sock. Gets fuzz all over it. Secondly, I really might be okay. I guess the Bureau was so eager to make this all someone’s fault that I believed them when they said it was mine. We all did things that we shouldn’t have...you, me, McNally, Jen.”
The quiet of the darkness was broken by the sound of an approaching vehicle that she recognized wasn’t a car, but a motorcycle. Terri instinctively ducked, an action that was mirrored by Bobby, despite the windowless nature of their vehicle. She craned her neck to look out the windshield as the motorcycle stopped fifteen yards ahead of the van. The rider killed the engine and pulled off a helmet, shaking out long, dark brown hair in the process. As the rider stood up and climbed off the bike, it became apparent to Terri that the person under the leather riding gear was decidedly female. She heard a small whistle from behind her.
“Holy shit, Terri. I may be queer as a three-dollar bill, but I can appreciate a fine ass when I see one.”
She waved him down, shooshing him at the same time. The thought crawled through her head that the leather-clad brick shithouse, who was now hanging her helmet on the side of the bike, was the reason they were here. Terri reached out to turn off the proximity alarm for the camera, quietly pushing the button as she watched every move of the dark figure. The stranger left the side of the bike and quickly disappeared from sight as she rounded the corner and headed for the entrance of the warehouse.
As soon as the woman was out of sight, Terri returned her attention to the video monitor, waiting patiently as she heard the door of the warehouse open and then close through the hidden microphones that fed into her headset. Bobby hit the button to start the video capture equipment, and Terri did the same with the digital audio recorder. Both agents leaned forward to watch their moni
tors. Nothing to do now except wait to see what happened next. Oh, and try not to stare at the brick shithouse’s ass.
Chapter Nine
Denny bounded up the stairs to her apartment, juggling her backpack and a small bag of Chinese takeout as she tried to get her free hand to the carabiner clipped securely to the belt loop of her khaki pants. She unlocked the deadbolt for her apartment and pushed the door open with her foot. “Hi, honey, I’m home!” She snickered at her own joke since she lived alone and there was no one to answer.
She took time to check the mailbox, pulled out an assortment of junk mail, and tossed it onto the cable spool in the middle of the room. Since there was no mail of any interest, and no one to say hello to, she stopped long enough to consider calling her mother in Staunton to check in. She checked the date on her phone, noting that it was Thursday. Shit. Bingo night. Mom would be at the VFW with Aunt Betty, both of them chain smoking and laughing every time some lucky person shouted “Bingo!” and three-hundred people muttered “Shit!” Denny missed bingo night, the last thing she could really share with her mom, despite her disdain for the noise and the smoke. Their relationship had become strained since Denny had decided to come out to her; and was strained even further when she’d announced her intention to attend grad school away from home. The small city of Staunton was definitely not a hotbed of action for the average twenty-three-year-old, even less so for someone with Denny’s interests. She had hugged Mom good-bye, encouraged her to visit when she could, promised to do the same, and headed for the big city.
Well, that was then. This is now, and right now, she had work to do. The mysterious project was coming along. She’d managed to get partway into the system, bypassing routers and firewalls along the way, but still couldn’t get to her goal. Maybe tonight. She knew Faith would be calling in a short matter of hours, and she wanted to have good news for her. Denny pulled her laptop from her backpack. She swung open the lid of the computer, powered it up, and went to the kitchen for a fork and a can of Coke.
Briefly contemplating getting a plate, Denny looked around and decided against it. Mostly because she hadn’t done the dishes for a few days, and none were available. Forks were in short supply too, but washing one was easier than wrestling with the provided chopsticks. When she returned to the living room, the computer was up and running, almost ready to go. She offered a brief hello to the downloaded photo of Keira Knightley (mmmm, pirates!) that took up the full screen of the computer, pulled out the containers of food, peeled them open and began to eat. In between bites, she opened her e-mail.
“Hmmm, spam, spam, penis size, ewww, spam, Oh, Dr. R. What you do you want?” She clicked on the message and began to read.
Denny,
Don’t forget. Lesson plans on Monday. Also, I have another department meeting tomorrow (Friday). Can you cover debugging class at 2 p.m.? They’re taking a test, so you just have to answer questions as necessary. Let me know.
Thanks
Dr. R.
Denny took a quick moment to shoot a response back agreeing to cover the class. No other mail of any interest, but that was hardly unusual. She debated checking her favorite message board to see what had happened during the day, but opted to just skip it, not wanting to get sucked into a discussion or a long round of movie/actor game. She had too much work to do.
The written notes that she’d started at the beginning of the project were getting longer every day, but she needed the benchmarks to remind her of the doors that she’d already opened to skirt around the advanced security measures in place in the system. There was some seriously advanced programming at work here, but Denny was confident that she’d get through. It was just a matter of time and motivation.
Time was always a problem. She had lots of responsibilities for school, including lesson plans and the preliminary work on her thesis project. Motivation. That part was easy. Denny was definitely happy with the extra cash as she wiggled her toes from within a brand-new pair of blue suede Vans. The new white American University baseball cap was nice too, not to mention the occasional stop on the way home for McDonald’s or some other experiment with ethnic carryout. Definitely beats the shit out of a thirty-five cent package of ramen noodles, she thought.
And then there was Faith. Now there was a mystery. Definitely fell into the motivation category. Faith was an enigma, but she was an enigma that loved to flirt. Shamelessly. Aggressively. Flirt. And Denny had absolutely no inclination to discourage Faith’s attention. Their second meeting had included drinks, as promised, as well as much more flirting.
She had met Faith in a nearby club, talked some about the project, had a drink or two, danced a little, and gone home. Denny enjoyed the memory, inwardly wondering if it could really be called dancing. Bumping and grinding were better words for the way Faith had danced with her. Their meeting...date...whatever it was ended abruptly as Faith announced she had to meet with someone else and left, stopping long enough to plant one truly wet, very open-mouthed kiss before heading out the door, leaving Denny a quivering mass of hormones.
“Shake it off, Robertson. Work, remember?”
Denny returned her attention to the monitor of the laptop. Using her notes, she retraced her earlier steps, but landed right back in the same spot that had halted her previous attempts to retrieve the desired files. She stopped, stared at the screen, and tried to think of a new way past the firewall that stood between her and the data. A new idea popped into her head. A few more keystrokes and the target files appeared.
“Cool! There you are. You’re encrypted, but there you are.”
Denny stopped for another forkful of spicy pork and a swig of Coke as she studied the encrypted file on the screen. To the average person, it would have looked like alphanumeric gibberish, but Denny saw something. Something she could use. She typed in an advanced decryption algorithm and fought the urge to squeal with delight as the letters and numbers began to shuffle, reorganizing themselves into something that made sense. Her delight quickly faded as she made out several words in the file.
“Ebola...legionella...anthrax...bubonic plague...what the fuck!”
While Denny would be the first to admit that she wasn’t exactly up on things in the news, she definitely knew these were not words normally associated with alternative fuel sources, as the paperwork for the project had told her. She’d have to ask Faith about it when she called. The wait proved to be short. As if on cue, her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket, checked the caller ID, and said hello to Faith.
“How’s it coming, D?”
Denny hesitated, not quite sure how to answer the question. “Umm, it’s coming. I found something and decrypted it, but it’s still too protected to download. It’s also weird...not sure it’s what you want.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be over in a couple minutes to check it out. I’m sure it’s what we want. Sit tight, D.”
Before she could get an answer out, the call was terminated on the other end. Denny stared at the phone, shook her head, and snapped it closed. The phone found its way onto the top of the cable spool as Denny turned her attention back to the monitor. Again, the wait proved to be short as she heard heavy boots on the steps outside. Before she had a chance to get up from the edge of the futon, the door swung open and Faith stepped into the apartment.
“You should remember to lock your door, D.” Faith waggled her eyebrows. “Anyone could just stroll right in here.” The look of mirth on her face morphed into an expression of something that Denny couldn’t quite identify, as she added another thought. “Don’t want anyone messing with you...well, besides me.”
Denny watched Faith stroll over to the edge of the futon and flop down next to her on the cushion. Actually, right next to her. So close that Denny could feel the heat of one leather-clad leg, pressed tightly to the poly-cotton blend surrounding her own. She started to explain her concerns about the file, but Faith was quicker, offering up another comment.
“New shoes, h
uh, D? Very nice.”
She looked down at the shoes in question.“Yeah, my old ones were pretty shot.”
Denny became aware of a hand making its way down the inside of her thigh, past her knee, and down to her ankle, pulling up slightly on the hem of her slacks to study the new shoes.
“Yes, very nice. I like them.” The hand left her ankle.
Denny closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to collect her thoughts before she asked, “Umm, the file? Do you want to hear about it?”
“Sure.” She leaned in and looked at the monitor as Denny pointed out the odd words in the file. Faith provided an explanation.
“Gotcha, D. I can see why this got your undies all bunched up. You see, this is about alternative fuel sources in Africa. That’s the master document anyway. This nasty-sounding stuff has to be about the risks involved with working in Africa. I was pretty sure you’d find something like this. Don’t worry about it.”
Denny wasn’t convinced. “Umm, okay. If you’re sure...” Her words trailed off, replaced by nothing but shock as Faith turned and got up on her knees, straddling Denny’s lap, pinning her to the futon.
“I’m sure. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Any thoughts of Ebola or risky work in third world countries flew out of her head as Denny saw nothing but tits. Inches from her face. Those tits. Holy shit. She became aware of a voice as Faith dropped her head to whisper.
“Go ahead. Touch ’em. I know you want to.”
Denny swallowed. Hard. She tried words, but there were none. Her mouth became totally dry as all the moisture in her body traveled south. As much as she wanted to touch, Denny couldn’t move. The voice whispered in her ear again, urging her to make a move. Any move.
“I’ve seen you looking. Go on. Do it.”