10
Fear and frustrated rage made my hands shake, but I didn’t doubt for an instant that Zane would do it. Clark’s life was quite literally in my hands.
Pushing aside my emotions, I concentrated on the work. The database the FBI was using wasn’t proprietary, and there had been a security vulnerability published just last week about this particular product and version. If the database hadn’t yet been patched, I could exploit that hole. A query against the database gave me the information I needed, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d caught a break.
A database isn’t like a spreadsheet, but like a maze of tables that are all interconnected, referring back to one another. Deleting one record from one table would do nothing except compromise the data and alert administrators that someone had tampered with it. A restore from backup would undo everything I did. I had to figure out the map of the database and structure my query to modify and delete the specific data, not leaving anything corrupted, and I had . . . I glanced at the clock on the computer monitor . . . two minutes left in which to do it.
I dropped into my zone, blocking out all sound around me and seeing only the words on the screen. My fingers flew over the keyboard, querying the structure and tables of the database, then memorizing the results it returned. Thank God whoever had designed the thing hadn’t gotten fancy with table names.
Over a dozen tables would need to be modified to delete this particular name from existence, and the query I wrote was more than ten lines long by the time I sent the command to execute. I waited, barely breathing, counting the seconds inside my head.
One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
The blinking cursor returned. QUERY COMPLETE. TWELVE ROWS MODIFIED.
I let out my breath in a huff. “Done,” I said loudly, then turned around in my chair to Zane. “It’s done.”
He smiled. “Right down to the wire. Impressive.”
“Call off the gun,” I demanded.
He took longer than I wanted before nodding at the guard holding Clark at gunpoint. The guard unchambered the round, then put the weapon back in his holster.
The anger I’d kept compartmentalized while I worked now broke free. I stood and got in Zane’s face.
“You’re a real asshole,” I hissed. “Someone like you should be careful of the enemies you make. They might come back to bite you in the ass.”
He had the audacity to laugh. “You mean like you? You’re about as threatening as a Chihuahua.” Then he patted my head.
I gasped in outrage and jerked away. My fists were clenched in impotent rage. I hated Zane with every breath I took.
Everyone was watching us. Rey, Dr. Jay, the two guards, and Clark, who looked like he wanted to tear Zane limb from limb.
Zane’s cell phone rang. Completely unfazed by my anger, he pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s my wife,” he said. “Gotta take it. You know how it is.” He winked and smiled, casually turning away as he answered. “Hey, babe, what do you need? I’m a little busy—”
She interrupted him and I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she was obviously upset.
“Slow down, start again,” Zane said. “What’s going on?” He listened. “No . . . no, I didn’t change anything.”
Turning away, I headed toward Clark. The doctor was removing the IV from his arm, and Clark pulled his shirt back on, grimacing slightly. I sat next to him on the couch.
“Will he be okay?” I asked the doctor, who nodded.
“You did a good job getting the slug out and cleaning the wound,” he said. “I sewed him up and gave him an antibiotic in case of infection. He also has a couple cracked ribs, I believe, but they’ll heal on their own. The rest is just abrasions and contusions.”
“Good.” I smiled when Clark glanced at me.
“What did you do?” Zane asked, his voice tight with anger. He’d walked over and now stood a few feet away, still with his cell at his ear.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, barely summoning enough interest in his plight to bother responding.
“My wife can’t leave our house,” he said.
“Why would she want to leave?” I asked, frowning. “You live in a luxury mansion just built last year, with all the bells and whistles.”
Zane tapped a button on his cell, putting his wife on speaker. “Tell me what’s happening, honey.”
“It’s been going on for a couple of hours,” she said, her voice tinny from the speaker. “At first, I thought it was just a problem in the wiring, but now . . . now it’s forty degrees in here, and I-I’m locked in.
“The lights won’t come on, but the televisions won’t turn off,” she continued. “They’re all blasting the same channel. The hot tub is boiling, and I’m afraid to go in the kitchen. The appliances are all on and I can’t turn them off.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, “you’ve got one of those smart houses, right? Everything’s hooked up to a central system that you use voice control for, right?” I leaned forward, asking conspiratorially, “I don’t suppose your wife knows Mandarin Chinese, does she? I bet that would help.”
Zane’s face turned purple in mottled rage.
“Wait, I found a door unlocked,” his wife said, sounding relieved. “Oh thank God, it’s the garage. I’ll be able to drive out of here, Zane.”
Zane’s face went from red to white in an instant. “No, wait—”
“Zane, the cars! They’re all running! And I can’t . . .” There was a rattle and thumping sound. “I can’t get out of the garage now. The door locked behind me.” Panic threaded her voice. “Zane? Can you hear me? I’m locked in the garage. All three cars are running. What do I do?”
“Oooh, that sounds bad,” I said casually. “Those remote auto-starts are so handy, right? But carbon monoxide poisoning can be a real danger. Three cars running with exhaust inside an enclosed space for two hours? I bet that air is already heavily contaminated.” I shook my head in mock sadness.
“Zane?” His wife’s voice was panicked.
Quick as a flash, he raised his arm to hit me, and just as quickly, Clark caught it before he could land a blow.
“Try that again and I’ll break your arm,” Clark said.
The guards looked unsure as to what to do, while Rey and Dr. Jay just watched. As I’d told Zane before, fear didn’t inspire loyalty. They weren’t going to put their lives on the line for him, that was obvious. And it seemed as though they didn’t particularly care very much as to what the outcome of this standoff would be. They merely watched with interest.
“How does it feel?” I asked Zane. “To know someone you love is in danger? That their life is in someone else’s hands? Someone who doesn’t give a damn what happens to them?”
“I didn’t kill him,” he said. “He’s alive and well, right next to you. I kept my word.”
“Yay, you,” I deadpanned. “Give me the name. Give me the name and I’ll consider giving you your house back. Otherwise, well, carbon monoxide isn’t a bad way to go. You just . . . fall asleep. Tell your wife she may want to remain standing as long as possible.”
“Zane? I can’t hear what’s going on. Can you fix this? Help me.”
“If my wife dies, I’ll kill you.”
“If you kill us, your wife is still dead,” I said, my voice hard. “Give me the name.”
His jaw worked as though he was chewing on the words. He glared at me, unblinking. But I wasn’t fazed and stared back. This was a bad man, an evil man, with no conscience. I wasn’t surprised he was taking longer than he should to contemplate his decision, and I felt a brief pang of sympathy for his wife, married to a man like that.
She began to cough and that spurred Zane. “Danvers,” he spit out. “Mark Danvers. He was in charge of Operation Gemini. Now let my wife go.”
“I’ll let your wife go once we are beyond the front gate,” I said. “I’m not about to give up our only leverage just so you can have us shot on the way out.”
“How do I know you’ll let her go?”
“You don’t,” I said, echoing his earlier derisive response. “But then again, you don’t have much choice.” His wife coughed again. “I’d suggest making a decision quickly. It doesn’t sound like she has much time left.”
“Let them go,” he told the guards, then to us he said, “Get out and don’t come back.”
I got up in his face. “Gladly,” I hissed. “And remember, you made an enemy today. We’ll call this a draw, but if you ever come near me or Clark again, I’ll take this fucking place apart piece by piece.”
Clark relieved the guards of their rifles, handing me one, as well as the handgun. “It’s been real,” he said to Zane. “And I hope you learned your lesson.”
“What’s that?” Zane called out as we headed out the door.
“Never piss off a Chihuahua.”
Clark drove while I took care of Zane’s wife, turning off the cars and remotely opening all the garage doors. I watched on their surveillance camera as she stumbled outside and took a few deep breaths. Other than shaken, she looked fine. I disconnected from their system.
“Would you really have done it?” Clark asked. He was watching the road. It was dark by now and my stomach growled. The fast food had been a long time ago.
“Done what?” I had a dozen missed calls, and the texts were piling in.
“Let her die.”
I glanced up from my phone in surprise. Of all people to question my motives and conscience, I hadn’t expected it from Clark.
“No, I don’t think so,” I answered truthfully. “I’d like to think I wouldn’t have. At the time, I was . . . angry. Enraged. Furious.”
He snorted. “Yeah. I got that. Remind me never to pat you on the head.”
I smiled and shook my head. “It wasn’t that. I mean, not just that. When they held a gun to your head, and he treated you like a punching bag, so casual with your life . . . I wanted revenge. I wanted to make him feel the same helpless fury and despair that I had felt.”
He didn’t say anything and I squirmed a little in my seat.
“It’s not a pretty part of me,” I said. “Frankly, I didn’t know I could be so . . . angry and . . . and—”
“Ruthless?” Clark finished.
I nodded. “Yeah. I guess that’s the word.”
“You don’t work for the Gap, sweetheart. This business ain’t for the fainthearted.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about my actions, but I did know that we were both alive and out of PFG. My cell rang as I was scrolling. Jackson.
“Hey,” I answered, “did they let you out of the hospital?”
“I’ve been out for hours. Where the hell are you? I’ve been worried sick. So is Mia.”
Oh noooo . . .
“Um, I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t have a signal where I was so I couldn’t call you.”
“Where were you?”
Really didn’t want to go there. “I’m on my way home. I’ll tell you all about it then.”
“Come to my place instead.”
I glanced at Clark. “Um, I will, I just . . . need to go by my house first and see Mia. I hate that she was worried.”
“Fine, but then come. I have information about the assassination attempt.”
“Okay. See you soon.” I ended the call and turned to Clark. “Jackson says he has information about the shooter.”
“Did he say what it was?”
“Not yet. Said he’d tell me tonight.”
“You’re going over there?”
“Of course. I haven’t seen him since we woke up in the hospital. I’m worried about him.” And that wasn’t all. I needed his arms around me, needed the normalcy Jackson now represented. Clark had turned my world upside down in two days. I craved my routine.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you are. That makes sense.”
His words were common enough and easily said, but his hands had tightened on the wheel. I felt like there was tension between us, though I didn’t know why.
“Are you angry?” I asked. “Or hurting?” The doctor had patched him up and given him the antibiotic, but no pain medication that I could see. Not even ibuprofen. “You can have another one of my pain pills tonight.”
“I’m fine,” he said, glancing at me. “You can keep your pain meds.”
I nodded and left it at that.
Mia was waiting for me, and boy, was she in a snit.
“You could’ve left a note,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and blocking the door into the house. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“I have an excuse,” I said. Clark stepped from behind me into the light, a rifle slung over each shoulder and the handgun tucked into the front waistband of his jeans. I jerked my thumb. “Him.”
Clark gave a thin-lipped smile and waggled his fingers at her. “Hiya, Mia.”
Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Asshat,” she greeted him. “You’re causing trouble for Aunt Chi again, aren’t you.”
“Don’t be rude,” I admonished her. “Let us in. I’m starving.”
Reluctantly, she moved aside, eyeing Clark with the look of someone watching a misbehaving toddler.
“I made dinner,” she said, heading into the kitchen. “Just in case you got home in time.”
I sniffed appreciatively, my mouth watering. “Mmm, spaghetti and meatballs?”
“Your favorite,” she said, taking down another plate and setting it alongside the other two already on the table.
“Technically, not true,” I said. “But of the Italian dishes that you’ve attempted, it’s definitely the best.”
“What’s your favorite, then?” Clark asked.
“Oh boy,” Mia muttered. Clark glanced at her.
“I can’t answer that,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Don’t ask.”
Mia’s hissed comment came at the same time as Clark’s follow-up question, and I gave her a questioning look before answering Clark.
“Favorite food implies there’s one meal or dish that I prefer above all others and would always choose to have if that choice was possible. But not only would that be unhealthy, it’s discriminatory against all other foods. Not to mention that I’ve only eaten a fraction of a fraction of all possible combinations of nutrients in the world, so the sampling size is scientifically too small for there to be a preferred item.”
Clark’s lips had a twist to them, and his blue eyes had a softness I wasn’t accustomed to seeing.
“Um, but I guess if I were to go with the conventional answer to the question . . . I’d say pizza.”
Clark’s smile widened. “Nice job.”
Mia was looking at me, too, brows raised, spaghetti noodles dripping from her ladle. “Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s eat.”
The three of us sat down to laden plates and dug in. I was on my third meatball when Mia asked, “So, are you two a thing now?”
I looked at her as if she’d just told me the meatballs were store-bought. Clark promptly began choking. I pounded on his back and shot her a dirty look. She just sucked up more noodles, oblivious. Or pretending to be oblivious.
“I’m engaged to Jackson,” I said sternly to her. “Clark and I are partners. And friends. That’s all.”
Clark said nothing, just took another sip of his wine. A very long sip.
“I’m just a teenager,” Mia said calmly. “So I don’t know much. But I think that it would be better to face the hard questions before the wedding rather than after. Maybe you two need to have a talk. Or some alone time.” She popped up her phone. “I’m going to stay with Megan tonight. I’ll check you two tomorrow.” With one last slurp of her noodles, she jumped up and pecked her lips to my cheek. “Leave the dishes. I’ll do them in the morning.” She winked at me and left.
It happened so fast, I was left staring at the closed door in openmouthed shock. Had she just suggested . . .
“I’m not a genius like you,” Clark said drily, “but I think Mia just tried to insinuate we should have sex.”
I turned to him. “We are not going to do that. I-I’m supposed to be going over to Jackson’s.”
“Right. I almost forgot.” Getting up, he took our empty plates to the sink and began rinsing them.
“We are two relatively young people with healthy libidos,” I said. “It’s only natural that we would have a certain . . . physical attraction. Plus, we’ve been put into life-threatening situations several times, which can heighten and accentuate . . . feelings. Making them feel more urgent and real than they actually are.”
Clark didn’t respond. He just kept rinsing, then began putting the dishes in the dishwasher and storing the leftovers in Tupperware.
“We’re just acting out millennia of fight-or-flight tendencies as well as the natural reaction of gratitude that someone feels when another person puts their life on the line to help them. It’s the highest form of . . . of . . . affection . . . and . . . and . . . friendship . . .” I ran out of words.
Clark finished and turned toward me, leaning back against the counter. His gaze was dark and his mouth unsmiling.
“I’m not going to argue with you,” he said at last. “I want you to be happy. I’m just not sure if you’d be happier with someone else instead of Jackson.”
I shrugged helplessly. “That’s sweet of you, but there is no one else. Jackson is the man in my life.”
“There’s me.”
I froze, staring at him. This was the first time he’d actually offered me something. “What are you saying?”
There was a hard knock on the front door, then I heard the lock clicking, and it opened. Jackson walked in. He came in about ten feet until he got a good look in the kitchen, and he stopped.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he ground out.
Oh shit.
“Jackson!” I jumped to my feet and rushed to him. “It’s so good to see you.” I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him hard. He didn’t hug me back.
“Why is Clark in your house?” Jackson’s question was asked with deceptive calmness.
“Um, it’s kind of a long story,” I said carefully, gazing up at him. He still hadn’t put his arms around me. I felt awkward, so I took a step backward.
Jackson’s gaze landed on Clark. “What the fuck are you doing here? How much of your shit have you gotten China involved in now?”
“Jackson—”
“No, it’s okay,” Clark interrupted. “He’s right. I’ve gotten you way too involved in things that are dangerous. I should never have come.” He grabbed his jacket, and my stomach fell to my shoes.
“No, no! Wait!” I grabbed his arm, latching on to him. “You can’t go.”
“Let him,” Jackson said. “He’s poison, China.”
I turned on him. “He is not poison,” I hissed. “He’s been framed, and I’m not about to let him leave when I—when we—are in a position to help him.”
“I am not helping him,” he sneered. “He’s wanted by every law-enforcement agency we have.”
“They’re wrong,” I insisted. “He’s not guilty. And he’s my partner. I can help him and so can you. If you refuse to help me, then . . . then I guess we have a problem.”
Jackson looked at me, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing anger.
“Is that an ultimatum?” he asked.
I hesitated. Ultimatums were bad. Every reality show I’d ever watched said that. “Umm . . .”
“Because it sounds like one,” he said.
“It’s a call to do the right thing,” I said, lifting my chin. “We’ve always maintained that we were on the side of what’s right. Are you going to put restrictions on that now, just because it’s Clark?”
“How long have you been helping him?”
I shrugged. “A couple of days.”
“Why haven’t you said anything to me?”
I was at a loss for that one, because if I answered with the truth, I’d be throwing Clark under the bus.
“I asked her not to,” Clark interjected. Jackson’s gaze swung to him.
“Why not?”
“Because I knew you’d freak the fuck out, just like you’re doing,” Clark retorted. “And I trust you about as much as you trust me.”
“I know who you really are and what you’ve done,” Jackson said. “I’ve not told China because I didn’t want to ruin what little innocence she has left by knowing the truth about you.”
“I know,” I interrupted. Jackson glanced at me. “He told me,” I said. “He told me everything.” At least I hoped it was everything.
“Really. And how do you feel about your ‘partner’ who used to be a paid assassin?”
I swallowed. “Um, well, it was unexpected, but sometimes people do things they wouldn’t normally do when they’ve undergone a period of extreme stress . . . or . . . or grief.”
“So you’re defending him?” Jackson’s tone was a mix of anger and incredulity.
“I’m not defending him,” I said. “I’m saying that I understand. Plus, that was then and this is now. It’s not like he was an assassin just last week. He’s in trouble and so are you, and I think they’re tied together.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because of this.” I pulled the Gemini talisman out of my pocket. “Look familiar? Someone left it for Clark, too, right before they tried to kill him. And I bet if I look deeper into those deaths I told you about”—I was looking at Clark now—“I’ll find something similar.” I turned back to Jackson. “It’s not the number two, it’s a Gemini sign. Gemini was the name of an operation. I don’t know why this is important or who’s doing it, but someone obviously has a vendetta. And if we work together, we may find out who it is and can stop him before he kills someone else.”
Jackson’s jaw worked for a moment, then he said, “That’s what I wanted to tell you. That symbol was found spray-painted on the wall where the sniper shot at the president.”
We all took a moment to process that.
“Okay, then. We need to find Mark Danvers and William Buckton,” I said. “Buckton is probably next on whatever list this guy is using. He’s the one with the security firm.”
“Speaking of which,” Clark added, “why would you get a Gemini, Coop? When have you ever worked for the military?”
“I was never in the military,” Jackson retorted. “A Google search will tell you everything you need to know about me. For all I know, it could be some nutjob who decided something Cysnet created or was involved in is worth killing over. I don’t think we can classify whoever’s doing this as someone who’s sane.”
“We can try to find Danvers while we go see Buckton,” I said. “We need to find out what he knows.”
“Can’t we just call?” Jackson asked.
“I did,” I said. “He’s out of the country at the moment, expected back in Omaha on Wednesday.”
“Buckton could be the shooter or the target, for all we know,” Clark added. “We need to see him face-to-face, ask him some questions.”
“We can leave tomorrow,” I said.
“If you’re set on this, then I’ll call and get my plane ready.” Jackson reached for his cell.
“We can’t take your plane,” Clark scoffed. “Those require flight plans and lists of passengers. I’m still wanted.”
“There’s an easy way to take care of that,” Jackson threatened.
“Just try it, geek boy.”
“What are you? Twelve?”
I interrupted their argument. “Knock it off. I thought you two had buried the hatchet. This is ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Jackson asked. “I’m your fiancé and am just now finding out you’ve been helping him for two days?”
“Maybe if you didn’t go so crazy when it came to Clark and me, I would’ve told you sooner,” I shot back. “And, yes, you’re my fiancé, not him, so how about a little trust?”
My Hypocrite Alarm was sounding loud and clear, but I ignored it. I wasn’t wrong. Jackson hadn’t even let me explain before jumping to bad conclusions.
“Fine,” he said at last. “But you’re not going alone with him. We’ll all go.”
“That’s all I wanted,” I said. “Go home and pack. You can pick us up in the morning.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’ll go pack, but I’ll be back tonight.”
I sighed. “Whatever. That’s fine.”
“Think I’m going to seduce your girlfriend the moment you’re gone?” Clark sneered.
Jackson shot him a look of pure loathing. “I think you’d try. She may be oblivious to your obsession with her, but I’m not.”
“Jackson—” I warned.
He cut me off with a hard kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back. And don’t think I didn’t notice that he’s wearing your clothes.” Then he was out the door and gone.