If overhearing that conversation put her in danger, copying these TDE-5X specs would kill her for sure. She plugged the USB dongle into the side of Sherman’s computer and dragged the files over with the mouse, clicking to save them to the drive. She also copied over the security camera date, and the screen shot she’d nabbed.

As she watched the progress bar on the copying, her knees felt weak, and she couldn’t stop the heart palpitations threatening to send her to the emergency room. “Come on, come on, come on!” She checked out her left and right to make sure no one saw her tucked away here. “Stupid slow-ass server. Save, dammit!”

“Has anyone seen Nicky?” Ryan asked loudly from several cubes over.

“I saw her at her desk a while ago,” someone responded.

“She’s not there,” Ryan said.

“What’s up, man?”

Nicole heard Ryan take a long pause. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s good.”

Fuck! I have to get out of here ASAP!

She bit her bottom lip watching the progress bar… 80%... 85%... 92%... done!

“Yes!”

She tugged the USB dongle out of the drive, cleared the cache, history and activity log, and stuck the drive in her front pocket, pushing it down deep. Popping up, she saw Ryan’s head of hair above the cubicles as he wandered the office, probably searching for her. She hunkered down and waited a moment until she didn’t hear the sound of his voice.

You can do this.

Just like those times when she’d dash across an open field in two seconds flat while her dad was peering off in another direction, Nicole was grateful for those play dates pretending she was a spy. Who the hell knew it would actually come in useful and—what—save her life?

“Anyone seen Nicole?” she heard someone else shout out.

It was time to get out of there, get home, and make a plan. She’d clearly overheard something she wasn’t supposed to and Bob, Doyle, and… fuck, maybe even Ryan, who knew?

Glancing around Sherman’s cube, she pulled down his San Jose Sharks cap from the shelf above his desk, tucked her hair up underneath it, and dragged it to cover her face. She took a deep breath and then stood up, walked firmly gripping her bag, and headed straight for the staircase.

She ran like a triathlete down the steps all the way to the parking garage where she’d stashed her bike. Riding like the wind, she made it home in record time, abandoning the bike inside the front hall as soon as she burst into her apartment.

“Think, Nicole, think.”

Sitting on her couch, she withdrew her laptop from her bag and set it next to her. When her cell phone rang with Ryan’s name appearing in the readout, she clicked “Reject” and started grumbling. “Fuck you, asshole,” she muttered at one point.

Logging into a Tor browser for an incognito searching, she started looking for anything about a Mr. Wu and Delta Shandong. Three links down… “Bingo!”

Nicole read as fast as she could seeing two news articles from a Chinese technology company’s website. When she clicked on the link, it took her to a 404 error. “No longer available. Fuck.”

She added in a few more strokes and went to a website that would take you “back in time” to archived copies of websites. Scrolling back three years on the site’s calendar, she found a cached page on Delta Shandong, owned by Chao Wú, Hung Jaing, and Ling Zhang. They worked for this Chinese corporation with strong ties to the Republic of China Armed Forces. With her hand to her mouth, she covered the gasp escaping from her. If she weren’t so terrified of what was going on, she’d have to make a sexual joke against all of these loaded names.

It was more than that, though. Ling Zhang had a connection to someone Nicole knew. Little had she known then that she’d been betrayed with the ultimate treachery. The one friend Nicole had made while she had worked in Shenzhen, the same person who recommended her for the position at Terratech and, in fact, got her the interview.

Mei-Ling Zhang.

That rebellious, purple-haired, down-with-China, freedom-for-all, social media manager of the Chinese software firm where Nicole had worked may not have been any of those things. The five minutes at the back table in Starbucks had shown Nicole the truth—that Mei-Ling was some kind of double agent and it traced right back to her own fucking father! Delta Shandong turned out to be a Chinese cyber-security firm—and Mei-Ling’s father owned it lock, stock, and barrel.

Laughter bubbled from deep within her, bursting from her throat as she cracked herself up. Not one goddamned thing was funny at all, but it was the only reaction she could muster up without having to shove her head in the toilet. However, the humor transformed into tears. Hot, salty, fat blobs of water rolling down her cheeks at an impressive pace. Her breathing quickened. She was close to hyperventilating. She knew she had to get control over herself or else she was going to need the ER—which was not an option because they would actually call fucking Ryan as her emergency contact.

“Why is this hap-hap-happening to me?” she got out as she tried to breathe. With her head between her legs, she filled her lungs slowly and did her best to calm down.

She knew what she had to do. As much as she hated to do it, she had to call the one person who would know what she should do to solve this shit show.

Dialing her second burner phone, she waited for the man to answer.

“Well, I haven’t talked to you in a long time,” he said flatly.

“I know. I’m sorry… work has been really busy for me. In fact, I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Really? Let’s hope it’s not going around.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. She shared another one of their code phrases, one of many between them. This last one was to let him know that she was in trouble, someone could be listening, and she needed assistance. “I think it is. It’s pretty rough from what I can tell.”

There was a brief silence between them. “Use the eye drops,” Dad said. “You’ll be just fine.”

“That’s a good idea.”

She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her. “Use the eye drops” meant whatever was going on was bad enough that she needed to get the hell out of the country and get to London, where he would meet her. At the London Eye. She’d get her passport, the stash of cash she had in a hidden compartment in her underwear drawer, a few toiletries, enough clothes to last a week her computer, phone, and the all-important USB drive. Whatever else she needed, she’d buy with cash. Even though she always traveled out of the San Jose airport, she was headed to SFO—the San Francisco International Airport—as soon as possible.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she breathed out before ending the call.

Nicole braced herself.

She had to disappear.