Knight Moves Read online

  From: Executive Director, Research Directorate ED/RD

  To: DIR NSOC

  Classification: Top Secret, No Foreign

  0206 GMT

  Message Follows:

  Any updates regarding the status of the negotiations with the HA? Do we know what he wants yet?

  End of Message

  Crypto-Secure Phone

  From: Director NSOC, National Security

  To: DIR ED/RD

  Classification: Top Secret, No Foreign

  0210 GMT

  Message Follows:

  This couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Meet me in my office in the morning for full briefing. Negotiations are proceeding. Avenger is promising more information on terrorists and has given us relevant leads that are panning out in exchange for his demands. I’m still seeking clarity on what kind of immunity he wants, and talking to the Justice Department. Think they will agree to some kind of deal. More tomorrow.

  End of Message

  Deal? Isaac slammed his phone on the kitchen counter. Stalking across the room, he yanked open a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of gin. He poured some into a glass, adding tonic and ice. He shook the glass a couple of times before taking a large swallow and picking up a burner phone. He tapped in a number and waited.

  After four rings, it was picked up by a man with a curt voice. “Who’s this?”

  “Update me,” Isaac said. “And it’d better be good.”

  There was a slight pause. “You’re in luck. We think he might have contacted the daughter.”

  Isaac sat straight up and almost spilled his drink. “What? When?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. We noticed a significant drop in what she was saying on her cell and home phone, as well as what she was doing on her computer. Right about the same time, we intercepted a heavily encrypted message going in. After that message went in, we were getting so little information, we switched tactics. We rented a house on the same street as her apartment complex to keep the family under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

  “You think Sinclair contacted her?”

  “I think that’s the most likely scenario. We traced the message, but it went nowhere. We’re still trying to break the encryption, but it isn’t looking good. The daughter seems to have taken whatever message she received to heart. Given her subsequent actions, it was probably a warning. She’s been crazy careful with all outgoing information, including phone calls. She’s still using her computer but has been tunneling out using encrypted VPNs that she changes daily. We don’t know what to make of it the fact that if it were Sinclair, why he feels threatened enough to reach out to her. Is he worried about her or himself? We have no indication that he’s tried to contact his wife or the older daughter.”

  That was interesting. What was Sinclair thinking, and why the focus on the younger daughter? Maybe she was getting closer to him than they thought? “So, he’s watching the daughter closely. Good. That’s our conduit, then. What are we doing to manipulate this to our advantage?”

  “Well, we were able to plant a few bugs in the common areas of the house last week when no one was home. That’s why we’re pretty sure Sinclair’s wife has not been contacted. Unfortunately, most of what’s being said in the house is inconsequential, other than the daughter has been nominated to go through the UTOP trials. I bet he knows that, too.”

  Isaac’s annoyance rose at the news. “Let me guess. Slash nominated her. He’s already called me asking about the Hidden Avenger investigation. I’ve held him off for now. I want Slash and his department shut out of this investigation entirely.”

  “Why are you so worried about Slash? He wasn’t around when Sinclair left fourteen years ago, and he knows nothing about Lando. IAD has no bone to pick in this fight. I would think Candace Kim would be more of a threat to us.”

  Isaac let out a grunt of disgust. “Candace Kim is a bureaucrat who thinks she has things under control when, in fact, she doesn’t have a clue.” He tried to temper his irritation that he had to explain himself. “She’s walking blindfolded, swinging wildly with a stick and hoping she somehow hits the piñata, when she isn’t even in the right part of the room. She’s not being obvious about it, but I’m certain she’s having fantasies about becoming the first woman director at the NSA. She is annoying but predictable. I can manage her.”

  He paused, considering his next words. “Slash, however, is another story. He’s a bit of a mystery and appears to be too good to be true. His meteoric rise in the NSA is concerning. Always seems to be in the right place at the right time to save the day. He’s either really lucky or really dangerous, because no one is that good. But he’s definitely by the book and has successfully cultivated a close relationship with the director. I don’t want to put our years of planning for this opportunity at risk to Slash’s good luck or unwillingness to do what is necessary to keep our nation safe. Let’s not give him a reason to get involved.”

  “Agreed. Yet, he nominated Sinclair’s daughter and two of her friends, which is odd. Is this a coincidence, or does he have some connection we don’t know about to the Hidden Avenger? We really have no idea where his loyalties lie, but approaching him to try and find out might either raise his suspicions or have unfortunate consequences if we’re wrong.”

  Isaac set his glass down, the condensation creating a small wet ring on the counter. “It has to be a coincidence. It’s just unfortunate that Slash and his fiancée have a personal connection to the girl. It only adds another layer of complication to a delicate operation.”

  “Yes, it does, sir.”

  While it was a disturbing development and merited continued observation, it was not crisis-level. Isaac took another drink and mentally went through his options. “How do you think UTOP plays into this?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think we have anything to worry about. The daughter may have mad skills at the keyboard, but she’s not UTOP material. If she accepts the nomination, she’ll be the first to wash out.”

  “Good. Because I need her focus on finding her father, not on the UTOP trials. She’ll be nearly impossible to monitor ensconced at the UTOP campus. We’re running out of time to get the Avenger before Candace Kim does.” That, thought Isaac, was the crux of their problem.

  “You’re right about that, sir. She has a lot invested in bringing him in. Think about it. People like success stories, and giving them a woman would be icing on the cake. Not saying she’d be a lock for the directorship, but it sure wouldn’t hurt.”

  “The directorship is mine.” Isaac tightened his hand on his glass. “We’ve worked too long and invested too much in it, which makes it imperative that we bring in the Avenger first. I want you to step up our efforts. Do what you need to do to find the Avenger and make it fast. Are you clear on that?”

  “Crystal, sir.”

  Chapter Eight

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  One week later, I waited nervously on the couch inside my apartment with two small suitcases, my laptop bag, Mr. Toodles, and my mom.

  “I feel like you’re forgetting something,” my mom said, jumping up for the hundredth time and looking around the apartment.

  “We’ve had this same conversation a dozen times in the past hour, Mom. They said they’re providing pretty much everything for us. They are even sending a driver for me. Look, I promise I’m not forgetting anything. I’ve got everything I need.”

  “What about your phone charger? Extra batteries? Your gloves?”

  “I’ve got all those things. Besides, if I did forget anything, you can bring them to me. I’m only going to be two hours away, remember?”

  “But they said it will be at least four weeks before I can visit.”

  My heart skipped a beat nervously. In four weeks I’d know whether I was in or out. If I failed, my mom wouldn’t have to visit. I’d be coming home on my own. “They just want us to get acclimated. It will be fine. I can survive four weeks without whatever I forgot.”

  She sighed, pulling me in close fo
r a hug. “I’m not ready for an empty nest. It’s all happening so fast.”

  “I promise I’ll call and text as often as I can, okay?”

  “You’d better.”

  “I will.”

  The doorbell rang and Mr. Toodles barked like the fierce dog he is, with tiny little yaps and yips. My mom scooped him up as I opened the door.

  A man in a white dress shirt, dark slacks, and sunglasses stood there. “Good morning. Ms. Sinclair, are you ready?” he asked.

  I never once imagined that I would be escorted to college by a US government driver. It was both super cool and super weird. Still, I tried to act like it was no big deal. “Yes, I’m ready. Thank you for coming.”

  He nodded, then tipped his head toward my mother. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m here to escort your daughter to the academy.”

  “Oh, it’s so nice to make your acquaintance. Would you like to come in? Do you have time for some coffee?”

  He smiled slightly. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got two other students waiting in the car.” He pointed to my suitcases. “Are these yours?”

  “They are,” I confirmed.

  He nodded once more at my mom and rolled my suitcases out the door. I slipped my laptop bag and purse over my shoulder and gave Mom and Mr. Toodles one last hug. My mom looked dangerously close to tears.

  I headed for the door but hesitated, suddenly not sure what to say, or if I could say anything to make my decision to leave any easier. Was I suddenly having doubts?

  “I’ll text you when I get to the campus and get settled in, okay? I promise.”

  My mom suddenly straightened, giving me a smile. “Of course you will. You’re so smart and strong—you’ll do great. I love you, Angel.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  It was harder than I thought it would be to walk out the door. I had to swallow hard a few times to keep my composure. Luckily, I was distracted when I saw the limo and Wally and Frankie in the back, practically bouncing off the seats.

  “Angel, will you look at this?” Wally said as I climbed in with them. “We’re riding to school in style. It even has a refrigerator and free snacks.” He opened the door, pulled out a Coke, and shoved one at me. “Drink up.”

  “I’ve never been in a limo before,” Frankie said, pushing some buttons. “There’s a television here.”

  “No alcohol, though,” Wally said. “Dang.”

  “We’re all underage,” I pointed out.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.” He pouted, but Frankie and I just laughed.

  The trip was supposed to be about two hours, but it took at least forty minutes longer, mostly because the traffic on I-95 south was a killer, even on a Monday morning. It didn’t bother us at all. Sitting in a luxurious limo with every comfort (except a bathroom) was not a hardship. We drank soda and ate potato chips, Cracker Jacks, and gummi bears while we traveled.

  Finally, our driver pulled off at an exit and drove for a while longer before turning onto a rural road. The only sign of life was a small gas station that looked closed. As we went deeper down the road, the area became increasingly wooded. Finally we came to a stop in front of a white stone arch that hung above an enormous, black, wrought-iron fence. A brick wall, about fifteen feet high, connected to the gate and disappeared into the forest. I’m not sure who the wall was intended to keep out in the middle of nowhere, but it did seem kind of ominous. Our driver pulled to a stop in front of the fence and typed some numbers on a small keyboard on the dashboard. Curious, we pressed our faces to the windows to get a look at the words carved into the arch.

  “Si vis pacem, para bellum,” I murmured.

  “What does that mean?” Frankie asked.

  Since I was the only one in the car who’d taken Latin, I translated. “If you wish for peace, prepare for war.”

  “Oh, that’s not scary at all,” Frankie whispered, leaning back in the seat.

  The driver spoke to us through a microphone. “We’re here. Welcome to UTOP, kids.”

  The gate began to open slowly, and we drove into the compound. We all strained to get a look at the campus, then I turned around and watched as the heavy gate closed behind us.

  Wally whistled softly and pointed ahead. “Get a load of that.”

  He pointed toward a series of precisely arranged colonial-style brick buildings arranged around a large courtyard and shaded by several towering trees. An impressive array of antennas covered the roofs.

  I could imagine students sitting on the benches that dotted the landscape or on the grassy areas, studying or working on their laptops. It would have been an idyllic setting, except for one thing—it was a Monday morning and the place was deserted. It looked like a ghost town.

  “That’s odd,” I heard the driver say. I’m not sure he realized his microphone was still on.

  “What’s odd?” Wally asked, alarm crossing his face as he leaned forward and pressed the microphone button to the front of the limo. “Where is everybody?”

  “I’m not sure. Something isn’t right.” The driver pulled into a parking place in front of a large courtyard, the sides of which were occupied by several small buildings, and pulled out a cell phone. He tapped on the phone and waited. We could hear ringing, but no one picked up.

  He punched the phone off. “Well, that’s not good.”

  “What’s not good?” Wally said, his voice squeaking. “What’s going on?”

  The driver opened his door, his hand reaching under his jacket. “You kids stay here. I’ll be right back.” He slammed the door and walked cautiously toward the courtyard.

  Frankie gripped my arm. “Where’s he going?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, pressing my face to the window.

  The driver was halfway across the quad when a sound like a firecracker went off. He fell to the brick walkway and didn’t get up.

  For a moment, all three of us stared in horror, our mouths open.

  “What the what?” Wally shouted. “Did someone just shoot him?”

  “OMG!” Frankie gasped, squeezing my arm so tightly I was sure I’d have bruises. “We have to help him.”

  “Help him? Are you crazy?” Wally slid to the floor, grabbing me and Frankie and trying to pull us down. “There’s someone with a gun out there. Maybe he won’t see us.”

  Frankie and I immediately joined him on the floor in a jumble of limbs. I snapped the door lock on, then snatched my cell out of my purse to dial 911. I had no bars. Wally and Frankie both checked their phones.

  “Where the heck are we that we have no cell signal?” Wally said. “This is crazy.”

  “What are we going to do?” Frankie whispered.

  I tried to stay calm, despite the rapid pounding of my heart. “I don’t know. We can’t just sit here.”

  “Why not? The driver told us to stay in the car,” Frankie said, her breath catching. “We should listen to him.”

  “Yeah, but what if whoever shot him comes after us?” Wally argued. “We’ll be sitting ducks in here.”

  “Maybe the limo is bulletproof,” Frankie said.

  “Maybe it isn’t. You want to stick around and find out?”

  Frankie’s face was turning purple from breathing too fast. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would someone want to shoot us? We didn’t do anything.”

  “These days, no one needs a reason to shoot someone,” Wally said. “We’re all targets.”

  I didn’t like what he’d said, but I didn’t disagree with it, either. I lifted my head to peek out the window. A figure dressed in all black and wearing a ski mask emerged from behind one of the buildings and was cautiously making his way toward our downed driver.

  My heart lodged in my throat. “I see the shooter. He’s dressed in black and holding a handgun. He’s headed toward our driver, who’s still on the ground and not moving. That’s not a good development.”

  “You think?” Wally said. “It’s time to get the heck out of here.”

  �
�What about our driver?” Frankie asked. “We can’t just leave him there. He was so nice.”

  “We can’t do anything for him at this point,” I said. “But maybe we can find help.”

  “We have to get out of the car,” Wally said. “If we stay here any longer, we won’t have a choice.” He flipped the door lock open and cautiously cracked the door on the side opposite of where the dark figure was still bent over our driver. Pushing it open just enough to exit, he slid out of the car and motioned vigorously for us to follow.

  I wasn’t crazy about the plan, but I agreed action was better than inertia. Frankie wiggled across the limo floor and slid out of the car next to Wally. Seconds later, I joined them. We partially closed the door and crouched there, our backs against the car, our hearts beating hard.

  “What now?” Frankie whispered.

  I pointed to an area between the buildings and kept my voice low. “That way. Maybe one of the doors are open and we can get inside and find help or a weapon.”

  “What if the bad guys are already inside?” Wally said. “I say go for the woods.”

  “Three geeks in the woods,” I said. “That would not end well. We’d be easier to target than a herd of elephants.”

  “Good point,” Wally said. “Okay. To the buildings, it is. On the count of three. Zigzag as you run, and keep low.”

  “How do you know zigzag works?” Angel asked.

  “I play a lot of first-person shooter games. Trust me, okay?”

  There was no more time for discussion. We nodded, and Wally started the countdown.

  “One, two…three.”

  Fueled by adrenaline, we burst out from behind the car toward the buildings, nearly tripping each other as we zigzagged. I quickly pulled to the front, my legs pumping harder than they ever had before. Something pinged off the brick sidewalk near my left foot as I hurtled between the buildings with the others on my heels.