Читать книгу Code Conspiracy - Carol Ericson - Страница 11

Heavy breathing came at him from the other room, but he ducked his head anyway. He never could tell about Jerrica West. The woman didn’t play by any rules.

Leaning back, he stuck one leg out the door. If she started shooting, he’d rather she take out a kneecap than his eyeball. “It’s me, Gray… Gray Prescott.”

For all he knew Jerrica could’ve wiped him from that databank she called a brain. When he’d ended their relationship over her hacking, she hadn’t even blinked an eye as she showed him the door.

“I’m unarmed, and I need to talk to you, Jerrica.”

A clunk resounded down the hallway. “C’mon out. I won’t shoot…yet.”

He poked his head out the bathroom door and whistled through his teeth. “I guess that was stupid to be in the bathroom when you came home, but I was washing my hands. I didn’t know what time to expect you since I remembered you work late.”

As he rambled on, he approached Jerrica as if stalking a wildcat. Her green eyes narrowed as he got closer, her heavy, black boots planted on the floor in a shooter’s stance. He’d taught her that.

“What are you doing here and how the hell did you get in?” Her gaze flicked to the window that he’d left open a crack after climbing through.

“Yeah, well, I did come through that window, but the security for this building is good—better than most.” He’d added that last part because he knew how important safety was for her, and he didn’t want Jerrica freaking out right now.

“We’re on the third floor.” She pushed her black hair out of her eyes. “Oh, that’s right, you’re a hotshot Delta Force soldier able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

“There was a fire escape, a ledge…and…forget it. I’m here now.”

“What are you doing here? You said you wanted to talk—about what?” She crossed her arms over her chest not looking like she wanted to talk at all.

“Can we sit down and get comfortable? I wasn’t kidding about the bottle of wine, and it took a lot of effort to get it up here. I left it in the kitchen.” He pointed to the sofa with colorful pillows strewn across it. “You first.”

“Where are my manners? I guess they went out the window, when you came in the window. It’s not every day someone breaks into my apartment.”

“It’s not like I’m a stranger. I’ve even been to this inner sanctum before.”

“Have a seat, and I’ll get us a glass of wine.” She finally uprooted her feet from the floor, and her heavy boots clomped across the hardwood to the kitchen. She grabbed the bottle of wine by its neck and raised it in the air. “How did you manage to break in here while carrying this bottle of wine?”

He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “You have your secrets and I have mine.”

“You don’t have any secrets Gray. Nobody does.” She jabbed a corkscrew into the cork, twisted and eased it from the bottle. The glasses clinked together as she pulled them out of the cupboard. “You use a computer? The internet? Social media? Buy online? Nothing is sacred. They know all about you.”

“I know. You’ve told me before.” He kicked his feet up onto her coffee table. “And after that cheery reminder, I’m gonna need a glass of wine more than ever.”

She marched back into the living room, cupping a glass of wine in each hand. The ruby-red liquid sloshed with her jerky steps. She held a wine glass out to him. “You always did prefer red, didn’t you?”

His gaze locked onto her lips, the color of the wine in her glass. “Yeah, I always did like red better.”

Her cheeks flushed, matching her lips. She backed away from him and plopped down in the chair across from the sofa, pulling a pillow into her lap with one hand. “Now, what’s so important that you need to scale a three-story building and break into my place, all while carrying a killer bottle of pinot noir?”

“I need your help, Jerrica.” Damn, this was going to be harder than he’d expected. He’d better ease into it. “The kind of help only you can give me.”

She swirled her wine in the glass before taking a sip. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she swished the liquid around in her mouth as if at a wine tasting. “That’s…interesting. What kind of help would that be?”

Gray gulped back a mouthful of wine. She was just trying to make this harder on him. Could he blame her? With a little more liquid courage warming his belly, he said, “You know. That hacking thing you do.”

Her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “What was that? Hacking? You told me that was illegal, immoral and un-American.”

He snorted and the wine he’d just downed came up his nose. “I never said immoral.”

“Whatever.” She flicked her short, unpolished nails in the air, and the tattoo of the bird between her thumb and forefinger took flight—she also had one on her wrist. “The words and the accusations were coming so hot and heavy I couldn’t keep track of them.”

That hadn’t been the only thing hot and heavy between them. He did his best to keep his gaze pinned to her eyes. If they wandered below her chin, he could expect one of those boots planted against his leg.

He spread his hands. “Give me a break, Jerrica. When we first started dating, I thought you were a generic computer programmer. Then you dropped the bombshell that you worked for one of the most notorious hackers out there, Dreadworm.”

“I didn’t drop any bombshell. You went snooping through my stuff.” She rolled her eyes. “You really believed I was using you to get military secrets to post on Dreadworm?”

“Can you blame me?” He jumped up from the sofa and his wine came dangerously close to spilling over the rim. “If you had discovered I’d been lying to you, you would have gone underground and cut off all communications. Your reaction to my suspicion was laughable coming from one of the most paranoid people I know.”

She bent forward at the waist and undid the laces on her right boot, hiding her face and buying time. He knew her well.

She pulled off the boot and got to work on the second one. She looked up, her bangs tangled in her long dark lashes. “You know now I never would’ve done that to you. You should’ve known it then.”

He stopped his pacing to walk toward her, resting a hand on her shoulder, his fingers tangling in her silky hair. He rubbed a lock between his thumb and forefinger. “I knew it then, too, Jerrica. You just took me by surprise.”

She shifted her head away from his touch and the diamond in the side of her nose glinted in the light. “Even if you weren’t Delta Force, even if you didn’t believe that I was using you, you’re not a big fan of hacking, are you?”

“It seems…wrong.” He stepped away from her and went back to his seat. “These are private government systems you’re hacking. In some cases, these are classified systems. Communications not meant for the general public.”

“All government systems should be for the general public.” She tossed back her hair and raised her chin.

Gray took up the challenge. “Not if that exposure is going to result in outing people, putting their lives in danger, compromising their safety.”

“Dreadworm never did that, and if you’d stuck around long enough to let me explain you would’ve known that.”

“Maybe you’re right. I admit I jumped the gun.” He stretched his legs out in front of him. Now he had to get to the rest of his request. He tossed off the last of his wine.

“Looks like you need another.” Jerrica pointed at his empty glass. “Maybe that’ll help you get to the point.”

“That obvious huh?” He pushed to his feet and held his hand out for her glass. “You, too?”

“I think I may need a few more to hear your request.” She scrambled out of the chair and shoved her glass into his hand. “I brought some pho home for my dinner. Do you wanna share it with me? When I dropped the bag, the container even landed upright.”

“Yeah, breaking and entering always makes me hungry.” He took the wine glasses into the kitchen and filled them halfway. As he turned he almost plowed right into Jerrica. He lifted the glasses over her head. “Whoa.”

The bag of food swung from her fingertips. “You’re too big for this kitchen.”

He surveyed the small space. “A jockey would be too big for this kitchen. I thought you were going to move to a bigger place, a safer neighborhood. It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

“I like this place. I feel secure here.”

“I was able to break in.” He set her wine glass on the counter at her elbow.

Nudging him with her hip she said, “You just told me my place was safer than most and it was your mad Delta Force skills that allowed you to break in here.”

“I said safer than most, but you have the money to get into a much better neighborhood than this one with a doorman, twenty-four-hour security, the works. I don’t know why you don’t make the move.” She picked up her glass and he clinked his against hers.

“You know I don’t like using that money. Blood money.” She took a quick sip of wine.

“You must use the money for living expenses, anyway. I can’t imagine Dreadworm pays you the kind of salary to live in a Manhattan apartment without roommates. Didn’t you tell me once that most of the other hackers have day jobs?”

“And didn’t you tell me you came to Manhattan to ask me a favor?” She ladled the pho into two bowls.

As the savory steam rose, his eyes watered and he blinked, his nose already running from the spices. “Did I say it was a favor?”

“If it weren’t a favor, Prescott, we wouldn’t be standing around drinking wine and eating pho together. You’re a man who likes to get to the point. You’ve been doing a lot of waffling.” She slid a bowl closer to him and the tofu bobbed in the liquid like square life preservers.

He stirred the broth, chockful of health, with a spoon. “Figures you got tofu in here.”

“Waffler.” She puckered her lips and slurped up a spoonful.

This time, he allowed his gaze to linger on her mouth. If she wanted to see waffling, he could show her waffling by kissing her.

She wiped her nose with a paper towel, covering the bottom half of her face. “What’s going on with you? What do you want me to do?”

He dropped his spoon in the broth and took a deep breath. “It’s my commander, Major Rex Denver. He’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“He’s AWOL, but that’s not the worst of his problems.”

“If going AWOL isn’t the worst, it must be bad.”

“He went AWOL because someone’s trying to set him up.”

Jerrica flinched and her eye twitched.

He hadn’t even thought that Jerrica’s own experience might make her more apt to help him, but here they were. She’d probably accuse him of using her again.

“I know.”

His head jerked up. “You know about Major Denver?”

“Syrian refugee camp? Weapons stash at an embassy outpost in Nigeria? Fake emails?”

“Dreadworm really does know it all.” He hunched forward on his forearms, pushing the bowl of soup aside. “That’s why I’m asking for your help, Jerrica. You already know this info because you guys have access to all kinds of computer systems. We think there’s someone on the inside manipulating data, emails, people to set up Denver and discredit him.”

“Discredit him? Why?”

“Because he was onto something. Our Delta Force team was always operating one level beyond our special ops assignments. Denver was hot on the trail of some terrorist activity and someone was afraid he knew too much…or was on the verge of knowing too much.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “You understand more than anyone the government doesn’t always operate on the up-and-up.”

She withdrew her hand from his and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

Had he gone too far? He held his breath.

Her cell phone buzzed on the counter where she’d plugged it in to charge.

“Hold that thought.” She raised her index finger.

Hold the thought? His appeal had gotten a better reception than he’d thought it would. He let out a noisy breath and picked up his pho again as she answered the phone.

“What is it? Thought you were at a party.”

He almost spit out the pho he’d just put in his mouth. Did she have a boyfriend now? Just because he hadn’t been able to move on after their breakup didn’t mean she hadn’t found someone to keep her warm at night.

“Wait, wait. Slow down. Who’s following you? Did you get a look at him?”

This time he almost choked on some noodles. Listening in on Jerrica’s phone conversations was proving hazardous to his health.

“Where are you now? Is Kelly with you?” She snapped her fingers at him and pointed to a pen and an envelope on the counter.

Maybe not a boyfriend. He shoved the pen and paper toward her and then went back to his soup, trying to concentrate on avoiding the slimy-looking veggies floating back and forth and to tune out Jerrica’s escalating tone of voice.

“Stay right there. I’m serious. I’m coming.” She glanced up at Gray. “We’re coming.”

He raised his eyebrows and tapped the handle of the spoon against his chest.

Jerrica nodded and ended the call, stuffing the envelope into her back pocket. “You wanted inside information on Denver? Here’s your chance.”

“What’s this all about? Who was on the phone?”

“That was one of my coworkers at Dreadworm.” She downed the rest of her wine. “He thinks he’s being followed.”

“What does that have to do with Denver?”

“Amit was working on delving into some classified correspondence regarding that weapons stash at the embassy outpost in Nigeria.” She grabbed her backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “Denver was on that, wasn’t he?”

“He was, and now your coworker is being followed.” Gray cocked his head. “He’s not…like you, is he?”

She wrinkled her nose. “What exactly does that mean?”

“You know, slightly paranoid.”

She punched his shoulder with a right jab that made him flinch. “Get your stuff. We’re meeting him in twenty minutes at a coffeehouse in the Village.”

He grabbed his flannel and rubbed his shoulder. “Can we walk?”

“Subway. I’ll make a New Yorker out of you yet.”

As they raced down the building’s stairs, Gray poked her back. “Why are we running to meet Amit? If you need to talk to him in person, why doesn’t he come here?”

“He’s scared. I could hear it in his voice. That’s the best time to get them talking.”

“Dreadworm shares information with the world. Are you telling me that its employees don’t share with each other?”

“Employees? We’re not really employees.”

She hiked up her pack and strode down the sidewalk of her Lower East Side neighborhood where people still milled around after their dinners and ducked in and out of shops. Gray kept pace with her.

Jerrica made a sharp right turn to head down the stairs to a subway station.

He followed her down and grabbed her arm as she started to push through the turnstile. “I need a Metrocard.”

“Oh, I forgot.” She led him to a machine and he purchased a single ride.

If Jerrica planned to dart around the city dragging him along with her, he’d better get a pass next time. But really, the woman had enough money stashed away to hire a car service. He did, too, but he felt about as disconnected from his money as she did from hers—probably for similar reasons. Neither one of them had earned the money on their own.

The subway swallowed them up and spit them out somewhere on the edge of Greenwich Village.

“Do you know where you’re going? You haven’t looked at the address since you wrote it down in your kitchen.” He lengthened his stride to match her smaller but more numerous steps.

She patted the back pocket of her jeans. “It’s right here if you wanna have a look, but I memorized it.”

His gaze darted to her backside, shapely in her tight jeans, and his knees weakened for a second before he stuffed his hand in his own pocket. “That’s okay. I trust that brain of yours.”

“It’s not much farther. Probably just around the next corner.”

He didn’t even bother asking her how she knew that. He’d accepted her calculating mind. What he couldn’t accept was her guarded heart, but then he’d exceeded her distrustful expectations by dumping her once he’d found out she worked for Dreadworm. She’d fully gotten and relished the irony of his asking for her help, using the same skills he’d lambasted before.

He could live with eating crow—a lot of it—if it meant clearing Denver and getting to the bottom of this terrorist plot.

Jerrica tugged on his sleeve. “This way. You were about to pass it right by.”

He veered to the right, dodging oncoming pedestrians. How could Amit know anyone was following him with all these people coming and going?

“This is it.” Jerrica tipped her chin toward a building with a blue-and-white striped awning over the front door. “I hope he’s still here and didn’t get spooked.”

Gray lunged past her to open the door, and the soft strains of a guitar melody curled around them, drawing them into a dark space where he caught a whiff of roasted coffee beans. He couldn’t drink coffee at this time of night, but the smells took him back to late-night conversations with Jerrica, who seemed to run on the stuff when she was working on a gnarly hacking job for Dreadworm—when he’d believed she was just a programmer dedicated to her clients.

He glanced at her, eyes closed and nostrils flaring, getting a caffeine buzz off the fumes.

Her lids flew open and she scanned the room. “Damn, I don’t see Amit.”

“Do you want to get something and wait?” He gestured toward the counter. “I could go for a chocolate croissant.”

“You go ahead.” She swung her backpack around and dipped into the front zippered pouch, pulling out her phone. “I’m going to text him.”

As Gray joined the line of mostly college students ordering complicated caffeinated concoctions, Jerrica hunched over her phone.

He reached the counter and ordered his croissant and a slice of lemon cake for Jerrica, even though she didn’t know she wanted it yet. He dipped into his pocket for his wallet and twisted around. “Did he…?”

The strange woman behind him folded her arms and looked him up and down, a pair of pencil-thin eyebrows raised above her tortoiseshell glasses.

“Sorry. I thought you were my…friend. Did you see where she went? Black hair, about yea big?” He held his hand just beneath his chin.

She shook her head and went back to her phone.

“Sir, that’s $6.75.” The barista waited, a patient but trained smile on her face.

He handed her a crumpled ten. “Did you see where my friend went?”

“I didn’t notice.” She lifted her shoulders. “Maybe the restroom? They’re around the corner.”

“Thanks.” Gray stepped out of line and waved his hand at the change on the counter, his heart beating an uncomfortable rhythm in his chest that didn’t at all complement the strains of the folk music from the small stage.

He took the corner to the bathrooms at such high speed, he nearly plowed into a woman on crutches.

“I’m sorry.” He pointed to one of the restrooms. “Anyone in there?”

The woman readjusted her crutch under her arm. “It’s all yours. Good thing since you’re in such a big hurry.”

Gray maneuvered past her and tried the other door. “Jerrica?”

A gruff male voice answered him. “Nope.”

Gray poked his head into the other restroom and confirmed what the woman on crutches had told him—empty.

He peered down the short hallway at a back door with a glowing Exit sign above it. Could Jerrica have gone out there to meet Amit?

He strode down the short, dark length of the hallway and pushed against the metal bar. He stepped into the alley, and held his breath against the odor of garbage coming from the overflowing dumpster to his left.

As he huffed the smell from his nose, a scraping, shuffling noise from beyond the dumpster made him cock his head. Adrenaline pumped through his body with a whoosh that left him light-headed…but just for a second.

His body shifted into gear and he launched past the dumpster.

Jerrica’s face appeared to him as a white oval in the darkness for a split second before the lump crouching at her feet took human form, rose and slammed her body against the wall.