Defenseless (26 page)

Christopher’s chair scrapes against the floor. I open my eyes as the file magically reappears.

My fingers slide across the rough file folder. “I’m in.”

“I knew you wouldn’t resist. Go ahead. Open it.”

Without another thought, I flip it open, and ready myself for a mission that will probably be the end of either my career or my life.

E
mpty.

The file is empty.

I meet Christopher’s gaze and attempt to hide the fury that’s building inside. He tricked me. He forced my hand to push Mark away, and the folder has nothing inside. If I weren’t a hundred percent sure that he has eyes, ears, and God only knows what waiting for me to react, I’d break his neck.

“Well played, Charlie. You surprise me.”

“What do you want?” I fold my hands in my lap. I try to appear as though I knew this was his plan all along. Even though I have no idea why he’s surprised, I’m the one with a blank file.

He crosses his leg over his knee and leans back. Smug prick. “I want what should be in that file.”

My eyes widen as though I’m genuinely shocked. There’s no way I can ever let them know what I have. “And that would be?”

“Let’s not play games. You and I both know your father would’ve passed the information to the only person he trusted—you.”

“Sir,” I say. I’m still trying to ensure I display the appropriate reactions. Confusion is the one I’m working with now. “If I knew anything that my father knew, wouldn’t I have already gotten Mazir?”

He studies me, watching for a tip that I’m lying. They know my tells. They know my every move. They created it, but they don’t understand how far I’m willing to go for this. “Unless that was part of your plan.”

“What plan?” Now I work on anger. “How dare you question my loyalty to this agency? I’ve worked my entire life in service of this country. I lost a parent who was everything to me. I’ve had countless bruises and beatings, and I’ve spent years of my life on missions, all for the CIA. Now, you come in my home and do this?”

Damn. That was good.

“Cut the crap, Charlie. I trained you, and I know you better than this.”

“You apparently don’t.”

“I knew your father. He would’ve told either you or me. He would’ve never left any chance for the investigation to derail.”

I
humpf
and mull over that piece of information. “Well, Chris, if he didn’t share it with me, maybe you’ve known it all along. Maybe you want to push me into thinking there’s more than I actually know. I can only guess your intentions, but whatever my father had—I don’t know what it is or where he left it. Besides, you and I both know you’re not here for the reasons you claim. You’ve already proven that.”

His hand makes a loud smack when he hits the table. “I’ll give you one week. One week to fill this file with everything you know. Everything he told you. Or I’ll start picking off your family members one by one. Should we start with Priscilla . . . or Dominic? Maybe your new boy toy would like a visit?”

He really doesn’t know anything, but he’s right about my father. He would’ve told Chris. They were friends, partners in a lot of ways, and shared a lot of knowledge. Which means my father lost his trust in him somewhere along the way. There’s not a chance in hell I’m telling him a damn thing. I also don’t believe him about how long I have to get him any information. I have no time. No one ever tips their hand like that. I’ll die tonight if he doesn’t think I have what he wants, or I’ll die tonight if he thinks I’m hiding it. So, I have to fight. When I first found the file there was a handwritten note inside that warned me to trust no one.

I shake my head and huff. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, Sir. Unless you’d like me to fabricate something?”

I alternate between addressing him by his name and title. I want to see if he notes it, responds to it, or ignores me. I’ve known him since I was a kid. There may not be any advantages for me, but I know his kind. I was raised by his clone. I try to imagine what my father would do. He’d threaten me and force me to fall at his mercy. He might alternate from good guy who wants to help to bad guy, keeping me on my toes. Good thing I’m light on my feet, and him threatening my family or Mark just makes me furious. I’ll kill him and everyone he’s ever known if he touches a hair on their heads. Bloodlust paints my vision, but I keep it in check.

“Don’t play coy with me, little girl. You’re way out of your pay grade.”

I stand because he’s out of his damn mind if he thinks he can talk to me like this. “You want information I don’t have. I want the information you think I have. So, how does this even make sense? If I knew anything, I’d be in that country right now. I’d have Mazir’s head in my hands. But I don’t. I don’t know where he is, what he’s up to, or anything more than I gave in my debrief,
Sir
. If I already knew what my father was up to, I never would’ve opened that file.”

Director Asher stands so we’re eye to eye. “Say what you want, Charlie. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. You have one week to get me what should’ve been in that file. One week before I start taking matters into my own hands.”

He swipes the file off the table and is gone before I can draw a breath. I scan the room, trying to wrap my mind around all that has happened. I’m sure that they’ve bugged my house, searched through any possible space they could find. The only solace I have right now is that if they had found the file in my office, this meeting would’ve never happened.

My mind spins with questions. Do I search for the devices that I know are here or leave them and go to my safe house? I don’t even know if it’s safe anymore, but no one knows where it is. It’s really the only place I can go. But what about his threat? Do I call Mark? Call my mother?

I can’t stay here. I can’t say or do anything I don’t want to be tracked. Notifying anyone is completely absurd. They need to be left in the dark. It’s safer for them.

I quickly change my clothes into something non-descript. My jeans and white shirt will blend easily. There are bound to be a few tourists in similar clothing. I throw on my gray hoodie and grab my purse. There are no easy choices here. Either I’ll end up dead or someone I love will. Once out the door, I lock everything as if I’m heading to the store. The feeling of being watched is heightened. If Christopher wants me to be seen, I’ll have multiple tails. This will have to be timed perfectly.

I walk toward the National Mall area where tourism is always at its peak. The foot traffic around the monuments will help me blend and disappear. There’s really only one place that’s safe for me to go. In all my years here in DC, it’s the one place I’ve visited frequently. If things were hard or I needed time to think, I’d go there. Perspective is often found around someone worth immortalizing. My father came here with me when I was little, and it quickly became my spot. The agency knows this, so coming here wouldn’t be abnormal.

“Honest Abe,” I say to the man in the chair as I stand inside the Lincoln Memorial. “I think you and I need to talk,” I mumble to myself. A sea of bodies mills about, but disappearing will be damn near impossible. I have to go, though. I have to get away.

I stand for about twenty minutes, going over everything in my mind. I think about my father and how he would tell me it’s time to do what I know. Our family isn’t unprepared for this. Trust isn’t something you’re afforded in our line of work. It’s not given freely, and it takes next to nothing to lose it.

There’s an elevator off to the left that descends to the bathrooms and leads to a second entrance. It would probably be the easiest escape, but also the most predictable. However, I know for a fact I can’t use the stairs. My speed alone will be a dead giveaway. The elevator is my only option.

Walking in that direction, I get in line behind a woman who looks a little like me. She has her black hair in a ponytail, and she’s wearing jeans. It’s more than I could’ve expected. I have a glimmer of hope this might actually work. Cameras are everywhere, though, and if I were Christopher, I’d be monitoring them. However, I can’t do a damn thing about it. It’s now or never.

Once in the elevator, I remove my hoodie and hope they don’t catch the quick change. The car descends as my nerves rise. If I’m caught . . . I’m dead. They’ll know I’m running. I’ll lie, but he’ll perceive it as trying to keep my secrets. I can’t ever touch that file again. I’ve never been more grateful for my security system. Even if they were lucky and opened some of my equipment, there’s no way they could’ve found that file. It’s in the safest place possible, and all the information is stored in my head.

The ding alerts us that it’s time to go. I decide to head toward the bathroom just in case. It would be a plausible lie if I get busted. Luckily, the woman is headed there as well. I follow her in and enter a stall. Once I hear her exit, I follow suit. I throw my hair up to match hers, and walk toward the sink.

“Miss?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you.” I make my breathing appear labored. “I don’t know what to do. You’re just . . . well . . . my last hope.” I look away as if I can’t believe I’m about to ask her this.

“Are you okay?” she asks. I hide my face.

“No. I’m not, but I can’t ask you this . . .”

“You look like you’re going to be sick.” Worry paints her face.

It’s like taking candy from a baby.

“I am. I’m so scared,” I tear up for dramatic effect. “My husband, well, he’s abusive, and I’m trying so hard to get away, but I think he’s following me. I saw him upstairs, so I got away as fast as I could. He’ll kill me if he catches me.” The tears fall, my chest heaves, and I clutch my stomach.

She glances around before she grabs me a tissue. “Are you okay? Should I call the cops?”

“No, no.” I wave my hands. “I was just hoping you’d switch phones with me? He has mine GPS tracked, and I need him to think I’m moving. You can toss mine once you get somewhere away from here.”

The woman doesn’t hesitate. She takes her phone out and hands it to me. “Here, I’ll leave it on for the day so you can call for help if you need it.”

I prayed she’d be amiable. I suspected she would once the tears flowed. Women are naturally sympathetic and usually the first I would approach for something like this. “Thank you,” I gush. “Thank you so much.”

This sweet lady will never know how much this changes the game for me. “Be careful.” Concern is clear in her voice.

“I will. Thank you. Can you give me a twenty-second head start? Go to the left if you can, I’m going right.”

I decide it would be best to exit first. It gives me ample opportunity to flip this around.

Most of us were trained to go right. I don’t know why, but that’s the dominant side. I think they would expect me to defect my training. I do what they expect me not to do.

Her hand grips my arm. “Go. I’ll think of you.”

I don’t trust my voice, so I nod. I’ve deceived her, and I hate that. While it’s not my husband after me, it is a man. A man who will kill me if he catches me. So, in a way, it’s only a stretch of the truth. The man I love would never hurt me. He would’ve stood in my kitchen and fought for me, but I pushed him away. To save him.

Straightening my back, I exit in an outfit similar to the woman who might have just saved my life and the lives of my loved ones. The area across the street is crowded with cabs, buses, bikes, and people. If I can get over there, I’ll grab a bike and go. I can’t risk getting in a cab, they could be there as a decoy, and I’m not giving anyone control over where I go.

Luck is on my side. I’m able to get to the bike share. Someone is about to return one, but she takes a fifty dollar bill for the bike.

“Please, let this work,” I say aloud as I start to ride past the Reflecting Pool toward the center of town. My safe house is the only place I can go. The only place I can hide until I get a handle on things.

My pace is a little over leisurely but surely not racing. I need to blend. As I ride, Mark’s face flashes in my view. He was so angry when he left. The things he said. I remember how much love and trust was there before. How he and I shared so much in a brief time. I know that I’ll never see him again. He’s not the kind of man who will forgive what I said so easily, and I won’t exist after today.

I ride a little farther to the closest Metro station. I need to get underground. I try not to look around, because someone who wasn’t trying to run wouldn’t. I could still have a tail. It might not have worked, but I can’t risk it. My feet move me forward.

Of course. The train isn’t here. I don’t want to wait, but I don’t want to go back above ground, either. I let out a heavy breath. If I were an agent tracking another agent, I would approach before I stepped on the train. It makes the most sense since you can’t really risk the shuffle exchange. I assure myself that if I can get on board, I have a good shot.

The Metro starts to make its way. This is it.

Don’t draw any attention to yourself, Charlie. Look casual.

The doors slide open and passengers disembark. I step forward, praying this works. Two more steps.

One more step and I’m on my way.