Desert Dark (7 page)

A pang of guilt struck Nadia.
Did she see me reading Drew's diary? Should I tell her? If I confess, maybe she'll think I have a shred of integrity. But if she doesn't know, I should probably keep it to myself
.

“I mean, did she honestly think I'd believe she had the exact same pair of earrings my daddy gave me for my thirteenth birthday?”

No, she definitely knows. Why else would she randomly offer that she had a good feeling about us? She's testing me
.

“They were
custom
made!”

Nadia winced.
For Pete's sake; it's like living with the telltale heart
.

“You okay?”

Nadia cleared her throat. “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I feel awful about it.”

“What?” Libby's eyes were wide.

Nadia paused. “I found Drew's diary.”

Libby drew in her breath. “Did you read it?”

“A little.”

“You read a dead girl's diary?” Alan yelled. Nadia hadn't seen him standing behind her.

The dining room fell silent. All eyes turned toward Alan. His mouth hung open as he stood gaping at Nadia. Her face was on fire. Beads of sweat collected on her upper lip. She stared furiously at him. The dead silence turned to whispers as groups of students huddled together, pointing at her as they gossiped.

Damon stepped between Nadia and the rest of the room, blocking her with his body. He turned to a neighboring table. “Can we help you with something?” he asked, loud enough for the room to
hear. He waited until people looked away to take his seat. Then, quietly to Nadia, “You read her diary?”

Nadia nodded. She looked at the table, then back up at Damon. “But in my defense, I didn't know what it was. I mean, I knew it was a diary, but it could have been there for years, right? There were no names.” She turned quickly to Libby. “Obviously, I knew it wasn't yours. It was wedged under my bed. I would never read
your
diary.”

“She did not write about us?” Alan asked. “I am mildly insulted.”

“I'm not sure; I couldn't tell. She used code names or something.” Nadia snuck a glance at her roommate.

“Why would she do that?” asked Libby.

“Perhaps to safeguard against disrespectful roommates who might, hmm, what might they do?” Alan shot Nadia a contemptuous look. “Oh, right. Read her diary.”

“You be nice,” Libby said to Alan. “I'm sure Nadia had no idea it was Drew's diary.”

“What kind of code names?” Damon asked.

“Made up names. Like
Oso
, whoever that is.”

Alan rolled his eyes. “
Oso
is Spanish for
bear
, Einstein.”

Nadia narrowed her eyes at Alan. “Name-calling? Really?” She turned to Libby. “I swear I didn't know what it was. And I only read the last entry. I'm so sorry. I promise you, I
am
trustworthy. Most of the time.”

Damon laughed. “Don't sweat it, girl. There's nothing wrong with a little moral flexibility. That's probably why you were recruited. So what did it say?”

“Absolutely not,” Nadia said to Damon. “It's bad enough I read it. I'm not going to gossip about it.”

“Did you give it to Jack?” Alan asked.

Nadia shook her head. “I don't know him.”

“He's our team leader.” Libby searched the room. “I swear he was here a second ago, but now I don't see him.”

“I'll give it to Ms. McGill and she can send it to Drew's parents.”

“You should really give it to Jack,” Alan said.

“Do you remember the date of the last entry?” Damon asked.

“September Seven.”

“No way!” Alan said. “This is the day she, you know—”

“Drove her car into the side of a mountain?” Damon finished. “Did she have like a premonition or something?”

Nadia didn't answer. She pursed her lips and looked down at the table. Truthfully, she was dying to share what she'd read.
But even I have limits to how low I'll go
. And Libby's expression made it clear she didn't approve.

“Was it at least interesting?” Damon pressed.

Nadia leaned forward and whispered, “Big time.”

“You have to tell us,” Alan said.

“It's out of the question.”

“Then why did you even bring it up?” Alan glared at her.

“I thought I was having a private conversation with my roommate,” Nadia said.

“Good for you, Nadia.” Libby faced the boys. “You two ought'a be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of anyone's business.”

Early Monday evening, just after sunset, the student snuck down to the parking lot beyond Hopi Hall. He would rather leave campus entirely but this was where he kept his cell phone, hidden in the bushes along the wall. And this location, on the far side of school, was as private as any.

He pulled his hood over his head and dialed an off-campus number.

“Hello?” answered a tired voice.

“We have a huge problem,” the student said.

“This better be good. What is it?”

“The dead girl left a diary.”

Long pause. “What did you say?”

“She kept a diary,” the student answered. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Did you read it?”

“No. But someone else did.”

“Who?”

“Nadia Riley.”

“The new girl?” the older man asked.

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“I overheard her at lunch.”

“Did Drew write about our meeting?”

“Maybe. I know she saw us. She might have heard everything we said. She promised me she kept quiet, but it never occurred to me to ask about a diary.”

“This is a disaster. Can you get the diary?”

“I followed Nadia all afternoon. She gave it to the Dean's assistant. For whatever reason, Ms. McGill took the book directly to the kitchen incinerator. She never even opened it.”

“What did you expect her to do? Keeping a diary is against school policy. All sensitive documents are destroyed. You have to take care of this Nadia situation immediately. She could ruin everything we've been working toward—years of training down the tubes,” the older man said.

“I know. And another thing—Drew wrote in code.”

“What code?”

“I told you: Nadia is the only one who read it. But if she figures it out, my position will be revealed.”

“From what I hear about her, it's very likely she'll figure it out. And if Nadia realizes what's going on, revealing your position will be the
least
of your problems. Do you have any idea what will happen if you're found guilty of treason?”

The student's heart beat faster. “Maybe I should call Agent Roberts.”

“You have no business calling him. You have a question, you come to me. Do you understand the basic principle of a chain-of-command?”

“I just thought—”

“We don't pay you to think. We pay you to act.” The older man paused. “Do you know why I never address you by name?”

“Yes, of course. In case someone is listening.”

“That's only partly correct. As a double, you are required to compartmentalize everything that happens to you. Separate this life from your other life. If the real you wants A, this you requests B. You must think differently, act differently, speak differently. Split your personality. Do you understand?”

“As a matter of fact, no. I was chosen for this role because of my intellect and personality, not in spite of it.”

“Don't flatter yourself. You were chosen because it was convenient. Because we did something for you, and, as a result, you owe us.”

“First of all, I owe Agent Roberts, not you. Secondly, the only reason I am indebted is because Roberts wanted me, so he figured out how to get me. And lastly, I know my role. Does it seem like this is my first day? My training began long before I arrived at school.”
And I was taught by better men than you
. “Instead of a lecture, how about you just give me my orders?” The student glanced over his shoulder.

“Fine. Get rid of Nadia Riley before she connects the dots.”

“How do you want me to do it?”

“I don't care, but make it look like an accident.”

Late Monday evening after dinner, Nadia and her roommate stepped out of the Navajo Building into the blazing night. “Any chance we're done for the day?” she asked.

“'Fraid not. We're off to the library. Alan and Damon'll meet us there.”

“This has been the longest day of my life,” Nadia said. Afternoon classes had consisted of Arabic, Mandarin Chinese and Spanish. Thanks to her uncles, she knew a few phrases in Arabic, though nothing she could repeat without getting detention. But she found herself physically unable to make some of the sounds.

“I know. I can barely speak English, let alone Arabic and Chinese.”

“And this heat! I can't breathe. Doesn't it bother you?”

“You get used to it. At least, that's what they keep telling us.”

“Do you guys always study together after dinner?”

Libby nodded. “After dinner, between classes, during breakfast, on weekends. It's a habit we fell into this summer. We had so much material to process. Add that to the physical training; it's the only way we could keep up. I couldn't do it alone. None of us could. Well, except maybe Alan, who never passes up a chance to mention how much smarter he is than the rest of us.”

“Not a team player?”

Libby laughed. “You could say that.”

Nadia frowned. “I'm really behind, aren't I?”

“A little,” Libby admitted. “But I promise you, if you want to be here, we will not let you fail. I wasn't kidding when I said I do not like living alone.” They reached the library. “And can you imagine being the only girl on the team?”

“I don't know. Damon's undivided attention might not be such a bad thing,” Nadia said, smiling at Libby.

Libby grinned. “He has this way of talking to you like you're the only person in the world. So I can enjoy his undivided attention
and
have a roommate.”

Nadia pushed through the revolving doors. Cool air and the smell of freshly printed books surrounded her. Dark glass walls framed with brushed steel beams rose from the carpet. A row of black cabinets ran perpendicular to the front door. The sign above the enclosed area read Authorized Persons Only.

“What's in there?” Nadia pointed.

“Restricted case files,” Libby said. “Some of the information is classified, so it's not available for student review.”

“Case files of what?”

“I really couldn't say. Keep moving.” Libby ushered Nadia out of the entryway.

Polished wooden bookshelves filled the room. A student climbed a ladder and glided silently along the brass bar, reviewing the row of books. The girls walked down a few open steps to reach the lower level and found Alan and Damon in the back corner of the room. The boys were speaking Arabic.

“English, please,” said Libby, smiling sweetly at Alan. “He's already fluent,” she said to Nadia, “but he won't tell Dr. Shaheen because he likes feeling superior to us. You believe that?”

“Lucky you. My mom's Lebanese, but I never learned,” Nadia said.

“Good for her,” Alan answered.

“Are you Arabic?”

“My last name is Cohen.” When Nadia didn't answer he
continued, contempt soaking his words. “I am
Jewish
. You have heard of Israel, right?”

“Yeah, I'm familiar with Israel. Isn't Israeli Mossad the only intelligence group better than the CIA?” She'd learned a little about both agencies while studying the origins of ancient ciphers.

“What? Why would you even say that?” Alan demanded. “You do not know anything about either one, do you?”

“Have you guys started the math assignment yet?” Libby asked.

“What's your problem?” Damon asked Alan.

“I just wonder where her loyalties lie,” he answered.

Nadia turned to Damon. “He's kidding, right?”

“Easy, tiger. Complimenting Mossad doesn't necessarily make her a traitor,” Damon said.

“Because we really should get started,” Libby said.

“Historically, our people do not get along. The Arabs and the Jews,” Alan said.

Damon nodded. “Well that explains the open hostility.”

“It is her.” He pointed to Nadia. “Your kinsmen are a bloodthirsty group.”

Is he serious?
Nadia did her best to ignore his jab. “So how do you know Arabic?”

His cheeks flushed. “It is none of your business. Why are you interrogating me?”

“Not interrogating. Making conversation,” she said.

“Well, how about you do not.”

“I had a little trouble with the second section,” Libby said.

“It's a simple question,” Damon said. “Just tell her.”

“I have no inclination to share my life story with her,” Alan answered.

“All right, now! That's enough,” Libby said, her voice too loud for the library. She glanced around. Softly, she continued, “I'm sorry, but we've really got a lot of ground to cover.”

Nadia's teammates went over their lessons in surprising detail. Back home she'd never taken school this seriously—she didn't
know anyone who did, not even Matthew.
Is it possible I'm in over my head?
Everyone else had been recruited months ago. She was only invited because someone had died. That made her the last choice—the least capable student here. She wished she'd asked Dean Wolfe about her academic standing when they met.
'Course, then he'd know I constantly doubt myself. He probably would've cut me from the program right then. And I will not go back home
.