Hide and Seek (17 page)

“Yes. When he gave me this bracelet.” She held up her wrist and the quirky gecko bracelet she’d been wearing since the night she arrived at his cabin. “Kyle said it was his way out if he needed it. He said we should give my bracelet to someone named Fox and he’d know what to do with it.”

The name gave Duarte more than a moment’s pause. Alec, too. “You sure he said Fox, babe?”

She nodded. “Does it mean something to you?”

Alec ran a hand over his close-cropped, dark blond hair. “It’s a Phoenix operative codename. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard he’s some kind of computer genius.”

“Got any idea where to look for someone like that?” Duarte asked.

Alec raised a brow. “I can think of a few places to start.”

Duarte still wasn’t sure they could trust Talon, but at the moment, they didn’t have many better alternatives. “Assuming we can locate Fox, that still doesn’t tell us what he would want with the bracelet. Did he say anything else about it, Lisa?”

“No. Maybe he would have, but then the alarms started going off and then... then he was gone.”

“Can I see it?” Alec asked.

“Sure.”

She took it off and handed it to him. He inspected it for a long moment, turning it this way and that, his shrewd gaze scouring the silver chain and lizard emblem. “That’s odd,” he murmured. Then he chuckled low under his breath. “God damn Talon. That crafty son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” Duarte and Lisa asked in unison.

“I think I’ve found what will be of interest to Fox.” Alec looked up at them. “What we still need to know is, why?”

The trio exchanged glances. Then Lisa raised a slender, but determined brow. “So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go find out.”

~ ~ ~

SEEK

TINA FOLSOM

Copyright 2015 Tina Folsom

Book Description

Nicholas “Fox” Young, brilliant computer programmer and ex-Phoenix Program operative in hiding, is close to his goal of accessing information, which could bring him one step closer to finding his fellow Phoenix and shedding light on the recurring nightmarish premonition that haunts his dreams. But the online cat-and-mouse game he’s been playing with ex-hacker and now CIA-contractor, Michelle Andrews, gets elevated to a new level when circumstances thrust them together.

Suddenly, passion ignites the blood of the cool computer genius, and he has to balance the risk of letting the fiery woman close enough to catch him with the need of feeling her shudder in his arms. But no matter his decision, they might already be doomed, because Nick’s real enemies are lurking in the shadows.

1

“Gotcha!”

Nick Young pumped his fist in the air and let out a triumphant growl while continuing to stare into the computer screen. A red dot was blinking on a map of Washington, D.C. Next to it, an IP address flashed.

“You bastard! Did you really think you could outwit me? Looks like I’m smarter than you after all.”

Because the guy had made a tiny mistake, whether out of stupidity or laziness, Nick didn’t know, nor did he care. What counted was that now Nick knew where to find him.

He felt a genuine smile curve his lips, the first in a long time. For over a month now, he’d been playing cat-and-mouse with an online adversary who was trying to keep him out of the servers that held crucial data Nick had been looking for ever since the secret CIA program he’d been part of had been compromised three years earlier.

Nick memorized the address the dot was pointing to and logged off. He flipped the lid of his laptop shut and stashed it in his backpack. Then he pulled an old keyboard out of the drawer, hooked it up to the dinosaur PC that he kept as a decoy and connected a mouse to it.

Should anybody find him and try to trace what he’d been doing, the files he’d planted on the hard drive of the old desktop he’d bought second-hand would lead any pursuer on a wild goose chase. With a little luck, nobody would be looking for a second computer, and he’d be long gone before they were on his tail and could kill him like they’d killed Henry Sheppard, his mentor and the leader of the Phoenix program.

The same fate was waiting for him and his fellow operatives—CIA agents selected not for their physical abilities but their unique mental skills. Each of the Phoenix, including Henry Sheppard, possessed the gift of premonition. Three years ago, somebody had decided that the Phoenix presented a danger and killed the leader of the program.

When Nick had received Sheppard’s mental call, his world had collapsed.

“Phoenix down.”

He could still hear the alert echo in his mind. He’d left everything behind and gone into hiding. But the need to know what had happened to Sheppard and the other agents had driven him back to Washington D.C. Back into the lion’s den.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Nick murmured to himself now. It had become his mantra since Sheppard’s death.

It had been easy to create a new identity. His skills as a hacker had proven to be invaluable. His new identity was ordinary. No family, no special skills, a low profile all around. He kept himself afloat by creating websites for small businesses around the world.

He lived in an apartment in a run-down house the absentee landlord was renting to him for cash so he wouldn’t have to tax the proceeds. Every month, Nick deposited the money in a mailbox. Fine with him. He wasn’t exactly keen on the government right now.

He’d served his country as a CIA agent for many years, and they’d failed to protect him and his colleagues. He was on his own now, responsible for his own life, and out for revenge. One day, he’d make sure the men who’d killed Sheppard would pay for what they’d done.

And the person at the other end of the IP address he’d traced would help him find the responsible party. Whether he wanted to or not.

Nick knew of many ways to persuade another person to do whatever he wanted him to do. His favorite toy to elicit such cooperation was his Glock. The cold metal never failed to convince the other party that loyalty was overrated and life was a fleeting thing.

At first sight, people always assumed that Nick was merely a computer geek and not to be feared. Maybe his boy-next-door looks and his quiet demeanor were responsible for that misperception. But those people who cared to give him a more thorough look would discover what he really was: a man who knew how to handle himself and the weapons at his disposal. Sheppard had made sure of that. All the men he’d selected for his Phoenix program had to undergo rigorous training at The Farm, just like all other CIA agents, though it wasn’t necessary for their ultimate work. But maybe Sheppard had known all along that one day his protégés would have to rely on those very skills to survive.

Nick inspected his gun, pulled the magazine from it, and made sure it was fully loaded, before inserting it back into its chamber. Then he stashed it in the secret, padded compartment in his backpack. Lifting his foot onto the chair, he pulled up one pant leg and slid a knife into the hidden pocket in his boot. Sometimes a little knife was all he needed to come to an agreement with an adversary. It was less conspicuous than a gun, and much less noisy should he need to use it.

There wasn’t much else to do. Nick let his gaze wander around the room. The shredder bin was empty. The little mail he received was solicitations addressed to
current resident
. Any mail related to his website business went to a P.O. box, anything related to any bank accounts he received in electronic form. Only the utility bills came to the house, and those he paid promptly and then shredded. For all intents and purposes, Nick Young didn’t exist. But Fox was still alive. It had been his codename while in the Phoenix program. And the few other Phoenix members he’d met—since Sheppard had always insisted on keeping them apart as much as possible—only knew him by that name.

He’d been proud when his mentor had given him the name. It showed that Sheppard understood him. Because Nick
was
like a fox, cunning and clever. And he would need these skills now to ferret out the computer genius who’d been fighting him online. Now Fox would bring the fight to his doorstep and up the stakes.

Showtime.

2

A parking garage? Really? How
Deep Throat
could this guy get?

Michelle Andrews shivered despite the fact that it was sweltering hot in D.C. Her tank top and short skirt had been just fine at the coffee shop where she’d spent the morning, but the massive concrete walls, floors, and ceilings of the dark underground garage kept the air surprisingly cold.

She hadn’t expected this meeting. When she’d received the text message on her burner phone, she’d panicked. It was the reason she’d spilled coffee on the table and rushed to the barista to ask for a rag to clean it up. Unfortunately, those few seconds of inattentiveness had caused her to disconnect much later than planned from the online trace she’d been running.

She replayed the incident in her mind once more. Was there any chance that the hacker she’d been trying to get a lock on had instead gotten the drop on her? Michelle shook her head. No. Nobody was better than her. Since she hadn’t been able to catch him, he wouldn’t have had enough time to catch her either. She’d taken ample precautions to remain hidden. Still, with all that had happened in her life lately, she was on edge and had started doubting herself and her abilities.

Nervously, she twisted her pendant between her fingers, an old habit that died hard. The little memento from her time as a member of Anonymous, the worldwide hacker cooperative, always lent her strength—and reminded her of what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

Nevertheless, she would get through this, no matter what the shady
Deep Throat
character who’d requested this meeting threw at her now. Whether he was FBI, CIA, or NSA, she didn’t know. Nor did it really matter. Any of those government agencies had sufficient powers to lock her up for the rest of her life if she didn’t do their bidding. They held all the cards. She held none. She’d become a pawn in whatever game they were playing and would have to play along until she found a way out.

When she heard footsteps echo against the bare concrete walls, she made a motion to turn.

“You know the drill,” her handler said.

Michelle froze, facing away from him. “Mr. Smith.” It wasn’t his real name. When he’d first contacted her and she’d asked him who he was, he’d paused for a long while before saying, “How about Smith? Does that sound good to you?”

She’d never seen his face, though from his accent and speech pattern she assumed he was well-educated and middle-aged. There was a nasal quality to his voice that made her picture him as a short, balding guy with a beer belly and pale skin. Of course, she could be completely wrong, but didn’t everybody like to picture their enemies as ugly and unattractive?

“I’m very disappointed in you, Miss Andrews.”

Instinctively, she pulled up her shoulders, tensing.

“You’ve had a month now, and what have you got to show for yourself? Nothing. My employers are not very happy with you.” He sighed. “And neither am I.”

She contemplated his words and chose her own with care. “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to.”
Asked
was not exactly the right word.
Coerced
was more like it.

“Really, Miss Andrews? I have the feeling you haven’t given it your all yet. Or do I need to remind you of what will happen if you don’t comply?”

She needed no reminder. “Mr. Smith, I’ve used my skills—”

“When we caught you,” he interrupted, his voice sharp and cold, “your skills seemed to be much more refined. I find it odd that you can’t get a trace on a hacker when you yourself were immersed in that community for so long.”

“It would help if I knew what this guy is after, so I don’t have to keep wasting my time on hackers that you’re not interested in.”

A low growl came from behind her, and she realized that he’d come closer without her noticing. A cold chill raced down her spine and made her blood freeze in her veins.

“You know too much already, Miss Andrews.” He inhaled. “It’s dangerous to know too much. Haven’t you learned anything?”

She shivered, her palms beading with sweat.

“You were a very bad girl. Do you remember?”

Michelle didn’t answer, knowing he didn’t expect her to.

“Hacking into servers you had no business being in. And your friends at Anonymous, they couldn’t help you either, could they? Because now that we have you, nobody can help you. You work for us now, or you’ll go to prison. It would be a shame. A pretty girl like you. You know what they do with somebody like you in prison?”

She didn’t want to know. “I’m doing what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Do it faster. I’m getting impatient. How hard can it be to find a hacker who’s been trying to get into our servers, hmm? Aren’t you the best? Or was that a lie?”

“I am the best,” Michelle insisted, not because she was arrogant, but because admitting that she wasn’t would surely get her killed.