Chapter 73

 

 

“I’m sorry, Calla,” Jack said thinking of the conversation he’d had with Nash that morning. He’d not told Calla about it not wanting to upset her. They needed Nash.

Nash’s intelligence into his communication with Nicole for more than fifteen months, was critical. He shoved his hands in his denim pockets. A chill from the unheated room caressed his bare arms and he slid on his leather jacket.

Nicole had been careful. The e-mails came to Nash’s NSA account, encrypted with a link to the various websites through which they communicated. At first, Nash thought it was a hoax, especially seeing that it wasn’t too long after he’d met Stan. But his instincts had told him if the woman were sincere, she’d know much about Calla, especially before Calla came to the orphanage.

Jack recalled Nash saying in a conversation with Nicole, she’d not only given him Calla’s adoption details, the orphanage, but details concerning her relation to Stan. Still Nash hadn’t been convinced until the day Nicole had said she would meet him in Boston. From that day, the woman used an encrypted e-mail address that changed every three hours. Nash never knew how she’d found him.

Calla’s eyes shifted to Jack. “If Nicole was in touch with Nash in the last fifteen months, then she must be alive and Mason must know it. Her life is in danger.”

“We’ll find her.” Jack reached for his electronic tablet from his backpack and scrolled through two applications. “Here. This was her last communication with Nash. I asked Nash to send me the information. It was about four months ago, I think.” Jack showed her the e-mail on his tablet. “I will try to break into the server from which this was sent and verify that. The encryption is difficult to break.”

Jack took the tablet and sent the e-mail to his laptop. “This may take a while.”

 

 

 

Stan walked away. Calla crossed to where he stood staring at Nicole’s artwork.

“She stopped painting when we were married. She was happy here,” Stan said.

Calla scrutinized his downcast face. “Father?”

“I can’t believe she was here the entire time.”

Calla stared around her carefully. “This must be strange for you.” She took a deep breath.

Jack reentered the room. “Got it! In all of the communication with Nash, Nicole never signed her identity as A-M-H.”

“What’s that?” Calla asked.

“A code she set up,” Stan said looking at his daughter. “Every agent had a code.”

He studied her face. “Nash has done more than I can ever repay for my family. I wish I had the same amount of courage and resolve. Why isn’t he here?”

She bit her lip and avoided the topic altogether. “You were brave when your family was threatened. What man wouldn’t have done what you did? Is there no other clue you can think off. What is A-M-H?”

“Believe me, Danielle’s name was the best I could do. The more I discover with you guys, the more I realize she kept many secrets from me. “

“People change over the years, Stan,” Jack said.

“Why?” Stan said glaring at Calla.

How could she answer him with any wisdom, when she couldn’t even understand her emotions with Nash?

“She left me, too,” Calla said.

“That night, when we left the orphanage, Nicole was tormented with such guilt, confusion, and anger all directed at me, I suppose. But we knew there’d be no other way for you. We had to distance ourselves from you if you were to be safe from the operatives and when the CIA offered to help, then Nash, well—”

Calla set a hand on his shoulder. “From where I’m looking, you did the best you could with the information and choices you had.”

Calla gaped at his hand and smirked. She knew Stan was not convinced as she crossed to the wall overlooking the busy Platz. She stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute. . . ”

Jack and Stan’s astounded eyes met hers as she advanced to where Jack sat. “Let me see that last e-mail that my mother sent to Nash.”

Jack handed her the laptop. She reread the e-mail.

“This e-mail is three days old, not four months as it says 10.07 when decrypted with your program, Jack, July tenth. It’s actually 07.10— October seventh.” She was thinking British, not American.”

“Where are you going with this?” Jack asked.

“The e-mail you showed me says in the subject line: ‘On this day. It began. Her Majesty’s anger blossomed. Why?”

Jack’s face was a curtain of confusion. “And—”

“She was asking Nash to look up something that happened on that day.”