Wednesday
“Holy shit.” I couldn’t help it. “Parks was a spy?”
She nodded. “The Chinese like to steal our technology. Which they copy and produce for half the cost. And then either use it themselves or outsell us in the marketplace.”
“I thought we had a truce,” I said. “They won’t steal our stuff, and we won’t steal theirs.”
“Right,” Hollander replied. “If you say so.”
“But—but how do you—” I sputtered, sounding like a Fourth of July sparkler losing its hiss. Mac was right. I was way above my pay grade.
She held up a palm. “I’ll answer your questions. But first I want to tell you something. I’ve spent most of the past year out in Utah, designing and putting the finishing touches on a new system.”
I thought about the thousands of drones we were using to target ISIS. To hear the military spin it, we’d dropped so many bombs we should have knocked out every terrorist in the Middle East. “What’s so special about it?”
She shot me a patronizing smile. “That’s a need-to-know situation.”
I countered, unwilling to let her get away with that. “If it was important enough to cancel a video and now Parks is dead, maybe I do need to know. Especially since, as you say, I’ve ended up in the middle.”
She peered at me with a look that said she was unsure whether to criticize or praise my doggedness. “You are persuasive. But, remember; anything I tell you going forward is highly classified.” She lowered her voice.
Was she actually praising me? Or was it just another tactic to tell me what she wanted me to know?
“It’s a counterdrone system. We call it DADES, Delcroft’s Air Defense Energy System. Whether an enemy deploys smaller, tactical drones or ones the size of a B-1 bomber, we need a way to protect ourselves. That’s what DADES does. And it works anywhere, no matter what the weather or terrain.”
“It shoots down drones?”
“It takes control of them. Takes them off course, jams them, shoots them out of the sky. Whatever we want.” She smiled confidently. “Actually, the system is almost flawless.”
“How so?”
She looked around the room, then lowered her voice even more. “It can be mounted on a plane, a tank, a ship, even a drone itself.”
“But how is it almost flawless?”
“Because we’re using artificial intelligence. But that’s all I can tell you.”
It was enough. I swigged the rest of my wine so quickly I missed savoring the oaky smooth taste of good Chardonnay.
“It’s not a new idea, of course, but only a few of us know how much success we’ve had in the trials. So you can imagine my reaction when I saw a man whom I know to be actively trying to acquire the plans for China on your video.”
“He said he was a consultant,” I said dully.
“They all do.” She picked up her glass, which, I noticed, was practically empty.
Hollander could put it away better than I. “And our so-called truce with the Chinese is a sham.”
“Is that why you canceled the video?”
She smiled, but I had the sense it was practiced. “At the time I thought it was better to be safe than sorry. In hindsight, I was rash.”
I’ll say. But I was polite. “In what way?”
“It did present us with an opportunity.”
“An opportunity?” I frowned.
She leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial voice. “To exploit the situation. Find out exactly what and how much Parks knew.”
Spy on the spy. I squirmed in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. “How did you figure out he was a spy?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I looked at her. “How did you know he and I were going to meet?”
“How do you think?” Her voice turned prickly, as if her patience was wearing thin.
“You tapped his phone,” I said.
She raised her glass in mute acknowledgment. “Would you like another wine?”
I should stay razor-sharp. If Hollander had tapped his phone, she was probably tapping mine, too. I remembered how I’d dismissed Mac’s worries about talking on the phone. When would I learn?
A waitress suddenly appeared. “Another round?”
Yes, I should stay razor-sharp. But a distinct sense of unease whispered across my skin. “Sure.”
A threesome, two men and a woman, walked in and sat at the other end of the room, where there was a similar arrangement of sofa, chairs, and coffee table. They had clearly already had a few and talked in too-loud voices, sprinkled with too many laughs and giggles. Hollander looked them over but seemed to decide they were no threat. She turned to me.
“You have a daughter, I understand?”
I stopped in mid-motion at the abrupt shift in topic. Where was she going with this?
“I do. She lives downtown.” Was she trying to intimidate me? Show me she had dug into my background? Well, two could play this game. “And you have a son.”
“He’s twelve.”
I tried to picture her as a soccer mom. I couldn’t. “Was he with you in Utah?”
Her eyes narrowed fractionally, as if I’d ventured into forbidden territory. Then her composure returned. “Yes.”
“What kinds of things is he interested in?”
She waved a hand. “Oh, you know, the normal things. Soccer, ham radio, computers.”
“Really? My best friend’s husband is a ham radio freak. Has been since high school. I would have thought ham radio is too tame a hobby for kids today.”
“Oh no. He loves talking to people all over the world.”
I nodded. We continued to chat about unrelated things. I leaned back against the upholstered chair cushion and started to relax. The waitress brought us a third round, and I started to feel warm and fuzzy. Charlotte was turning into a person I might even like. That’s when she switched gears.
“Now,” she said, “I owe you an apology. I am sorry this—this snafu changed your plans and your schedule. I know what it’s like to be a single working mother.”
What didn’t she know about me?
“I want you to know I am going to make it up to you. I’m going to give you a huge video project, much bigger and probably more relevant than those—website videos.” She waved her arm.
I straightened up. All was not lost.
“Ellie, would you be amenable to that?”
I smiled for the first time since we met. “Of course.”
“Good. Let’s set up a meeting for next week.”
“Great.” I tapped my finger on my wineglass. Maybe Hollander wasn’t such a bitch. In fact, I felt a grudging respect for her. It takes guts to make nice with someone you’ve previously battled. The air cleared and my mood soared. The people at the other end of the room weren’t drunk; they were happy. I was no longer persona non grata, and I had another shot at a video. Life was good.
The wine had definitely kicked in. In some dark recess of my brain, I knew I should still be careful of what I said. But before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “You may be right about Parks.”
She inclined her head in a much too casual way. “How so?”
For a fleeting moment, I wondered whether I should say anything. Then again, both of us had been drinking hard, and she’d answered all my questions. In fact, I wondered if she’d told me a little too much about DADES and Parks and spies. Still, I leaned forward and whispered, “About his—Parks’—activities.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I found something that may have belonged to him.”
“What?”
“A flash drive.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Really? What’s on it?”
“I don’t know. The files are encrypted.”
She studied me. I couldn’t read her expression. But I was beginning to sense that maybe I’d said too much.
“Where did you find it?”
Crap. No way to unspill the milk. “On the subway platform in a cigarette box near the spot he jumped.”
She didn’t say anything. Then: “Do you still have it?”
I had enough presence to shake my head.
Her expression turned calculating. “That’s too bad. We could have used that drive.”
“Even though Parks is dead?”
“The information on it is still out there. We need to get it before someone else does.”
I shivered. “You’re starting to make me think that maybe Parks didn’t jump. That maybe someone pushed him.”
She leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “That’s exactly what worries me. If someone killed him for the flash drive, and they think you have it…”
She let the rest of her sentence trail off.