Historic Crimes Headquarters | Hudson Valley, New York
It was Kayne’s first time in the offices. Her first time in the presence of so many federal agents and other members of law enforcement—without the worry that someone was going to pull a gun on her at any second, at least.
Well, mostly without the worry.
She was dressed for the job. A pant suit and a sensible blouse. Her shoes were stylish, and dressy, but could double as running shoes in a pinch. Old habits died hard.
She had an ID around her neck that called her out as a “consultant.” They’d stopped short of giving her one of those cool, black badges. But the ID had the Historic Crimes logo emblazoned on it, and she was told it gave her access to limited areas of the building. Very limited, really.
She wasn’t an agent. Just a civilian.
A free civilian.
Sort of free, anyway.
She was sitting in a chair across the desk from Director Liz Ludlum.
She liked Liz. A brilliant, capable African American woman who had risen in the ranks, from working as a forensic specialist with the NYPD to heading forensics for a branch of the FBI, to finally taking over as the Director of a brand new branch of US federal law enforcement—who wouldn’t like her?
But it was Liz’s personality that clicked with Kayne. She was pleasant. Open. Honest. She didn’t tolerate games, but she was ok with a bit of nonsense. Which might explain how she was able to date Dr. Dan Kotler.
“Your movements will be tracked,” Ludlum said, peering at her.
Kayne nodded. “Not a fan, but alright.”
“It was necessary,” Ludlum sighed. “You’re kind of the biggest flight risk of all time. There are still a lot of people above me who think you should be locked in a room until we need you, and then only let out if you were physically chained to an agent. I threatened to quit if anything like that happened, and a whole bunch of my team threatened to do the same.”
“Thanks for that,” Kayne said, nervously.
Ludlum studied her for a moment. “You’re still adjusting to this,” she said. “Coming in out of the cold.”
Kayne nodded. “Yeah. There’s that. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Plus all the new rules,” Ludlum said.
“Yeah,” Kayne agreed.
There were plenty of rules.
She would be tracked at all times, and if that tracking ever went off line she would immediately go back to the top of the most wanted list.
She had to check in daily, at random times that would be transmitted to her via a special phone she had to keep with her at all times. If she missed check-in, back to the list.
She had to live in an apartment that was within thirty minutes of Historic Crimes. Hudson Valley was home now. And when she wasn’t on assignment, she was either in that apartment or in the offices.
She’d have a schedule for shopping. And Ludlum had used her sway to get her some “café time,” for one hour per week. But otherwise, her liberties were severely limited.
The list went on. Restrictions. Limitations. Provisos.
It chaffed. It made Kayne feel like a prisoner. She didn’t like it. But she was determined to try to make it work. Being in out of the cold was better than being constantly on the run.
Right?
But there were other conditions she was less willing to accept.
She would reveal the location of every single module that made up Smokescreen.
She would turn over access to any networks or databases she’d hacked into.
And she would turn over access to QuIEK.
That last one was potentially the deal breaker.
“No one but me will have that access,” Ludlum assured her. “Those were the terms.”
“Sorry,” Kayne said, shaking her head. “But you can understand why I don’t trust that.”
Ludlum nodded. “I do. There’s practically no way to make sure that no one above me has the same access. But… those are the terms. If you don’t agree, my only choice is to have you arrested, right here and right now.”
Kayne nodded. She knew this. She’d been told this. Bertrand had prepared her well for this.
Of course, Kayne had a contingency plan. In the event of an emergency.
“Ok,” Kayne said, nodding again. “I’ll set it up. You will have access to QuIEK.”
“Full access,” Ludlum said.
“Of course,” Kayne smiled.
Never. Not in a million years.
She could set something up, to give Ludlum access, along with whoever would secretly piggy back on that. But there would be safeguards.
Restrictions. Limitations. Provisos.
QuIEK was more than capable of running a truncated version of itself, disguising itself so that it appeared to be fully functional and playing by their rules. And all the while, it would limit them, even work against them. It would divert them away from things. Set up unexpected roadblocks. Leave out key details. It would distract them, while alerting Kayne to any shenanigans.
And if there turned out to be shenanigans, Kayne had decided, the deal would be off.
She’d already made sure that only she would have full access to QuIEK. Ever. And if she died, or if she were betrayed and thrown in prison, QuIEK would self-destruct and take its truncated little clone with it.
Anyone who looked at her code would be befuddled by it. Things would make sense, but nothing would ever add up. The code would evolve and shift. Nothing anyone thought they’d worked out would ever quite be what they determined it to be. And if they started messing around, trying to alter things or dig deeper, QuIEK would retaliate. Any hacker who tried to build their own version of QuIEK, or to take it over, would discover themselves being digitally erased from existence. They’d find themselves in a permanent shadow ban—no access to anything online, ever again. Digital banishment.
It was harsh, but she couldn’t risk anyone cracking this. Attack from orbit, raze the ground and salt the Earth. It was the only way.
Hopefully it never came to that. She really did want to believe Ludlum, and even the people above her. She wanted to believe they were on the level.
She just didn’t believe it.
She also wouldn’t share one other proviso.
Kayne was only in this for Eric. She wanted to be free to see him, to talk to him, to visit him. Maybe even to work with him, if he woke up.
When he woke up.
He was still recovering, still in a coma. And she wanted to be able to get to him without worrying she was going to be arrested.
But beyond that, she wanted to continue his work.
By being here, being part of Historic Crimes, she was continuing something that was important to him. And so, it was important to her.
And besides, as it turned out, he was going to need a new partner.
The conversation with Ludlum continued for a long while, with paperwork signed and terms explained. Kayne listened, and agreed, and let it all flow over her.
Finally, Ludlum rose from her desk, and Kayne rose from her own chair. Ludlum circled around and extended her hand. “Well, Alex, welcome to Historic Crimes.”
Kayne smiled as she shook Ludlum’s hand.
And in her pocket, from the agency-issued phone they’d given her—the phone she’d immediately hacked and reprogrammed—QuIEK quietly selected sites where it would be safe to reveal parts of the Smokescreen network, and made an impressive but functionally deficient copy of itself, while also mapping out every possible route of escape that Kayne might need.
Because Mayher had been right. Dammit, she was right.
Alex Kayne never stopped running.
Round Rock, Texas
Mayher smiled and sipped a bottle of Shiner Bock as Agent Christian Daniels—off duty, of course—cast another line into the river.
“This was not the date I was expecting,” she said.
Christian glanced back at her and smiled, his cheeks dimpling so deep she thought she could fall into them. “I figured you could use some down time. If you want, I can take you out for Tex Mex. Or we can see a movie or something. Whatever you want.”
She shook her head. “This is perfect.”
He smiled again, spun the reel a couple of turns, and then sank the rod into a PVC tube driven into the river bank.
He dropped down in the camp chair beside her and picked up his own beer. “I told you things were going to warm up.”
She laughed and shook her head. “It’s hard to believe this whole place was covered in snow a few days ago.”
“Texas,” Christian grinned.
“Texas,” Mayher said, offering her bottle up for a toast.
Christian clinked his against hers and they settled back to watch sunlight sparkle over the surface of the river.
“So, how much PTO do you have?” he asked.
She felt a twinge in her stomach. She hadn’t told him yet. Hadn’t told anyone yet. And their relationship was still too new, wasn’t it? This was technically their first date. How much should someone confide in a first date?
“I… resigned,” Mayher said, deciding that there was no reason not to be honest. “Yesterday.”
“Resigned?” Christian asked, surprised. “That’s… I wasn’t expecting that.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t either, actually. But I just…” she hesitated.
He turned, putting his beer in the webbed holder in the camp chair. Then he turned the chair itself, so that he was oriented on her. “What happened?” he asked.
Mayher said nothing for as second, just looked at him.
If anyone was going to understand, it was going to be another agent, right?
“I… realized that I couldn’t… find myself anymore.”
His eyebrows arched. “What does that mean?”
She laughed. “It means I found that I was questioning what I was doing. I was doing things that I didn’t agree with, I guess. Sort of.” She thought, took a swig, then shook her head. “No, that’s not right. I agreed with them. I just didn’t want to agree with them, I think. I don’t know. It’s confusing.”
“What exactly happened?” Christian asked.
She sighed. “I saw someone in a new way, I think. And it made me look at myself and wonder if I really knew who I was. And… turns out I didn’t. So, here I am.”
He laughed. “Are you hoping you’re going to find yourself by dropping out and hanging by the river all day?”
“You’re the one who brought me to the river,” she said. “I thought we were going for pizza or something.”
“Pizza? You flew all the way to Texas for a pizza date?”
“Maybe.”
He laughed.
She laughed.
“Ok, Julia Mayher,” Christian said. “You’re officially on a quest to find yourself. What can I do to help?”
She looked past him. The pole was bobbing and bending.
“Reel in that fish,” she said. “And after that, we’ll see what happens.”
Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital and Trauma Center | San Francisco, California
The first thing he noticed was pain. Everywhere. But dulled. Distant. It hurt, but he didn’t mind. Mostly.
He opened his eyes, and the room was barely lit. He could hear beeping and whooshing. He tried to raise his hand, but it took a lot of effort. And when it finally moved, he reached up to touch his face, only to find that there was something there. A mask.
He was in a hospital.
He tried to speak, but it came out as a mumble, and he choked a bit on something in his throat. He tried to sit up, but no, that was not happening.
In a moment, however, the door opened. A nurse came in, followed soon after by another, and then eventually a doctor.
They were working on him, shifting him, touching him.
“Agent Symon,” the doctor said. She leaned over him, smiled. “Eric. It’s good to see you back with us. You had a rough time of it.”
He tried again to say something, but they quieted him, told him to rest.
He rested.
He slept.
The next time he opened his eyes, the mask was gone. The beeping was still there, but the whooshing had stopped.
His throat hurt. Everything still hurt. And now he cared.
More nurses. Another doctor. Ice chips and pillows.
Days went by like this.
And then, eventually, Denzel showed up.
He had smiled a lot, said how glad he was that Symon was recovering.
He filled him in on everything.
Derrick Conners’ arrest.
Spencer and Faure’s arrest.
Mayher’s resignation.
That one shocked him.
But the news about Alex Kayne was the weirdest.
“She’s officially on the team now,” Denzel said. “Director Ludlum has arranged a place for her to live. She has some rules, but she’s living by them. So far.”
“Rules,” Symon rasped, shaking his head, laughing. It hurt. His throat was still raw from the intubation. Everything still took so much effort and energy.
“Alex isn’t a fan of rules,” he finally continued.
“She’s going to have to be, if she wants to stay out of prison,” Denzel said.
Sounds like she’s in prison anyway, Symon thought.
Picturing Kayne that way, hobbled, limited, it just didn’t sit well with him. It just wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural.
But if it was what she wanted…
“She did it for you, by the way,” Denzel said.
“What?” Symon asked, his gut suddenly twisting in dread of what Denzel was saying.
“Came in out of the cold. Took the job. Took on all the rules. She did it for you.”
This was not what Symon wanted to hear. Not at all.
They continued talking, and after a while a nurse came in to say it was time for Denzel to leave.
“Rest up,” Denzel said. “Recover. It’s all waiting for you when you’re ready. Take your time.”
He left, and the nurse brought Symon a dinner of Jello and apple sauce. He had no appetite for it, but dutifully and mechanically consumed it.
When he was finally alone again, he reached for his phone. They had relented and let him have it, especially after Denzel had vouched for it.
He unlocked it and sent a message to one of the numbers Kayne had given him.
Is it true?
A moment later, there was a reply.
It’s true. Rest up. They aren’t giving me a day to come see you for another two weeks. So maybe you can come here instead.
He laughed and typed, Seems unlikely.
There was a pause, then, A lot of unlikely things are happening lately, Kayne replied.
That, he thought, was true.
They wrapped up their conversation. They’d catch up later, both promised. He needed his rest, and she needed time to adjust to her new life.
As he settled back, drowsing from exertion and medication, he thought about Kayne and QuIEK, Mayher and Historic Crimes. And then he thought about the conversation he’d just finished with Kayne, and about all the restrictions Denzel had told him Kayne had agreed to.
One of those restrictions was that she could only use communications that were strictly monitored. All her back-channel communications were forbidden. From now on, it was only supposed to be her Historic Crimes-issued phone. No burners, no VPNs, no secret numbers. Everything she’d had before had to be turned over, and shut down.
And yet, he’d just had a chat with her on a number that still came up as “unknown.”
If they thought they had Kayne on a leash, he thought, smiling, they were deluded.