He slouches his shoulders and in an instant transforms from authority figure to student, almost like an actor getting into character before a performance. I match his energy, and together we head down the stone steps under the Arts Building, where a sign for the Dragon Coffee Shop greets us. “Why don’t you grab a seat and I’ll get us something at the counter,” Mike says, like we’re buddies meeting to hang out together.
Mike is relaxed, which only makes me more cautions. I am in danger every moment I’m with him. I must not forget it.
I scope out the coffee shop and I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu. I was in this coffee shop with my father years ago. It had a different name then and different furniture. But there’s no question—I was here.
I select a table in the back with a brick wall to one side and the counter behind me. It is the most defensible position in the room.
I turn my chair to the wall and sit sideways so I can watch Mike and the door at the same time.
There are nine students in the room. I map their locations in my head.
I look at Mike waiting in line. The students have no idea that a trained assassin stands inches from them.
A minute later Mike comes over with two coffees and a plate of snacks.
“Oatmeal raisin cookies,” he says.
“Did you bake them yourself?”
“Didn’t have time. But the sign says they’re freshly baked. Do you think we can trust it?”
“I don’t think we can trust anything in this place.”
Mike grins and puts the plate of cookies in front of me.
“Do you still like oatmeal raisin?” he asks.
Those were my favorite cookies when I was a kid. Mike obviously remembers, and he wants me to know it. Is he trying to bond with me, or is it a test?
“I don’t like or dislike anything,” I say.
Preference creates patterns and patterns create vulnerability.
“We trained you well,” Mike says. “But don’t you enjoy a little something every now and again? Secret pleasures? We all have them.”
“Do you have them?”
He raises his eyebrows. “I plead the Fifth,” he says.
I sip from my coffee, and I wait. Mike brought me here, so it’s wise to let him speak first.
Mike pulls out a seat, its metal legs scraping against the floor. He glances from side to side, making sure we can’t be overheard.
“Your friend,” he says. “The one who disappeared from your hotel room after the last mission.”
“Howard.”
Howard was working with me in New Hampshire. He risked his life to break into an armed camp and free me. Then he stuck around to search for clues about my real father.
“Do you know who has him?” I ask.
“The Program has him.”
I’d thought so. But now I have confirmation.
“They have his laptops, too,” Mike says. “That’s the bad news. The good news is they can’t crack his computer encryptions, so they don’t know what he was up to. Yet.”
“If they have him, why do they need his computers?”
“That’s the interesting part,” he says. “He hasn’t talked. I guess he’s a lot tougher than he looks. Like a geek armadillo or something.”
I suppress a smile.
“You’re telling me they don’t know who he is or what his connection to me is?”
“That’s right,” Mike says. “So why don’t you tell me what your connection is?”
I study Mike’s face, trying to determine how much he already knows and how much I can safely give away. I decide to stay as close to the real story as possible.
“He was helping me look for my father.”
Mike shakes his head.
“Your father is dead, Zach.”
“That’s not what you told me in New York,” I say.
“What I told you—?”
“In Brooklyn, when you had me restrained in that room. You said my father might be alive.”
“No.”
I watch Mike’s face, trying to detect a lie.
“You were drugged,” Mike says. “You heard what you wanted to hear. I’m afraid this has become some sort of an obsession for you.”
I think about the moment in Brooklyn. I was waking up after being injected with a knockout drug. Could I have imagined the conversation with Mike?
“How do you know he’s dead?” I ask.
“Do I really need to answer that?” Mike says.
“You killed him.”
“It wasn’t personal, it was my mission. You’ve done the same thing yourself, taken kids’ parents away from them. How many times now?”
“Quite a few.”
“It’s what we’re trained to do,” he says. “It’s not nice, but it’s necessary.”
Mike sips at his coffee, peering over the rim of the mug. I imagine grabbing the mug out of his hands and shattering it in his face.
He can sense the danger. He studies me, watching to see whether I’m going to make a move.
“Your anger is misplaced,” he says. “It’s your father you should be angry at. He’s the one who did this to you. Not me, not Mother or The Program. We don’t target innocent people.”
I’ve had the same thought myself numerous times. The Program targets people who are guilty. My father did something to bring Mike and The Program into our lives.
“You’re probably wondering what he did,” Mike says, “but I’m not privy to that information. Not now, and certainly not then. We never learn why. We do our job and we don’t ask questions. That’s how it’s been from the beginning, even before you were in The Program.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“You’re in danger, Zach. You have been in serious trouble these last two missions, but it’s nothing compared with this. You’re as close to rogue as anyone has ever been. The Program is still a young organization. They haven’t dealt with insubordination, and they don’t know how to handle it. In my opinion, they have a tendency to overreact. I’ve done my best to ameliorate the situation. I’ve championed your cause to Mother and Father. I’ve advocated for you.”
Advocated. Like he’s an attorney arguing my defense.
“I appreciate that,” I say.
“I don’t think you do,” Mike says. “Not nearly enough.”
I look around the coffee shop. Two students have left. The head count is down to seven plus Mike.
“Your mother and father are dead,” Mike says. He waits for me to look up at him. “But you still have a family. If you want us.”
I reach for my coffee. I drink it too fast and the hot liquid scalds my throat. The pain helps me to focus.
“Do you want us?” Mike asks.
“I need the truth first,” I say.
“I’ve told you the truth as I know it.”
I reach into my pocket and finger the security pass I got from Silberstein’s coat. In all this talk, Mike hasn’t mentioned the professor. Why did he run away from me? What’s going on in the University of Rochester psych department?
Mike knows more than he’s saying, but I’ll never find out if I attack him now. Better to make him an ally than an enemy.
I lean in and lower my head, taking a submissive position. “What should I do, Mike?”
He looks pleased.
“First of all, this quest of yours has to end. Right now.”
I nod, conceding the point.
Mike grins. “Then we move on to the next step,” he says. “Cleanup.”
“Explain.”
“Your friend Howard is in a holding house in upstate New York, a couple hours south of here. As I told you, he’s held up through field interrogation,” Mike says. “But soon they will move him someplace and ask him questions in a way that will guarantee answers. He will talk. It’s just a matter of time and technique.”
Mike is right about that. The Program can make anyone talk. Eventually.
“So you have an opportunity,” Mike says.
“An opportunity?”
“To kill him.”
I sit back in my chair, the breath suddenly gone from my lungs.
This is what Mike wants from me?
“There has to be another way,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I know you care about this kid, but right now you’re only under suspicion with The Program. Once they break him, you’ll be out of options, and I won’t be able to help you.”
“Why are you helping me now?”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
I shake my head.
“I need you, you idiot.” Mike leans toward me. “You’re all I have.”
I’ve never seen Mike vulnerable like this. I analyze his breathing and facial expressions, and it seems like he’s telling the truth.
He says, “You know my family’s dead, just like yours. I had to make a decision back then, much like the one I’m asking you to make now.”
“You chose to stay with The Program.”
“I chose life. I mourned my losses and moved on. I thought you had, too.”
“Maybe it’s not as easy for me.”
Mike’s face softens. “Sometimes I forget how young you are, Zach. I know you feel old because you’ve seen a lot of death, but you’re still just a kid. Here’s the deal. If you walk away today, you’re committing suicide. If you stay, you give yourself a chance to grow up and gain some perspective on this thing.”
“Gain perspective? How am I supposed to do that?”
“You accept reality,” Mike says. “You lost one family, so you have to find another. The Program is my family now, and I’ll do anything to keep us together.”
“I’m not like you.”
“Not yet,” Mike says, “but if you stick around, who knows how you’ll feel after a few years?”
I look down at the cookies on the table. I think about the time Mike and I first met. We were best friends for a little over a month before my life changed forever. I trusted him then, and I was burned.
Do I trust him again now?
There are two possibilities that I can see.
One, Mike is being straight with me, and he’s giving me a chance to set things right before The Program finds out what I’ve done.
Two, Mike is lying about my father. By killing Howard, I will destroy my best chance to find out the truth.
I say, “Did Mother send you to make this offer?”
“It’s coming from me directly,” he says. “Mother knows nothing about it.”
Mike crosses his arms, waiting.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “It would be stupid to commit suicide. I need to give this some time.”
I glance up to see Mike smiling.
“You made the right choice,” he says.