12

Mayflower Pub, London

London’s Mayflower Pub had stood on a cobbled street, tucked into the edge of the River Thames, for over four hundred years. It had been erected on the original mooring spot of the Mayflower ship before its trip to what would become Cape Cod. The pub was dark wood and heavy stone, scarlet walls and crosshatched windows, the sour smell of four centuries’ worth of beer spillage complementing the hearty fryer smell of London’s best fish and chips. Stepping inside the cozy interior was a stroll back in time, the brightly lit cell screens and modern clothes of the patrons jarring.

The grim faces of the FBI agents, however, perfectly matched the interior.

Salem sipped her second pint. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She’d never cared for beer, but she also had never had a Guinness straight out of a keg. It was creamy, chocolatey, more dessert than beverage. She’d been listening to the agents talk, Charlie slipping easily into the group.

“ISIL, you’d think,” he was saying. “But they’d have claimed it by now, right, Salem?”

Salem knew he was being nice, pulling her into the conversation. As the beer began to line her veins, she realized she didn’t mind. “Any group would have,” she said. “Unless this is only a warm-up leading to something else.”

Lucan Stone sat across from her, his expression inscrutable. Nina, one of his agents, sat to his left. If Salem wasn’t mistaken, Nina and Stone had a thing going, or were at least very comfortable with one another. She fought the lick of jealousy, leaning toward Charlie. He threw his arm over her shoulder companionably.

“If Salem hasn’t discovered a claimer, no one has,” he said. “This girl’s the best in the business.”

Nina leaned forward, her elbows on the table. She was a redhead with a sharp nose. “Word on the street is that Gaea is at least a year out from being workable. Padding expectations?”

She had said it conspiratorially rather than meanly, but her physical nearness to Stone set Salem on edge. “If I was, I wouldn’t come clean in a bar.” Salem pulled on her beer. She really should order some food. Or slide her hand into Stone’s under the table. The more she drank, the more difficult it became to separate a good decision from a bad.

Nina wouldn’t let it go. “My Quantico cyberterrorism professor couldn’t stop talking about you,” she said. “There must be more than you’re saying. If you can build a quantum-based codebreaking software before anyone else, doesn’t that mean that the United States wins the cyber war? We’d be light years ahead of all the other nations.”

Salem shook her head. “Quantum computing is like an engine, or more accurately, a whole new roadway. Gaea will be a vehicle on that road, that’s all.”

Charlie sat forward. “You’re being modest.” He looked at Nina. “Once Salem has Gaea working, it’ll be a constant fishing line trolling the internet, updating itself real-time as the bad guys create new code.”

Salem frowned. “Not until I figure out the missing algorithms.”

Stone flashed her a look. He seemed angry, his drink untouched and his shoulders stiff. The bombing had him tense, surely.

Nina held up her drink for a toast. “Cheers to bureaucracy standing in the way of progress. The FBI is the same all over, eh?” She glanced at Stone for agreement, but he was staring at Salem.

It sent a thrill like a kiss down Salem’s neck. She was terrible at reading people, she accepted that, but there was something in his eyes. She clinked her beer with Nina’s drink, a smile on her face.

Charlie touched his glass to theirs. “It sounds like the FBI is the same as MI5, as well.” He downed his own pint. “They want to make enthusiastic bureaucrats out of all of us.”

Salem found herself unexpectedly filled with the desire to talk. “Some days I think we might be heading in the wrong direction with Gaea,” she said, swallowing the last of her beer and holding it up for a refill. “The latest hidden is not hidden. Message s written on paper, delivered by couriers, burned or swallowed once they’ve been received. I’d like to see all agents taught old-school cryptanalysis for security’s sake.”

“I agree!” Nina said. She was going to add more when a scuffle broke out to her left, followed by an ape of a man flying onto their table, scattering their drinks. All four agents jumped to their feet. Stone took a step toward Salem, but he didn’t intervene when the man stood, dripping beer, and turned toward her, glaring at Salem’s open-mouthed gape.

“What’re you staring at?” The man was at least six and a half feet tall but hunched over, his knuckles all but dragging on the ground.

Salem closed her mouth, opened it, and closed it again. A dark-eyed woman stood behind the giant, hair pulled up in a dark pony tail, her stance lean and confident. She appeared to be judging Salem, curious about her next move. She also looked familiar. Salem found both points equally distracting. Was the sloe-eyed woman with the guy who’d toppled their table?

“She’s just having a pint, mate.” Charlie inserted himself between the man and Salem, his hands palm out. “You should cool down.” He glanced at the table, glasses knocked over, beer dribbling off the edge. “And you owe all of us a beer.”

The man swung at Charlie. Charlie blocked the first hit but the second caught him square in the jaw, sending him to the ground. Salem stepped in, her body acting before her brain could talk her out of it. She grabbed the man’s wrist, turning into the arc of his swing so her back was to his chest. She kept the momentum of his punch going, leaning forward and thrusting her butt backward to throw him off balance. He didn’t have time to right himself. He fell over her bent back and toward Charlie, who rolled out of the way in the nick of time.

The assailant hit the ground.

Salem blinked so loudly she was sure everyone in the pub could hear it. It was a move she’d practiced a hundred times in Krav Maga training with Bel, and fifty more at Quantico, but she couldn’t believe it had actually worked in real life. Her first bar fight, and she’d won. She hooted and pumped a fist into the air before she could stop herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stone smile. She guessed that’s why he’d stepped aside. He’d banked on her being able to take care of herself. That confidence felt good. She looked for the dark-eyed woman, but she’d disappeared.

Another guy stepped forward and helped up his friend. “Sorry. He’s had too much to drink.”

“Get him out earlier next time,” Charlie said, standing with Nina’s help.

They nodded and scurried out.

Charlie turned on her, an angry, cherry-red welt growing on his chin but a grin lighting up his face. “Not poor in a pinch, are you?”

He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, Salem realized. Small, pasty, but when he smiled like that, he appeared younger. “It must have been all my training kicking in. Muscle memory.” She laughed too loud. Adrenaline.

“Our shots have arrived!” Nina said, motioning to the waitress who was ferrying the drinks they’d ordered before the kerfuffle. She handed Charlie and Salem a shot glass each while she and Stone righted the table and another waitress swept up the broken glass.

The minty liquor burned Salem’s throat, warming her belly. She was reaching for another glass when her stomach pitched and the room shifted. If she didn’t get fresh air, she would be sick. “I need to go.”

Agent Stone nodded, his jaw set. Had he appeared that angry all night long? “I’ll see you to a cab.”

Salem glanced at Charlie, who was watching her, expressionless, his own second shot paused halfway to his mouth.

“I’m fine,” she said. A burp was pushing up her throat.

“I’ll see you out,” Agent Stone repeated.

Salem commanded her legs to walk toward the door. The adrenaline backlash combined with the shot made her feel like she was walking on the moon, though she did not stumble. She hoped she wasn’t lifting her feet too high. Once outside, the cool drizzle cleared her head, marginally. She gulped deeply of the London air, its mist curling into her stomach and settling it. When she felt like herself again, she turned. Agent Stone was watching her with his ageless eyes.

“I think the bomb was a distraction,” she said. She had no intel to back it up, and she didn’t want to believe in hunches, but the thought had been nagging at her. She’d planned to sit on it until she had data, but being outside, alone with Stone, made it feel like an idea worth sharing.

He cocked his head. Salem thought he was auditing for listeners, practicing discretion, being a spy, doing everything she should be doing. “How so?”

“Because no group has credibly claimed responsibility for it. The only logical explanation is that it’s a set-up for something bigger.”

“Connected to the president or the accord?”

“I’m not sure.” The bomb was set off near enough to the president, but it had virtually no chance of harming her. It was the first strike. Salem didn’t know what the second would be or who it would be targeting.

“We need hard intel. Use Gaea.”

It was a command, and she discovered she liked it when Stone issued orders. He was strong and confident. His spicy cologne, clear eyes, and full lips all seemed to be whispering to her, reminding her of the erotic dream, filling her with something like courage. If she reached out and laid her hand on his chiseled cheek, would bright sparks fly from her fingertips? Would he wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly, safely, keeping the confusing world at bay? She suddenly, urgently, needed to know.

She leaned toward him, anticipating the hardness of his body, staring up and into his eyes. “I think it’s time for me to trust someone,” she said softly, offering her heart and mouth.

He moved quickly, putting distance between his body and hers before she even had time to register mortification. His face was shadowed by the entryway overhang. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

Her mouth formed an O. She’d read the situation 100 percent wrong. Stone did not want her. He’d simply walked her out so she wouldn’t embarrass the Bureau anymore.

“Of course. Sorry. No cab. Some exercise will do me good.” She strode off into the night.

Lucan Stone watched her go.

And Charlie Thackeray watched him watching her.