Texts from Jane Lu’s Phone
When will you be back? I miss you! :) – Jane Lu, May 14, 3:45pm
Not sure yet – Adrian King, 4:00pm
I hope everything’s going okay. How are things over there? – 4:01pm
Fine. – 6:45pm
Will you at least be back next weekend? – 6:05pm
Yeah – 7:32pm
I’ll be waiting for you in your apartment then, is that all right? – 7:03pm
K – 8:29pm
“I’m sorry, Miss Lu, but I cannot allow you access to the library.”
“It’s one library fine.”
“One which you have not paid in over three years, amounting to over seven hundred dollars.” The librarian pushed his glasses further down his nose to scrutinize me and my non-library-fine-paying visage.
I scoffed. “How can that be possible?”
“CO library books are very important resources, Miss Lu. As such, our fines are appropriated to accommodate such rarity.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You know the rules: no pay, no access.”
“Can’t I charge it to my credit card?”
The librarian clucked his tongue. “What is it with the young folk and this plastic card? It holds no real value. It is simply an appearance of value which does not exist.”
“It’s a connection to my bank account! How am I supposed to get seven hundred dollars in cash?”
“The magic bank account of yours should do the trick, I imagine.”
I tapped my foot. “This has gotta be a joke.”
“No joke, and no access. Good day, Miss Lu.” The librarian spun around and resumed organizing books behind the check-out counter.
I suppressed the urge to literally knock the librarian unconscious for the next five minutes (a trick I learned from a Tibetan Buddhist monk at CO a few years back) and walk right past him. No, Jane, not ethical. Not ethical at all.
But where else could I get access to the same amount of documents the CO online library stored? There was no larger collection of CIA, FBI, and CO files all in one place. It would take me ages to find the information I needed on my own.
I glanced back at Mr. Skeers, the librarian. He appeared ancient, like he could still tell stories about the days of the Civil War when he’d experienced them. The slight man was at least a foot shorter than me, and he even trembled while he stood up. My eyes flickered to a spot on his neck which would render him unconscious. All it needed was one swift jab.
All right, in times of trouble, bend ethical rules.
Right as I walked toward the librarian with a little Buddhist trick in mind, another agent walked up to him.
“Mr. Skeers!” Her brows furrowed in worry. “I think someone misplaced the last volume of population statistics in Brazil. It’s checked in, but it’s not with the other records on the shelf.”
“Oh no!” Mr. Skeers dropped the books he held and clutched his chest like he was having a heart attack. He followed her into the nearest set of library shelves, disappearing behind the maze of books. “Show me at once.”
I wasted no time.
I rode the elevator to the fourth floor, where CO kept the online databases, a long row of computers holding information on virtually every subject. Every processed and published news article, every published photograph, and every government record—both classified and not—was here. I had to hand it to CO’s hacking department.
I settled into a comfortable leather armchair behind one of the monitors. Thankfully, the few other people checking the online databases sat on the other side of the room from me.
I set the search engine settings to “NEWSPAPER” and typed in “Jack Waterman.”
The monitor whirred to life, processing my request. I bit a nail and wondered why the computer was being so slow. Normally search results popped up within a second.
The words “NO RESULTS” stared back at me.
Hmm. So he kept a low profile. Nothing to see there, then.
Maybe I’d try something else. I scanned around me again and checked to make sure no one could see my monitor. Nope, still the only person on the side of the room. I switched the settings to “CO RECORD.” Surely something had to come up then.
Results appeared on the screen. He served as an agent twenty years ago, completed missions in Tanzania and Australia and specialized in exotic locations. He, like Adrian, went straight on to being a CEO instead of being an executive. He’d been chosen by Hawk Fletcher, the CEO before him. But Hawk was nothing like Jack. He was already old when Jack was appointed, nearly ninety years old. Jack was still young.
“Why do you want Adrian?” I wanted to ask the picture on the screen. The picture was an agent profile of Jack Waterman from 1990. The only differences I found between him now and back then was a slimmer profile and a scar-free face. But otherwise the features were the same.
The record proved disappointing. Spoke Italian, Mandarin. Good at kickboxing, fencing. Average statistics and information which didn’t help me at all.
Yet the bottom of the screen caught my eye. It showed me results from different search settings, including “CIA RECORD.” And there were definitely documents under his name in the CIA records.
I clicked on the thumbnail, calling more documents to my screen. My eyes widened. Now this was more like it.
The CIA had kept tabs on him since he was an agent. There were countless pictures of him which matched the appearance from 1990. His whereabouts couldn’t be determined; he moved from CO base to CO base and kept increasing CO’s empire. They knew he was the CEO and sometimes hacked his e-mails, but they knew little about his personal life.
They did know something though, if the pictures accompanying the documents from 1993 were any indication.
There were pictures of Jack Waterman and another woman, holding hands and embracing. More pictures followed, this time of Jack and the woman kissing. I zoomed in. The woman was the same woman from the obituary. It was Adrian’s mother.
Which made Jack…
I shook my head. Insane. But possible. Adrian had never mentioned his father. But if he knew his father was alive, and he knew his father was the CEO…
No wonder he wanted to be CEO! His father was the CEO, which was why Jack had picked him. Over everyone else, Jack picked Adrian because he knew Adrian was his son and he wanted him to follow in his footsteps. The obituary hadn’t mentioned Adrian’s father, only a mother.
I closed the screen and pushed my chair away from the desk. There was only one other person who knew enough about Covert Operatives to answer my questions.
****
If he knew everything about CO, he knew nothing about cooking.
Not implying I knew much either, of course. But I was pretty sure lasagna was supposed to be a variation of golden and red, not completely carbon black.
“It’s a bit crunchier than normal, still tasty!” Marty coughed, waving one of his hands in the air to dispel the smoke emitting from the burned lasagna. His oven mitts caused his hands to appear oversized and cherry red in the smoky haze. “Now, would you like to try some?”
I winced as he attempted to cut into the lasagna and the knife remained stuck on top. He needed a chainsaw to slice it. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Marty removed his oven mitts and walked behind the counter. He left the knife stuck in the lasagna, as if the room temperature air would somehow soften the lasagna and slip the knife through. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”
I followed him into his workshop. “It’s been a few weeks, yeah. I’ve been busy with contracts and classes.”
“I’m so proud of you for landing those contracts. The work takes real skill, Jane, real skill. You’ve got a gift.” Marty patted me on the back and opened the door for me. I entered, and he locked the door behind us.
Marty breezed his way to his chair. Once seated, he leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “I’ve also got a gift—of spotting a CO executive who needs information. What would you like to know?”
I shifted in my seat. “Not information, per say. General knowledge.”
“Is this about Adrian?” Marty sighed. “Thrilled you two are still together, of course, there never was a better-matched couple. But I imagine it must be frustrating for you to wait around during his missions, wondering when he comes back.”
“I wouldn’t say waiting around.” Having a chance to relay CO information back to Marge was more like it. “It would be wonderful to know where he is going, exactly. Have you talked to him lately?”
“He stopped by yesterday, in fact.” Marty’s brows curved in sympathy. He patted my hand. “I know you’re concerned. He’s leaving for Washington D.C. next week, on Monday I think. He’s trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
Marty frowned. “There are some secrets in CO, Jane. Secrets which shouldn’t be revealed. Not that I know what they are, of course. I know what the general word is, and I’ve spent—what, thirty years with this company?”
I straightened my back, remembering my mission. “Thirty years.”
“A long time.”
“You must have seen quite a few CEO’s come and go.”
“No. Two, and three if you count Adrian’s ascension. Yes, the first who hired me was Hawk Fletcher. Old, old man, even when he was young. Old soul, they say. CO was good under Fletcher.” Marty’s eyes shined, like a father thinking of the accomplishments of his child. “But Jack Waterman was better.”
“Who?” I asked with innocence.
“Oh, it is the CEO’s name. No one refers to him as Jack anymore, of course. He’s so respected now. But I remember when he was still an agent, a troubled kid who was good at leading others. Not the nicest student, but courageous.”
“If he’s so young, why is Adrian being appointed as CEO now?”
“Beats me.” Marty stroked his beard and gazed off into the distance. “Haven’t talked to Jack in a while. I used to every day, when he was still an agent. Used to come to me for love advice, the boy.”
“Advice? For who?”
“Always a different girl.” Marty chuckled. “Never wanted to get too attached. Most men ask me how to get a girl; Jack used to ask me how to get rid of them. The female agents weren’t jumping at his feet all the time, but whenever Jack did get in a serious relationship, all he wanted was out.”
“Did he ever marry?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” He winked. “Random facts about your CEO, eh? There was a girl he got serious with later, I think her name was Harriet… or Halle…”
“Helen?”
Marty snapped his fingers, eyes widening. “That’s the name. She was the last girl he asked me for advice about. He wanted to get rid of her too.”
My throat tightened. “What happened to Helen afterward?”
“Beats me. Poor boy wasn’t one for relationships.”
So Helen hadn’t stayed with Jack. The lack of formal marriage explained why he wasn’t mentioned in the obituary. But Adrian’s mother and Jack were definitely in a relationship around the time Adrian was born. Good grief, he was the son of the CEO! The information sent me reeling. He still had family ties after all. He was so loyal to the CEO because he knew Jack was the last member of his family.
Adrian was loyal to the CEO; he was loyal to CO.
How could he manage to be loyal to me too?
****
I wasn’t the only one who remained quiet.
Adrian returned late to his apartment and I waited for him, as usual. He hung up his coat and made himself food. He then climbed into bed with me. But he said nothing. He was as silent as a ghost.
“I’m headed to DC next week. I’ll be there Monday.” I lifted my folder from the table next to the bed. Professor George handed me my next assignment earlier this morning, with an utterance of “Good luck” and a tight squeeze on my shoulders. Apparently he’d forgotten about my debate blunder.
“Okay.”
I pressed my lips together. Nothing else? He was going to be there in DC too. He’d told Marty himself. Didn’t he want to meet up?
“Where will you be?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“I thought you said you got your mission assignments at least two weeks in advance as a CEO.”
I watched Adrian clench his jaw. He studied the book he was reading, eyes intent on the pages instead of me. “This time it’s different.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
I put the folder down and pressed my mouth against his neck, against the spot I knew drove him crazy.
He flinched first, like my touch burned him. Then he drew his body away from me, further away on the bed. His eyes remained glued to the book. Within moments, all was silent again, as if nothing happened.
It felt like ages before he spoke again. “The Bosnia mission was botched.”
The mission I’d leaked to Central Intelligence.
“And the China mission. And the one in Louisville.”
China and Louisville, both missions I had leaked to Central Intelligence.
I leaned toward him. “But they weren’t your missions, were they?”
“No.” He dropped the book and rubbed his temples. “Which makes it worse. This isn’t one agent’s fault. Someone’s alerting the targets ahead of time.”
“How terrible.”
Adrian shook his head. “I thought the spying was done; I thought everything was fine.”
“You tried your best.” I patted his back with reassurance. “Are you going to launch another investigation?”
“No.”
My hand froze, tensed for his next answer. “Then what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take care of it.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “What do you mean?”
Adrian surveyed me. “We don’t have much time.”
My heart gave a sudden lurch, and I could feel my palms perspiring. “Before what?”
“Before you go to D.C.”
“Oh yeah.” I opened my arms as he leaned toward me. “Don’t worry about the failed missions. Things will improve.”
The lie slipped naturally from my lips. I found myself desperate to say anything which would bring him comfort.
“And if they don’t?”
I kissed the top of his head. “You’ll know what to do.”
“I already do.” All of a sudden, the worried look from his face vanished and he flashed me a smile. “Let’s not waste any more time together, Janey.”
I raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in mood. He got up off the bed and started toward the stairs. “Let’s go out tonight!” he called. “You love the restaurant in Paris. Maxim’s, right?”
“Yeah.” What was going on? “Adrian, we can’t just go to Paris.”
“Sure we can.” He stopped walking to look at me. “You always talked about us going there together. Let’s go now.”
What was with the suddenly live-in-the-now attitude? He was one of the most cautious people I knew. He took his time with everything; he never rushed. “We can go after I finish the contract in DC.”
“No.” Another emotion flashed in those expressive eyes of his, but as quick as I’d seen it, it was gone. “We’re going right now.”
“I’ll meet you down there.” I gestured to my pajamas. “I’ll get dressed.”
“Good.” Adrian started down the stairs. “Five minutes!”
I sat there for a few seconds, staring at the spot where he stood moments before. He was acting strange. Maybe all the stress from the CEO missions finally got to him. I managed a small smile. Better he spend time with me in Paris than keep overworking himself. He needed a break, especially if I could help.
I stepped off the bed and headed toward the wardrobe. I’d already moved a few of my clothes into his wardrobe for the nights I stayed over. Inside the giant walk-in closet was a coffee table desk too, where Adrian sometimes left his papers lying around. He even read work documents while he changed clothes. My eyes trailed over the documents. Work contracts, schedules of CO receptions, payments to private assassins…
Wait. Payments to private assassins?
I picked up the papers as I scanned the details of three transactions, all made to private assassins. Well, not entirely private. They were CO agents, to be exact. I recognized the names from the time I spent scanning the lists to fulfill my contracts. But CO paid them, not the CEO.
Unless, of course, the CEO paid them in private.
Maybe he’d pay them to assist him on a mission. I checked the dates of the payment. Hmmm. I picked up one of the papers and glanced at another date. At the time, he wasn’t on a mission. But there was something significant about the day.
My heart sank.
No. It couldn’t be.
I checked the next paper, scrutinizing the date. Then I picked up the next paper and studied the date. There was no denying it. The dates were too convenient, and he hadn’t been on a CEO mission.
The dates Adrian paid the CO agents included the day I thought I was being watched at the pool, the day before Tristan and I had been ambushed in the private parking lot, and the day before I’d been chased on the way to Adrian’s apartment.
And at the bottom of each payment, on every transaction, there was a special note for the agent from Adrian: “Scare her, but don’t shoot her. Jane Lu is not to be harmed.”