28

Nikki double-checked the address and pulled her bright-red Sebring convertible into the drive. She expected a college dorm, maybe a frat house, or at least some college apartment. Instead, she got middle-class suburbia—a two-story vinyl-sided house at the end of a cul-de-sac in Chesapeake, Virginia.

Nikki walked up to the front porch, smoothed her short leather skirt, and rang the bell.

A middle-aged woman in knee-length shorts and a T-shirt cracked the door. She was tall and thin with curly brown hair and a forgettable face. She blocked a brown-and-white corgi with her foot. The dog looked like a fox that somebody had mistakenly fitted with Chihuahua legs.

“Hi. I’m Nikki Moreno, law clerk for Judge Oliver Finney. I’m looking for Wellington Farnsworth.”

“Corky!” the woman said, but it was too late. He was already jumping up on Nikki’s bare leg and licking. Nikki wanted to drop-kick the runt. Dogs were not her thing.

“It’s okay,” she found herself saying. She squatted down, bending at the knees in a ladylike fashion, and reached out to pet him ever so gingerly with her left hand. This made the dog slobber more, his potent bursts of dog breath almost knocking Nikki over. She scratched his back for a few seconds, in order to pass herself off as a dog lover, and then stood.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “He loves people.” She reached down and dragged the dog by its collar back into the foyer. He ran into another room to grab a ball.

“Wellington!” the woman yelled.

“Who is it?” came a shout from upstairs.

“Someone from Judge Finney’s office.”

The corgi was back with a slimy plastic ball in his mouth. He dropped it at Nikki’s feet. Fat chance.

The woman picked it up and threw it, sending the dog scampering. A few seconds later, Wellington came clumping down the stairs.

Nikki’s first thought was that she must be getting old. This kid looked way too young for college. If it hadn’t been for a trace of acne, he could have passed for an oversize middle schooler.

Wellington was big—about six feet two inches or so, Nikki would guess—and chunky, with a round baby face and curly brown hair he must have gotten from his mom. It didn’t look like a razor had ever grazed the boy’s skin. He wore dress shorts that were a size too small—halfway up the thighs and tight—together with a tucked-in button-down shirt and white socks that covered his calves.

Nikki had been expecting a Pierce Brosnan–style James Bond. Instead, she got Napoleon Dynamite with a Twinkies fetish.

There were now four of them in the foyer since Corky had returned with his disgusting ball. It looked like Mom planned to stick around too.

Nikki stuck out her hand. “I’m Nikki Moreno, law clerk to Judge Finney,” she said. “He asked me to talk with you in private about a matter where he needs your help.” She knew she must have been overwhelming for the kid. This was Nikki Moreno dressed for the second Oliver Finney party—a tight knit aqua top, appropriately low cut, a black leather miniskirt, and color-coordinated sequined sandals with straps that wound provocatively up the ankles. No sense spending money on a pedicure if you weren’t going to draw a little attention to it.

Wellington swallowed hard and shook Nikki’s hand. “More LSAT questions?”

“Something like that.”

Corky dropped the ball at Nikki’s feet and started pawing at her. Nikki waited a second, giving her hosts time to call this mutt off. Then she bent over and picked up the ball, using only the tips of her thumb and forefinger, and tossed it down the hallway. She wiped her fingers on her skirt.

“Why don’t you use the dining room table?” Wellington’s mom suggested.

After Nikki and Wellington settled in at the table, Nikki started asking questions right away. Though she had to pry it out of her painfully shy new partner, Nikki learned that Wellington was a seventeen-year-old whiz kid in his second year at Old Dominion University. He had been homeschooled and had graduated from high school at sixteen. He was now pursuing a math major with an emphasis in differential equations and approximations theory. Whatever, Nikki thought.

As they talked, Wellington’s mom and the dog competed for the prize of most annoying. Mrs. Farnsworth was a hoverer. She brought in iced tea. She checked to see if they needed anything. She busied herself in the kitchen, puttering around at a counter just on the other side of the dining room door.

Meanwhile, the bothersome little Corky kept bringing his slimy plastic ball and placing it at Nikki’s feet. Wellington would reach down and throw it, but the dog would bring it back to Nikki. She ignored him until he started chewing on her sandal. She slyly slid her feet under the table . . . and gave him a swift kick.

Above the table, she swore Wellington to secrecy and told him about Finney’s clandestine contact with her. She showed him a printout of Finney’s e-mail and noticed his eyes go wide as he read his own name. “There’s a code in there,” Nikki said proudly.

“I know,” Wellington said. “The dates are a dead giveaway. I can’t believe Judge Finney used something this easy.”

“Yeah,” Nikki said, clucking in agreement. Easy?

“I can’t believe the show’s producers didn’t catch this one,” Wellington said.

“Me, either,” Nikki said, though she felt out of her league with a guy who studied different kinds of equations and approximated theories.

“Did you check Westlaw?” Wellington asked.

“Yeah,” Nikki said just as Mrs. Farnsworth reappeared to fill their tea glasses.

“You sure you don’t want anything to munch on?” she asked, sneaking a peek at the message on the table.

“Nope,” Nikki said. She let silence fill the air until Mrs. Farnsworth took the hint and left.

Nikki leaned forward. “Even your mom can’t know about this, Wellington. The judge said nobody but you.”

“Okay.”

Nikki brought out her second prized document. It was a printout of the words she had deciphered by applying the same code to the Westlaw search requests. She had double-checked her work and now watched as her new prized pupil studied it.

change codes frequently use capital letters in search requests then solve using keys from my book each new search session use new key from next chapter starting with introduction for next message and so on

“What book?” Wellington asked.

Nikki lowered her voice so the eavesdropping ears of Mama Farnsworth wouldn’t hear. She gave Corky another not-so-gentle kick. “Finney wrote a book under a pen name. It’s called The Cross Examination of Jesus Christ. I don’t think anybody else knows about it. He told me once that he hid secret messages in that book.”

Wellington smiled, his shyness dissolving as the task became clear. “Brilliant,” he said. “Judge Finney wants to send secure encrypted messages, so he references a key source that only you will know. The key never changes hands and therefore can’t be compromised. The encryption method changes with every message and therefore can’t be deciphered—even if they figure out that encrypted messages are being sent.” Wellington shook his head in amazement and approval. “That’s ridiculous,” he said.

What?

He must have noticed the look on Nikki’s face. “I mean a good kind of ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Nikki said. “It is ridiculous.”

Nikki had to get going; she was already late for her own Judge Finney party. She had mixed emotions about dragging Wellington along. On the one hand, he would severely cramp her style—it wasn’t exactly like appearing on the arm of Brad Pitt. On the other hand, she needed to get him away from Mama Farnsworth so they could talk more freely. Also, she wanted him around if Finney sent another set of Westlaw messages tonight.

Against her better judgment, she ended up inviting Wellington to the party, confident she could sneak him into the bar despite his youthful looks. She needed him to explain the keys in Finney’s book, and then they could check Westlaw afterward to see if there were any new messages. When she asked him, Wellington looked like he had mixed emotions—perhaps torn between this intriguing new mission and his fear of meeting people he didn’t know. To help the kid make up his mind, Nikki pulled her legs out from under the table and strategically crossed them. “I could really use your help.”

“Mom,” Wellington called out, “I’ve got to help Ms. Moreno on some things for Judge Finney. It’s kind of confidential, but we’ve got to get started tonight.”

Ms. Moreno? She’d have to break the kid of that habit.

Mrs. Farnsworth immediately appeared at the doorway, shooting a disapproving look toward the Moreno legs. “Can’t you do it here?” she asked.

“No, we really can’t,” Nikki said.

Wellington ended up promising his mom he’d be back by midnight.

Mrs. Farnsworth let him borrow the keys to the minivan. He and Nikki exchanged cell numbers in case they got separated.

“I’ll wait here while you throw on some jeans,” Nikki said. If this guy was such a code expert, he could certainly catch that hint. She would have to work on the shirt next time.

“Okay,” Wellington said, heading upstairs to change.

When he came back down, he had his laptop tucked under his arm. Nikki didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t that kind of party.