Chapter Twelve

“Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds.” Franklin D. Roosevelt

Kate took a couple of days’ vacation—unprecedented for her. She’d spent them pretending she was normal, and that her world wasn’t about to end. She’d watched back-to-back movies and kept her mind blank. Surely she was allowed a couple of days before she embraced her destiny and somehow saved the world from nuclear devastation? She’d chortled to herself at that thought. Her? A savior of the universe? Ha.

Now she was back to real life, and she had to find a sensible way through this.

Part of her wanted to just shut down Auspex and disappear for another three weeks. She was owed that much time; she hadn’t taken a day off in years. But where was there to go? You had to have a really good reason for crossing state lines, and somehow she didn’t think “taking my mind off the imminent end of the world” would go down too well. Might get her a vacation of a different sort, though.

Besides, nothing would happen. She was sure of it. Mostly.

She just wasn’t sure enough. So here she was trying to find a valid way around the absolutely absurd idea of somehow stopping some sort of terrorist nuclear attack all on her own. She needed help.

She let herself into her office, pulled out her phone, and tried Stella again. This time, it went to voice mail and she left a message. Next, she tried Joe. He picked up and she almost sagged with relief. “Joe? Hi, it’s Kate. Is Stella there, could I speak with her?”

“I’m afraid she’s been out of town on business for a few days,” Joe said. “Some top-level meeting she couldn’t tell me about.”

Her mind went blank. She’d never, not once considered the idea that Stella wasn’t with Joe. Where the hell was her sister?

“Kate?”

She shook herself, tried to pull herself together. “Sorry. No problem. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Soon, I think.”

“Can you ask her to call me?”

“Is something wrong? Can I help?”

“No.” She swallowed. “It can wait.” She ended the call.

So Joe believed Stella was at a meeting. A meeting that her own secretary wasn’t aware of. It seemed unlikely.

Where could Stella be that her office and her husband didn’t know?

Best-case scenario: she was having an affair.

An image of Gideon Frome flashed in her mind. Her sister had once told her that they hadn’t had a physical relationship, that they were waiting for marriage. Gideon’s family had been extremely religious—his father had been State Head of the Church of America—so she hadn’t questioned the decision.

Now she couldn’t help but wonder if they were making up for lost opportunities? Had Gideon come back and they’d taken one look at each other and decided they needed to find out what they had missed?

But really? Her perfect sister?

Unlikely. So where the hell was she?

What would make Stella just drop out of sight?

She pressed a finger to her forehead as the worry that had been nagging at the back of her mind crystalized into something more tangible.

People often disappeared. Sometimes they were never seen or heard of again.

Could the Secret Service have taken her in? Kate didn’t want to believe it. She’d deleted the mention of Stella from the yellow alert. But maybe there had been others. Maybe she’d missed something.

Her legs trembled, and she sank back onto the seat behind her. Surely they would have heard something if Stella had been arrested? Maybe they didn’t have proof and were questioning her. She couldn’t bear the thought.

She had to find out. She swiped the screen to bring up Auspex.

Can you access the Secret Service files?

No. I only have access to what you have access to. The Secret Service files are on a secure server.

She was the best hacker around. She could get past any security.

How do I get into it?

Security is by retinal scan. We would need the eye of someone with access.

Just the eye? Nice.

In all of the movies she’d seen, the super-spy usually got hold of the actual eyes, cleaned them up, and waved them at the scanner. She’d just go fetch her hacksaw and start with the head.

That wasn’t an option. Nor was she a super-spy.

Do you need the actual eye?

An image of the retina would also work.

So her options were to pick someone and ask nicely—and be sent to jail—or pick someone and poke them in the eye with a camera?

She blew out her breath and sat back down. Time to toughen up.

Do you have a list of people with access to that server?

The screen came up with a list of names. Not many, actually. Her father wasn’t on the list, which was a pity.

Then, halfway down the list, she paused at a name.

Gideon Frome.

Second-in-command of the Secret Service. Of course he would have access to the server.

She sat back in her chair and thought about it. If she got close to Gideon—close enough to get a retinal scan—then she would get access to the Secret Service files. She could find out if they had Stella. Or if they were investigating her for something.

And then what?

One thing at a time.

What is the best method of capturing this retinal scan? she asked.

A high-resolution camera will be adequate. The image must be taken from no farther than one centimeter.

What was she supposed to do, bang Gideon on the head?

She needed to knock him out chemically. Ativan would do it. While Ativan wasn’t something she could just walk into the store and purchase, she just happened to know someone who took it on a regular basis. Her mother had been taking the sleeping pills for fifteen years.

Why did everything go back to that time? What had happened that had affected her mother so badly? She shook her head. That was the past, though it was clearly still affecting the present.

So, a plan.

She needed to get close to Gideon Frome and persuade him to take a huge dose of her mother’s sleeping pills. Then, while he was unconscious, she had to take a retinal scan, then upload it to a storage device and transfer it to Auspex, who would then get into the Secret Service files and tell her if Stella was in trouble.

Right. Easy.

Except how was she supposed to get close enough to drug Gideon, and to do it somewhere private enough so no one would notice she was taking a retinal scan from an unconscious man?

Her head hurt.

Where do you predict Gideon Frome will be tonight?

There is a 92 percent chance that he will be at his office.

Hmm. Not a good idea.

Tomorrow night?

There is a 52 percent chance he will be home.

Does he live alone?

He lives with his mother.

There were rumors that Mrs. Frome had lost it when her husband committed suicide. She’d spent time in some sort of asylum. Even so, she was hardly likely not to notice some woman coming in and drugging her son, taking a retinal scan, and popping out again. Maybe Kate could drug her as well. Just how many sleeping pills could she filch from her mom?

Not that she could come up with a valid excuse to go to his home.

What about the other 48 percent?

He will be at a bar on 15th Street, The Walking Horse.

She knew it, though she’d never been in. It had the reputation as a total pickup joint. Not her scene. She wouldn’t have thought it was Gideon’s either, but what did she know of this new Gideon?

If he goes to the bar, Auspex continued, there is a 95 percent chance he will leave with a woman he meets there.

Oh.

A picture flashed up on the screen, obviously a CCTV image from the bar. It was slightly blurry but showed Gideon Frome with a woman. Tall, slim, with long blonde hair halfway down her back and a tiny sparkly dress that showed off a lot of skin. Her face was heavily made up, her expression sultry.

The image was replaced by one of Gideon with a different woman, but one so similar they could have been clones. Then another, in a pink dress, but otherwise the similarities were staggering. Gideon had a type and it wasn’t Kate.

She didn’t need Auspex to predict how unlikely it would be that Gideon would pick her up if she went to the club.

Clearly a makeover was in order.

She tugged at a strand of bright red hair hanging over her shoulders and glared at it. The first thing she needed was a wig. A long blonde wig.

Otherwise, she had a few superficial similarities; she was tall and slim, at least.

She wished she had a girlfriend who could help, but she tended to keep her distance. Besides, she couldn’t involve anyone else. She didn’t want anyone identified as accomplices afterward. It was bad enough for her family. They would all suffer if she went through with this.

When she got home that night, she switched on the TV. Apparently the Secret Service had just prevented an attack on a church by a band of illegal aliens. They’d been armed and it would have been a bloodbath.

As a result, security in all areas was to be increased and the Secret Service had declared a state of alert including a midnight curfew. Only crucial travel would be permitted and people were warned to stay off the streets. To be safe.

The president had thanked everyone at NTAC and Homeland Security for their diligent work.

That was her. But she hadn’t submitted any alerts that could have been even vaguely connected.

Could the Secret Service have other forms of intel? She hadn’t heard of any, but that could explain why she hadn’t picked up anything on Stella. Oh God.

She needed to find out.

She grabbed her phone and called her parents, asking if she could come over.

“I haven’t seen you for a while, mom, and I’m at a loose end tonight.” And I need to raid your drug cabinet for sleeping pills so I can drug a Secret Service agent and take a picture of his retina.

“Of course, darling. Dinner is at eight.”