Page 72
Story: Knight Moves
“It was easy,” he insisted. “They’re priming us for something else. A shock, an unexpected twist. They think we’re complacent, so they’re going to make us change the way we’re doing things.”
“Complacent? Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
I cocked my head, studying him. “And you know this…how, exactly?”
“Instinct.” He lifted his hands. “I told you I’m good at reading people and situations. It’s a gut feeling, but it’s a strong one.”
I didn’t know what to make of his so-called gut feeling, but I figured I’d find out soon enough. “Fine. Go get your coffee and tell me more about this gut feeling of yours.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to coffee, Red?”
“Only if you bring me back another cinnamon roll.”
He laughed and stood. “Ah, now that’s a deal I can get behind.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ISAAC REMINGTON
“Did she finally wash out?” Isaac sat in his car at the parking lot of his favorite French restaurant, L’auberge, speaking to Sampson on the burner phone.
“Strangely, she did not. In fact, not one of the kids has washed out yet. It’s crazy. I think the entire class is going into the final trial together.”
“Impossible. What’s going on over there?” Isaac swore under his breath.
“I don’t know, but she was at the bookstore café again working on her computer—on what, we don’t know. She’s still being extraordinary careful behind the keyboard. She called her mother and sister from the cell.”
Isaac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Who would have guessed that the girl would hang in there for so long at the trials? One of his first duties as the new NSA director would be to overhaul the UTOP program, ensuring the standards remained high.
“So, what happened during your meeting with the director?” Sampson asked.
Isaac watched a couple walk into the restaurant. The man was in a suit and the woman in towering heels, clutching onto his arm for support. Two ordinary citizens who had no idea the lengths to which their government went to keep them safe. “He’s on the fence. While he’s concerned about the terrorist information not panning out the way he thought it would, he wants to wait until the next contact with Sinclair to make a final decision.”
“That could be dangerous. Sinclair is getting desperate.”
“Exactly, which is why we need to make sure the next contact never happens. Let’s put the play for the daughter into place. Finalize the arrangements, and for God’s sake, be discreet. Make sure there is no trail.”
There was a pause, but Sampson came through. “Done. Next Saturday?”
“Next Saturday,” Isaac confirmed.
“The UTOP trials will be finished by then. What if she makes it?”
“She won’t. But even if she does, I have it on good authority they won’t announce who’s going through until the evening. Snatch her that morning while she’s in town talking on the phone. You said she’s usually alone then.”
“That’s correct.”
“Do it then. If that doesn’t work, improvise. Just see that she doesn’t return to the UTOP campus. We need the leverage.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”
Chapter Forty
ANGEL SINCLAIR
Monday morning we were instructed via loudspeaker to report to Room 101 after breakfast instead of reporting to our first class.
“Complacent? Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
I cocked my head, studying him. “And you know this…how, exactly?”
“Instinct.” He lifted his hands. “I told you I’m good at reading people and situations. It’s a gut feeling, but it’s a strong one.”
I didn’t know what to make of his so-called gut feeling, but I figured I’d find out soon enough. “Fine. Go get your coffee and tell me more about this gut feeling of yours.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to coffee, Red?”
“Only if you bring me back another cinnamon roll.”
He laughed and stood. “Ah, now that’s a deal I can get behind.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ISAAC REMINGTON
“Did she finally wash out?” Isaac sat in his car at the parking lot of his favorite French restaurant, L’auberge, speaking to Sampson on the burner phone.
“Strangely, she did not. In fact, not one of the kids has washed out yet. It’s crazy. I think the entire class is going into the final trial together.”
“Impossible. What’s going on over there?” Isaac swore under his breath.
“I don’t know, but she was at the bookstore café again working on her computer—on what, we don’t know. She’s still being extraordinary careful behind the keyboard. She called her mother and sister from the cell.”
Isaac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Who would have guessed that the girl would hang in there for so long at the trials? One of his first duties as the new NSA director would be to overhaul the UTOP program, ensuring the standards remained high.
“So, what happened during your meeting with the director?” Sampson asked.
Isaac watched a couple walk into the restaurant. The man was in a suit and the woman in towering heels, clutching onto his arm for support. Two ordinary citizens who had no idea the lengths to which their government went to keep them safe. “He’s on the fence. While he’s concerned about the terrorist information not panning out the way he thought it would, he wants to wait until the next contact with Sinclair to make a final decision.”
“That could be dangerous. Sinclair is getting desperate.”
“Exactly, which is why we need to make sure the next contact never happens. Let’s put the play for the daughter into place. Finalize the arrangements, and for God’s sake, be discreet. Make sure there is no trail.”
There was a pause, but Sampson came through. “Done. Next Saturday?”
“Next Saturday,” Isaac confirmed.
“The UTOP trials will be finished by then. What if she makes it?”
“She won’t. But even if she does, I have it on good authority they won’t announce who’s going through until the evening. Snatch her that morning while she’s in town talking on the phone. You said she’s usually alone then.”
“That’s correct.”
“Do it then. If that doesn’t work, improvise. Just see that she doesn’t return to the UTOP campus. We need the leverage.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”
Chapter Forty
ANGEL SINCLAIR
Monday morning we were instructed via loudspeaker to report to Room 101 after breakfast instead of reporting to our first class.
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