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“Where exactly is this rendezvous spot?” Kira asked.

“It’s a farmhouse that belongs to someone Frankie, Wally, and I know, and—more importantly—trust. He’s the vice principal at our old high school, and his name is Mr. Matthews. He just bought the farmhouse a few weeks ago and is renovating it before he moves in. My mom mentioned it to me just a few days ago, so I called him up and asked if we could use it for a few days.”

“And the dude just said yes?” Mike asked incredulously. “That’s a pretty cool thing for an adult to do.”

“Mr. Matthews is super cool,” Wally confirmed.

“He trusts me,” I said. “And the feeling is mutual. Anyway, the farmhouse has running water, electricity, and even Wi-Fi because he intends to move in soon. He won’t be there because he’s visiting his sick aunt in Indiana, but he gave me free rein of the house until he gets back on Thursday evening, no questions asked.”

“He’s really nice like that,” Frankie added, which meant exactly nothing, because she thought everyone wasreallynice.

“He’s a decorated veteran, special forces,” I added. “And he might be an important asset for us at some point in this operation. But for now, we have a safe place to work that won’t be monitored or bugged, so long as everyone gets there tonight without being followed.”

One of the bus drivers waved at us from the steps of his bus. All the students except us had loaded, and some of the buses headed to the hotel were already pulling away. “Are you coming?” he shouted at us.

Bo waved him away. “No, thanks, we’re driving ourselves. See you there.”

We watched as the last of the buses pulled away from the UTOP campus. Then Bo turned to us. “Okay, team, you heard the plan. We meet up tonight at the address Angel will give us. Are we clear on that?”

Everyone nodded, and the knot in my stomach eased slightly. “Thanks, guys. Once we’re there, I promise answers to all the questions I’m sure you have.”

Mike clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’d better, because I’ve sure got a lot.”

Chapter Sixteen

CANDACE KIM

Candace paced her home office. She’d intended to go to bed and read, but as usual, once a problem presented itself, her brain couldn’t settle until she’d worked through every plausible scenario and determined a course of action.

Right now her problem was complicated. Ethan apparently believed his friend and colleague J. P. Lando had been murdered, possibly because he’d discovered the NSA—or someone in the NSA—had been illegally using the back door they’d created to spy on American citizens. J. P. had either witnessed it or reported to his superiors.

Eventually, he’d been killed for it.

Ethan must have believed he was next, or maybe he had been openly threatened. But why had he run? Why not bring his suspicions or evidence to the police or the director of the NSA? The only logical assumption would be he didn’t have actual evidence and/or didn’t know whom to trust in NSA. If he lacked evidence, then vanishing made sense. It would be his word against someone who was likely a lot more powerful than he.

Isaac Remington.

Isaac had been a powerful man back then, and he was even more powerful now. She had to be exceptionally careful about what she said or did. Not only was he one of the highest-ranking officials at the NSA, he was her colleague. Suspecting his involvement was one thing, but proving that involvement was something entirely different, and right now she had no tangible way to link Isaac to anything that was happening.

But that wouldn’t prevent her from launching her own investigation into the rumors that the NSA had been spying on US citizens. She just had to be very careful how she went about it. If Remington got a whiff that she was looking into the closed investigation—one he’d closed himself—her own life might be in danger.

She began to understand Ethan Sinclair a little better and the concern he had about coming to the NSA for help in the first place. If her suppositions were correct, Ethan obviously didn’t trust anyone in the higher echelons of the NSA, and for good reason.

So, how can I convince him I intend to proceed in good faith?

It seemed abundantly clear, that at this stage, she couldn’t move forward until she had some kind of proof, either of her own, or from Ethan. Maybe that’s why he’d pointed her toward J. P. Lando. She had to find evidence, a solid link that Isaac Remington was an active player in this chess game.

Move and countermove.

But first, she had to get her head in the game. She needed a strategy and some pieces she could use.

Otherwise she was merely a pawn awaiting capture by a more powerful player.

ANGEL SINCLAIR

We were being followed. Correction,Iwas being followed.

An unmarked black sedan had started trailing us about five miles out from UTOP. We’d only had a few classes in surveillance, but all three of us spotted the sedan immediately. Either they thought we were completely stupid or didn’t care if we noticed them. Regardless, it was unsettling.