Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MONTREAL
Broken fluorescent light bulbs and paint chips crunched beneath Natasha’s boots as she carefully moved across the floor.
She’d already spent two hours searching the abandoned clothing mill, about a mile away from where some of the other old textile factories were situated.
Unlike those buildings, which were beautifully renovated as if the owners had gone on one of those HGTV shows her mom adored, this place hadn’t gotten any love.
The mill had remained an outcast from the newly blossoming area that now drew in big names in A.I. and tech.
The building was mostly empty, aside from trash and the occasional rodent, but its mammoth size made it difficult to traverse. Even though it wasn’t littered with landmines, there was plenty of rotten wood that buckled beneath her feet, threatening to give out with each step.
To make matters worse, most of the giant-sized windows had been boarded up, leaving her to rely on only a flashlight to navigate around piles of garbage. It also came in handy to scare off the critters she heard skittering around.
She’d never been much of a believer in ghosts or haunted houses, but when she reached the third floor, she swore there was a shift in the atmosphere.
It had taken on an eerie stillness unlike the other floors, and if possible, it was even colder.
Most unsettling were the brushes of what she could only describe as energy that nudged against her body, like people bumping into her in a hurry to get somewhere.
She checked her watch. Maybe it was an echo of the past, people rushing out of work at five to get home.
Her shoulders trembled, and a chill rattled her teeth together. It was damn cold inside, even with her jacket on. But it was January in Canada, what’d she expect?
The creepy sensation continued to move through her as she searched for some sign, some indication The Knight had recently been inside the factory building.
It’d already been four days since she’d run the traceroute program back in Moscow before getting kicked back to Langley.
The program allowed her to link the IP address from the weapons facility hack to a physical address.
Although getting through the firewall hadn’t been easy, and the signal had bounced all over the place before she’d traced the origins—the fact she’d been able to find the location at all and so fast meant The Knight wanted her there.
The signal was still transmitting, so at the very least, there had to be a modem in the building.
The Knight had planted the bait in front of her and waited for her to bite. He’d somehow found her in Moscow and used Boris to get to her. Another pawn in whatever sick game he was playing now that he was back.
But she was determined to follow any possible lead, even if it’d been purposefully placed in front of her. She wanted this guy, and she’d do whatever necessary to find him and put him out of commission.
Hell, if she were watching an episode of her own life right now on TV, she’d be shouting Oh, come on, don’t go in there! and Give me a break!
But despite often ridiculous plots, screenwriters got a few things right on occasion.
People in her position sometimes did risky things, and this moment was proof of that.
She was inside this ghost of a factory that could be used as a set for horror films, and she was unarmed.
Another check on the stupid chart. Since she wasn’t in Montreal with operational authority, she hadn’t been allowed to bring her firearm across the border.
Maybe she should have gone back home to Texas and taken a real vacation. She owed her mom a visit, and she missed her old high school and college friends.
But no, she knew herself better than that.
As soon as she’d arrive in Texas, guilt would sharpen its blade and start carving away at her conscience until she hopped on a plane to Montreal to try and catch the bastard.
She’d visit home after The Knight was finally out of her life once and for all, and if catching him meant risking her career, then so be it.
Survivor’s guilt was real, and it burned through her body like a line of fiery anger down her spine. Her fallen colleagues couldn’t chase after him, so it was on her to take the bastard down and prevent any more lives lost.
After another thirty minutes searching through the third level, she made her way up a rickety wooden staircase to the final floor and sent a silent thank you to the universe for not allowing the stairs to collapse under her weight.
She stood still for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light filtering in through the windows, then turned off the flashlight and stowed it in her bag.
This was the only floor with natural light. Someone had removed the boards from the windows, and if her instincts were right, it was The Knight.
Maybe he wanted her to find something there? Or maybe he just wants to shoot me. There could have easily been a sniper on overwatch from the building across the way. He doesn’t want me dead, she reminded herself for the tenth time since showing up to the factory. Not yet, at least.
She took careful steps past the exposed brick wall on her left that’d been turned into a canvas for graffiti taggers.
“What do you want?” she whispered as she slowly walked, nearly tripping on a rusted pipe.
She stilled at the slight twitch of sound, and this was most definitely not a disturbance from the past, no spirit coming to haunt her.
No, the sound was of this world, and it was modern technology.
A camera.
She followed the noise a few feet ahead to find a security camera mounted above an impressive graffiti Statue of David.
The green light glinted like a stereotypical “diamond in the rough” and was an indicator it was actually running.
He was watching her, she could feel him behind the lens. The camera had detected her movement, and the soft, whirring noise was him zooming in on her. He’d chosen this floor because of the light, so he could better see her.
The place could be rigged with explosives like the property had been in Romania, but fear didn’t strike her as she stared up at the camera. No, she was just thoroughly pissed off.
He’d taken too much from her.
Penny, a CIA analyst with a megawatt smile and huge dreams.
Zach, a husband and father of two who’d given twenty years of service to the Agency.
Xena, a Russian cyber whiz who’d become a CIA agent, providing credible intel for three years.
Yasemin, a Turkish spy and white-hat hacker who’d come the closest to tracking The Knight, a move which most likely had prompted him to take out her team.
“What do you want?” she hissed, looking directly at the camera, palms open, beseeching. “I’m here.” She enunciated each word in case there was no sound on the camera and the son of a bitch had to read her lips.
Irritated, she turned back to face the room to search the area within range of the camera lens. He’d brought her there for a reason and not just to get a good look at her.
She cocked her head at the sight of a blinking light near a heap of scraps. A pile of old clothes as if they belonged to a homeless person, fluffs of fabric possibly from the days when the textile mill had been operational, empty spools once used for thread . . .
She edged closer to confirm what she suspected was a modem and router box without an attached computer. The Knight had staged this scene down to the last detail. She noticed more props for his show behind her.
An iPhone about five models too old.
And something else, something that made her stomach burn.
She took cautious steps, keeping her head down to at least avoid a headshot if a sniper was actually in the wings, then swallowed the tight knot in her throat and reached for the object regally sitting on top of the black router box. A chess piece—a white knight.
Natasha closed her eyes as a memory pulled to mind. The day she’d learned team members from her case had been hit in 2018, a package had been delivered containing a cell phone and a chess piece. A piece identical to the one now in her hand.
She’d tried to identify the brand, the age of it, and where it may have been sold. No luck. It hadn’t been distinct enough.
Like the previous chess piece, this one was rough around the edges. A slight chip in the side. Worn from use. The only fingerprints she’d probably find on this one would be hers, same as last time.
She set the chess piece down and picked up the phone when it began ringing.
“Natasha,” he said as soon as the phone met her ear. “Have you missed me?” He wasn’t using a voice-changer app like the previous time he’d phoned her. “It has been too long. How are you?”
She faltered back a step at the sound of his voice, which was far too normal for how she’d imagined him in her head. Unlike a movie villain, whose voice communicated darkness and evil, The Knight’s voice was plain. It didn’t reveal any hint that he was a monster.
“I did not expect you to show up alone. Where is that guy you always have attached to your hip when you are hunting me?”
Jack?
“You got here much quicker than I expected, but I should not be surprised. There was a reason I kept you alive. You have always been better than your colleagues.”
From what she could tell, he was most likely European, a non-native English speaker. A male in his late thirties or early forties. She could be off by a decade or so since he was working to hide his accent, but most native English speakers used contractions, and he was speaking far too properly.
She needed to keep him talking to try and learn more about him, but since he wasn’t disguising his voice, this was probably all part of his plan.
She’d studied the game of chess, searching for symbolism in his choice of hacker handle where there may not have been any, hoping if she understood the game better it would somehow help her figure out his next moves.
But maybe he was just a sociopath? Maybe his choice in using a knight had been to throw her off?
“What do you want?” she asked when he’d yet to speak again.
“We never finished our game.” The camera lens blinked and clicked as if focusing again, getting a close-up shot of her.
“Why’d you wait so long to come out of the shadows? Why’d you detonate that house before you even left?” She was fishing, hoping he’d bite.
“You want to know if I was at the house in Romania when it exploded? You have been wondering for sixteen months.”
Would she believe any answer he gave her?
“I was there, but since I am still alive, you did not win our game.” The anger in his tone revealed his accent, offering confirmation he was Eastern European.
“Why do you want me in Canada? If you’re looking to continue whatever sick game you think we’re playing, sending me on a goose chase isn’t in your normal rule book.”
“You are right, Natasha. This time is different. But since you have to ask me why I brought you here, I am concerned that you are losing your edge. I provided very solid clues for you these last several days. Two back-to-back hacks should be more than enough to get you started.”
She stalked even closer to the camera and tipped her chin, staring as if she could see into his vicious, soulless eyes.
“I went through a lot of trouble to bring you here, please do not disappoint me. It is only a game if I have a worthy opponent.”
“You son of a bitch!” she hissed, but he hadn’t heard her because he’d already ended the call.
Two recent hacks? What had been the second? Maybe if she’d stuck around Langley another day before taking off on vacation, she would’ve found out about it. Just because it wasn’t in the news didn’t mean something hadn’t gone down.
She pushed up the sleeve of her jacket and checked her G-shock watch.
There was someone she needed to track down.
Her most valuable asset, Jasper, had gone off the grid after he’d helped her locate The Knight in Romania. Losing her source had been a blow, especially since she’d known in her gut The Knight wasn’t dead.
Jasper had pissed off more than the CIA with his disappearing act. MI6 were gunning for him as well.
But she knew Jasper was in Montreal now. And him choosing to resurface in the same place as the biggest hacker convention around the same time The Knight had come out of hiding, well, there was no damn way it was a coincidence.