Chapter 9
Orion: How’s ginger bear doing?
Wyatt: Friend Drew, how do you know he tastes like ginger?
Orion: Yeah, Drew. How do you know?
Janet: He had himself a bite of that man-sandwich.
Orion: I removed you from this group text!
Janet: I’m unremovable!
Connor: I added her back. Sorry.
Janet: Not sorry.
I sat with my head on the interview room table.
We had gone through another dozen employees and exhausted Catherine’s “Most Likely a Crook” list. None had given Booker that special tingly feeling.
He scanned his notes, carefully flipping the pages of his yellow legal pad.
He might be handsome, even charming under the right conditions, but was it worth this torture? The tedium had crept into my bones.
“Can we just pick one?”
“Pick one?”
“Employee #77329.” I sifted through the resumes, hunting for the woman.
“She was wearing two different shoes. Seems diabolical to me.” As much as I tried to cheer him up, I wasn’t wrong.
Mismatched cross trainers were the biggest offense we encountered.
While Catherine might have let a spy or two in, she and the department leads had done an outstanding job of hiring Vanguard’s best and brightest.
“Isn't there something in living dangerously?”
Booker froze for a split second before glancing at me. Tomorrow, I’d bring baked goods, maybe memorize a joke or two. There had to be something that would poke at the government agent and turn him back into the man who nearly snorted water through his nose as we talked.
“There’s a great deal in it,” he said. “Men and women must have their adrenals stimulated from time to time.”
I lifted my head, surprised he recognized the quote. “You read it?”
“I did. Though I’m not sure it applies here.”
“Says the man who craves the pursuit more than the catch.”
He whistled as he pretended to read the report in his hand. His eyes continued glancing up until he broke. “Okay, junior detective in training. Read me.”
“What?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to—”
“I’m a government official; you can’t resist, or I’ll have to arrest you.”
“You’re not a cop.”
“Don’t need to be one to have handcuffs.”
I leaned back, studying the man. For anybody else, I’d be worried about giving them an honest opinion.
People said they wanted honesty. In truth, they wanted to hear their version of honesty.
Booker, on the other hand, I think he spent so much time studying people, he wanted me to test how firmly he put that mask in place.
“You dislike your job,” I said.
“He comes out swinging.” For a moment, I thought I’d already wedged my foot in my mouth. “Is this intuition, or do you have evidence?”
He had been trained to study his subjects.
Maybe he took a psychology class or two and learned some interrogation techniques.
His confidence made me think he never hid to protect himself.
He didn’t go home exhausted every day from trying to read the room and make the puzzle pieces fit.
While he focused his skill on one person, I had my own version, and I could read entire rooms.
I took a deep breath and took a leap of faith.
“There’s no challenge in your interview.
You go about it with a robotic methodology.
” I sped up my speaking. “Fact. Every interview, you repeat the same technique in the same order with almost no variation. However, once you get a hint of something wrong, your demeanor changes. Fact, you were delighted to inspect the lab.” I spoke even faster as I neared the end of my breath.
“I’m not sure if it’s because you were close to solving the mystery or because there was more mystery to uncover.
You quote government regulations, but you’re quick to break the law.
Fact. No law-abiding citizen keeps a lock pick set in their pocket. ”
My hands smacked the table as I sucked in air. When I caught my breath, I could see his eyes widen. I had been so determined to impress… I should have spent a second longer debating if it was a good idea. The apology was already forming before our working relationship went sideways.
“I’m—”
“Not wrong.”
“Really?”
“Turnabout is fair play.” What? No, I didn’t need him to turn his skills on me.
He grabbed his chair, coming closer to the table.
He situated himself as he had with every interview.
As he picked up the papers to do the usual shuffle and review, a classic tactic, he paused, a grin forming.
“Drew is an easy person to understand. You’re amicable.
Friendly. You are quick to mold yourself into what the situation needs. ”
He had done a pretty good job. I liked to think of myself as—
“But that’s not who you are.”
Shit.
“I don’t think I’ve met the real Drew yet.” I feared he’d reach across the table and tear the mask away. My heart thumped against my chest, and my pulse quickened until the blood in my ears pounded. “But I’d like to.”
Booker had a knack for making my pulse race and then calming my nerves as if he found my emotional light switch.
It was a sweet sentiment, and I could see how this could go from a professional relationship to something friendlier.
He might know I had a secret locked away, but like everybody else, if he discovered the truth, he’d run.
Just the slip of the mask had sent things between us into a weird space.
“Someday.” Coy. While I hid away that part of me from everybody, I had to wonder if Booker would be different. He didn’t press or force the situation. There was no prying, just an open invitation I filed away as a possibility.
“Got you, asshole.” As soon as he looked up from the paper, he waved it in the air. “Sorry. Not you. Right here.” He leaned across the table, sliding the papers in front of me. “See it?”
“It’s another lab log? I swear we’ve read so many of—” I saw it. Somebody had checked out Prototype X712 using Cypher’s name from the cybernetics lab. “They scheduled the removal for last night.”
“Cypher was a little occupied then.”
I checked my phone. “It was scheduled to be checked out… now. He might still be in the building.”
I could feel the excitement radiating from Booker.
After being cooped up in the interview room all day, we were about to get a little more action.
Hopefully, this time they didn’t have powers.
If they were in the building, I knew a couple of superheroes who could help us. For now, I’d let Booker have his chase.
“Let’s go.”
“It’s quitting time, it’s going to be hard to—”
I jumped to my feet. “Let’s go,” I said again. “I know somebody who can find him.”
Booker couldn’t lunge for the door any faster if he tried. Time to see if this dynamic duo could chase down another spy. Hopefully, it didn’t result in me having a breakdown. Though… if it meant him following me home.
“Daydream later,” he said. “We’ve got a job to do.”
I felt every word, ready to follow Booker into the disaster that awaited us.
Five o’clock. Quitting time.
“We’ll never find them,” he said.
We stepped into the elevator. Booker was right, the lobby would be full of people in lab jackets, carrying briefcases, all heading to the exit.
I assume that’s exactly what the spy wanted.
Nobody would notice if he carried Prototype X712, whatever that was, out of the building.
Booker might crave the chase, but we needed help.
I pulled out my phone.
I clicked the button, and before it could ring, he picked up. No introductions, no greetings. We’d have to work on those social norms.
“Connor,” I said. “I need you to find somebody for me.”
“Parameters?”
“They left the cybernetics lab about five minutes ago. Most likely has a package or is hiding a device.”
Booker mouthed, “Who is it?” He had done his research on Synergy, but he hadn’t turned an eye toward the ragtag group of people housed on the third floor.
We were superheroes playing dress-up. I’d never admit it aloud, but Janet’s determination to turn us into an epic team-up might actually pay off.
“Description?”
“No idea. Can you do it?”
I could almost hear him smiling. “I can do anything.”
The elevator reached the bottom door. As soon as we stepped out, Booker realized our plan wouldn’t work. The lobby was swamped with people heading home to their families. His shoulders slumped in silent defeat.
“Blue lab coat,” Connor said. I put it on speakerphone. “Cross-referencing his personnel records.”
“How does he know this?”
Booker’s willingness to bend the law before meant I could do the same now. “Connor enjoys tapping into security feeds.”
“That’s—”
“Efficient,” Connor said. “5’11”. 178 pounds. Paul Redford. Cybernetics division.”
“We’re going to talk about this,” Booker said.
“I see him,” Connor said. “He’s 273 feet ahead of you. He’s nearly reached the security desk. 78.2% chance he’ll take the left turnstile door. He drives a—”
I shut the phone before Connor could incriminate us by sharing too many details about our spy. If I let him keep going, he’d have discovered a failed spelling test from the third grade.
“How did he—”
“I’ll tell you later.” I grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”
We charged through the crowd at a brisk pace.
I didn’t want to alert our spy that we were onto him.
Most of the scientists had removed their lab jackets; those remaining wore almost strictly white.
But not that one. I followed him in a straight line while Booker broke away, trying to come at the side.
The scientist continued glancing back and forth.
Twenty feet and I’d be able to tackle him.
I hadn’t realized my hands were balled into fists.
This wouldn’t be another Cypher. No pounding or wrangling him.
It’d be a simple takedown, and nobody would suspect a superhero.
They’d talk about the government agency doing its job. No fist.
“Hey,” I shouted.