No Test for the Wicked: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Five (5 page)

Chapter Six

It’s not like I’ve been on a lot of dates, but on the few I’ve had, I actually
ate
dinner before leaving.

Whenever I was with Slash, normal seemed never to be the norm.

“What about the rest of our dinner?” I asked, taking a last whiff of the delectable smells.

“We’ll eat later. I’ll talk to the maître d’.”

Slash left and spoke quietly to him. Moments later our waiter magically appeared with our coats. I tugged mine on as Slash pulled me out the door and into the cold December air.

“Hurry,
cara
.”

“Who was that guy?” I zipped up my coat.

“I’m not sure yet. I sent a picture to be analyzed.”

“You took a picture of him?”

Slash tapped his ring. “I’ve got a miniature camera in here. I think I may have recognized him.”

“So that’s what you were doing when you passed by him with your arms crossed.”

“Exactly.”

“Optimum. Can I see how the ring works?”

“Later. I don’t want to lose him.”

The man walked quickly ahead of us, holding his bag of takeout food and hurrying into the night. “He’s headed for that car.”

Slash quickly detoured us to his SUV and we hopped in. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out an earbud, and then pushed it in his ear as he pulled away from the curb.

“Tango Charlie two-two-four. I’m following a POI. Male, possibly Middle-Eastern, six feet, black hair, wearing a tan jacket and dark pants. At this time, identity is unknown. I sent a facial scan to UFW minutes ago. Concealed pursuit only. I just want to know where he’s going. Car is a gold, four-door Honda Civic. License plate reads...”

I leaned forward in the seat. “KEF 7700. Maryland plates.”

Slash repeated the license plate number and then listened.

“Affirmative.”

The Honda took a right turn and Slash calmly followed from a slight distance, keeping two cars between us. He tapped his ear. “Right on Montgomery Avenue.”

“What’s a POI?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the Honda.

“Person of interest.”

We drove for a minute before I asked, “So, who is this guy?”

Slash shrugged. “I’m not sure. He looks remarkably similar to a man named Mazhar Zogby. Zogby is originally from Pakistan. He came to the United States with his parents in 2001, shortly before 9/11. He was about fourteen at that time. Eight months after the Twin Towers went down, his parents were arrested for laundering money for the
Shahid
, a splinter terrorist group in Pakistan.
Shahid
is a pretty radical group and openly supports al Qaeda. A year later, during the trial where their parents were convicted, Mazhar and his younger brother, Ansari, vanished. We think they may be sleepers.”

“Sleepers?”

“Agents sent underground until they are called to action within the U.S.”

“I know what sleepers are. But they were just teens when their parents were arrested.”

“
Si
, but they aren’t kids anymore.”

I frowned. “So, you think they may be acting on the orders of these
Shahid
terrorists?”

“It’s possible.”

“They could be totally innocent.”

“They could. But I’m playing it safe. I can’t just pass it off as a coincidence when we have recent intelligence this group may be up to something in our area. Just call it a gut feeling.”

“I trust your gut, Slash.”

“So do I.” He smiled as the Honda took a left. “Left on Gorman.”

The Honda drove about a minute more and then pulled into a parking lot in front of a complex of multiple three-story apartment buildings. Slash quickly pulled over a half a block back and turned off the lights. He hopped out, just as the man in the Honda emerged carrying his bag of takeout.

“Stay here
.
”

“Okay.”

Slash left the ignition running so the car stayed warm. He followed the man on foot until they both disappeared from sight. Minutes ticked by and nothing. I ran a series of long division problems in my head using Vedic mathematics.

Still nothing.

I was fiddling with the radio when I saw the man in the tan jacket return without the food. He looked over his shoulder and then around the parking lot. After yanking on the car door, he scrambled into the Honda and started it. I looked around for Slash. He was nowhere in sight. The FBI was nowhere in sight. Where was a police car when you needed one?

I started to hyperventilate. Should I get out of the car and look for Slash? Follow the guy in the Honda? Sit and wait?

I saw the reverse lights of the Honda come on as the guy pulled out of his spot. I took another look around. No Slash and no FBI-looking car in sight.

Crap.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I slid into the driver’s seat. I adjusted the seat so I could reach the pedals better, and pulled away from the curb. When the Honda took a right out of the parking lot, I waited a couple of beats so it wouldn’t appear too obvious I was following, then drove after him. Hands shaking, I fumbled in my coat pocket for my phone and tapped in my password.

I pulled up Slash’s number and punched it. I could hear it ringing, but there was no answer.

“Okay,” I said aloud in an effort to calm myself. “This isn’t rocket science, Carmichael. You’re just going to follow this guy and see where he goes. No apprehension, no takedown, no biggie. I’m sure Slash wouldn’t want to lose him.”

Why isn’t he answering his phone?

I tried to relax by inhaling deep breaths, holding for five seconds and exhaling. But my heart was beating so hard I thought it might leap out of my chest.

Remembering how Slash had driven, I stayed as far back as possible without losing sight of the taillights. The Honda went straight and then took a left at the next traffic light. I sped up a bit so I wouldn’t miss it and turned left, as well. Two blocks up, the guy pulled the Honda to the curb and got out. I drove past him, took a right at the next corner and then immediately pulled the SUV over at the curb. I hopped out of the SUV, locked it up and pocketed the key. We were in downtown Laurel, Maryland. I jogged around the corner and saw the man in the tan jacket walking toward another building.

I raised the collar on my jacket to shield myself from the cold wind and walked in his general direction. He disappeared between two buildings. I strolled past a defunct fountain and then approached the alley where I’d last seen the guy.

I peeked around the corner to see where he’d gone and looked directly into his face. He yanked me forward into the alley and slammed me backward against a brick wall.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?”

Guess I wouldn’t pass my secret agent test anytime soon.

I tried to catch my breath. It wasn’t easy. His forearm was pressed up against my windpipe and he had a gun pointed at my head.

“I...was just out for a walk.” My voice wavered. Having a gun next to my brain does that to me, I guess.

He pushed harder against my windpipe and I gagged while he reached under my coat and felt up my sides and back.

“Hey!” I managed.

“You don’t have a weapon on you.”

“Why would I?”

Frowning, he grabbed my purse and stepped back. Relieved the gun was no longer pointed at my head, I took a couple gulps of air. He pulled the stun gun out of my purse and held it up.

“You use this for protection?”

“Sometimes. I should have thought of it before stepping into the alley. Well, you know what they say about hindsight.”

He dropped the stun gun back in my purse and retrieved my wallet. He slid out my license, angling it at the streetlight outside the alley so he could read it. “Lexi Carmichael. I saw you. You were at the restaurant. You
are
following me. Why?”

“Coincidence?”

“What happened to that guy you were with?”

“What guy?”

“Don’t play me. Who do you work for? DHS? CIA? DoD?”

“X-Corp in Crystal City. You can check my badge if you don’t believe me. It’s in my purse.”

He fished around in my purse and pulled out my work badge. “X-Corp Global Security and Intelligence? You’re the Director of Information Security?”

“At your service. We can solve your cybersecurity issues and have reasonable prices in case you are interested.”

He took a step back, his eyes suddenly wide. “Computers. You work in computers. What did you find out?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Seriously. My brother lives around here, so I was headed out to visit him and...”

He slammed me back against the wall and put the gun to my head. The cold barrel pressed painfully into my scalp. “I’ll ask you one more time, and then I shoot. What have you discovered about our plan? I must know.”

I opened my mouth to say something when a shadow blocked the light from the streetlight behind his shoulder. “Drop the gun nice and slow.”

There was a pause and then the guy lifted the gun from my head. The pressure from my neck disappeared and I saw Slash come into view as he whipped the guy’s hands behind his back and cuffed him. Two more men in dark clothes came running and hauled the guy to his feet. The scream of sirens filled the night and I saw no less than a half-dozen police cars screech to a stop.

Slash turned to me. “
Cara
, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

My legs were shaky, but I steadied myself by holding on to Slash’s arm. “I’m fine. Where
were
you?”

He pulled me into a hug. “I got hit from behind. Knocked out for a short time.”

“When you didn’t answer your phone, I got worried. Are you okay?”

“Fine, now that you are safe. What the hell were you thinking, chasing him?”

“I wasn’t chasing him. Just following at a discreet distance, until he parked and got out. I was just going to see where he was going and let you know. But he must have spotted me.”

Slash let out a breath. “Before our next date I’m going to give you a lesson in Surveillance 101.”

“Maybe we can just eat at home on our next date.” My stomach growled.

He smiled and then winced, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“I was just kidding. You need some ibuprofen.”

“I’m good as long as you’re with me.” He slung an arm around me, then steered me to the car. “Let’s go.”

I pointed at the two guys who were loading the man who’d accosted me into a dark sedan. “Are those the FBI agents?”

“
Si
. They’re taking him to the police station. They’ll need an official statement from us on what happened.”

“Okay. How did you find me?”

“There’s a tracker on my car. We weren’t far behind you. I toyed with calling you, but I didn’t want to distract you.”

“I’m just glad you showed up in time.”

Slash kissed the top of my head. “You keep bringing me years closer to my grave. We’re going to have to talk about that. Did he say anything to you?”

I reached up to touch my neck. “There wasn’t much talking. He just kept asking me what I knew. He also freaked out when he saw my work badge and discovered I’m the director of Information Security for X-Corp.”

Slash stopped, studied my face. “That bothered him?”

“Yes. He asked me what I knew of their plan.”

“What plan?”

“I don’t know. You came just after that.”

He thought for a moment and we resumed walking toward the car. “Okay. Gives us something to question him about.”

“I’m sorry. I should have stayed in the car like you told me.”

“No, it pains me greatly to say it, but you did exactly the right thing. Do you know who he is?”

I shook my head.

“Ansari Zogby. Just as I suspected.”

“The youngest of those two brothers from Pakistan?”

“
Si
. The results from my photo came back while we were following you in my SUV, which has a tracking device.”

“So you were right.”

“I was. I followed him to a ground-level apartment. I went around the back and was able to see inside the living room through a gap in the curtains on the patio door. Guess what they were doing inside?”

“I bet playing poker isn’t the answer.”

“Making bombs. I reported my findings to the FBI and shortly afterward, I got hit from behind.” He rubbed the back of his head again.

I gasped. “Holy cow. Did they capture the people in the apartment?”

“While the FBI came to my rescue, they got away. Except for Ansari Zogby, thanks to you. But we got most of the materials and the bombs they left behind. There were a great deal of materials there, but not many bombs.”

“Maybe they didn’t have time to make them yet.”

“Perhaps, but we can’t assume that. I’m afraid we have to prepare ourselves for the possibility they made many and have them stored somewhere else.”

“Wow. That’s scary. But at least you have Ansari.”

“
Si
. We will question him hard. But it will be very important for you to remember every word he said to you if you can.”

“You know I can. I’ve got a pretty good memory even under duress.”

“That’s my girl.” He hugged me. “After that I’m going to feed you.”

“Promises, promises.” Then I sighed. “Don’t bother. I’ll just have something from the vending machine at the police station.”

“That’s an appalling thought.”

“The peanut butter crackers are sometimes edible.”

“By whose definition?”

“I’ll treat you to a package and then you’ll see.”

“You will not. We’re going to have to work on those taste buds of yours,
cara
.”

“Thank goodness. I’ve been hoping you’d say that.”

Chapter Seven

Slash and I spent several hours at the police station. While I sipped bitter coffee and ate stale crackers, police officers, the FBI and agents from the Department of Homeland Security questioned me. I didn’t have much further to say, as my encounter with Ansari Zogby was pretty short. But I was able to recite every bit of our conversation by heart and was required to do so several times for each different agency.

Finally the police released Slash and me. By the time I got back to my apartment, it was five twenty in the morning. Slash walked me to the door and I keyed myself in.

“Ugh. I can’t believe I have to go to work in a few hours.” I punched the code on my alarm. “I have a massive headache from all the talking and no sleep.”

“I can speak to your boss if you want. I’ll tell him you were involved of matters of national security.”

“He’s heard that one before.” I stood on tiptoe and kissed the tip of his nose. “I can handle Finn. But thanks anyway. Good night...or morning, Slash. It was a memorable first date. I’m going to hit the shower and get dressed for work. A nap at this stage will just make me groggy.”

He seemed hesitant to leave, but he gave me a quick kiss. “Be careful,
cara
. I’ll check in with you later.”

After he left, I showered and got dressed for work. I made a stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for an extra-large coffee and a couple of chocolate donuts. I needed the caffeine and sugar rush to keep me awake as I drove to work.

No one was in the office yet, so I sat at my desk, listening to Christmas music while answering email and browsing the daily news on cybersecurity. Finn strolled into my office about seven forty-five.

“Good morning, Lexi. You’re in early. I was surprised to get that email from you a half hour ago.”

“Well, the early bird catches the worm or, in my case, the hacker. Did you have a chance to talk to Bonnie about our plan yet?”

He took a seat in my visitor’s chair and stretched out his legs. “I did. She thought it a bit unorthodox—well, truthfully a
lot
unorthodox—but she likes you. Therefore, like all of us, she trusts you and your judgment. She agreed to it. You must have made a good impression.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Very funny. Anyway, there are some ground rules for you posing as a student, but I’ll be drawing them up later. They will protect the school from any liability issues. It’s just legal mumbo jumbo and I’ve got it all taken care of.”

“Did you really just say mumbo jumbo?”

“Why? Is that not an appropriate American phrase?”

“It’s fine, Mr. Irish. It’s just kind of cute how you slipped it into conversation so effortlessly. I think you’re becoming quite Americanized.”

He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, the point is that I’ve got the bloody legal side handled. You just stop those kid hackers, okay?”

“Ah, better.” My smile faded. “Look, Finn, before you go, I want to tell you what happened to me last night. I don’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”

His expression became serious. “Hear what? What happened? Are you okay, Lexi?”

“I’m fine.”

I gave him a brief rundown and then sat back in my swivel chair. “I just wanted you to know in case anyone comes here looking for me. I don’t want this to reflect badly on X-Corp in any way.”

“Reflect badly? You helped stop a group of potential terrorists. I don’t see how that could reflect badly on X-Corp.”

“Well, unfortunately, they didn’t capture the people making the bombs, except for one. That one guy happens to know I work at X-Corp.”

Finn frowned. “Are you worried for your safety?”

“Not so much mine as others’. I won’t even be here for the next week or so.”

Finn nodded. “Right. Just in case, I’ll check with Brian and make sure our security procedures are up to date. You should make sure your home alarm is working. Don’t go out alone anywhere for a while.”

“All of that is very good advice. But Finn, there is one more thing I need to do today. It’s work related. Sort of.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve got a hair appointment for two-thirty.”

His eyes widened. “A hair appointment? You’re going to do it?”

I sighed. “If I can go back to high school, I can dye my hair. It’s all about resolve.”

He chuckled. “Hot damn, I can’t wait to see this. Text me a selfie, okay?”

“Not in a million years.”

* * *

The closer it got to my hair appointment, the more convinced I became that I couldn’t do it. I picked up the phone and dialed the hair salon to cancel before slamming down the receiver. Three times. The last time I hung up my hands were shaking so badly I had to put my head between my knees and breathe deeply. I couldn’t concentrate on my work or think intelligently. I was a freaking nervous wreck. All because of some stupid hair dye.

Maybe it was exacerbated because I hadn’t slept. Or maybe because I’d just faced down a potential terrorist who had held a gun to my head. Or maybe hair dye just freaking terrified me on some primal level.

Whatever the case, I felt extremely anxious.

I began to pace the office. I considered all angles of hair dye from an intellectual perspective. I tried to separate the emotional components from the practical ones. After careful analysis, I didn’t think I could go through with it. Desperate, I picked up the receiver and dialed. This time I let it ring through.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Elvis. It’s me, Lexi. Do you have a minute?”

“For you, always.”

“Thanks. I wondered if you could talk me into something I don’t want to do.”

“If you don’t want to do it, then don’t. It’s pretty simple.”

“I wish it were that easy. See, it’s job related.”

“My former statement still stands. If you feel like it’s against your principles, either work or personal, then don’t do it.”

“It’s just...I...I have to dye my hair blonde in order to disguise myself so I can go undercover at a high school to penetrate a group of hacking students and hope that no one recognizes me from my brief stint on television.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Elvis, are you still there?”

“Uh...yes. I’m here.”

“So, what do you think? Should I dye my hair or not?”

“I think...I think I need more data. You’d better start at the beginning.”

I quickly explained my plan for the school, then waited. Elvis listened without interrupting once. I imagined the expression he got on his face when he was thinking. That calmed me.

Finally, he spoke.

“It’s a novel approach, Lexi. Oddly ingenious. It might take longer than you think to penetrate the group, but I agree this might be your best bet for putting a permanent end to the student hacking revolt.”

“Thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. Give me the big picture. Do I have to emotionally and intellectually be prepared to be a blonde longer than a couple of weeks? Because I don’t know if I can do that.”

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t about you being blonde. Think of your hair as nothing more than an accessory or a piece of equipment you need to work this case.”

I sat down in my chair. “You mean like a cable or a thumb drive?”

“Exactly. It doesn’t matter what color your hair is. It doesn’t define you.”

“Right. You’re absolutely right. Hair color doesn’t define me. It disguises me.”

“Yes. When it’s over, change your hair back if you want. It’s a pretty simple thing, and it’s not permanent. You’ve got this.”

I sat up straight. “I’ve got this. Right. My hair is an accessory to solve this problem. Simple. Logical. Except...”

“Except?”

“I’m freaking scared out of my mind. What if I don’t recognize myself when it’s said and done?”

“You will. Want me to come along for moral support?”

“Would you? Oh, jeez, Elvis, that would be prime. I’d really appreciate it. I have an appointment at two-thirty. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Give me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

* * *

“Open your eyes.”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“Come on, Lexi. Open your eyes. You look great.”

I peeked open one eye and saw Elvis leaning over me, his nose almost touching mine. I sat cringing in the stylist’s chair, afraid to look in the mirror after an hour of really smelly chemicals, a hair wash, a blow-dry and style.

I felt thoroughly traumatized.

Elvis smiled. I felt better having him here. “It’s okay, Lexi. Trust me. You can look now.”

I opened the other eye. “How bad is it?”

“It isn’t bad at all. It’s very pretty.”

“But it’s blonde.”

“Yes, that was the idea, right? Think accessory. You can do this. Just look.”

I gulped a breath. “Okay. You’re right. I can do this. Besides, it’s too late to turn back now.”

“Ready?”

I nodded so Elvis swirled the chair around until it faced the mirror. I blinked. I absolutely didn’t recognize myself.

I was blonde. Totally blonde.

It wasn’t a platinum blonde, but a darker, warmer blonde with a golden hue. It didn’t look as bad as I expected, but it was utterly, totally different from the usual me. It looked like a completely different person looking back at me. There were a couple of people staring at me in the salon and I blushed self-consciously.

I turned my head and my hair swished softly around my shoulders. I was convinced that there was no way on God’s green earth that anyone would recognize me, and that made me feel a lot better even if it still freaked me out.

Elvis held out a hand and I took it. He pulled me out of the chair. “You did great, Lexi. A walk in the park, right?”

“Not hardly. But I did it...thanks to you.” I gave him a big hug. “You are the best, Elvis. Really. I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re my rock. Thank you.”

His cheeks reddened. “Glad I could help.”

“You always do. I guess that’s what friends are for.”

“I guess so.”