The Gambit (28 page)

Rachel shook her head, glancing at the ground, and let out a chuckle so small it was exhaled sharply through her nose.

“
That
is why Briana is the first piece of the plan.”

Grey’s brow quirked and he turned to Briana.

“What? Don’t look at me like that,” she sneered in response to his surprised demeanor. Her dyed, golden-blonde ringlet curls bounced around from her ponytail as she shook her head in disdain.

“I just—I,” Grey stammered.

“What?” Briana cut him off. “Just because I’m not some white boy nerd who went to college, you’re surprised I have something to offer? Let me make something clear to you,
gringo
. I learned my skills in the streets of Miami, and my teachers were harder on me than any one of yours could have been.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect—”

“Is it because I’m black?” she raised her voice and cocked her head towards Grey.

“
Ay, Briana, por favor!
” Rachel interjected. “Stop with that shit. Your dad’s black. You are mixed.”

Briana huffed as if she was going to say more. She bit her bottom lip and stopped herself.

“Look,” I began. “We are all here for a reason, to make this thing work. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

The tension in the air lessened. Rachel was quick to pick up where I left off.

“Grey, Briana was the best at what she did. She made fake documents…
a lot
of them. One of those documents was connected to a massive insurance fraud here in Orlando. She served three years.”

“If she was the best then how did she get caught?” Grey mumbled.

My eyes grew wide.

“You know what? Fuck you!” Briana shouted. “Fuck this shit!”

She stood up and Rachel grabbed her wrist. “Please, don’t leave.”

Briana’s lower lip trembled. Her anger exuded from her.

“Grey, that was a little uncalled for,” Rachel said.

“A little?!” Briana snorted.

“Come on, dude,” I added. “That was fucked up.”

His expression remained nonchalant. Briana was still standing from when she tried to leave the room, and she turned to face Grey sitting on the ottoman.

“Unfortunately for me, Grey, my line of work dealt with things that were
real
. Paper, IDs, legal documents—all real evidence a court could use against me. Let’s say, when a middle-aged man was facing fifteen years in prison for a huge insurance fraud, he decided to rat out the person who made him the documents for a lesser sentence. And that’s how I got caught. I couldn’t just hide behind a computer like you, and when this is all said and done, and I
do
make Owen a passport that gets through unnoticed, three hundred and fifty thousand of those dollars are mine. Or, if your abilities fall short of what is needed to help him leave, and we all get caught, then I’ll see your ass in prison. Because even the
best
get caught. I wouldn’t be so damn cocky if I were you. I did three years—try a lifetime.”

Briana stopped pacing and sat back down on the edge of her recliner. Grey finally didn’t look so smug anymore. Her words had sunk in.

“So, Briana…” He began humbly. “How are you going to get a valid passport?”

“The Darkweb,” she answered. “Do you know what that is?”

Grey’s eyes grew wide. “I do, but they don’t.”

Briana glanced over at Rachel and me.

“Have you gotten one off of there before?

“No. I’ve actually never made a fake passport before.”

All three of us turned to her, surprised.

“What? I know what it takes to make one. The hard part is getting it.”

I could tell that Grey was intrigued. He might have doubted Briana upon meeting her, but when she mentioned the Darkweb, his eyes lit up in interest.

“How do you plan on doing that? The websites on the Darkweb are on the internet, it’s just essentially they are invisible—hidden in plain sight. You have to know exactly what you are looking for.”

“I know,” Briana rolled her eyes, but smiled instead of getting upset with him. “I still have connections…people I used to do work with that might be able to get us what we need.”

“How certain are you they would still do business with you? I mean, after your charges and all. Maybe they wouldn’t trust you.”

She shook her head. “They will. I used to pay good money for the things I needed. They know I take my work seriously.”

“I can tell you do,” Grey complimented.

Briana laughed. “Thank you. So, I was thinking. By the looks of Owen’s hair, I should try to find him a European passport. He needs something that gives him access to the rest of the world. I was thinking, Sweden.”

“He sure looks like a Swede,” Grey went along and laughed with her.

“I know I do,” I said. “Having these blonde eyebrows is killing me. They are practically invisible.”

“You look like a grown up Macaulay Culkin,” Rachel giggled.

I shrugged and nodded in agreement. We all laughed together.

“So, I was just curious, what airport would he leave from?” Grey asked as the laughter subsided.

Rachel and Briana looked at each other.

“Well…” Briana began. “It would have to be Miami International.”

“Why?” Rachel questioned, her eyebrows quirked. “Orlando is international too, and that way we could stay local. After what we went through yesterday, we don’t want you guys to have to go through something like that.”

“No shit,” I added.

Briana’s expression was as if she had just eaten something sour…like she had bad news to deliver.

“That’s the thing, I don’t have any of my old stuff I used to make fakes with. When the cops searched my house before I was arrested, they kept it all as evidence. Since I’m on probation, I would never risk having something related to my old life in this apartment. My friends in Miami, they are still involved in some shady stuff. Whatever they don’t have, I will have to purchase. I’ll start from scratch.

“After seeing the news yesterday,” Grey looked at Rachel. “I’m assuming we are taking Briana’s car?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Rachel smirked, unamused.

“I will call my work now and tell them I’ve come down with the flu. I will use my sick hours,” Briana said.

“Well then,” Grey smiled behind his scraggly beard. “Tomorrow, we go to Miami.”

I could see light from the dozens of screens along the wall through my eyelids. It annoyed me. My nerves felt frayed. They were shot. My elbows were propped on the cold metal desk, and I cupped my forehead with my hands.

I wouldn’t open them. I couldn’t watch that same goddamn video another time.

The convertible BMW slamming into the guardrail and Owen and Rachel flying out into the inlet. I’d seen it thousands of times today. It was making me fucking nauseous.

If only they would have crashed in the middle of the bridge, they would have died from the impact in the water. Owen would be dead, like he was
supposed
to have been at the debate. He was never supposed to live. His survival had been haunting me, nagging me. It felt like an ice pick digging into my brain. My migraine had yet to cease…but how would I sleep? How could I rest, knowing
he
was still out there?

It was nine hours past the twenty-four-hour mark. Now, there was a fifty-fifty chance that he would end up like that elusive vermin—Viktor Ivankov.

His name gave me chills…it always had.

Although Viktor had successfully disappeared off of our radar, we knew he was still around. He lurked in the shadows, trapped from living freely because of his infamy. I wasn’t worried about Viktor. We had won that battle a long time ago. I was worried sick over Owen.

Owen had a following. Everybody loved him. That was until we framed him to destroy his reputation. With the election so close, it was our only hope to finish something that began years ago. Something that was imperative to keep ourselves in power. The polls were slipping. The Convergence Party had a lower percentage of support every day. The media was fulfilling its duty masterfully. Although, the longer he and Rachel were missing, the greater likelihood there would be of them lashing out in retaliation. Would they be hostile? Or, would they be passive-aggressive, like when Viktor left the note in the cabin. It didn’t do any
real
damage, but it only added to the complete distrust the country had for their government, and that was the
antithesis
of what we wanted. We wanted them to believe everything we told them. Luckily for us, we had the news. Paid lies were the best kind. They ensured compliance.

I burped. The acidy bile burned the back of my throat. The taste entered my mouth—it was disgusting. A migraine, heartburn…what else could go wrong? Fuck this menial bullshit I had to deal with.

“Somebody get me some Tums!” I groaned.

A moment later the roll of antacids was in front of me. I blinked, gradually opening my eyes. They were so sensitive to the light on the screens my vision was blurry.

“Can we turn off these screens for God’s sake?”

They shut off. Thankfully, the room was dim. Just the soft glow from computer screens. It hardly helped ease my stress, though. I shouldn’t have fucking been here. This was supposed to end the night of the debate. It was supposed to set our plan back in action. Now, the perfect execution had failed, and I was put in charge to fix it quickly.

“Ma’am, I think you’ll want to hear this,” a man said from behind me.

I craned my pounding head around.

“Is it him? Did you find Owen?”

“No, I’m sorry to say we haven’t…but this is equally important.”

His idiocy made me cringe.

“Although I highly doubt that, go ahead. Give it to me.”

“We just received a tip from someone who works for the EPA. They said they have knowledge of two grad students at MIT who have been conducting experiments with live animals from the Danger Zone. She said they both
know
.”

I tilted my head and my lower eyelid began to twitch.

“Did you just say,
live
animals?”

“I did, ma’am,” he nodded nervously.

My jaw dropped, and I could feel myself begin to breathe heavy.
Another
loose end we would have to tie. I was livid.

“How the hell is this happening!? I thought they were all
dead!
Goddamn it!” I balled up my fists and pounded on the metal desk.

I could barely see their faces with the migraine affecting my vision. I could tell they were scared of my anger.

“Do y—you want me to call Boston PD?” the man stuttered as he asked.

“Oh no,” my voice trembled. “I want our guys up there.”

“But ma’am, it might take hours.”

“I don’t care!” I shouted. “Police officers won’t do the trick, we need the FBI to shake them up a bit! Scare the shit out of them.”

I panted. My breath was uneven, my heart in my throat.

“I’m on it,” he said.

“Shut it down! Shut the whole damn thing
down!
”

“How we lookin’, Em?” I asked, delicately positioning the sample on the slide.

“
Emily
,” she corrected. I thought I saw her smile in the corner of my eye. “You aren’t my grandmother. The hallway is clear. No traffic—for now.”

“Good.”

The sound of her footsteps grew louder until we were shoulder to shoulder.

“So, it looks like you lucked out again in Manhattan?”

“We will find out here in a moment. I walked circles for hours.”

“Searching for your beloved cat-lady?” she teased.

“Indeed,” I chuckled.

“What did you give her this time? Your father’s trust fund?”

“Not quite. She was a little more resistant. I gave her two-hundred.”

“She probably would have demanded more if she knew you were killing her cats.”

“Probably,” I smirked.

She walked back over to the lab door to peer out of the glass, then returned. I began to prepare the microscope to fire the electron beam.

“So,
Emily
. Why can’t I call you Em?”

Her brow furrowed. She tucked her hair behind one of her ears. Its jet-black color was always such a drastic contrast against her white lab coat.

“Well, I—that’s what I was called as a child. I am about to become a doctor in a field primarily dominated by men, and I want to be taken seriously. So I guess when I hear Em
it reminds me of a time when I was forced to play with Barbie dolls when I would have rather been reading.”

“Makes sense,” I shrugged. “Don’t let yourself feel so slighted. Your intellect is unmatched, and you will be a superb Nuclear Engineer. Why do you think you’re here right now?”

Her lips tugged into a smile and she shook her head, letting out the tiniest exhale of a laugh.

“Actually, I was under the impression you enjoy my company.”

I snorted. “Now as a scientist, what evidence do you have to support your hypothesis?”

She pursed her lips and restrained a smile.

“I’m a woman,” she began. “And, although you compliment my intellect as an engineer, our intuition is also unrivaled. It tells me you’d
much
rather it be me with you in the lab, than one of our colleagues. Remember? Our field is made up of almost eighty percent men. I’m a rare bird.”

I fired the beam. The electrical buzz was momentary.

“Bravo,” I exaggerated. “So, what does your intuition envision for the results of this second specimen?”

“If it really was in the Danger Zone like the first…then logically speaking, the damage wouldn’t be the kind seen with Strontium. It would be distributed in tissue rather than bone.”

My stomach knotted as the image on the screen was ready. Emily jumped to my side.

“Take a look for yourself…” I mumbled.

Her warm breath hit my neck as she gasped.

“It’s the same—stuck in a pre-cancerous mitosis.”

A comforting warmth settled in my chest. I was finally ready to approach my dad. With two sets of the same, irrevocable evidence, he would have to use my research as fact.
Someone
besides Emily and me had to know the truth. Since the discovery, I had lain awake late at night…tossing and turning…pondering at the
why
. Why did they lie? What motive did they have? We were told the radioactive material was Strontium almost two
years ago. Now, with the bombings at Georgetown just a month before the election and the false information they had given the public regarding Black Monday, it only added to my suspicions. Behind the marble-clad walls of our Capitol, corruption was rearing its ugly head in the form of a lie. A lie that I now knew. That knowledge gave me a
feeling
in my gut. It was strong, and kept my stomach in knots at all hours of the day. It told me that it was
dire
to get the truth out. No exceptions.

“Stefan!” A hard whack to my shoulder jarred me from my thoughts.

Emily stood facing me with large, cylindrical Pyrex vials and a jug of formaldehyde. Judging by the sloshing in the jug, she had hit me with that.

“Can you move, please?” she huffed, wide-eyed and chuckling at my phasing out.

I stood up and let her preserve our specimen.

While she did that, I walked over to the glass and peered out into the hallway. Nothing. Just the clean white tile and chrome railings I had seen for years. The life of a scientist.

“So,” Emily called from behind. “Have you heard from ‘Ms. Walling’ since we spoke last?”

“No.” I turned back to her. “I texted her to see if she was all right.”

“And?” her eyebrows quirked at my sudden pause.

“Nothing. No answer.”

I saw fear sweep over Emily’s expression. She was worried, and I knew that from her lengthy explanation at the café of why I couldn’t trust my ex to keep her mouth shut. The most frightening thing was, I thought she might have been right.

“You better pray she doesn’t talk.”

“I never thought of you as the religious type.”

She pursed her lips and nervously arranged the vials on the counter.

“You thought right, but that still doesn’t mean I don’t pray.”

I snorted. “Did you, just? Am I the only one that heard you contradict yourself? You’re not religious, but you still pray. To whom, Albert Einstein in the sky?”