Chase (14 page)

And there it is. I trust him. I'm doing it again. I'm trusting someone again, even though I know I shouldn't be.

Damn.

From:
322

To:
L

Subject:
Re: Total Recall

Agent 322 active. I await your directive.

saw herself running down the sidewalk and launching herself at Gaia, saw the look of surprise in those always-in-control, ever-superior eyes

Nerves of Steel

OLIVER STARED AT THE COMPUTER
screen, trembling with excitement and nerves. A response. He'd finally received a response. So Loki's agents were still out there. Some of them, anyway. Part of him wasn't sure whether to be elated or disturbed. Here was an agent of his own alter ego's evil at his disposal, ready and waiting.

Oliver reached for the mouse but then drew back his hand. After two full days of sending messages and trying to hack into Loki's unhackable system, this small triumph was something he'd begun to take for granted as an impossibility. Now that someone had answered his call, he wasn't sure he was ready to deal with it.
Was he really capable of being an evil mastermind?

The answer, he knew, was yes. That ability was somewhere inside him. And the last thing he wanted to do was light that particular powder keg.

But Loki isn't you. You are not him
, Oliver told himself.
He can't come to the surface if you don't let him.

Oliver took a sip from the water bottle Gaia had left with him that morning and tried to focus on the task at hand.

He was going to have to play this just right. This could be the most important mission of Oliver's life. And agent 322 was his only hope of completing
that mission—of helping Gaia and finding Tom.

But what if he couldn't do it? What if he couldn't pass himself off as Loki?

Oliver leaned back and pressed his fingertips into his skull just above his eyes, cursing his own weakness. He was
petrified of failing.
Petrified of losing the only family he had left. He hated it, but there it was. If only he could have just an ounce of Gaia's fearlessness right now, it would certainly help him through this.

What had happened to the
nerves of steel
he'd developed during his years in the CIA? What had happened to his confidence—his ego? Had Loki appropriated all of that and left Oliver lacking? Was the real Oliver Moore now this broken shell of a man?

His hands shook as he drew himself up straight and cleared his throat.

“Pull yourself together,” he whispered firmly, jumping his chair closer to the keyboard. Saying the words aloud bolstered his spirits somehow. When a person needed a pep talk and there was no one else around, he had to create his own pep. He clicked the reply button. “They're counting on you.”

His fingertips hovered briefly over the keys, and then he began to type.

Status:
Urgent, immediate attention imperative.

Mission:
Locate Tom Moore, alias Enigma.

Current intel:
Last seen Lenox Hill Hospital ICU,
may have been taken overseas. Was unconscious at time of extraction.

Response:
Critical. Meet for exchange at location 23F, tomorrow noon. Deadline is nonnegotiable.

Oliver read these few words over a dozen times before holding his breath and clicking the send button.

It's fine
, he told himself as the message was shot irretrievably into the ether. No frills. No pleas. No signs of any weakness. Direct orders were definitely Loki's MO.

His breath caught in his throat when, one second after the order was sent, the computer bleeped, indicating that a message had been received. Operative 322 was sitting at his computer this very second, awaiting Loki's command. Praying that 322 hadn't figured him out the second he read his directive, Oliver opened the new mail.

Mission accepted.

A laugh bubbled up in Oliver's throat, and he let himself give in to his triumphant mirth. He folded his arms on the desk and rested his forehead on top of them, suddenly exhausted, relief flowing out of him with every body-racking guffaw. He'd done it. He'd finally done it.
Mission accomplished.
He could finally,
finally
relax. He felt his bones settle and crack as he let his posture sag and his muscles uncoil. It had been so long since he'd slept . . . .

A loud ringing suddenly pierced the air, and Oliver jumped back, startled. Other than muffled street noise, there had been no other sound in the brownstone since Gaia had left that morning. Heart in his throat, he grabbed the receiver to the desk phone and fumbled with it before bringing it to his face.

“What?” he barked.

A pause. Oliver saw his life flash before his eyes. They'd found him. They were coming for him. He was going to pay for all of Loki's sins.

“I'm sorry, is this Roger Simms?” a male voice asked on the other end of the line.

Roger Simms. That sounded so familiar. Why did he know that name . . . ?

“Mr. Simms?”

It hit Oliver like a brick to the head. Of course! Roger Simms. The name he'd used when calling locksmiths earlier that day. He was really going to have to get some food in him right away.
There was no room for brainlessness in this game.

“Yes, yes,” Oliver said, gripping the phone. “I'm sorry. And this is?”

“Reginald Toth, sir, of Chelsea Antiques,” the man replied, taking on a clipped tone. “I believe I have some information for you on that key of yours.”

Oliver grinned and pulled a pen and pad toward him. First 322 and now this. He was definitely on a
roll, and each rotation brought him that much closer to earning Gaia's trust.

If he could just have that,
there was nothing else he would ever need.

All Business

GAIA DRAGGED HER TIRED FEET UP
the cement steps to Oliver's brownstone and pushed open the front door. Since leaving Jake in Washington Square Park, she'd spent the bulk of the afternoon wandering Alphabet City with her eyes peeled, and she was definitely ready to crash.

But the second she stepped inside, she felt her pulse start to race. Oliver was waiting for her. He walked right over to her from the front window, where he'd clearly been watching for her return. The man hadn't been down from the fourth floor since they'd moved in here two days ago.
Something was obviously up.

Just let it be good, whatever it is
, Gaia thought, even as her brain told her that was highly unlikely. She tossed her bag on the dirt-and-cobweb-covered floor and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I have good news,” Oliver said brightly. A phrase Gaia hadn't heard in ages.

“What is it?” she asked, letting the arms drop. “Did you find my dad?”

“Very nearly,” Oliver said. He walked excitedly from the front hall into the spacious, empty living room. The blinds were drawn and the sun was going down, leaving the airy space
gray and murky.

“What does ‘very nearly' mean?” Gaia asked, following him, her mouth watering with anticipation.

“I've finally made contact with one of Loki's operatives,” Oliver said, smiling. “He should have information for me at noon tomorrow.”

Gaia swallowed hard and looked away, trying to hide the distrust that was written all over her face. She didn't like the idea of trusting Loki's men. Not after everything they'd done to her and to the people she loved. The very idea, in fact, made her skin crawl with a million little bugs of doubt. But she knew it was the only way. She was just going to have to accept it.

“That's . . . great,” she said finally.

“That's just the beginning,” Oliver said, taking a few steps closer to her. He pulled a couple of squares of paper from his back pocket and unfolded them. “Information about your key.”

The papers fluttered slightly as he held them out to her, and Gaia could relate—her heart was pretty much
doing the same thing. She grabbed the sheets and looked them over quickly. There were names, dates, building code numbers, recall numbers, and on the last page Oliver had written in huge block letters:

Between Avenues A & D, East 2nd-East 5th.

Gaia's mind spun. “Does this mean what I think it means?” she asked, looking up at him.

Oliver smiled a knowing, almost cocky smile. He was proud of his detective work.

“It turns out that type of lock was used only in early-twentieth-century developments in the Meat Packing District and in Alphabet City. They were taken off the market when a fault was found in the pin system,” Oliver explained. “If we're right about an Alphabet City safe house, then it's somewhere within those blocks.”

Gaia quickly did the math, a grid of lower Manhattan appearing in her mind's eye.
Sixteen city blocks.
That was all the area she needed to search. Tatiana was somewhere within sixteen measly city blocks.

Oliver held out the key to her, and Gaia grabbed it from his hand, already plotting out the subway stops she'd need to sit through before she got where she needed to be.

“Thank you,” Gaia said, folding up the papers and stuffing them into her pocket. Oliver didn't move, and
just before she turned to go, Gaia felt a sudden charge in the air. Like something was expected. Like he wanted something.

She glanced at him, and his softened eyes told the story. He was waiting for more than thanks. He wanted a reaction. He wanted elation. He wanted awe and congratulations. In fact, he was looking at her like he wanted a hug.

Gaia's stomach twisted with a combination of guilt, disgust, and pity. She knew this was Oliver standing before her, but the very idea of hugging him—of touching the body that played home to Loki—was physically repulsive. Her heart went out to Oliver but shrank from his evil alter ego.

She wasn't yet ready for contact.

“Thanks,” Gaia said again, forcing a smile. “Really.”

Oliver lifted his chin and looked away for a split second, and she knew he was consciously arranging his features. When he gazed at her again, he was collected—
all business.

“Just watch your back,” he said. “Natasha will have taken other measures to secure the safe house.”

“Don't worry,” Gaia replied firmly.

She clasped the key in her palm and headed for the door, her adrenaline running high. Whatever Natasha had in store for her, she could handle. The only thing that mattered now was finding Tatiana and finding out what she knew. The chase was on.

One Step Ahead

TATIANA WHIPPED A YANKEES BASEBALL
cap out of her backpack and pulled it down low on her forehead, cursing Jake under her breath. She'd just spent two hours sitting in the café that time forgot, waiting for his curiosity to get the better of him and for him to come looking for her. The place had Frank Sinatra's greatest hits on an endless loop and sold nothing with caffeine other than
bad coffee and generic cola.
She'd picked Café Mille Lucci as her rendezvous point because all kinds of people were in and out of the place all day—young, old, poor, not so poor, every race imaginable. It was the perfect place to become just another one of the many. The only problem was, the atmosphere and the food sucked.

She stalked around a corner and almost leveled a scary-looking Hispanic man with track marks all up and down his arms. He shouted right in her face, but she quickly sidestepped him and kept walking, head down. Whenever she went to the café, she had to go wigless so that if Jake showed up, he wouldn't get more suspicious than he already was. But every time she left the safe house as herself, she was taking a risk. The last thing she needed was another Megan-type debacle.
She was supposed to be invisible here.

“I shouldn't even have to
be
here anymore,” Tatiana muttered, watching her feet as she walked.

She should have known that she couldn't count on Jake. At least Brendan was predictable and thus reliable. He was either in the bar or at the McDonald's down the street for about twenty hours out of every day. Maybe it was time she just got him and his stupid friends to kidnap Gaia from school. At this point it was probably the best plan she had going. Which wasn't saying much.

Tatiana took a deep, calming breath as she ducked around the last corner and her safe house came into view. All she had to do was get inside, sit down, chill out, and come up with a plan B. Jake might have failed her, but that didn't mean she was down and out. She wouldn't give up that easily.

A few doors down a group of men in puffy black jackets and do-rags stood on a stoop as always, chatting with each other and blowing smoke into the air. Tatiana abhorred this part of the day. Every time she walked past these guys, no matter what getup she was sporting, they hooted and howled and made smooching noises and lewd remarks until she was out of sight. She was just steeling herself for the onslaught when she saw something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

Gaia.

Tatiana leaned forward to get a better look at the
guy with the gold tooth who was gesturing with his cigarette. Tatiana's fight-or-flight reflex was telling her to get the hell out of there as fast as possible, but then her self-preservation kicked in and she realized that any sudden movement would draw big-time notice. Thanking God for her own split-second sanity, she slipped behind the corner newsstand and flattened herself against its rickety wall, waiting for her pulse to slow.

But it wouldn't. Gaia was here. Gaia was in her neighborhood. The little supersleuth had tracked her down. But how?
How?
It just wasn't possible. Tatiana had all the advantages in this situation, yet Gaia, as always, was somehow
one step ahead.