Double Digit (8 page)

“I’m your biggest fan.”

Bass made his way over to where we were standing to watch the show.

“So it seems. I had Sebastian here do a little research on you. It seems you were spotted riffling through my wastebasket. Campus Security thought I might have a stalker on my hands.”

Um, yeah. I may have gone too far.
“Stalker? I prefer science enthusiast.” I shot Bass a help-me look.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a nano-smile. But I saw it. Halsey asked, “Don’t you have something better to do on a Saturday night, something more fitting for a teenage girl?”

“My brother’s visiting, and I said I’d take him to a party. And I will, I swear. But I really just wanted to tell you, in person, how honored I would be if you considered my application for the job. I’d work really hard, and, as you can tell, I can get a little preoccupied with things I’m interested in.”

“She’s not easygoing, sir,” Bass added.

Professor Halsey sighed. “Get me a Sausalito cookie, and you can come see me at eight a.m. on Monday morning. No promises, but we’ll talk about it.”

“Really?!” I leaned in to hug him and grazed his cane with my left leg, nearly sending him to the ground, where my cookie crumbs still sat. He steadied himself against Bass’s arm and raised his free hand at me.

“Just get me the cookie.”

“Sure. Sorry.” I gave the professor a quick wave and caught Bass shaking his head like I was hopeless—which, at that moment, was the opposite of true.

I walked out into the vast expanse of Killian Court, victorious. Eight a.m. Monday morning! That job would be mine. I’d have access to all the nanotechnology research available at MIT. I’d dive into it. Swim in it. Add to it! I called Tiki, no answer. I called Danny, no answer. I’d tell them later—for the moment I was one giant leap closer to nanotechnology heaven.
Nerd-vana,
Danny might say.

I had a text from Bass:

Clumsy execution but congratulations. You got your dream date! Coffee 7:30 Monday?

Sure. Is it okay if I wear a T-shirt that doesn’t say anything?

I wouldn’t. But feel free to take your chances.

I stood in the middle of a perfect square. Three sides were giant white buildings, and the fourth was the Charles River. The three walls of buildings were numbered, not named, as if to remind me, unnecessarily, that this place was made for me. Building 10, wearing a huge dome for a hat, stood in front of me, flanked on either side by Buildings 1 through 8. These buildings stood like soldiers, perfectly symmetrical, with Buildings 7, 5, 3, and 1 to the left and 8, 6, 4, and 2 to the right. It was a standoff between an army of odd and an army of even. And although they were perfectly still, I could see how it would play out. Obviously the mighty even numbers adding up to 20 would topple the measly 16. But I admired those odd numbers for pairing up in such a way as to become even. The number 16 is balanced on two perfectly symmetrical 8s. Well done, Odd Army.

Killian Court is my happy place.

I turned back toward the Charles River and started walking home along Memorial Drive. But after three minutes, the euphoria wore off. It was nine o’clock and the sun had been down for over three hours. Streetlights projected shadows from the bare tree limbs like long crooked fingers. I suddenly had this creepy horror-movie feeling like there was a ghost in my underpants or someone was following me. I wondered if anyone besides Bass walked their dogs around here. I could really use a night watchman.

My boots sped up. I turned into Hayden Library to see if I could find Scott in his usual spot in the stacks and ask for an escort home. My whole body relaxed when I walked into the safety of the overheated building. I took the stairs down to the basement and walked to the very northwest corner of the section with the biology books. There was a hidden desk there that Scott thought gave him the power of mathematical clarity. I found his magic desk empty and made my way back to the stairs.

I heard footsteps again but ignored them. I remembered my terror of walking into the dark hallway on the first night in my dorm. This was no different, I told myself. The entire basement was completely deserted, and I would have seen anyone who was working in the stacks. Still, I stomped my boots harder than I normally would have, comforted by the strength of my own noise.

When the stairwell was three feet ahead of me, I picked up my pace because I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Moments later an arm wrapped itself around my neck. The body behind me was huge, with the right forearm acting as a vise and the bicep shoved in my right ear. That was all he needed to completely dominate me, a single arm. That, and the left hand that pressed a small pocketknife against my throat. I had seven dollars in my back pocket and wore my little gold necklace. This seemed like a lot of trouble to go to for a mugging. And what were the chances that he was waiting for some defenseless girl to walk down here on a Saturday night? The only explanation was that I’d been followed. They were tracking me. Adam Ranks’s poster flashed in my mind.

“You don’t want me.” I squeaked the words out as his forearm crushed my windpipe. “The only guy I could identify has been caught. There’s no reason to kill me. I have a job interview on Monday . . .”

His grip on my neck tightened and I struggled to get another breath. He growled, “Good news, little one. No one’s going to kill you today. My orders are to keep you. Jonas Furnis wants you, and he wants you alive. No need for a job interview—we have an excellent job, and it’s all yours. For as long as we let you live.”

Terror. I’m not sure why being taken alive was so much scarier than being killed on the spot. “Job?” Sadness overcame my fear as I realized that I wouldn’t make my Monday morning meeting. I thought of John hearing that I was missing. And my parents. And Danny out on the quad, clueless and happy. “Where are you taking me?”

“This is going to be easy.” His hot breath flooded my ear. “We’re going to climb up this flight of stairs and leave through the window I came in. Enjoy the fresh air when we get there, because you’ll be working underground until you’ve completed your project.” He laughed to himself. “And then I guess you’ll just be underground.” He was walking up the stairs now, slowly, with his forearm in place, pushing me ahead like a human shield.

I ran through my options, which were few. I had no weapon and no convenient kung fu training to fall back on. The window was a half flight of stairs ahead of us, and once we went through it, we were probably steps from a waiting car. The only advantage I had was that this thug had orders to keep me alive. And even if he disobeyed and slit my throat, it seemed better than being kidnapped.

So I lowered my chin, bit his forearm, and screamed when he loosened his grip on my neck in surprise. He pushed the knife in his left hand into my neck but stopped short of my windpipe. A floor above me, I heard a door fly open and the security guard call, “Who’s down there?” I screamed again, and the knife slit the gash a little longer. I couldn’t look down, but I could feel the blood dripping down my neck.

“I would have loved to have killed you.” He whispered his hot breath in my ear. Frustrated, he threw me down the stairs and hurled himself through the open window.

It couldn’t have been long before the security guard got to me and cradled my head in his arm. He was asking me my name and if I knew who hurt me. I turned away and curled up in a ball as it all came back to me, being chased by Jonas Furnis. The plane full of people who died due to my stupidity and the hundreds at Disney World whom I’d managed to help. I’d been kidding myself thinking that this was over. They’d been told I was dead. I was told they’d lose interest in finding me, anyway. That had seemed a little too neat to me, even at the time. But why now? Why hadn’t they come for me months ago?

The security guard reached for his walkie-talkie to call an ambulance. I convinced him to bring me to his office upstairs first and to get me a bandage and some rubbing alcohol. I could tell the cut wasn’t life threatening, and I’d been through this before. Plus I knew that as soon as I left this building, I’d be on the run.

He introduced himself as Officer O’Connell and eyed me suspiciously as I held his handkerchief to my wound. “Now, dear, if this was a fight with your boyfriend, there’s no one who will win by your protecting him. You are going to have to let me call the police and get you to a hospital to be photographed. A pretty girl like you can do much better than barely getting away with her life.”

“Sir, if you would please go one step further, I’m going to need you to call the FBI. I’ll give you the number.”

J
OHN WAS ON HIS WAY HOME
for the night when he got the call on his cell phone. He gave Officer O’Connell instructions that I be kept in an interior room and was not to be left alone. He asked that no one be allowed to see me until he got there. Then he asked to speak to me.

“Uh, Miss Higgins, the gentleman from the FBI would like to ask you a few questions.”

I wish I’d seen the look on his face when he heard this: “John, help me. It was them and they’re back and they want to take me, to keep me. They want me to work with them and they know where I am and I’m going to have to go into hiding . . .” I was sobbing now. Hysterically. “I know you need your space or whatever, but I didn’t know who to call. I can’t go into hiding again—you were right, I need to be here. Okay. Okay . . . Hurry. Okay. Thanks.”

When I handed the phone back to Officer O’Connell, his mouth was wide open. “Are you with the FBI?”

It actually seemed like the easiest answer. “Yes, and I cannot discuss our case any further.” I wiped my face on the back of my sleeve. It was my new gray cashmere sweater with the fashion-forward (for me) navy cuffs, now with a snot-smeared sleeve. Nice way to reunite with my ex-boyfriend.

John arrived four hours later and hugged me for too long. “When is this going to end?” he asked.

“It ended. You ended it. And I know I was harsh, but . . . Oh, you mean that. With them. I don’t know.” I should really teach a class on taking an ordinary awkward situation and turning it into a mortifying one.

He took a step back and smoothed the front of his suit jacket, remembering Officer O’Connell. “Yes, I’m glad to see you are okay. And you must be Officer O’Connell. Thank you so much for the critical role you played here tonight.” I smiled a little as John showed him his badge and they shook hands. “The FBI will be taking over the investigation of this matter. I drove here as soon as I got the call.”

Officer O’Connell seemed a little excited. “Okay, so I’m not going to contact the campus police. I’ll just let you handle your, er, colleague here. Are you hungry? Want coffee?”

We both said that we’d love a coffee. It was almost two a.m., an odd time for coffee, but who knew when we’d sleep again? We’d be on the run, cooking food over an open fire in the woods.

“Danny’s here.” Terror overcame me again as I remembered that Danny was out there, maybe waiting for me in my dorm, but more likely still out on the quad roasting marshmallows. He’d be the easiest person to capture, if they wanted something to use against me.

John turned to Officer O’Connell. “Miss Higgins’s brother is here visiting the campus. He is in danger and needs to be brought here for his own protection.”

I was busy dialing his number. Miraculously, he answered. “Digit! You got any coconuts?”

“Listen to me. Are you still on the quad?”

“Sure, the hibachi’s feeling a little weak, so we’re gonna start a bonfire. Go big or go home, right, Dig?”

“Stay where you are. A security guard is going to come and get you and bring you here. We’re in danger.”

Officer O’Connell took out a pad of paper and licked the end of his pencil. “Can you give me a description?”

“Yeah, he’s seventeen, desperately needs a haircut, and is probably the only guy out there in a grass skirt.”

As soon as we were alone, John led me by the hand to the couch. It felt so strange to have him touch my hand, like that touch was some sort of tactile window into something I was trying to forget. I pulled my hand away to save myself. He took the bandage off my neck to inspect my wound, then rebandaged it carefully. He inspected my face. “So, hi,” he said.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for calling.” Silence. “I don’t think I can handle this again,” he said.

“Just to be clear, we’re talking about the whole attacked-by-terrorists thing, right?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Me either.”

“How have you been?” he asked.

Sad, heartbroken, ecstatic about school, lost.
“Fine.”

“That’s good.” He took my hand again, searching it like the answer to this ongoing mess was in my lifeline. He put it down. “Sorry.”

Sorry? Huh. For breaking my heart? That I almost got killed? Oh, for holding my hand.
My mind was flipping between these two tragedies, the sliced neck and the broken heart, not really knowing which one I was reacting to.

“We need help.”
Couples counseling? No, the thing with the terrorists.
I was starting to get it. “Let me check in with the FBI and let them know where I am.” He was robot John again, all business. Pacing with his phone, he said, “I’m in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I had a call about an attack on a former FBI witness and came to investigate. No, I received the call directly. Because we had a personal relationship . . .”
Had. Nice.
He turned his body completely away from where I was sitting. “Yes, that same one. Yes. I am going to stay to get her to safety, maybe the Boston Bureau? Sure. Then I’ll be back in New York.” He hung up and turned around. His face was pure pain. He came and sat next to me again.

“So, how’s work?” I asked.

“Digit, it’s crazy that we don’t talk. I’ve been . . .”

Officer O’Connell cleared his throat as he came back in with our coffees and Danny.

“Jeez, Digit. What now?” Danny asked it like my habit of attracting bad guys was starting to get on his nerves. “And what are you doing here?”