The Gambit (51 page)

Much of the drive had been silent. My fear of telling Rachel where we were going was palpable, because she wasn’t pleased in the least bit. She knew what me going on live TV meant, that there would be no escape plan this time.
They
would finally get the satisfaction of putting me behind bars. She worried for my safety, more so than I did myself. I tried to convince her it was an ambitious last effort, to tell the world on CNN that I was innocent, and I had been framed…but by
who?

That was the million dollar question. It was a question I feared I would never have the answer to. Rachel wasn’t having it, though. She couldn’t yet bear the reality that I was slowly beginning to accept. The reality that there was no way I was getting out of this a free man. Although we hadn’t talked much, she still held my hand. Our bond had strengthened since last night. One might presume it was the sex, but I was inclined to believe it was what we
felt
during it. Oh, how I wished our dreaming would come true. Rachel and I running off to the French Riviera, sipping wine under a foreign sun. Maybe one day, in a different life. Not this one. My fate was already sealed the moment the air marshal recognized me. It was that moment I knew wholeheartedly that I would never leave this country. The only thing saving me from life in prison was the hope that Rachel and Ian could compile a solid story in time. A story with irrevocable evidence.

Our time
was
running out.

The skyline of Downtown Atlanta came into view. It brought back memories of the time I had been interviewed in the CNN building. I told Grey I remembered it vaguely, but I couldn’t remember what floor it was on. I was treated like a hero that day. I was escorted by my personal driver, and the interview went well. It still bewildered me how quickly it had all changed. Hell, if none of this would have happened, maybe I would have been interviewed again after we won the election. My stomach twisted just thinking about the past. The alternate reality I could never revisit. One where Cole was still alive.

Now, I couldn’t show my face anywhere. What a change…

“It makes me nervous being in a city,” Rachel mumbled. “So many people.”

“Easier to hide, right?” I said, pointing out the positive.

“More people that could recognize you, and more cops.”

I shrugged. She was right. Briana was navigating through the thickening traffic, and Grey was messing around on his laptop. There was a mobile hotspot sitting on his lap. I wondered what he was looking at.

“The Omni,” Grey spoke up. “I’ve booked a room. It’s also connected to the CNN building.”

“Nice,” I said.

Rachel let out a long, drawn-out exhale. This whole plan had her upset. She turned and looked out the window, facing away from all of us. There was nothing I could do to comfort her. My decision was made, and we would
all
have to live with it.

“We need to stop somewhere and get Owen and Rachel some new hair dye. Blond isn’t going to cut it any longer for you, and Rachel’s natural hair has to go. I’m thinking black.”

“Black?” I questioned.

“We are running out of colors, Owen. We need to get you a scarf, and a big jacket. You can’t just go walking into the hotel looking like you did in Miami. It won’t work.”

“You’re right,” I agreed.

We were in the heart of downtown.

“Oh…my…God,” Grey practically exhaled the words. “Look at that billboard.” He pointed out of his window to the right. I peered out of it, and my mouth dropped.

It was written in red spray paint. The letters dripped down the white canvas. I glanced out at the street and saw a crowd of people pointing their smartphones at it, taking pictures. There was also a news crew filming. One of the cameras was pointed up at a steep angle to capture the footage. My mind darted to one name—Viktor Ivankov.

Was this his doing? It was so similar to the first message he left in the cabin for the FBI nearly six months ago. If it was Viktor, what was he doing in Atlanta?

“Do you think it’s—”

“Him?” Briana finished Rachel’s question.

“Yes,” I answered. “I think it’s him.”

“His timing couldn’t have been worse…” Grey huffed. “If Viktor is here, the feds are going to swarm this city. Now that you’re in the spotlight, he is in the background, but they want him just as badly as they do you.”

“Shit.” I said.

“What are we going to do?” Rachel asked.

Grey glanced around at all the traffic nervously.

“We’re going to lie low.”

I stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the pedestrian light to change. Ten seconds. Five. I hurried across with the others and made my turn to walk alongside the back of a building. I was at the federal triangle and moments away from walking into the EPA building. The front entrance was too busy, but I remembered the one time I was here, there was a side entrance. I hadn’t the slightest idea of where to go, but given my clearance, I could get in anywhere.

Veronica should have taken away my badge. Her mistake would turn out to be a grave one. Even with my title, my mind was racing, playing out all the possible scenarios of what could happen. Would an employee try to stop me? Question me further than needed? I already had it in my head from the moment Veronica threatened me back at the CIA—I would
not
give up on securing the information I needed. The words echoed around in my head, and I held them there for reference. I felt like I was trying to solve a puzzle. Black Monday, the EPA, and the animals the students at MIT were testing were all a part of it. It was all connected. I just had to find the pieces that formed the big picture. Sure, there must have been a ton of false evidence circulating the country, but there was
always
an original. There had to be some form of documentation for the original cleanup on Wall Street, and wherever it was inside this building, I
would
find it.

There were days on the battlefield in Iraq where I felt calmer than this. The change in pulse was noticeable, and I tried to quell it. The last thing I wanted was to walk in sweating bullets and looking like I was up to something. I walked through the revolving door and immediately surveyed my surroundings. The military training always kicked in, regardless of if I wanted it to. It was instinctual. There was a moderate number of people in the lobby. That was ideal because I didn’t want to stick out too much. I made my way across the marble floor and stopped at the reception desk. The woman behind the counter was young with a short bob haircut. Her red layers flared out at the ends by her ears. She smiled in greeting me.

“How can I help you today?”

I returned her smile and pulled out my badge.

“Lucas Bolden, CIA. I need to access your archives. It’s a matter of National Security.”

Her eyes grew wide and she nodded.

“Second floor, the elevator is right around the corner. In the first office on the left, there will be a woman who can help you. She is head of the archives.”

“Thank you, miss.”

I walked away with a grin, shaking my head at the thought of how easy that was. The badge sure did do the trick. It was a step above the FBI and a step below those snakes over at the NSA. I rode the elevator to the second floor and stepped out. I immediately felt how much warmer this floor was kept compared to the lobby. The carpet had an outdated look to it. The faint scent of printer paper filled the air. It was a typical office. This building was like a maze, though, so I knew there had to be a lot more than meets the eye.

There was what looked to be a break room in front of me, and I wandered a bit to my left. I found an office which I presumed was the first one. The door was open, but I still gave it a few gentle knocks.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice called from inside. I opened the door a little more. For a moment, I thought I had lost my mind. She looked far too young to be working at the EPA. Her youthful appearance was more similar to an intern. She had platinum-blonde hair that flowed down past her shoulders. It was straight and sleek without a hair out of place. I couldn’t help but notice her looks and well-built figure. She looked more like a model than a government worker.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked with a tone. She treated me as if I were an intruder. I guess I could have understood why.

“I need access to your archives, miss.”

“Sorry, that is off limits to the public, sir. It is property of the federal government. Are you on the wrong floor?””

“Nope,” I answered and handed her my badge. “I’m with the CIA, specifically Intel. I need to go through your archives. It is imperative that I do so.”

She began to squint and studied me. I watched her eyes dart across my badge, over and over. I caught the sense she didn’t trust me at all. She handed me back my badge. I heard her exhale, and she pushed herself out of the desk chair. “Follow me,” she said. She wore a business skirt and heels. My eyes immediately went down to her ass, and it was quite nice might I add. That was my teenage mind trapped in an almost-forty-year-old body talking. My wife would have hit me so hard for looking.

“Why haven’t I had anyone from the CIA come here before?” she questioned as she led me into another room. It was massive, with rows upon rows of file cabinets.

“Because my colleagues are too busy kissing ass to do any real work.”

She shot me a hesitant glare and crossed her arms.

“It’s all sorted chronologically. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Her voice was short, and she wasn’t very pleasant. I made a face behind her back. More teenage boy coming out in me. I hadn’t grown up yet, so why try now?

I went to a random cabinet and opened it. I skimmed through some of the folders and saw the dates were in the early 2000s. I went one cabinet over and discovered it was from 1999. I went in the opposite direction and the year changed to 2001. With certain years, I quickly figured out that one year might have filled five to ten file cabinets. This room was gargantuan. I tried to skip around and hopefully in the process jump some years. I found 2014.
Okay, now I’m getting warmer
. Two cabinets over, I found 2015. I began to pull out the rows beside of that one also. Skimming through, I saw many of those cabinets were dedicated to 2015. I knew it had been a busy year for the EPA. With the bombs on Black Monday, the cargo containers from the Port of New York, and the Confinement—there was a ton of environmental impact.