The Gambit (53 page)

She placed her hand on the touch screen, and a line of light flashed from the top to the bottom. It beeped when it finished scanning. She then put her eye close to the top of the device. Another scanning sound was heard.

“Please enter nine digit security code now,” a robotic voice said.

Megan used her index finger to press a series of numbers on the same screen that scanned her palm. A chime noise sounded.

“Identify confirmed—Megan Jeanine Walling.”

I heard something click, and the top drawer of the file cabinet slid out. It was amazing that before it opened it appeared to have no crevices. It looked like a solid object that couldn’t be opened. She pulled it out farther and handed me a file.

“This is what you will need,” she said. “Everything is in there.”

“Thank you, Megan. Thank you for helping me.”

She nodded with pursed lips. Her anxiety was apparent. She
knew
what Veronica could do if she found out.

“You’re welcome. I want to do what is right, for once.”

“It feels great, doesn’t it?”

“It feels better than living a lie,” she admitted. “Hide that and get out of here. Go do what you need to do. Please, for the sake of my own safety, take Veronica down.”

“I will,” I said. I extended my hand. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she placed her smooth hand in mine, gently shaking it.

“Be safe out there,” she said.

“You do the same. Skip town if anything bad happens, okay? Wait till this is all over.”

She nodded. “Go, I have to do the security procedure again to lock up.”

I turned away from Megan and exited the white room. My heart began to bounce around in my chest at the thought of what I was holding. There was a black stamp on the front.

CONFIDENTIAL

This was it. This was what I needed. I stuck the folder inside of my jacket and hit the down arrow on the elevator.
Ding
—I stepped in. I couldn’t believe I had gotten through to Megan, but I was glad that I did. She had bottled up ten times the amount of stress I had, and she finally let it all out in front of me.

I walked out on the ground floor and headed for the nearest exit. The cold, mid-Atlantic air hit me with refreshing relief. I continued north on 14
th
street. I left my car and phone at home. I wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t allow them to track me. I bought a pre-paid phone, and my destination was already determined days ago. I had to do it out in the public, a place where I could be sure that no one was listening. I saw the twelve-story white-marble building come into view on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and 14
th
. I nervously waited for a crosswalk light to change and made my way across. I walked up the stone steps and through the revolving door. I had been in The Willard before—it was one of my favorite InterContinental hotels. The inside resembled a palace. Low lighting and deep hues filled the lobby. The floors were so shiny you could partly see your reflection. There were four people at reception, but I didn’t need their help. I already knew where the business center was. I walked toward it and saw that no one was inside. There were four computers, all with flat-screen monitors. On the far side of the counter was a copy machine. I sat down at the computer and began typing.

The New York Times Building.

The number appeared, and I punched it in my pre-paid phone. My hands were sweaty, and I became nervous. I had no idea if he would remember me, or if he was even there. Ten years ago, when I came back from Iraq, I was interviewed by one of his employees, but I had the chance of meeting him. I couldn’t forget that day because he did mention if I ever needed anything not to hesitate to contact him. I wasn’t the type that asked for help, but I thought in this situation it would be fitting. There was no one else I could give this information to. I worked for the CIA, and our system was so broken, there was no one that would dare try to get this information out to the public. My hope in Washington was dead. Now, it all boiled down to this one phone call.

Ring…Ring…Ring…Ring…

“New York Times, how may I direct your call?”

My heart was beating out of my chest I was so nervous. This
had
to work.

“Uh…hi, could I speak with Mr. Westlake? It is extremely urgent.”

“Mr. Westlake has been in meetings all day, I can send you to his voicemail.”

“Ma’am, please, don’t transfer me. I have to talk to him.”

“I am just a receptionist, sir. If Mr. Westlake happens to be in his office, I’d recommend talking to his assistant first. Hold one moment.”

“Ma—” the line began to ring again.
What a bitch.

“This is Sharon, how may I help you?”

Thank God
, she sounded a
little
friendlier.

“Hello, Sharon, I need to speak to Mr. Westlake. It is extremely urgent.”

“Hold one moment,” she said shortly.

The hold music reminded me of riding in an elevator. I heard the line snap back on.

“In what regards is this call?” she asked curiously. “And if you don’t mind, may I ask who is calling?”

In what regards is this call?
I took a deep breath and let it out.

“It has to do with Black Monday, with Owen, with everything. My name is Lucas Bolden and I am an agent with the CIA.”

I heard her faint gasp in my ear.

“I’ll transfer you now,” she said in a shaky voice.

Ring
…

“Ian Westlake,” a stern, familiar voice picked up.

“Hello, Mr. Westlake…I—uh, I know this is going to sound bizarre, but I needed to speak with you right away. One of your journalists interviewed me when I got back from my tours in the Middle East, and I met you that day. I saved one of my fellow soldiers, a wounded brother, and that’s why you guys did the story. Do you happen to remember me?”

There were a pause and a crackling in the background.

“Yes, actually. They gave you a medal, correct?”

“Yes, they did, Mr. Westlake.”

“You can call me Ian,” he corrected. “So, agent Bolden. What is it that you have to tell me? Don’t worry. This is on a secure line. I just hope no one is listening on your end.”

“No,” I assured him. “I am at a hotel using a pre-paid phone. I am actually sitting in front of a fax machine, and I need your direct fax number. I have to send you some documents.”

For a moment, I thought he had hung up.

“Ian? Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here. Are these documents what I think they are?”

“Indeed, they are, and I’m sorry to throw this on you all of a sudden, but I had nowhere else to turn. My sector of the government is an absolute nightmare. This country is turning to shit before my own eyes. So please, when the time comes, use what I am about to send you for the right reasons. There are very good people involved that are depending on me not to let them down.”

“I understand. Don’t be sorry, Lucas. It is a miracle you called me. You just made me the happiest I have been in my entire career.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh,” I chuckled. “If you think you are happy now, just wait until you see what is about to come through your fax. What is the number?”

My breathing began to steady. My work had paid off. My mind darted in a hundred different directions, imagining what would take place over the next few days. I wished with every cell in my body that Veronica’s plan would come to a screeching halt. I had fought for this country once, and I would continue fighting for it in whatever manner I was able to. That was the oath I swore to uphold, and my rebellion was needed at a time like this. Maybe one day, kids would read in the history books about the people who helped dismantle this house of cards, built from the lies of the wicked.

Grey and Briana had taken the rental car, and apparently they were going to crack the wireless of CNN. He told us he would bring back some dinner. That was over two hours ago. Our room was just the standard. It had two queen beds. It was a closet compared to the penthouse suite we were in the night before last, but it was no less comfy. It was well decorated. Rachel was flipping through the channels for the hundredth time. She stopped for a moment on one of the local news stations.

“…Authorities warn that Viktor Ivankov may be in Downtown Atlanta. Analysts say the graffiti on the billboard is similar to his first message. Please call the police if you have any information…” Rachel changed the channel.

“I wonder what he is doing here,” she said.

“Who knows,” I responded. “I just hope he doesn’t interfere with tomorrow.”

Her lips pressed into a hard line, and her cheek muscles flexed. She was clenching her jaw and didn’t even respond. I knew why, but nothing needed to be said. She had already expressed her disapproval of Grey’s plan.

My stomach growled violently. It was pushing eleven o’clock, and I was starving. I knew we weren’t supposed to go anywhere. It would be risky and plain dumb, but something inside me was pushing me to go. Perhaps, it was my primal instinct of wanting a meal, or wanting to rebel against the fact I was trapped everywhere I went. Hostage to my infamy.

“Let’s go get some street food,” I said.

Rachel cocked her head towards me.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not. Put your hair up, get your hat on, and change clothes. Let’s go eat.”

I grabbed a toboggan lying on the bed and pulled it over my blond hair. I put on my sunglasses even though it was dark outside. Grey had left a scarf that I wrapped around my neck, and I zipped my jacket tight.

“What has gotten into you?” Rachel threw her hands up.

“Hunger,” I answered flatly. “You have to be hungry too.”

“I am, but I can wait until Briana and Grey bring us something back. They were going to pick up stuff for our new disguises too, remember?”

“I do. It’s been three hours. It shouldn’t take that long, and I’m tired of being cooped up in this hotel room anyway.”

She was still in the bed. She hadn’t moved at all.

“Are you coming or not?” I asked.

She stared at me so intently, as if she was trying to speak to me through her mind. Her whole expression radiated defiance. Maybe she was trying to tell me without words,
‘This is your punishment for agreeing to Grey’s plan. I’m not going anywhere with you.’

“Come on, babe…” I pouted softly. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose and bit her bottom lip. She turned away from me, but I could see her roll her eyes.

“Okay, fine. You win.”

She used her hair tie to wrap her hair up in a tight bun, and she dug around her backpack for the Dolphins cap. She borrowed one of Briana’s jackets. The weather was freezing compared to Florida.

“Where do you have in mind?” she asked. “It’s not like we can just walk up in a restaurant and ask for a table for two.”

I laughed. “No shit, I wish we could. I saw a hotdog stand around the block. It’s close, and it will hold us over until they get back.”

“All right,” she obliged.

Once our disguises were on, I walked to the door and peered out the peephole. No one was in the hall. I signaled to Rachel that the coast was clear. I opened the door and immediately headed for the exit, with Rachel at my heels. Briana and Grey checked us in again as
Rose
and
Gregory
. She lied, telling the front desk her sickly mother was with us, and we needed the ground floor. We needed the ground floor because it was a quick in and out. We didn’t have any elevator rides, and we had fewer chances of someone recognizing us. It was only fifteen feet before we walked out the exit door, and the chilly autumn air hit us. I made sure my scarf and toboggan covered the majority of my face, and Rachel was bundled up pretty well herself.