Vortex (12 page)

“She’s a fantastic agent. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” The words
came out firm and straightforward, but I had a feeling we weren’t on the same page.

“Great. But keep in mind, so are you, and even more gifted than the others. Whatever
assignments you’re given, don’t lose sight of who you are. More importantly, don’t
forget what you can do. What you were
made
to do. I have a feeling you haven’t even come close to reaching
that
potential.”

Was he telling me not to stop time-traveling? It sounded that way. Marshall had basically
forbidden me from even thinking about jumping without his approval. “But why do it
if I don’t need to? Aren’t there risks?”

“Yes,” he said. “You can’t screw around anymore, but I can guarantee you’ll find yourself
in a situation where it’s the right thing to do. Perhaps you know exactly what I’m
talking about…?”

That might have been his way of trying to find out if I’d been to the future. Maybe
he already knew something about his future and wanted to make sure I saved his ass
even if it meant time travel?

He was already heading for the door while I was still trying to catch up. “Don’t worry
about Kendrick, we’ll take care of that situation. You just work on Stewart.”

I put my hand on the door, preventing him from going out. “Wait, what are you going
to do to Kendrick?”

“Don’t worry. I already told you, Lily is very important to this division. As is her
safety.” He pulled the door open the second I released my hand from it. “We’ll see
each other again soon. You’ll be a very important guest at my party.”

“Guest?” I thought this was a mission. Wouldn’t I be dressed in black, lurking in
the shadows of the Plaza Ballroom?

“You’ll be attending as a guest on behalf of your father’s company … in his absence,
of course,” he said before ducking out the door.

I bolted the door shut and let my eyes sweep over the studio apartment that smelled
like death. Kendrick had two bedrooms in her place. And she had furniture. Which I
didn’t have, other than a bed that pulled down from the wall.

No wonder Marshall was so quick to comply with my request for an alternative place
to stay. I could go home, but then he’d win this game that I didn’t even know we were
playing.

I yanked the frame of the bed to lower it and got one glimpse of the mildew-covered,
cat-piss-smelling mattress and immediately slammed it shut again.

Instead, I threw my backpack on the hardwood floor and laid my head on it. I wanted
to call my dad and tell him about Senator Healy, but I knew he was already off on
his mission with Marshall.

I spent at least an hour tossing around on the hard floor, going over and over the
implications the senator had made. And why the hell did he bring up Stewart? Maybe
he knew something about the future, like we get in a fight and cause some major disruption.
Didn’t seem that unlikely. This was the most alone I’d been in months. The stringent
training schedule and the closeness of our rooms in the underground headquarters kept
me so exhausted, I hadn’t thought about much else. Eventually I forced myself to fall
asleep because the irrational thoughts were increasing and I needed to stay on top
of my game. Always.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JUNE 11, 2009, 6:30
A.M.

“Dang, Jackson. What kind of shithole place did they give you?”

My eyes weren’t even open yet, but I could already see the sun shining through the
uncovered windows. “How did you get in?” I asked Kendrick.

She reached out a hand to help me up and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I picked the
lock. You should consider getting a better deadbolt. I can’t believe you slept here.”

“I think Marshall is still punishing me.” I brushed the dust off my clothes and started
digging through my suitcase. “I don’t suppose you have soap at your place?”

She nodded toward the door. “Come on. You should bring the whole suitcase, otherwise
rats might crawl in while you’re gone.”

Twenty minutes later I came out of Kendrick’s shower smelling more fruity than I would
have liked, but it was better than having bacteria crawling all over me. Kendrick
was in the kitchen, wiping the counters down.

“Where’s Michael?” I asked her.

“He went to help his dad with something at the restaurant.”

“How come you didn’t tell me that you lived with someone?”

“It’s sort of his unofficial residence. He goes to school here and was commuting from
his parents’ house in Jersey … he stayed over a couple times and eventually I told
him to leave some of his stuff here. It’s no big deal, and it’s not like I’m here
all the time anyway.”

“Does Chief Marshall know about Michael?” I asked.

She eyed me warily. “Not that I know of … I haven’t lied or anything … It just never
came up.”

“So, what … you’re just gonna ask Marshall for time off so you can get married? And
you think he’s actually gonna go for that?”

“I don’t know!” She tossed the sponge into the sink and gripped the countertop with
her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? You’re
going to tell him, just like you told him about the helicopter when I wouldn’t stitch
up your dad … and the rain thing … when I slipped up.”

So that’s why she was so pissed at me a couple days ago.

“I didn’t tell Marshall anything … Someone else must have.”

She shook her head, looking defeated. “What do you want, Jackson? What’ll keep you
quiet?”

“Answer a few questions for me.” I knew very few things about my partner. Before,
it didn’t bother me too much, but now, after Senator Healy’s little visit last night,
I wanted to know why she was so important. “How long were you training … before France?”

“Six months with Tempest,” she said immediately. “But most of it was here and some
in D.C. last winter during break. I joined the CIA two years ago. That’s when I moved
to New York and started med school.”

So, she joined at nineteen, too
. I slid a chair out from the dining room table and sat down. “Where did you live
before New York?”

The smile dropped from her face. “Chicago … but not in the city. The north suburbs.
Is that all?”

“One more question.” I hesitated for a second. “It’s weather, isn’t it? It’s altered
by time travel?”

She leaned against the counter, taking in a deep breath before finally nodding. “That’s
how we track them … weather patterns changing. Think about it … Tempest … Eyewall?”

“A storm … that’s what Tempest means … a strong and violent storm. And Eyewall—”

“A ring of towering thunderstorms, the most severe part of a cyclone,” she said.

I swallowed back my fear. “Eyewall … as in Tempest has finally met its match.”

“Let’s hope not,” Kendrick said.

Why wouldn’t Dad or Marshall want me to know about the weather changes? What if I
time-traveled by accident? Shouldn’t I know these things just in case? Or was Dad
afraid I’d start studying weather-pattern changes and go on suicide missions alone,
hunting down EOTs? And maybe Marshall didn’t trust me not to find them and decide
to join up with the opposition.

“Are we cool, then?” Kendrick asked.

I shook off the shock of this new information and focused on the here and now. “Yeah,
we’re cool.”

Relief washed over her and she even smiled. “We’ve got a few hours before we meet
up at the Plaza. I think we should clean your new apartment this morning. And I also
need to pick up some books from the NYU Bookstore. Maybe you should get some stuff,
too, just to keep in your apartment as a student cover or whatever.”

“You want to clean the apartment?”

“You have cleaned before, haven’t you?”

“Are you going to start with the rich-kid jokes, too, like Stewart?” I swatted her
in the head with an envelope lying on the table. “For your information, I do have
experience in the custodial arts.”

She tossed me a pair of rubber gloves. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

*   *   *

I clapped my hands together, inhaling the scent of new books. “Okay, what should I
get to fill my borrowed apartment with studentlike evidence?”

“Textbooks, lab coat, flash cards,” Kendrick listed off.

“So, I should follow in your footsteps, Dr. Kendrick? Pretend to be a med student?”

“That or the Unabomber.”

We wandered the store for a good twenty minutes, forming a large stack of supplies.
I tossed them on the counter and handed the girl at the register a credit card. “You
don’t think this will look too staged?… We’re only here for a week, right?” I asked
Kendrick, speaking in whispered Russian to avoid listening ears.

Kendrick opened her mouth to respond, but I tuned her out immediately. I had just
heard a very familiar voice coming from behind a shelf in front of us. A voice that
sent my heart racing.

Holly … my Holly … 009 Holly.

“I just like to look at the required reading and see what might be interesting.”

“That’s a unique way to choose a course,” a male voice said.

I leaned against the counter for support and took a deep breath, trying to figure
out why Holly Flynn was in the NYU Bookstore at the same time as me.

She doesn’t know me. She isn’t my Holly. Not anymore.

I just had to hold it together and not run over and kiss her or something else completely
idiotic. I’d survived this in 2007. I could do it again now. I didn’t want to see
her—not now, after I’d endured three months of reprogramming. But it would be very
irresponsible to leave without at least seeing with my own eyes that she was all right.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” I said to Kendrick, who nodded, her nose stuffed in an
advanced biochemistry book.

I felt more nervous and sick at that moment than I had standing in front of the line
of EOTs in Heidelberg a few days earlier. I peered around the aisle where Holly stood
next to a sales guy. I thought my heart would stop beating completely. I hadn’t seen
her in months and nothing had faded. I wanted to run away, but at the same time, I
couldn’t. I spun around so my back was to her, concealing my face. A few seconds later,
someone bumped into me from behind and a pile of books tumbled off the shelf onto
the floor.

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry,” the sales guy said.

I bent over to help him pick up the books, and seconds later Holly’s feet were right
in front of me, and then we were reaching for the same book. I knew what would happen
next and I didn’t stop it.

I couldn’t.

Her eyes lifted to meet mine and she drew her hand back from the book and grabbed
another one. “This goes on the shelf right behind you.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out, and I was sure my staring had
to be a little on the creepy side. “Uh … yeah.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Kendrick approach us. A giant bag swung back and
forth in front of her legs. “Ready, Jackson?”

I stood up slowly and Holly did the same, dropping the book in my hands. I continued
to stare.

And so did she.

“Do I know you? You look … familiar,” she said.

A long moment of silence followed her question, and finally Kendrick waved a hand
in front of my face. “Hello? Jackson Meyer?”

I can do this. Stick to my cover. It’s simple
. I shoved my mind into agent mode and took on my role. “I don’t think so.”

Holly’s cheeks turned a little pink. “Oh … sorry. That’s so weird, because there’s
a Jackson Meyer in my Modern Lit class.”

There is? And she’s taking a summer class? I don’t remember her doing that before.
This was what I got for telling Dad not to give me too many details.

“It’s a fairly common name,” Kendrick said.

“Or I paid someone to take it for me and now my cover’s blown,” I answered with a
grin that I hoped was fairly convincing.

Holly laughed. “Well, you should get your money back because he looks nothing like
you.”

“Hopefully I still have the receipt.” My voice was the perfect casual tone, but I
was sure my face wasn’t equally calm.

Holly glanced toward the door, where a buff, jock-looking guy with dark curly hair
grinned when he spotted her. My heart beat twice as fast as he walked closer, then
stood behind her and kissed her on the cheek. I stuffed my hands in my pockets to
keep from clenching my fists.

Who is this guy? What the hell happened to David?

“I’ll be looking at the T-shirts, Hol,” he said before walking away again.

“Who’s that?” I blurted out. And yeah, I sounded exactly like a raging jealous boyfriend.

Holly looked confused for a second and then smiled. “You’ve probably seen him on TV,
right?”

“Brian Belmont,” Kendrick said with a little bit of a girlie squeal I had never heard
from her before. “Starting quarterback for UCLA. Broke the record yards thrown by
any UCLA player in history during his freshman year.”

Holly nodded, but put a finger to her lips. “He’s not up for football talk right now.”
She pointed to her shoulder. “Just had surgery and he’s out for an entire season.”

“I heard about that,” Kendrick said with a sympathetic nod. She must have misinterpreted
the shock on my face, because she nudged me in the shoulder. “I’m an obsessive college
football fan. No making fun of me.”

“Yeah, I guess I have seen him before,” I said, staring at Brian sifting through a
rack of NYU T-shirts. The original 009 Holly and I had run into him at a carnival
in Jersey. He was with David and they caught us making out on a bench right after
their big breakup. Brian went to her high school. But he was a year ahead of her,
like me.

Now she’s dating him? How the hell did that happen?

“I’m sure he won’t drop-kick you or anything if you really want to say hi,” Holly
said to Kendrick.

She nodded eagerly and started to follow Holly. I grabbed her arm and pulled her in
the other direction. “Sorry, we have to go.”