Crossing the Line

PHILOMEL BOOKS

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Copyright © 2016 by Meghan Rogers.

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eBook ISBN 978-0-698-40760-2

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Rogers, Meghan.

Crossing the line / Meghan Rogers.

pages cm.—(The Raven files ; 1)

Summary: Jocelyn Steely was kidnapped as a child and trained as a North Korean spy, but the tables turn when she becomes a double agent for the very American spy organization she has been sent to destroy.

[1. Spies—Fiction. 2. Kidnapping—Fiction. 3. Brainwashing—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.1.R66Cr 2016 [Fic]—dc23 2015007510

ISBN 978-0-399-17617-3

Edited by Jill Santopolo.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Jacket credit: Cover design by Lori Thorn

Cover photograph of girl © gettyimages/Yuri_Arcurs

Additional photographs courtesy of Shutterstock.com

To my parents, Marianne and Frank,

who never gave me any idea that this wouldn't happen.

To my sister, Katie, who entertains

every crazy thought that floats through my head.

And to my cousin Hunter, who is very much my brother—

this one absolutely would not have happened without you.

I
scanned the room I was about to break into from the inside of the ventilation shaft. The duct was large and opened through the side of a wall, giving me a clear view of a big concrete area—the perfect space for testing and developing cutting-edge military technology.

I drew a slow breath through my nose, giving myself one last moment to think about the alternative. This Japanese research facility was mere miles from a U.S. military base, which meant this was the closest I'd come to American soil since I was kidnapped by the North Koreans when I was eight. From the moment my KATO handler assigned me this mission, I had thoughts of using it to escape. But I knew I could never pull it off. After nine years of teaching and training, KATO thought they had me brainwashed to be their ideal spy. And while I had more independent thoughts than they could ever comprehend, they
did
control me in other ways. No matter how desperately I wanted to break free, I knew I could never get away with defying them.

I pushed the dangerous thoughts away and forced myself to focus. If I didn't come back with the files for Project Pegasus, KATO would go out of their way to remind me just how much they owned me.

The duct I was in opened up onto a ramp, which led to a platform
with a row of computers that overlooked the open testing area. Those computers had what I needed. I leaned back and put my feet up against the grate, preparing to kick it in. Before I could, a rope fell from the ceiling, dangling in front of me. A few seconds later, a tall, broad figure rappelled down.

I slid away from the grate, doing my best to hide in the shadows. I caught a glimpse of his face and knew exactly who it was.

His code name was Scorpion. He worked out of the U.S.-based International Defense Agency—the IDA. They were KATO's number one enemy, and Scorpion was mine. We had squared off several times in the past, trading punches and wounds and barely escaping. In almost every instance, I'd gotten what I'd come for and left him empty-handed. Still, he was a complication.

I quickly thought of ways to modify my plan. It didn't matter how many problems came up, KATO was still expecting a successful mission. It had been a while since I'd dealt with the consequences of disappointing them, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Scorpion did a quick sweep of the room, seeming to look for anything that might be out of place.

“Everything looks clear so far,” he said, using the communication system in his ear to report back to his headquarters. KATO didn't give their agents that kind of support.

Scorpion slowly stepped away from me and headed up the ramp. He plugged a drive into the computer and started typing.

“I'm not seeing any Project Pegasus,” he said into his comm. I swallowed. He was here for the same thing I was. “Oh no, now I've got it.” He kept typing, his fingers sliding effortlessly over the keyboard.

I glanced around the room. The only way Scorpion could get off
that platform was if he came back down the ramp. And if he did that, he'd have to pass by my air duct.

“I've got the files copied and the computer wiped.” He unplugged the drive from the computer. “I'm moving to the extraction point.”

I sat back, realigning my feet against the vent and leaning to pull my gun out of my holster. I waited until he had stepped just in front of me, then put all of my effort into kicking out the grate. It flew out of the wall, completely nailing Scorpion's upper body. He was so stunned that the force of the hit sent him flying, knocking the round metal rail loose from the top joint as he fell into the open testing area.

I popped effortlessly out of the vent, slid under the railing, and landed a few feet away from him. Scorpion had just gotten to his feet. He recovered quickly. He had his gun out of his holster and trained on me, just as mine was on him, before I could get any more of a jump on him. I glanced at the floor between us and saw the drive lying on the ground.

He caught my eye and smirked. “Go ahead, Viper.” He was taunting me. “Take it.”

I eyed him carefully as I edged closer to the drive, waiting for him to make a move.

I was two steps from the device—and four steps from him—when he finally struck. In one quick motion he reached for the loosened railing and swung it in my direction. It hit my arm and sent my gun flying across the room.

I launched myself at him, not giving Scorpion the chance to get a clean shot. I landed a punch to his jaw with one hand and used the other to knock his gun to the floor. It dropped close to the drive. He got in a hit to my stomach while I threw one to his throat, but neither
of us slowed down. I ducked a blow to the head and spun to ram my elbow into his chest. We fell into a fierce rhythm, taking turns between blocking and landing our hits. I did my best to back up as we fought, putting myself next to the drive and Scorpion's gun. I could see the drive at my feet, and I knew exactly how I was going to get it. I picked my moment, then faked a move to Scorpion's right. He took the bait, leaning in that direction and giving me the perfect shot at his left arm. I grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back as quickly as I could, not stopping until I heard it crack. He stumbled in pain and I used his momentum to push him forward. I had the drive in my pocket and his gun in my hand before he could even turn around.

We were both panting. Scorpion and I had always been evenly matched—it was the only reason we had both walked away from our previous battles. And in each of those instances, this was the moment I was afraid might happen. That one time, I would truly gain the upper hand. And now I had.

My gun was on him, and KATO's directive demanded that enemy agents be put down at every opportunity. He wouldn't be the first enemy agent I'd killed, and the fact that he had started backing away told me he knew that.

I didn't want to kill him, but I pulled the trigger anyway—I had to.

Although, when I did, I pivoted the gun to the right just enough to put the two bullets through his shoulder instead of his chest. It was a quick and subtle move. One that would no doubt be written off by the IDA as luck. But I knew the truth, and I was terrified KATO would too.

Scorpion cried out in pain as I jumped into the ventilation shaft.
I didn't look back. I had to move as if I thought I had killed him. My heart pounded with a furious fear as I worked my way to my extraction point. I had never disregarded a directive before, but other agents had, and KATO
always
found out.

Yet, in the back of my mind I couldn't shake the thought that maybe—just maybe—if I could get away with this, then I might have a shot at finding a way out.

One year later

I
walked as slowly as I could to the security house on the edge of the IDA's Wilmington, Delaware, headquarters, trying not to think about the number of ways this plan could end me.

A security officer stopped me before I could get within five feet of the house. He looked to be only a little older than I was, and his expression was all business. “Do you need help with something?” he asked.

I looped my thumbs through the straps of my backpack to hide the fact that my hands were shaking and took a steady step forward. “Yes,” I said. “You can tell the director that Jocelyn Steely is here to see him.”

His stance stiffened as his hand moved slowly to his hip, where I was sure he had a gun. “I'm not sure what you think—”

“I know exactly what happens here, and I'm asking you to tell Director Simmonds that I need to see him.” I was too anxious to be patient with this guy.

His eyes narrowed and his gun made its way to his hand. It wasn't trained on me yet, but I had no doubt it would be if I pushed him any further. He studied me, clearly weighing his options. It was a long
moment before he took a step backward. “Come with me,” he said.

I gripped the straps of the backpack tighter and pulled myself forward. He led me into the guardhouse, past a couple of his coworkers, and came to a stop at a door that required an access code. He typed quickly, then held the door open for me, told me to wait, and shut me inside. The room was set up like a standard interrogation room. Small and square with a table in the center and chairs on either side. I raked my nails across my scalp and started pacing. After about fifteen minutes, the door opened again. I pivoted to a stop and found myself face-to-face with the director of the International Defense Agency.

Director Simmonds's eyes had a tired harshness to them, but his tall build and confident demeanor made it easy to see why he was the person in charge. He stared at me evenly and I was afraid to move. “I heard you were asking for me.” His voice had a quiet power that made speaking to him even more intimidating than the idea of it had been in my mind.

“Yes.” I took a deep breath, knowing I had one chance to tell him everything. “KATO sent me here to act as a double agent for them.” His eyebrows arched in surprise. “I'm supposed to tell you that I'm the kidnapping victim you've been searching for, which I guess in a sense I am.” I waited for his reaction. There was none, so I continued. “They gave me a story about how I escaped from them that you're supposed to believe. Ideally, over time I'd be accepted enough to be integrated into the IDA. Then I'm supposed to pass any information I can back to them.”

Simmonds's gaze was unblinking and intense. It made me feel like he could see inside my mind. I shifted uneasily, feeling better that the table was in between us.

“Is this the tactic?” He sounded very unimpressed. “You show up and confess everything so I believe you're on our side?”

“I'm telling the truth.” I couldn't keep the desperate edge out of my voice. “I don't want to work for them. I
never
did. And I know my family has roots here.” I was targeted by KATO ten years ago because my parents were IDA spies. That fact was the one thing that helped me keep my brain intact.

“Then why did it take you this long to reach out?” Simmonds took a step closer. “You've had plenty of opportunities over the years.”

I took off the backpack and put it on the table. “Because of this.” I swallowed hard and pushed it closer to him, hesitating briefly before letting go.

He gave me a curious look, but opened the bag. He pulled out one of the four transparent plastic water bottles and studied the clear liquid inside.

“It looks like water, but it's not,” I said, crossing my arms. “It's a drug called Gerex. KATO engineered it.” I pulled my arms in even closer. “And I need it in a way you can't possibly understand.”

Simmonds looked up at me sharply. “You're addicted?”

I held his gaze. “Yes.” I hated the term, but it was true. If he dug deeper into the bag, he'd find a needle. “I can only get it from KATO. It's how they knew I would always come back. And how they think they can send me in here and trust I won't betray them. If you can help get me off it, I'll tell you everything I know about their operations. I can be
your
double agent.” A chill shot through me at the thought, but this had to happen. I would never be able to get away from KATO if I couldn't survive without the thing they used to control me.

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Simmonds said. “But for
argument's sake, if I were to believe you, what else would you want out of all of this?”

I bit my lip for a moment, thinking. I didn't want to look like I came in with an agenda, but lying right now wouldn't help my case. I answered him honestly. “I want a chance to damage KATO's recruitment program.” I wanted to keep them from doing to other kids what they had done to me. “I know a lot about their headquarters and operations, but they've got recruitment safe houses all over the world. I want to find them.”

“Well,” Simmonds said. “I think we both would have an interest in that.” He shifted the bottle in his hand, examining it for a few more seconds before looking back up at me. “There's some missing from here.”

I nodded. “KATO thinks the IDA's headquarters is in New Jersey, so that's where they dropped me. It took me a couple days to get here.”

He was quiet for a moment, considering me. “And why would they think we're in New Jersey?” he asked.

I relaxed slightly, relieved to move on from the Gerex. “Because that's what I told them.”

He stared at me again. “I'm going to have our medical team run some tests on this.” He picked the backpack up off the table. “If it has the effect you're saying it does, we might be able to work something out.”

I forced myself not to react or show any sign of excitement. He could be lying to me or, at the very least, buying himself time to work on a strategy. He moved toward the door, Gerex in hand. My heart rate spiked.

“Sir,” I said, panicking at the idea of being separated from the
drug. He looked back to me. “No matter what you may think about all of this, I
do
need that.” I gestured to the water bottle. “Once every twenty-four hours. If you're not going to help me—” I paused to make myself to calm down. I didn't want to beg. “Please don't make me go without it.”

Again he took his time to answer, his eyes scanning my face, looking for some kind of sign. Then he took another step toward the door. “I'll make the necessary arrangements,” he said. “You'll stay here for now. I'll be back when we've investigated all of this further.”

He closed the door behind him and I exhaled a tense breath that did nothing to take away my stress. I lowered myself down onto the floor in the corner of the room, pulling my knees to my chest and pressing my back against the wall, trying to convince myself I'd made the right call.

 • • • 

True to his word, Simmonds sent the IDA's resident physician, Dr. March, to give me a daily Gerex injection while they finished running tests on the drug. Dr. March was tall and sticklike, but warm and maternal even to me. I wasn't in good shape when she came to me the first day. It had been over twenty-four hours since I had injected, and there's a component to the Gerex that makes going without it physically painful. It felt like a fire was spreading through my veins, suffocating me from the inside out.

Dr. March had found me curled up in a ball in the corner of the room shaking with my crazy curly hair plastered to my sweaty forehead and tears running down my face. All from the pain of missing my injection. I was barely aware of it when she pulled me to her, holding me tight as she held out my arm and pushed the drug into me.
“It's okay,” she said as I continued to shake, waiting for it to kick in. “You're going to be okay.” She kept a hold on me until she was sure I was stable, and even then she seemed hesitant to let go. She didn't say much else, and she didn't stay too much longer than she needed to to do her job, yet somehow I felt safe with her. She had taken care of me in a way no one else had in a very long time. And even though I knew logically I shouldn't trust anyone at the IDA at this point, I couldn't help but feel better when she entered the room.

Which was why I was relieved when she came in with Director Simmonds three days after I had arrived. Dr. March took a seat on one side of the table and indicated I should do the same. Simmonds stood behind her. His expression seemed softer toward me, but still had an underlying suspicion.

“I've done all the tests I can think of on the Gerex you gave us,” Dr. March said. “Between that and what I've seen from you I can honestly say it's like nothing I've ever come across before.”

I sat up straighter. “Are you saying you can't get me off it?”

“No, I'm pretty sure I can, but I think it's going to be extremely difficult and painful for you.” She met my eyes briefly before continuing. “Usually, in a situation like this there are medications that help with detox and lessen withdrawal symptoms, but in this case—with a drug this strong and complex—I'm afraid to put anything new into your system.”

“You think I can be easily addicted to something else?” I asked.

“I honestly don't know,” she said. “But it's not a risk I'm willing to take. You'll probably have cravings for some time after your detox, but I'm looking into some alternative techniques to relieve those. In
the meantime, if you want this, we're going to have to do it cold.”

“I can take it,” I said, even though I wasn't sure I could. I was so close to being free I would have agreed to almost anything. “I need this out of me.”

No one spoke for a moment. Dr. March glanced up at Simmonds, who nodded. “We'll have you moved to the medical wing and get you started today.”

That was when the realization slapped me in the face. I had already had my last dose of Gerex. I balled my fists to keep myself under control, and reminded myself that this was what I wanted.

 • • • 

Simmonds led me to the medical wing through a series of underground tunnels. It made sense that he would want to keep my presence a secret until he knew more, one way or the other.

Dr. March showed me to a sterile white room, complete with a bed. She knew I had a few hours until I would feel any symptoms and left me to get settled.

But I couldn't settle. I paced the room anxiously, trying to push down the fear and prepare myself for what was coming. It had been years since KATO had truly denied me Gerex. I tried to convince myself that I could handle it, but it didn't work.

I felt the shaking start just before the pain did. Dr. March appeared shortly after the symptoms set in. She held me while I screamed until I eventually passed out from the pain and exhaustion of the struggle. I felt like my eyes had barely closed before the same excruciating burning sensation that had knocked me out jolted me back awake.

I lost all track of time, screaming and crying and fighting to
breathe. I wanted the Gerex
desperately
, and it took everything I had not to give in—not to tear the building apart looking for the bottles I had brought in with me.

After a while, the suffocating fire died inside me, and left me sore and aching. That was when the sweating and vomiting started. Nothing I ate stayed in my stomach. Even the water Dr. March forced into me was too much to keep down. The number of times I had fallen asleep sobbing was more than I could count. And even though I was sweating, I couldn't seem to stop shivering. Dr. March had brought in extra blankets to try and make me as comfortable as possible, but nothing she did helped.

Toward the end of all of it, I finally started to level out. I still craved the Gerex fiercely, but I didn't depend on it to exist like I used to. It probably helped that my body was beyond exhausted, and I found myself floating out of consciousness without meaning to.

Despite this, there were several occasions where I would wake up from a dead sleep in a cold shaking sweat, panting and
needing
the Gerex in my blood. Dr. March helped me fight through it a few times before trying an acupuncture technique she had researched. Each time she did it, my symptoms faded within minutes.

“I think,” Dr. March said to me one day about a month after I'd first arrived at the IDA, “you are officially clean.”

I bit my lip, afraid to believe what she was saying. “Are you sure?” I asked.

She put her hand on my shoulder and smiled. “I'm sure.” She sounded calm and confident and after everything I couldn't help but trust her completely. “Remember, these symptoms will probably stick with you for a while, but your appetite has improved, you're keeping
food down, and for the most part, you're sleeping through the night. At this point, I'm comfortable releasing you to Director Simmonds.”

Before Dr. March let me go, she scheduled a series of regular check-ups with me. She also made me promise I'd come to her for acupuncture whenever I needed it.

I agreed to everything easily. It had taken a month, but for the first time in seven years I could finally be considered sober.