Desert Dark (13 page)

Then maybe you should have recruited her
.

The man continued, “The logical conclusion is someone coached her.”

“Did they?”

“Not at all. Her mind is just suited to our line of work.”

“Great.”
He glanced at his watch.

“This actually works out well for us. Why don't you do your patriotic duty and help them out?”

The student looked around. “You still want her neutralized?”

“I have a new plan. I need you to get as close to her as you possibly can.”

“But what if she figures out Drew's code?”

“It doesn't matter. Your new mission is to convince everyone she's the double. When we're finished with her, no one will believe a word she says. Do you have plans to see her?”

“As a matter of fact, I expect to see her very soon.”

“Good,” his contact answered. “Because she's our new fall guy.”

Nadia had noticed on the survival course that while she'd barely managed to take one more step, her teammates hadn't seemed the least bit fatigued. If Jack hadn't had to carry her back, she might not have made it. She'd always considered herself reasonably athletic. Discovering she had no endurance bothered her. With a tutor now squared away, she gathered her courage and made an appointment at the dojo.

“Sensei, I'm having a hard time. I'm struggling in class, I'm exhausted, I feel—”

“What do you want?”

“I bombed the survival course. I was weak. I held back my team. Please help me.”

“Not to mention rendering yourself unconscious with a tranquilizer gun,” he added.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me.”

“If you recall, I suggested you not discharge your weapon,” he continued.

“Oh, it was quite by accident, I assure you.”

“There are no accidents!” His raised voice startled her. “Only a lack of discipline! And I have seen nothing from you to indicate you are worthy of my individual instruction.”

Nadia's cheeks burned. A hot rush of tears threatened to fall.
“Hashimoto Sensei.” Nadia bowed deeply at the waist. She continued in a shaky whisper, hoping she'd memorized the correct word, “
Kudasai
.”

She remained in the bow for what felt like five minutes. Her lower back began to ache. Unfamiliar with Japanese etiquette, she now feared she'd overcommitted. But she couldn't possibly stand after this long without being dismissed. She watched his feet for movement, almost hoping he'd turn and walk away just to relieve her from this uncomfortable position.

“Get up and stop this nonsense,” Sensei instructed. She straightened. “Who taught you
kudasai
?”

“I looked it up. It means
please
, right?”

He stared at her for a long time. “I will help you. If you do exactly as I say.”

“Yes—thank you! Absolutely.”

“I will give you one month; no more. If you fail to reach your peers by then, your position here will likely be reevaluated. We will meet here every morning, one hour before sunrise.”

“No problem. What time does the sun come up?” she asked.

He sighed and cast his eyes toward her feet. “Do not make me regret my decision.”

She shook her head. “I'll figure it out. Will I still be required to train with my classmates?” Nadia didn't do the math, but that sounded like a lot of time in the dojo.

“Required or permitted?” he answered.

“Thank you,” she said, a false smile pulling on her lips.

Seven days a week, Nadia met Sensei in his dojo. He had a long bamboo stick that cracked like a whip when he hit something. Usually, that something was her.

The first day she walked in and
crack!
across her thigh. The split end of the stick stung like a giant rubber band snapping against her body. “What was that for?” she asked, rubbing her leg.

“Bow when you enter a room of learning.”

“Couldn't you just tell me that?”

“Now you will never forget. Do not ask questions. I will tell you when you need to know something. Follow me to the mat. Stand with your legs three feet apart. Good. Now bend deeply at the knees, toes forward, back straight. This is Horse Stance. Make a fist and bend your elbows, your left hand across your abdomen. This is low guard. Place your right fist facing out across your forehead. This is high block. One hundred blocks with each arm, go!”

“One, two, three—”

Crack!
“Count in Japanese!”

“But I don't speak Japanese!”

“Then you will be in this position for a long time.”

Nadia spent that afternoon in the language lab. By the next morning she could count to a hundred in Japanese. Once she learned one through ten, it was easy.

Sensei taught her defensive moves first—escapes and blocks. He hit her hundreds of times before the instinct to deflect a blow became muscle memory. Then they moved on to strikes. She learned to kick and punch, use pressure points and joint locks. He taught her choke holds by knocking her unconscious. She came to with a dull headache.

“Really?” she asked him, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I warned you several times to tap out, but you refused. You are too stubborn. When blood stops flowing to your brain, you have seven seconds until you lose consciousness. If not quickly revived, death shortly follows.”

Every day they ended in his meditation room, where she learned Zazen breathing. “This will teach you discipline,” he instructed, adjusting her posture on the tiny meditation bench. “Once you learn to breathe, you will not tire as easily. Inhale through your nose as you count to four. Exhale slowly through your mouth as though blowing through a straw while you count to eight. Eventually, one breath will last sixty seconds.”

Each day brought more pain. When she stood her legs throbbed, when she sat, knives stabbed into her back. Lying down brought little relief, and her neck ached from hundreds of
head raises. She limped around campus, her movements stiff and awkward.

Worse than the physical pain, her crush on Jack continued. Granted, between the extra workouts and Alan demanding they spend every spare moment studying together, she didn't have that much time to think about Jack. She certainly didn't want to like him. But every time she spotted him her heart raced. Occasionally he'd stop and say hello, ask about training. She was still too embarrassed to thank him for carrying her out of the desert. As a result, she made a point to keep their conversations brief.

A few weeks into her extra training, after a particularly long night studying with Alan (during which he mentioned that her naïve grasp of computer linguistics was holding up the entire class), Nadia arrived at the dojo twelve minutes late.

Exhausted, she rushed onto the mats, bowing to Sensei. “I'm so sorry I'm late.”

“I do not train tardy students. Leave my dojo.”

“But I—”

“Now!”

Nadia's eyes filled with tears.
I tried. I really did
. Her lower lip began to shake.

She shouldn't have come—she'd never be good enough for the CIA. She would go home, resume her hideous life. Maybe the public shame of losing Matthew to her best friend would've subsided. Maybe no one would remember how she'd been kicked out of Hannah's party.

I remember
. Nadia burst into tears.

“Are you crying?” Sensei demanded.

She nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“Stop that!” He took a step back.

Nadia tried to stop. “I don't even know why I'm here. I'm wasting everyone's time.”

“It is one day. You will not be late again.”

“I was the last choice!” She struggled to stifle her tears.

“What?”

“I was only invited because someone died. But the recruiter said I answered all the test questions correctly. Why was I the last choice?”

“I do not answer questions.”

She looked at the ground. Her face felt hot and she started crying again.

Sensei sighed. After a moment he relented. “Many factors contribute to recruitment.”

She sniffed. “Like what?”

“In addition to standardized tests and grade point averages, there are personal issues to consider.”

“Like?”

“We are wasting time.”

Nadia was silent.

“You are behaving like a child,” Sensei said. “Why must you know?”

“I'm completely incompetent. My invitation was a huge mistake. I don't belong here. I know it and you know it—probably better than anyone.”

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “The Academy prefers two working parents. Less time is spent monitoring the child. Children of divorce are desirable. They are eager to please and more willing to take risks. We like students with siblings, or at the very least, to have come from boarding school. It is less strain on the family when a child goes away. If I remember correctly, and I always do, you do not meet any of those criteria, which would explain your delayed invitation.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. Does this satisfy your curiosity?”

Nadia nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly, wiping her eyes.

“My morning is already ruined. We might as well have a lesson. Go and wash your face.”

Later that afternoon, before the puffiness had disappeared from her eyes, Nadia found herself face-to-face with Jack. She was
entering the language lab at the library when he called out in a loud whisper.

She turned toward him. His long strides quickly closed the space between them.

“Hey,” she said, studying the carpet.

“Hey, yourself. How's it going?”

“Good, thanks.” She nodded, smiling. Feeling like an idiot.

He lifted her chin. His brow furrowed. “Are you okay? Your eyes look a little red.”

Even his eyebrows are perfect
. “Yeah, I'm fine. I think it's allergies.”

“Really?” He seemed skeptical. “Most people get them in the spring.”

“Listen, I've been meaning to say something: I know it's long overdue, but thank you for carrying me out of the desert. I'm really sorry about the whole shooting-myself-in-the-foot thing. And I'm embarrassed it's taken me this long to say it. As you might imagine, I was not eager to rehash.”

He laughed. “It's okay. I'm sorry for
you
. I imagine your friends will be merciless about that for some time.” They stood in front of the language lab, his hand on the doorknob, her clutching an armful of books. The silence stretched a little too long. “I guess I should let you go in.”

“I guess I'd better.”

He didn't move. “So speaking of things long overdue, let's go out this weekend. How's dinner and a movie?”

Did he just ask me out?
Nadia skillfully suppressed her grin. “This weekend?” She pretended to consider. “I think I'm available.”
Seriously, Nadia? Are you an idiot? Don't you ever learn?

“Great. Saturday night, eighteen-hundred? I'll meet you in front of Hopi Hall.” Jack smiled and pulled open the door.

Shut up, it's one date. What's the worst that could happen?

The last Thursday morning in September, Jack rushed to the Dean's office to give his first official report. So far, no definitive evidence indicated that Nadia was anyone other than whom she claimed to be.

Jack knocked on the Dean's open door. He hadn't stopped smiling since Nadia agreed to a date, which concerned him a little.

“What have you learned?” Dean Wolfe asked, waving toward his wingback chairs.

“She trains excessively at the dojo. Every morning like clockwork, an hour before sunrise—and that's in addition to the regular junior-class regimen.” Jack couldn't help but admire her dedication. She worked harder than anyone he knew. He tried to keep the respect out of his voice;
report the facts, not the feelings
. “If she is the double, I'm betting Sensei is her handler. They spend an exorbitant amount of time together. And if so, he's very good.”

“What do you mean?”

“She's actually working out. She now runs at the head of the pack. If he's going over casework, he's making her exercise at the same time.”

“What else?” Dean Wolfe asked.

“Well, she's very bright. She requested Alan Cohen as a tutor,
so she's up-to-speed in all her classes. Also, if she is guilty, she's certainly a gifted actress. I mean, she shot herself in the foot with a tranquilizer gun on the first survival course. She's either brilliant or innocent. I've kept some distance; I don't want to scare her off. Sometimes I think she knows I'm checking up on her.”

“How so?”

“I catch her staring at me a lot.”

“Hmm. Anything else?”

“Early on I shared some information meant only for team leaders. I know it's against policy, but I thought it would be a good way to win her trust. Nothing critical, of course.”

“Smart.”

He paused. “I got the sense she knew why I was sharing.”

“Really? What gave you that impression?”

Because she came out and said it
. “Just a feeling. What does her father do?”

“He's a professor. Criminology, I believe.”

Jack nodded.
So she was telling the truth
. “I'm taking her out this weekend. Dinner and a movie.” He forced a neutral expression.
Why does that make me so happy? Am I excited about impressing Dean Wolfe? Doing undercover work? Or is this about getting closer to Nadia?

Wolfe raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Excellent; the closer, the better. I'll make a car and expense account available. Have you given any thought to the Fall Formal?”

“I intend to invite her. It's at a hotel downtown, so I figure if she's meeting someone from another agency, the dance provides a perfect opportunity. If I escort her I can keep a closer eye. But I can't ask her yet. No one likes a sure thing.”