Double Digit (9 page)

John got up and shook his hand, explaining what had happened. Danny immediately tuned in to the bandage on my neck and came to take John’s seat on the couch, strangely careful not to bend the grass on the back of his skirt. “Did you get a good look at the guy?”

I shook my head. I’d seen his big hairy forearm and remembered that it tasted salty when I bit it. I’d heard his voice, but a voice isn’t necessarily easy to describe, especially if your brain isn’t in its normal state. “All I know is that he was ordered to keep me alive and wanted to take me to work on some sort of project with them.”

“My dad was worried about this.” John started pacing the length of the room. “At first he was sure that the CIA was going to try to convince you to quit school and come work for them. He knew you wouldn’t, but they can be pretty persuasive.”

“Uh, yeah. I think I’ve been held at gunpoint and knifepoint enough times in the past year to know I don’t want to make a career of it.”

“He also said that when he started to understand your gift, he was worried about what it would mean if you were somehow under the control of the wrong people.”

“What? Like someone would use my crazy mind as a weapon?”

“Yeah. And I think that’s exactly what this was about tonight. If they’d wanted to punish you, he would have just slit your throat and taken off.”

I shuddered. He was right. “So what now?”

“I take you in. When you’re ready, I’m going to take you to the Boston Bureau.”

Well, thanks, it’s been nice catching up.

“I’m going to stay. Don’t look at me like that. You have no clue what this has been like for me . . .”

John stopped talking when the door swung open.
Who the hell was this?

From a million miles away, I heard Danny whistle. “Helloooo, Barbie.”

A
YOUNG WOMAN, MAYBE TWENTY-FOUR, STOOD IN
the doorway. I would have guessed that she was FBI if she didn’t look so
CSI.
And by that I mean those ridiculously attractive actresses on the show with their suits tailored to highlight their long legs as they walk. Tiny steps, only tiny steps. She was tall, a personal pet peeve of mine, and naturally blond. (Don’t get me started on natural blondes. You know they don’t even have to shave, right?) And, okay, I’ve met tall blondes before but none that walked over to hug John and then stood with her hand cupping his elbow. For the second time tonight, alarm bells were ringing in my head. My survival instincts had kicked in bigtime.

John saw me eyeing her. “Oh, I’m sorry. Farrah, this is Spencer Frost.”
What?!

“Spencer? Your buddy from the Terror Task Force? And the gym?” I was trying to stay calm, but my voice was shaking a little.
And, P.S
.,
Farrah?
He hadn’t called me that since the day he’d heard the nickname Digit. Except for the day at the FBI when he left me.
Oh, God, would someone please take the kick-me sign off my back?

“Hi, Farrah! Such a cute name! I’m so glad to finally meet you! I’ve spent so much time with John over the past few months, I’ve heard all about his old girlfriend!”

“Nice to meet you.” I extended a hand that was attached to a snot-stained sleeve.

John wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Spencer, what are you doing here?”

She was touching the sleeve of his suit with her perfectly manicured hand. Where were her cuticles? Do natural blondes not have cuticles? “I need to talk to you in private.”
Uh, who doesn’t?

John looked left and right, as if to point out that we were in a small enclosed space with no screened-off private area. “What?” He was definitely agitated. “Why are you here?”

She led him a few feet away from us, not once taking that hand off his arm. “I was in the Boston Bureau and Bergen called me. He says you’re on some unauthorized personal assignment and thinks it’s best to have a third party involved in the situation. I’ll take her from here.”
Take your hand off his arm or the situation is going to get ugly.

“Why were you even in Boston?”

“Training. Starts Monday.”

What more could a girl ask for? I had an ex-boyfriend who’d been spending all of his time with Malibu Barbie, a brother who was dressed in drag, a slice across my neck, and a one-way ticket into witness protection.

“We can both take her into the Boston Bureau.” John wasn’t going to give up control of this situation, thank God.

Danny pulled John into a space of false privacy and whispered, “Listen, man, I get the space thing. But don’t mess with her, okay. Just get her out of this and then leave her alone. Cool?”
Hello, I’m sitting right here.

“If she doesn’t want to discuss what happened with me, I’m not going to discuss it with you. But no one’s going to hurt her.”

Barbie herself was on the phone again, jabbering about my well-being. She was assuring the people at the FBI that I was okay and that she’d bring me straight to the Boston Bureau to try to identify the offending forearm in a photo.

Spencer got off the phone and pulled out a voice that should be reserved for talking to puppies. “So, tell me everything. How do you like being a big freshman?”

“Fine. We’re mostly the same size as the seniors.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that. It’s just that college seems like forever ago to me. But it must be great for you here. I know it’s hard for girls like you to connect with people in high school.” Her phone rang and maybe saved her life.

As she paced around, John and I both watched her walk. I was trying to activate the dormant lasers that lived behind my eyes, in case I had any. I’m not sure what John’s excuse was.

“I’m calling my dad.” John got up and resumed his pacing as soon as Mr. Bennett answered. “Dad, I need help. They came after Digit—she barely got away. No. Not the National Security Agency. Jonas Furnis. Wait. Why?” His head came up slowly and his eyes met mine. “She’s a college student, a kid. Sorry, not a kid, but come on. She’s never . . . Fine. Hang on.” John put the phone to his chest. “Digit, can you give me any reason in the world why the NSA may want you for questioning about espionage?”

Oh shit.
“I can explain.”

“Oh.” He just shook his head and resumed his call. “Okay, I believe you. What do you want me to do? Okay. Okay. Just stall them and see what you can do. If the FBI wants to protect her and the NSA wants to question her, someone’s going to have to make some decisions.”

As John got off the phone, I prepared myself. It was a pretty simple explanation. I’d just start at the beginning, with the Facebook thing. From where I was sitting, this whole thing was Howard’s fault. John had a different approach. “You hacked into the Department of Defense?!”

“Well, in a sense, yes.”

It turns out that John can raise his voice. I’d only heard it once before, the time when we were hiding and he found out I’d brought my easily trackable phone with me. “I gave you your freedom so that you could save the world or whatever the hell it is you’re supposed to be doing. And you go and hack into the DOD?”

“You gave me my freedom? Correction—you dumped me. You can’t give someone freedom. This is America, John. I had my freedom already. Who do you think you are?” Weird, I guess I can raise my voice too. “So, yes, dumped but with the freedom that I already had, I hacked into the DOD.”

“Now, Digit? Now you want to talk about this? After six weeks of no talking at all?” John seemed to become aware that we were shouting and airing our dirty laundry in front of everybody. He took a deep breath. “Okay. How ’bout you tell me why?”

“Fine. It wasn’t to steal information. I mean, it was my information to have; they said I could have it. I had full authorization. I just needed it sooner, so I went in and took it.” No one nodded in agreement or showed any signs of softening. I needed someone on my side. “Look. Danny. It’s like when you’re hungry for dinner and Mom’s already made the tater tots. They’re just sitting on the counter, but she’s on the phone and hasn’t served them yet. Your tater tots are just sitting there, see? And you’re hungry. Those are your tater tots, so you just take them. I was going to miss a toga party, so I just went in a bit early and took what I needed. Like the tater tots.”

“A toga party? Are you just making stuff up now?” John threw his hands up in the air.

Danny let out a slow whistle. “The NSA must really love those tater tots.”

A
S I EXPLAINED MYSELF IN THESE
simple and irrefutable terms, John’s face got whiter and whiter. He asked Officer O’Connell to please excuse us for a moment. As soon as he was gone, the pacing began. “Are you kidding me? You hacked into the DOD. You could be sitting in prison right now. I’m surprised you even got this far without them throwing you in jail. It’s taken them two days to figure this out. They have got to be pissed. Oh my God.” John’s reaction was starting to clue me in to the fact that this may have been a bigger deal than I thought.

Spencer was calm, which made sense because she had nothing to lose from my being locked up forever. She could just give a little “tsk, tsk,” escort me to the slammer, and continue to tantalize my ex-boyfriend with her fair and lanky ways.

“It’s not like I stole state secrets. I just got the information I was going to get at eleven p.m. but earlier. It was a timing difference. Like tater tots.”

“You’re going to have to drop the tater tot defense. Those laws don’t apply in this state,” Danny said. He was shredding the grass on his skirt to improve its thickness.

John ignored him. “You hacked into the Department of Defense?” Seemed like we were in a game of Ping-Pong here.

“To get information I was going to get anyway. Yes.”

“My dad is trying to protect you, putting his reputation on the line. He has some sort of unnatural faith in you.” John stopped pacing. “He’s trying to run interference, but I don’t see how he’s going to defend this.”

I thought about Mr. Bennett and how he’d always been on my side. I’d missed seeing him and talking to him since the big breakup, and I had actually been a little surprised that he hadn’t contacted me. My relationship with John had always seemed sort of secondary to him. He treated me like a peer, with an unwavering admiration for my abilities. He seemed to think that their applications were far beyond even what my dad hoped for, which made me feel good and nervous at the same time. Even though things with John were up in the air, I knew Mr. Bennett would always have my back.

John sat down next to me, but a million miles away. I racked my brain for something to say until finally Barbie’s phone rang and broke the silence.

“Spencer Frost. Oh, hi. Yes, I’m here with them. Yes, of course she’s here. What? The director? Of the CIA? When did he get involved? Sure, I’ll hold. Hello, sir. Yes, I heard.” Listening. “Oh, my. Well, yes, sir. Will do.” Spencer hung up the phone and plopped into the metal chair behind the officer’s desk. This choice of seating, combined with how useless the rest of us were being, made her seem completely in charge.

She addressed John. “It seems he wants her brought directly to Langley.”

“Why is the CIA even involved in questioning someone accused of hacking? I thought the NSA was dealing with this. There’s no international component to this.” He turned to me. “Or do you have a European accomplice you’re just waiting for the right time to tell us about?”

I confess I made a face at him that I would normally reserve for Danny. “Very funny. No.”

Spencer again controlled the conversation. “Well, first of all, because the NSA no longer wants her for questioning. She is now under arrest for felony espionage. That was the director of the CIA himself on the phone. He has made himself personally involved and is moving the investigation to the CIA. He seems very angry and used a few choice words that I won’t repeat. He doesn’t want her talking to anyone. He says to bring her in and that they’ll deal with her at the Farm.”

John was intrigued. “Is that exactly what he said? About the Farm?”

“Well, I took out the expletives, but, yes, he said the Farm; he wants her at Langley ASAP.”

John just stared at Spencer. When he was done, he stared at the floor. Back to Spencer, then a little floor time . . . not once did he look at me.

“Is there still time for John’s dad to help me? How did this move from questioning me to arresting me so fast? Why is he so mad, anyway?”

John said to no one, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Listen, my dad can fix this. Especially if it’s being handled by the CIA now. He knows the director and can explain to him about how harmless, if misguided and stubborn, Digit is. He just has to do it before this gets any media attention. Let me call him back.” John tried his dad’s cell. There was no answer, so he tried his mom. He apologized for calling so late, made a few seconds of small talk, and asked to speak to his dad. “He’s away on assignment? Where? I wish you knew too.” John immediately called his dad’s office at the CIA, where his assistant picked up at three a.m. “Yeah, hey, sorry you’re there so late. Do you know where my dad is? Vacation? With my mom?”

John hung up the phone and ran his hands through his hair a few times, studying the floor again. “He can’t help us. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing.”

Spencer decided to take over. “I am going to help you.” She straightened her back and placed all ten of her perfect fingers on the table. “Listen, John. Digit. Can I call you Digit?”
No.
I nodded. “It sounds like we need to buy ourselves a little time until Henry can work his magic.”
Henry? How is he Henry to you and Mr. Bennett to me?
“What you did was absolutely illegal, but innocently intentioned. We need to wait and see if Henry can get you out of this before the CIA gets their hands on you. I’ll phone in and say we are leaving for Langley now. But we’ll take the scenic route.”

Mix your emotions much?
In one breath Spencer calls my Mr. Bennett by his first name and tells me that she is going to defy the orders of the FBI and the CIA to help me evade arrest. I had the strangest urge to hug her. With something sharp.