He nodded, saying, “If you need help on that sort of thing, you need to bring it up. There’s no reason to miss a meal because of homework.”
She came close to saying, Can I miss a meal to sleep in? But didn’t.
She nodded and went back to her room. She wanted to close the door, but knew that would look suspicious, or would make him come knock. She left it open, sitting on her bed, breathing shallowly with an open mouth to allow her to hear the house.
There was a creak of stairs, and then a door closing down below. She was alone. She darted over to Flower’s desk, turned on a lamp, and snatched a paper clip, bending it into a large U shape. She glanced at the door, then bent another one into a straight pick. She shoved both of them into the lock face, torqueing the U-shaped one to apply tension to the lockset, then using the other to pop the pins.
She knew the lock itself was juvenile, and had cracked many, many like it in the past when she’d had to steal for survival, but now she wondered what she was doing. Betraying a roommate who’d only been kind to her? For what?
But she trusted Pike and Jennifer more than anyone left on earth. If Pike said it was needed—if it was to find someone who’d tried to harm Pike—she’d do it.
She worked the paper clips, glancing down the hall, and felt the lock spring free. She reached inside, sliding her hand back and forth, finding the phone. She pulled it out, an old iPhone 6, and pressed the home button. As she feared, it was locked.
She flicked her hand on the screen, pulling down notifications, and saw two missed calls from the same number. She had no idea who it was, but it was all she could get. If Pike wanted more, it would be a little bit longer to figure out.
She heard a creak from the stairs and shoved the phone deep inside, then closed the drawer, hearing it lock automatically. She turned off the lamp and sprang back, scrambling to her bed. The house manager appeared in the doorway, saying, “Why are you here in the dark?”
She said, “I . . . I was trying to think about my essay.”
He smiled and said, “Or trying to go back to sleep? Amena, I know it’s hard being at a new school, and trying to make friends, but hiding isn’t the way to solve the problem. I promise.”
She sat up, playing an act she’d learned deep in the heart of her worst years, before she’d met Pike, when she’d been caught red-handed doing something wrong. She sniffled, then said, “You may be right. I’m sorry. I’ll try. I really will.”
He flicked the lights on and said, “That’s what I want to hear. It’s never as bad as you think.”
He studied her for a minute, then left the room.
She thought, It’s always as bad as you think.
She pulled her phone out of her skirt and texted Pike, saying, This had better not be for nothing. Flower is a good person.
She heard footsteps on the stairs and stopped, hiding the phone. Flower returned, giving her a banana and saying, “Did you finish the essay?”
Feeling like a traitor, Amena said, “I did. Thank you for this.”
Flower said, “That’s what friends are for. My father has always told me that family is what matters.”
She left the room and Amena texted Pike the number.
Because family is what matters.
Chapter 53
Jake Shu exited the rail station in Cairns almost giddy from lack of sleep. None of the trains offered sleeping cars, and he’d been operating under a crushing amount of anxiety. After meeting the man in Brisbane he was convinced he was being watched 24/7. Every person who passed him caused paranoid thoughts. So much so that he’d made a little bit of an ass of himself on the train ride up, snapping at a man who’d simply asked if he could sit next to him.
The rest of the train passengers had looked at him like he was a lunatic, and he’d backed down, apologizing, but the incident had done nothing to throttle the sweat flowing out of his body.
He took his small carry-on off the train and walked across a street to a mall, entering a food court. He saw a McDonald’s and immediately gravitated toward it, buying lunch and taking a seat, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
He stroked the top of his thigh where he’d strapped the hard drive containing the information he’d stolen. Terabytes of data that could be manipulated to give all sorts of mischief.
He had begun to believe the money wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth this.
He devoured his hamburger, then pulled out his phone and googled the place where he was supposed to stay. Apparently one that didn’t register passports and took cash. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be as nice as his hotel in Brisbane.
He memorized the blue line on Google Maps and exited the mall, walking through the suburban sprawl on the outskirts of Cairns, dragging his carry-on behind him.
Ten minutes later, the sun beating down on him, he found himself sweating outside a less than spectacular backpacker hostel called Asylum. Unlike the ones in the heart of downtown Cairns, competing for the college crowd with beer nights and swimming pools, this one catered to transient workers. People who were here only for a short spell and needed cheap lodging.
He walked inside, finding a lobby with chipped furniture and a reception counter made of plywood. He checked in, the woman saying, “Oh, you have a private room. We don’t get too many of those.”
He smiled, saying, “I’m a big spender.”
The woman laughed, and he paid cash, twenty-eight dollars a day, the woman not asking for any identification. Two minutes later he was in a closet-sized space with a single bed, next to it a metal locker and a floor lamp. No sink, no bathroom, no nothing.
He threw his bag on the floor, unbuckled his pants, and ripped off the tape holding the hard drive on his thigh. He held it in his hands, staring at it. The bane of his existence. He set it on the table and texted his contact, saying, I’m here. And this place sucks. You need to get here soon, or I’m leaving.
Surprising him, his phone showed bubbles, a response coming immediately. He waited, and then read, Stay where you are. Do not leave until told to do so. I will be there soon.
Piqued, he sent back, I’m not staying in this shithole for days. Tell me where to go. I’m done with this.
He watched the bubbles on his phone, and when they appeared, he wished he’d never told these people he’d arrived:
You leave that place and it will be the last thing you do.
He didn’t respond. He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands, wondering how his two-week vacation had come to this.
Paul rolled out of bed and immediately checked his COVCOM—covert communication—connection with Charlie Chan, a hidden application in his laptop that was encrypted end-to-end and impossible to find even if the computer was forensically autopsied.
There was nothing, disappointing him. He wanted to know what the NSB had gleaned about the Air Force officer. Wanted to stop the evil he believed that man was doing.
He sat back down on his bed and wondered what that meant. Surely with the information he’d sent it wouldn’t be that hard to identify the man. How many Air Force colonels had access to the Foreign Affairs building?
Since sending the message, he’d discarded any notion that he might be mistaken about the colonel. The flyers he’d taken off of the man he’d killed in Jiufen—the same ones the colonel had passed around the table—told him that.