“What was that for?” she asked when he pulled away too quickly.
“I thought you didn’t want to be seen.”
“And I thought you said I was perfectly safe here?”
Grinning foolishly, he led her down the hall lined with candid photos of agents protecting various presidents. “You caught me. You are safe here. I just wanted to kiss you.”
She had the sense she wasn’t the only one punchy over what they would find on the micro card. He stopped in front of a set of sliding glass doors. A sign beside them read, Cyber Security Lab. Dr. Bennett Segar, Director.
“Doctor? You have your PhD?”
“Mmm,” he mumbled as he punched a code into a keypad.
“No retina scans?” she quipped. “I have to say I’m disappointed.”
The doors slid open admitting them into a low-lit corridor with a series of cubicles housing everything from laboratory equipment to sophisticated printers. At the end of the hall, he punched a code into another keypad and the glass door in front of them unlocked. He gestured for her to precede him into his office. And suddenly she understood why Ben’s bedrooms looked so pristine. He confined the mess to his office. Multicolored Post-it Notes were scattered about the desk, the multiple computer monitors, and just about every available surface. Two white boards were decorated with lines, symbols, and numbers that made absolutely no sense to Quinn. Although, upon further examination, the chaos surrounding her looked to be organized. Evidence of a brilliant mind at work. A stab of pride shot through her. How could she have ever thought him just some boring computer analyst? How had she not seen he was clearly at the top of his field?
“So, this is where the magic happens.”
“Sort of.” He moved a pile of periodicals off the sofa so she could sit down.
“I can see why you like the lighthouse. This place can be confining compared to the vastness of the views the torch room provides you. You always did think better near the water.”
He brushed a kiss over her lips. “Nobody else gets that. Nobody but you.”
“You’ll be able to find it in this mess?” she teased.
“Very funny.”
Pulling open the top drawer of his desk, he rummaged around until he lifted out the tiny micro card. He studied it carefully before gingerly handing it to her.
“Crazy how something so small can bring on such chaos,” he said.
She let out a long sigh of relief as she cradled it in her palm. Suddenly, she was desperate to see whether or not the file was real. Reaching around him, she tried to plug the thin card into the drive on his desktop.
“Hey!” He grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”
“I need to see the file.”
“Yeah, but not before I make sure it isn’t booby-trapped.” He took it from her fingers and walked over to a file cabinet on the other side of the office.
Once there, he pulled a laptop out of one of the drawers. Sitting beside her on the sofa he powered up the machine.
“Do you know anything about computers?”
She chalked up his condescending comment to the tension in the room. “I know how to boot one up.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “That’s not the same as knowing how one works. This thing could contain a virus that would shut down the whole agency if we uploaded it onto my desktop computer. They’re all connected by a network,” he explained. “But if we use this one and anything goes wrong, all I have to do is replace the hard drive.”
“I use a computer every day to edit my images,” she added, feeling like she had to defend herself. “But I’m not as familiar with the inner workings of one, no. I never would have considered the virus angle. I leave that to the geniuses like you.”
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m just—”
“Edgy,” she finished for him. “So am I.” Placing her hand on his thigh, she moved in closer once the computer screen blinked on.
“Here goes nothing,” he said before slipping the card into a drive no larger than a sliver on the side of the keyboard.
Quinn held her breath, half expecting the laptop to spew smoke any minute. A line of numbers scrolled across the screen before it went black.
“No,” she cried.
“Hold on,” he reassured her while he punched a few keys on the keyboard.
The screen came to life again with a Phoenix rising from the ashes. When the image disappeared, a single file name remained. Phoenix Operatives. He glanced over at her, his finger hovering over the enter key.
“You ready?”
All she could do was nod, but her fingers gripped his thigh with a bit more force. He pressed the key and the short list of names appeared on the screen. They weren’t in any particular order and it took her a moment to find her mother’s name. She gasped when she saw it.
His hand quickly found hers. “Shit,” he said.
Reading the list again, her eyes darted to a name at the bottom. One she never expected to see. The room began to spin.
“Ben!” she cried.
His grip on her hand squeezed tighter. “Yeah, I see it. We need to get out of here.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Let me see if I can get this straight.”
Ben tried not to wince at President Manning’s sharp tone. The president and his chief of staff were both pacing the West Sitting Room of the residence. Secretary Lyle was serving tea to Quinn as if she was the Queen of England. Dorothy and Josslyn played the roles of ladies in waiting, hovering behind the sofa where the other two women sat.
As for Quinn, she remained remarkably stoic. Withdrawn even. Seeing her own name on the list had clearly shocked her. He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her that neither Ronoff nor anyone else was ever going to hurt her.
Not on his watch.
But duty dictated he report to Secretary Lyle first. Dorothy’s cryptic message about tea had been clear as glass to Ben. They were to proceed to the White House as soon as they had the card. Whoever the traitor was, he or she potentially had access to extremely classified information. The list could be just the tip of the iceberg. Finding the asshole was priority one.
“Someone we’ve yet to identify is impersonating our operatives and selling highly sensitive information to the son of a Russian crime lord who, coincidently, stole a very valuable artificial intelligence program developed and owned by the US government.” The president directed a pointed look at Ben. “And this young lady is an agent with British Intelligence who the same son of a Russian crime lord attempted to kill two nights ago. Can someone tell me why the British ambassador isn’t in on this discussion?”
“Because until we know who the black hat is, we believe it is in Agent Darby’s best interest for everyone to assume she did in fact die at the hands of Alexi Ronoff,” the secretary explained.
“Have you been able to verify with the CIA director if the names on that list actually were operatives working for the Phoenix?” the chief of staff asked.
Secretary Lyle shook her head. “He reiterated that only the Phoenix knew the names on the list, so verification via the agency would be impossible.” She patted Quinn’s hand. “Whoever composed this list did have a good working knowledge of the Phoenix Project, however. Agent Darby wasn’t technically in the employ of MI6 at the time despite providing valuable assistance with the project. Only an insider would know that fact.”