Conceal, Protect - By Carol Ericson Page 0,41
with a poker. “He probably knows I removed the cameras from your house, but it doesn’t take a covert-ops agent to find a few hidden cameras.”
“If he has his guys following me, then he has to figure your agency is doing the same thing.”
“But he may believe we’re doing so at a distance. He knows our agency keeps a low profile.”
She tilted her head. “What is Prospero, anyway? Something I would’ve heard of on the news? Something like the CIA?”
“We’re deeper cover than the CIA. You won’t hear about us on the evening news or read about our exploits on a website.”
Sitting back against the love seat, she curled her legs beneath her and dropped the tea bag onto the saucer he’d placed on the table next to her. “If you can find these plans, what will you do with them? What are they for?”
“I’d rather not tell you.”
“You already made that clear, but if you want my help finding those plans, you need to give me something to work with. How will I know what I was supposed to see?” She took another sip of tea, watching him over the rim.
She was good. And she had a point.
Dragging in a breath, he pushed off the floor and perched on the arm of the love seat. “The plans are for an anti-drone, a weapon that can take out our drone missiles, crippling their effectiveness.”
“Oh my God. That’s big.”
“You got that right. That’s why it’s so important that we find those plans before Zendaris does. He has the means to build the weapon and then sell it on the open market to any terrorist group or rogue regime that coughs up enough money.”
“Where did he get them in the first place? Can’t the person who developed those plans just whip up a new set?”
“The person who developed those plans is on our side now. He’s not going to be working for Zendaris, or any other weapons dealer or terrorist, anymore.”
“Once you find and destroy those plans to keep them out of our enemies’ hands, that’s it?”
“For now—until the next threat.”
“I can help by trying to figure out where Abby stashed the plans.” She swirled the tea in her cup, gazing into it as if she could find the answer in some tea leaves. “Are they on paper? Computer disk? Flash drive?”
“The plans weren’t on paper, so if they are now, she printed them out. She hacked into my coworker’s computer. She could’ve put the plans on a disk or flash drive. She could’ve made copies for all we know.”
“That could get messy.”
“I don’t even want to think about that possibility.”
Noelle set her cup on the table and rose to her feet. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Maybe something will come to me in the shower. I feel hospital-icky.”
“Are you sure you feel okay to hit the shower?”
“I’m not dizzy—except from all the info you told me about arms dealers and covert agencies and my unassuming, computer-nerd roommate.”
He cupped her elbow. “Do you understand why I had to keep my identity a secret?”
“Sure.” She broke away from him and called over her shoulder, “Maybe you should stay here...just in case.”
“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”
She slammed the bathroom door on his last syllable.
Sure didn’t seem like she understood.
* * *
NOELLE STOOD AT the bathroom mirror scraping at the edge of the tape holding her bandage. She tugged the tape from the skin of her forehead and peeled back the bandage. Still snowy-white. At least the bleeding had stopped.
Leaning in closer to the mirror, she traced the stitches with the tip of her finger. The doc said she could let the wound breathe if she felt comfortable without the bandage, but she’d leave it on in the shower to protect her new stitches.
She cranked on the water and shed her clothing, stepping out of her jeans.
How had she gotten mixed up in something like this? Wasn’t one traumatic event per lifetime enough? She’d paid her dues. Let someone else have the drama.
The warm water beat between her shoulder blades and streamed down her back. She closed her eyes, replaying scenes in her D.C. apartment with Abby.
Abby hadn’t entertained at all. Noelle had met only one of her friends in the almost two years they’d shared space—a quiet, almost shy man who’d picked up Abby for a date.
Abby had spent a lot of time in her bedroom, which she’d turned into an office with a bank of computers against one wall.