Protocol 7 - By Armen Gharabegian Page 0,41

plan that he had discussed just a few hours earlier. Get to the Spector safe house undetected—all of them. Highjack the fully assembled submersible, and get the hell out of Oxford, out of England, and as soon as possible out of the Northern Hemisphere entirely.

Simon looked at his watch, then called out to Samantha. “We’ve got to go.”

“I’m almost there,” she replied.

While she packed, Samantha suddenly asked him, “Do you remember Corsica?”

Simon was surprised. “You actually remember that?”

“How could I forget?” she replied, but made sure to add with a sarcastic tone. “The question is, how could you forget?”

Simon hadn’t forgotten a thing. He vividly remembered the weekend they had spent at his father’s hideaway, a beautiful cottage nestled in the hills in Corsica, when they were both in college. That was the first time Samantha had told him how much she cared for him…and the first time he had disappointed her.

“Never mind,” he said.

That weekend on Corsica had been a major event in Simon’s life as well—just not the one that Samantha imagined. It was the last time he had been at the cottage with Oliver—the last time in his adult life that he had a chance to share a few days with his father.

The secure phone made its familiar and annoying buzz. He put it to his ear and keyed the communication. It was Jonathan.

“Almost there,” he said. “I called Andrew. He’s meeting us in front of Sam’s place. I’ll leave my rental there, and we’ll go together with the Rover.”

“Sounds good. What about Ryan?” Simon asked.

“Not responding to calls on the secure phone, and I don’t want to use an open line—especially now. We’ll talk about it when I get there.”

“All Right. We’ll be walking north on Holden—find us.” He didn’t fancy waiting around on the sidewalk with luggage.

“Will do.” The old-fashioned phone went beep, and the conversation disconnected.

Simon called to Sam as he dialed a different number. “About ready?” he said.

“Almost!” she called back.

Hayden’s voice came out of the secure phone’s tiny speaker. “What?”

“Hayden, it’s Simon,” he told him. “Where are you?”

“Already at the safe house, seeing to some last details. Really couldn’t sleep after that meeting of ours, so I came straight back here. Been working with Teah and the other AIs to get the Spector operational.”

“We’re on our way.”

“Ah…not quite ready, Simon. No need to rush.”

“Not rushing, Hayden. I think we’ve been discovered.”

“So soon? Oh, god…” Simon could almost hear Hayden’s wheels turning, trying to figure all the angles.

“Wonderful,” he said finally. “All right then, just get here—you, Samantha, Jonathan, everybody. Get here as soon as you can.”

“Done,” Simon said.

He heard a sound behind him as he ended the call. He turned to find Samantha standing in the bedroom doorway with two small bags in her hands and a suitcase, staring at him.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.” Without another word, he took the larger suitcase by the handle, lifted it, and pushed out the door.

Samantha was close behind.

Moments later they emerged from the building. Simon led the way, moving briskly up Holden Road, trying to look in every direction without seeming suspicious.

A dark blue car, half a block up the street, pulled up to the wrong side of the curb and stopped, its engine running, its headlights on. Without a pause, Simon turned to the left and entered a narrow side street.

“Simon?” Samantha said from behind him. “Where are we going?”

He pulled the secure phone out of his pocket and said, “Jonathan?” The sound of his voice was rough in his ear; he could hear the rush of wind distorting it.

“Two minutes away,” Jonathan said.

“Change of plans. We may have company. We’re heading east on Overton,” he said. “Meet us going south on Lyme.” He started walking even more quickly.

“Coming,” Jonathan said and hung up.

“Simon,” she said. “Please, I can’t keep up.” He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw her almost running to catch up to him. Half a block behind her, the blue car turned, filling the narrow street side to side. The roar of its engine was louder as it moved closer.

He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He picked up the pace even more.

“Simon,” she shouted, completely unaware of the car behind them. “Slow down! I can’t keep up.” He fell back just long enough to take the other suitcase from her. “Just keep moving,” he told her.

His shoulders were burning from the weight of the bag as they emerged onto Lyme Street. He

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