Secret Contract. Dana Marton
pop one by one as they died from atrophy. She craved challenge. Outsmarting the government would definitely provide one. She would go along with their game while she figured out how to get away from them. No way would anyone ever bring her back here.
“I want to do it,” she said.
Gina stopped tapping and drew air in through her nose. “What the hell.”
Anita sat down and folded her hands in her lap. She said nothing as the women all watched her.
Disappointment squeezed Carly’s throat, but she understood where Anita stood. If she had only a few weeks to go, she wouldn’t be jumping off a cliff blindfolded either.
“They would erase our records. He definitely said that, right?” Anita swallowed.
Gina nodded.
“Yes,” Carly said. Did she sound too eager, too desperate?
“We could get hurt. Or die. We have no idea what this is about. I don’t like the way they made it sound. Whatever they want from us might be worse than being in here.” Anita stood again.
What could be worse than four more years locked in a cell? Carly clenched her teeth. Anita wasn’t going for it. She tried to shrug off the disappointment, but couldn’t. Amazing how much hope a person could build up in five minutes.
Nobody ever got an offer like this. Nobody would even believe it, not that they would ever be able to tell anyone. Freedom, she breathed in the idea one last time, letting it fill her lungs. A nice fantasy while it had lasted.
But Anita said, “We might all regret this,” as she drew her spine straight. “Okay.”
Okay?
Startled confusion came first, then the puzzle solver in Carly’s mind zeroed in on the softly spoken decision. Why?
“Aren’t you full of surprises?” Gina said.
“I have my own reasons.” Anita squared her slim shoulders.
Carly waited for further explanation, but none was forthcoming. Anita wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
So she had secrets.
Carly took in the others. They probably all did. And they had all agreed.
Oh, God. They were doing it!
Maybe she should have been scared, but at this moment, excitement trumped everything. She felt her face split into a grin. Free. She let her eyes drift closed. She had a lot to catch up with.
“We’re getting out.” Her head spinning with possibilities, she looked again at the others.
That cooled her a little.
Gina’s face was grim, the set of her mouth determined. Anita stared straight ahead. Samantha had the same what-do-I-care? expression she’d stuck to throughout, but Carly thought she could see a trace of uncertainty and fear in her eyes. None of them said a word for a couple of seconds.
“It’s a chance to start over,” she told them, but some of her excitement was fading as bits and pieces of conversation floated back from the past twenty minutes, fully registering at last. Suicide mission and we’re disposable were definite buzz killers. She wouldn’t let things go that far. She would find a way to skip before the mission got out of hand.
She’d done more time, as it was, than any other hacker before or since her. And she had done no harm. She hadn’t been interested in any data, hadn’t stolen or damaged anything. She’d just looked at code, wanting to learn, searching for shortcuts, unique fixes and unusual solutions. She had paid for them dearly.
“Hey, we could have our own secret club. The Second Chance Chicks.” Samantha’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Or The Dirty Four. Maybe we’ll be in a movie someday.”
They’d never make a team. They were too different. Carly certainly was. She’d given up a long time ago on fitting in anywhere. And with this group, she didn’t want to fit.
Gina “the killer” Torno was giving Sam a dark look. “Don’t get too excited, kid. If they’ll ever make a movie about us, they’ll be calling it The Doomed and the Desperate.”
Not her, Carly thought, as she began to plan.
TSERNYAKOV CLOSED THE FOLDER on his computer and glanced out his office window that overlooked the factory yard, breathed in the sweet-musty smell of sugar beets being processed. Some people didn’t care for the permeating odor, much like broccoli cooking, but for him, it was the scent of his childhood.
Peter was late. Had he run? If he had, he would be found.
He glanced at the display of his phone when it rang, smiled at the familiar number and took the call. “How are you, Mother? What did the doctor say?”
“I was just thinking about you. What a good, good son you are. I’ll have to have more tests. I can just go in, no need to stay at the hospital.”
“Are you sure you want to stay here? I could have someone take you to Switzerland. They have better facilities.”
“This is where my strength is, in my country and in you. What would I do in Switzerland? I couldn’t even talk to anyone,” she said, then added, “You will visit soon?”
“In a few days. You have need of anything?”
“What could I want? My successful son spoils me.”
“You deserve it, Mamuska.”
She made a small sound. “I almost forgot, I ran into your aunt Irina at the hospital this morning.”
“Is she ill?”
“She was visiting her neighbor, you know the one who used to repair bicycles? He broke a hip. Irina walked with me for a while. Her cousin, Anna, invited her to England and she’s thinking about going. You remember Anna’s boy, Calvin? He is a big businessman over there. Not as successful as you, but he’s made something of himself. He’s in trouble now, that’s why Irina mentioned him. The government is trying to get his money. They’re accusing him of something crazy, they say he traded inside. What does that even mean?”
His mother went on for a while, lamenting the misfortune that had befallen Anna’s family.
Insider trading. Tsernyakov understood the charge well, as he understood why Irina had told his mother, why Anna had told Irina. They all hoped that he would fix it.
“Maybe with your shops in England, I thought you might know someone,” his mother finally said.
“I’ll see, Mamuska.”
“I knew you would. I told Irina not to worry, that son of mine can fix anything anywhere.”
He promised a visit soon, said goodbye and hung up. Then he ran an Internet search on Spencer Holdings and Cal Spencer, a cousin so distant he’d only seen him once, when he’d been ten and Cal a newborn, visiting Russia with his parents to be baptized there.
Looked like Cal had made something of himself. Seemed he’d been amassing a fortune in real estate. And, most interestingly, he was getting into warehousing. A handful of strategically placed warehouses throughout England. Maybe they could be mutually beneficial to each other.
He sent off an e-mail and asked for a full background check on Cal from his trusted source. He never did business with anyone he hadn’t thoroughly investigated, family or otherwise.
“Come in,” he answered to a knock on the door.
Ivan, one of his secretaries, stopped on the threshold. “The School Board has contacted us to see if you would agree to deliver the requested amount of sugar, sir.”
He clenched his jaw. “When I do, I’ll let them know.” They insulted him with their impatience.
“I’m sorry, sir.” The man bowed his head. “They insist that it