Reckless

“No,” she said. “I’d remember, I’m sure of it.”

“Well, you do know her.” Milton Buck lost his patience. “That much is a fact. So if she’s not from your past, she must be from your present. What prior contact have you had with Group 99?”

“What?” Tracy scowled at him.

There were no words to adequately express her loathing for Milton Buck, a man who was prepared to sacrifice anything, or anyone, for the sake of advancing his career. If Buck had had his way, Jeff would have been left to die at Daniel Cooper’s deranged hands. Tracy would never forgive him.

“Think very carefully before you answer, Miss Whitney,” Buck warned her. “If you lie to us now, any deal we may have made in the past will be off. Null and void.”

“I don’t need to think carefully,” Tracy shot back. “I’ve never had any contact with Group 99.”

“Hmmm.” Milton Buck’s upper lip curled. “You admire them, though, don’t you?” He seemed to delight in pressing Tracy’s buttons. “All that subversive, antiestablishment baloney. It’s right up your street.”

“I did quite admire them once,” Tracy said defiantly. “Before Daley’s execution I was impressed by their techniques. But then so were a lot of people. I mean, there’s no doubt they’re smart. Hacking in to the Langley computers is no mean feat.”

“No. It isn’t,” Greg Walton muttered bitterly.

“They’ve outsmarted governments and intelligence agencies and Big Oil,” Tracy went on. “But, I never shared their views, Agent Buck. Other than their dislike of the fracking industry. And I certainly don’t admire terrorists, or murderers.”

“So you don’t believe in redistributing wealth away from the top one percent?” Milton Buck asked skeptically. “Robbing the rich to help the poor?”

“Certainly not,” said Tracy. “Look around you, Agent Buck.” She gestured to the expensive oil paintings hanging on the walls and the cabinet full of polished silver in the dining room. “I’m part of the one percent. Then again, from what you describe, so is this woman Althea.” She turned back to Greg Walton. “If she’s rich enough to funnel millions to Group 99, isn’t she part of the problem, in their eyes?”

“There’s a lot about Group 99 that doesn’t make sense to us right now,” Walton replied. “A lot of inconsistencies. Together with the British, we’re piecing together a clearer picture of their changing objectives. But what we do know is that their days of peaceful protest are over. We have a hostage out there right now whose life is in imminent danger.”

“I know that,” Tracy said, chastened. “Hunter Drexel.”

“And he won’t be the last. We believe Althea may hold the key to the entire network, Tracy. We need your help to find her. Come back to Langley with us.”

Tracy’s eyes widened. If the situation weren’t so serious, she would have laughed.

“You want me to come to Langley? Right now?”

“We don’t want it,” Greg Walton’s tone was deadly serious. “We need it. You’re our best hope.”

“No,” Tracy said, on autopilot. “I won’t. I can’t. I have a son . . .”

She stood up and walked over to the window. It was totally dark now. All Tracy could see was her own reflection.

I look like a housewife, standing in her kitchen.

This is ridiculous. I am a housewife, standing in her kitchen.

Turning back to the two agents she said, “Look. I don’t know this woman. That’s the God’s honest truth. We’ve never met. Clearly she knows who I am. But that doesn’t mean the reverse is true.”

Greg Walton leaned forward urgently. “Even if that’s true, Tracy. Even if it turns out you don’t know her, you can still help us.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You and Althea have a lot in common.”

Tracy frowned. “How do you figure that?”

“You’re both wealthy, independent women, with a background in computers, who’ve successfully evaded detection by the authorities in multiple countries. You both play by your own rules, conceal your identities, and rise to the top in what are traditionally all-male environments. You’re both risk takers.”

“Not anymore,” Tracy said firmly. “My reckless days are over. She’s a terrorist, Mr. Walton.”

“Greg.”