CHAPTER 20
ACROSS THE RIVER in
Crystal City, Laura spent the rest of the day impersonating Fallon
Moor. DeWinter had an oversight meeting, so she had a full day of
uninterrupted time at Legacy trying to gain access to the computer
system. Irony frustrated her—that Moor had clearance to look at
classified information but Laura was unable to touch it without
raising questions. If she asked for help for something as simple as
a password, she risked alerting people, particularly DeWinter, that
something odd was going on. Moor simply refused to answer any more
questions, gambling that InterSec wouldn’t make good on its threat
to send her to the Seelie Court. Laura didn’t fault her strategy.
Capital punishment made the member governments of InterSec pause.
It didn’t mean Moor would go free, but it did mean Laura’s threat
might be empty. She had warned Terryn that might happen.
She decided to take a different approach to the
problem. DeWinter’s office was at the end of the corridor, far from
others and surrounded by conference rooms. His door was closed, the
card-swipe mechanism glowing with its little red light to indicate
locked. The mechanism was an extra layer of security on some
offices as well as access to entire areas of the floor. Fallon
Moor’s card let her into some of the latter, but she hadn’t
lingered in them long enough to figure out what was being hidden.
She didn’t want to raise suspicions unless absolutely
necessary.
She paced in front of the plate-glass wall, aware
that a ceiling camera recorded her every move. She looped back and
forth, randomly nearing DeWinter’s door for a closer look at the
card swipe. After a few passes, she made out the style and
manufacturer of the unit. If InterSec could hack into the system,
they might be able to produce a card that would get her in.
DeWinter’s reflection appeared in the window. She
cursed to herself. She had hoped he wouldn’t stop in the office at
the end of the day, and now she had no choice but to talk to him.
Sliding his hands in his pockets, he joined her at the window and
took in the view. “What are you looking at?”
She ran her hand through her hair, noting its
coarseness, so different from her own. Her glamour effects extended
beyond the visual, and she made it a point to remember that smells
and touch were important to mimicking someone. She wondered what
nuances DeWinter might detect that she had missed. Did her hair
feel right? Her skin? Did she have a scent he liked that she had
missed? He didn’t give an indication that something was amiss, but
she worried. She jutted her chin toward the view. “I was thinking
how new all that is. What is it? A couple of centuries old? That
amount of time means nothing to the fey.”
“It will when we’re done. They need to learn that
this is and always has been a human world. Everything else they’ve
touched has been destroyed,” he said.
Laura pursed her lips. A philosophical argument on
fey versus human goals was something she knew how to play. Over the
years, she’d read enough theories and arrested enough radical
dissidents to know the thought problems. “Will they learn or fight?
Is what we’re doing any guarantee of long-term success? The fey
held sway in Faerie a long time.”
In the reflection of the glass, she saw him cock
his head toward her own reflection. “Are you having doubts?”
The response frustrated her. DeWinter’s
intelligence training meant he wasn’t prone to talk. No spontaneous
monologues about his master plan were likely. “No. Reflections. The
monarchies are formidable opponents. Not to brag or criticize, but
I’ve experienced that more than you have.”
He glanced up the corridor, trailing his fingers
through the short tufts of hairs along her forearm. “Do you need
more convincing?”
She let him touch her, deciding what to push with
him and how. His voice reverberated with seductive tones, but
whether he meant that as sexual or playful, she couldn’t tell. She
responded in the same tone but kept the subject on business to see
where he would take it. “For twelve million dollars I might.”
He glanced up the hall again. “Yes, thank you for
your speed on that. I’ve already put the transaction in
motion.”
“I know,” she said. DeWinter had found his
benefactor, and she had routed the money into an offshore account.
Everything had been done electronically, and no one had met in
person. She kept the accounts flagged to monitor activity. DeWinter
had moved half the money as soon as the funds arrived in the
account.
“Let’s go in my office,” he said. He withdrew his
ID card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. She lingered
behind him, amazed at her luck. He was going to use the keycard in
front of her. She hid her interest by gazing at the view across the
Potomac. As he punched the combination into the keypad, the soft
tones of his tapping finger, barely audible, tickled her ear.
“Fallon?” he said.
She turned from the plate-glass window, acting like
he had prodded her out of a daydream. The access code settled into
her mnemonic memory. Six digits. Hit the enter key twice.
The office was utilitarian, made to look more so
with hard, modular furniture. DeWinter settled behind his desk.
“Let me check my email.”
She didn’t respond as she draped herself near the
end of a low-slung couch upholstered in a stiff orange fabric. The
office revealed nothing about the man. The modernist furniture
didn’t feel personal; the abstract paintings on the walls didn’t
relate to each other. Everything seemed selected to project an
image, but it lacked personality. Either DeWinter decorated it in a
deliberate attempt for neutrality, or someone had been given simple
instructions to do it.
She eyed his computer setup. His desk was almost a
sculpture, all glass and steel, with no drawers. Easy access. She
decided to take advantage of the opportunity. “Can I have a drink?”
she asked.
He glanced up. “What’s your pleasure?”
She grinned seductively. “Give me a drink, and I’ll
tell you. I think I saw some fruit juice in the kitchen.”
He grinned back and rose from his seat. “Don’t
move. I like seeing you on my couch.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and chuckled
as he left. She waited a heartbeat, then hurried to his desk. She
pulled out a memory stick that she had been keeping with her since
she arrived at Legacy. Plugging it into the back of his computer,
she downloaded a keystroke program onto his system. InterSec had
designed it to be small and unobtrusive. She went to the door to
check the hall. Empty. She pulled the memory stick out and resumed
her position on the couch.
DeWinter returned a few minutes later and handed
her a glass of orange juice. He sat on the couch, trailing his hand
along her leg. “We haven’t had a moment alone in over a
week.”
“I’ve been working on something,” she said.
He toyed with a strand of her hair. “Can you tell
me about it?”
Smiling as she sipped, she shook her head. “Not
yet. I’ll have to check before I bring you in.”
He leaned over and kissed her. She forced herself
to return the kiss. He brought his hand to her cheek and pressed
against her. Her mind raced for an exit strategy. She didn’t want
things to go any further. It wasn’t necessary for what she needed.
As his lips found her neck, she closed her eyes, realizing that she
was not going to let anything sexual happen. This time, she
thought. Or anytime, she hoped. She didn’t want to face Sinclair
and admit that, yes, they were sort of seeing each other, and, yes,
she’d had sex with someone else. For work. They didn’t have any
commitment to each other, didn’t have any rules or parameters about
their relationship. The fey were more open-minded about sexual
relationships—even outside committed relationships—but Laura had no
idea what Sinclair thought about it. He might have more-human
attitudes. There were human words for people who traded sex for
things, for money, information, access. She didn’t agree with that.
Not always. That she worried what Sinclair would think surprised
her. Lying on a couch with DeWinter was not the time to sort it
out, though.
She draped her hand over the back of the couch and
released a small burst of essence at the window. It hit with soft
bang, and she pretended to be startled. The juice sloshed onto her
dress as DeWinter pulled away. “What was that?”
She stood, brushing at her damp skirt. “I don’t
know. Something hit the window. A bird maybe.”
With his head tilted down, he smiled at her. “Your
outfit’s a mess. Maybe you should take it off.”
She laughed and tousled his hair. “Not here. Let me
take care of this before a stain sets.”
She strolled away, letting him get a good look at
the roll of her hips. At the door, she trailed her hand along the
wall as she left the room. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She left him grinning on the couch. The upside to
playing cloak-and-dagger games with people who played
cloak-and-dagger games was that when someone disappeared on a
moment’s notice, no one pushed for explanations unless deep doubts
existed. If DeWinter had noticed small clues that something was
different about Fallon Moor, Laura’s handling of the funds transfer
had probably allayed those suspicions for the moment. Rather than
risk being alone with him on his own turf, she decided to disappear
for a bit. DeWinter was going to find himself waiting for
nothing.