Bad Things Small Packages Page 2
He didn’t answer my whole question.
She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel and stamped down her worry. They would find it. They had to.
Do they have a special prison for accidental spies who lose important information completely unintentionally?
Groaning, she re-stamped down her worry.
They arrived at the gas station, relieved to find it was a 24-hour location. Emily and Brent searched the area between her parking space earlier that day and the door of the convenience store.
Nothing.
They went inside and found a different clerk sitting behind the counter: a tall girl, just a little older than Emily, smacking chewing gum while working on what appeared to be homework.
College homework. Emily tried not to feel jealous.
“Hey, guys, what can I get ya?” the clerk asked, scrawling the final numbers in the excessively long equation she was working before looking up.
“Hi, um,” Emily began, “we were wondering if you have lost-and-found. I may have lost a microSD card in here earlier.”
“Oh, like the tiny card you put in your phone to increase the storage?” the girl asked.
“Yep, just like that.” Brent said, nodding.
“Cool, let me check.” The girl withdrew a bin from below the counter and pawed through it. After a moment, she looked up and shook her head. “Not seeing one.”
“Do you mind if I look myself?” Emily asked. “They’re so small, you know? Easy to miss.”
The clerk looked down at the bin and back to Emily. “Okay, sure.” She slid it across the counter and returned to her homework.
Brent nudged Emily gently. “I’m going to look around the floor and under displays and shelving. It’s very possible it got kicked by someone’s shoe,” he said in an undertone.
She nodded and began methodically lifting an odd assortment of items from the lost-and-found bin. Soon, she was staring at the bottom of the container.
No memory card.
Brent helped her put everything back in the bin. He’d come up empty, too.
They thanked the clerk and soberly walked back to the car. “That did not turn out the way I was hoping,” Emily said when they were sitting inside the vehicle. Brent didn’t answer but appeared deep in thought, so she started the car and drove back to her apartment in silence.
“Emily,” he said after she’d unlocked her front door and pushed it open. “Listen, I have to call this in to ICS. It’s protocol.” He shuffled his feet. “They will want to investigate everything—and likely you.”
She felt her face blanch.
“I completely believe you’re on the up-and-up,” he hastened to say, “but I do want you to be forewarned this could get kind of serious depending on what my boss and his bosses do.”
Emily took a deep breath and nodded her head.
“Now, protocol states that I need to call it in and then stay with the—with you—until further assessment of the situation has occurred.”
His words were beginning to spin around in her head, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of how late it was, the fact that she most certainly was coming down with a head-cold; or whether she was starting to panic.
“Hey—hey—” Brent took a step forward and laid a hand on her shoulder, bending down to look her in the eyes. “It’s okay. I’m on your side, here, but I have to do things by the book. Don’t leave your apartment. I’ll be downstairs in the parking lot talking to North Pole and keeping an eye on things. You have my number if you think of anything that might help.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Thanks for believing me, Brent.”
He nodded and gave her a tight smile.
Emily entered the apartment, shut the door behind her, and leaned against it.
“I think I’m under house-arrest,” she murmured.
Chapter 4
Emily opened her mouth wide in a yawn—which then turned into a cough. She rubbed her forehead, suddenly wanting nothing more than to lie down. Heading back to her bedroom, she flicked on the light and found her pajamas.
If ICS ends up needing to talk to me tonight, I’ll just have to change again, but for now—I gotta rest.
She perched on the edge of her bed and slipped out of her jeans and into the soft pajama bottoms. She held the pair of jeans up in front of her, sudden curiosity overtaking her tiredness.
“It must have slipped out somehow. There must be a hole I missed.”
She turned the top of the jeans inside out and inspected the bottom corners of the pocket. The material from which the insides of the pockets were constructed was quite thin, but still solid. No holes. She ran her fingers across the edge of the curved pocket shape, wondering if the stitching had come loose somewhere else along the curve and let the microSD slip out.
Something caught her eye: a tiny, rectangular bulge toward the top of the right front pocket—near the waistband. It almost looked like—
Emily poked her hand into the pocket and rather than reaching downward, felt upward and to the left. Do to the way it was stitched, the top of the pocket turned a sort of corner, creating a very narrow slot—no wider than her index finger.
“Just the right size for a microSD card to work its way up into!” She pulled the tiny black rectangle free and held it up in front of her face, almost giddy with relief. “I can’t believe it!”
Fumbling for her phone, she flipped it open, added the encryptor Brent had given her, and dialed his number with shaky hands.
He answered on the first ring. “Emily?”
“Brent! I found it!”
“What? You did? I’ll be right up!”
Emily met Brent at the apartment door and let him inside. “Here, take this before something else weird happens to it!” she said, shoving the small memory card at him.
“Would you look at that!” Brent said in wonder. “Where was it?” he asked, closing it carefully in his fist and looking down at her, puzzled. “We were very thorough searching for it!”
“Check out the weird way this pocket is constructed,” she said, handing him the pair of jeans and pointing out the slot in which the memory card had lodged itself.
Brent shook his head. “That’s crazy. I’m really glad you found it, though.” He gave her a grin. “I guess we’ll have to keep this feature in mind if we ever need a smuggler.”
Don’t even think about giving me a new codename. You literally haven’t used “Prepper” yet.
But Brent didn’t seem to be thinking about codenames for once. He tapped his phone screen. “Okay, called an Uber. I need to get this thing back to North Pole ASAP.”
He turned and extended his hand to Emily. She shook it. “Thanks for keeping it safe—where you’d stashed it nobody would have found it. Not the bad guys—not even the good guys, apparently.” He walked back to the front door before swiveling and adding with a teasing grin, “Also, cactus pajamas? You must really love living in the desert.”
Emily glanced down at the pajama bottoms she wore. “Oh! I totally forgot I was wearing these.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I actually don’t like cacti or the desert all that much. But these jammies are the softest ever, so… I keep them around for when I have a head-cold and need maximum comfort.”
“Jammies, huh?”
“Oh, stop it!” Emily laughed weakly and rolled her eyes. “Hey, wait a second… why don’t you wait inside for your Uber. It’s cooler than sitting outside in the heat.”
“You look like you need to get some sleep. Head-cold and all.”
Emily plopped down on the couch. “I’ll be fine for a little longer.” She yawned.
Brent raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. “If you’re sure... It is way too hot out there for 10 o’clock at night.”
“Tell me about it.”
Brent leaned against
the wall near the door and took out his phone. He plugged the microSD into it and tapped the screen. “Huh. Can’t see the list—it’s encrypted,” he muttered. “Oh well. The computer guys can get cracking on it.” After a few more taps, he slid the phone back into his pocket and checked his watch.
“You sent it to ICS?” Emily asked, the “S” turning into a sneeze.
“Not exactly. It won’t let me copy anything off the card due to the encryption. I just let them remotely access my phone so they can get a start on busting into it before I get back to North Pole.” They were silent another moment, and then Emily sneezed again. “Do you need some more vitamin C?” Brent asked, gesturing to the kitchen cabinet where she kept it.
“I already took a dose,” Emily said.
“Pretty sure you can take more. My mom always said we could take—” Brent was interrupted by the song “Santa Baby” playing loudly from his pocket. Emily jumped.
Frowning, Brent answered. “Santa?” He listened, his expression growing more intense every second. Emily got up off the couch, suddenly worried.
“Yes, sir.” Brent ended the call without his usual, cheeky “You’re the Best,” sign-off. If he wasn’t teasing his boss about his last name, something must be wrong.
“What is it, Brent?”
He looked up from his phone muttering, “Still 15 minutes out…”
“What, your Uber?”
He ran a hand through his black hair. “Yeah. And the ICS tech guys just informed Santa that when they remotely accessed it, the memory card started a timed self-destruct. We need it unencrypted before the timer finishes or it wipes all the files irretrievably. The North Pole tech guys aren't sure they have the computing power to crack it in time.”
Chapter 5
“There’s a computer genius we sometimes hire for freelance work,” Brent told her, pacing. “Santa wants me to hustle the memory card out to him as fast as possible—he should have the resources needed to crack the encryption or at the very least halt the timed self-destruct to buy us more time.” He spoke a little uncertainly, and Emily guessed computer stuff wasn’t his strong suit.
“You guys have a real, live hacker!” she squealed. “That’s the coolest thing. Does he work in a dark basement somewhere?”
Brent looked like he wanted to reply with his “movie stuff” line, but instead he frowned and nodded. “Yeah, kind of, actually.”
“That’s awesome!” The word “awesome” ended in a loud sneeze, and Emily rolled her eyes.
“Bless you! What isn’t awesome is he lives in Tonopah—way out in Tonopah.”
“Oh, sure! I know Tonopah.”
“I bet you do. You lived pretty far west yourself.”
It’s so weird that they have a file on me.
Brent stopped pacing long enough to grin at her. “You have that ‘oh, yeah, he read my file’ look on your face.”
“Mindreader!” Emily protested. She headed down the hall toward her room. “I’ll be out in a second. Gonna change out of the cactus jammies, and then we can leave.”
“Hold it—” Brent cocked his head. “What makes you think you’re going? You’re about dying of a head-cold.”
“If we take my car, you can leave sooner than if you had to wait around for that Uber to show up. But I’m coming along to make sure you treat the car nicely. No wrecking the new-used Subaru. And as for the head-cold, I’ll live. It’s not as if I have to pedal all the way to Tonopah. I get to sit back and chill. Who knows… maybe if you refrain from getting into any car chases and driving like a maniac, I’ll even get to sleep a bit on the way!”
Brent opened his mouth as if to argue, and then snapped it shut. “Okay, Prepper. You’ve got a deal.” He checked his watch, and Emily hurriedly shut her bedroom door and changed out of the soft pajamas and into an almost-as-soft skirt.
She emerged a minute later, and Brent looked up from his phone. “Ready already? That’s right—you’re really quick.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I’ve set a timer on my phone to let us know how we’re doing on the countdown. The drive to our computer genius should take about an hour.”
“Just be glad rush hour is long over,” Emily said, putting her shoes on and grabbing her purse. “If I have to deal with traffic it can take me an hour and 45 minutes to get out to Buckeye to visit my dad. And that’s not even as far west as Tonopah.”
Brent grimaced. “I’d just wait for a chopper if it was going to take that long!”
They exited the apartment, and Emily locked up before tossing her keys to Brent. “Yeah—” she said in a stage whisper as they headed for the stairs, “—why doesn’t ICS just send a helicopter to get you there as fast as possible?”
“Budget cuts,” Brent shrugged, and Emily was nearly certain she heard a hint of humor lining his voice although his face betrayed nothing. “We wanted to get a quantum helicopter, but just couldn’t afford one this year.”
“A quantum helicopter—that would mean it could be in more than one place at a time, right? Brent, that’s not even a thing.” They emerged from the stairwell and Emily peered at him in the dim lights illuminating the parking lot. “Right? It’s not a thing, is it?”
He just laughed.
“I didn’t actually think it was a thing,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “You just said it so almost-seriously. It’s hard to tell if you’re joking when you use your super-spy acting skills on me.”
Brent unlocked the Subaru and held the passenger-side door open for her. When he got in on the driver’s side, she added, “That was your way of saying the helicopter is somewhere else, doing something else right now, wasn’t it.”
The spy merely raised his eyebrows, grinned, and said, “I can neither confirm nor deny…”
“Of course you can’t. But you found a way to say it nevertheless. Quantum helicopter.” Emily shook her head.
They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street—which was mostly quiet for once. Very few cars were out and about so late. “I’m actually glad you’re along,” Brent said. “As much as I hate getting you mixed up in this stuff, this one shouldn’t be too dangerous at all—just hurried. And I’m glad for the company; it will help me stay awake on the drive.”
Emily stifled a yawn and glanced over at him apologetically. He was grinning, though. They made companionable small talk for a couple blocks, and she couldn’t help but feel impatient at the 25 mile-per-hour speed limits in the downtown areas.
“Oh,” Brent said, driving with one hand and popping the microSD out of his phone with the other, “take this. Would you put it—” Just then his phone rang “Santa Baby”, indicating his boss was calling.
He answered quickly. “Nighthawk speaking.”
Emily held the tiny memory card between her thumb and index finger, waiting for Brent’s call to be over and for him to finish his sentence. Eventually she slipped it into the pocket of her skirt. She watched in concern as Brent’s jaw tightened and his eyes grew intense.
Something was wrong.
He pulled the car over to a nearby curb and put it in park. “Yes, sir. I’ll improvise.” He ended the call.
“Brent?”
Taking a deep breath, he said, “Right before I took the microSD out of my phone, North Pole detected a signal that was received by the chip.”
Emily hastily pulled the tiny black rectangle back out of her pocket, staring at it in horror at Brent’s next words. “The signal activated a tracking beacon.”
Chapter 6
Before Emily could react, Brent had snatched the microSD card from her fingers and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Listen carefully: I don’t want to lead the enemy straight to you, so I’m going to stash this card within eyesight. I want you to duck low so the car looks empty, but keep an eye on the card’s hiding spot.
“I don’t know if they have someone nearby, so if you see anyone go for the card before I return, start the car, drive away, and call me. It will all be fine.
”
“What do you mean, ‘before you return’? Where are you going?”
“Back to the apartment to get something. Gotta run! Hang tight, Prepper.” Brent was out of the car and jogging down the sidewalk before Emily could reply. He paused halfway down the block, reached up, and tucked the microSD card into the branches of a scraggly Palo Verde tree. Emily couldn’t see the card from where she sat, but she knew the enemy agents would have a way to track its signal.
Brent ran back the way they'd come until he was lost to the shadows and the dark patches between streetlights. Emily sank down in her seat until she could just barely see over the lower edge of the car’s windows. Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, and she resisted the urge to check her watch over and over. There was something unnerving about being alone in a car parked on a dark street in downtown Phoenix.
Two men approached along the opposite sidewalk, and Emily tensed. They ambled slowly, in animated conversation with one another.
Are they here for the memory card?
She held perfectly still, even though she was fairly sure they’d never see her. They didn’t seem to be tracking anything—no fancy gadgets in their hands, but she couldn’t rule out that the enemy agents, like ICS, also had a headquarters watching over them and guiding them. Perhaps they were receiving directions about where the chip’s signal was. Perhaps they wore micro radios inside their ear canals like she and Brent had when they went to the charity gala to stop the Gremlin from selling top-secret stealth tech plans to the Russians.
Are these guys Russians, too? Brent hasn’t actually said who they are or who they work for.
Her nose began to tickle and she pinched the bridge of it, focusing hard on holding back the terrific sneeze that was building.
SO not a good time to have a cold!
The men walked right past the card’s hiding place, and Emily heaved a sigh of relief and then promptly sneezed.
So that turned out to be nothing. They must just enjoy walking in the middle of the night? It is a cooler time for a walk than during the day. Or perhaps they’re night-shift workers.