locked them up in a closet somewhere to collect dust.” Lincoln shrugs. “If someone wants to pay millions for old military plans from an out-of-date treaty organization, I’m willing to take their money.”
“Is that what Sims told you?” I ask. “That no one cares about these plans? They’re old and useless? That was enough for you to trade your entire life mission. Your whole career.”
“You don’t get it. I still get to keep the job. Because I’m not going down for this—you are.” Lincoln smiles and looks over at the computer in front of Geoffrey.
I take another step forward and follow his gaze. It’s my laptop.
Lincoln sees the recognition in my eyes and smiles. “I admit it’s not fair that any of us should go away for this, but I suppose someone has to. The story we’ll tell the CIA is that you kidnapped Geoffrey and stole the records yourself, selling them to the highest bidder. You’ll be locked up forever. But don’t worry, Jessica, I’ll continue the good fight. Only, with extra pocket cash.”
I feel the barrel of a gun at my back. “Glad you could join us, Jessica.” Sims says from behind me. “I’ll have that gun.”
He lifts the barrel to the ceiling and pulls the strap over my head. “Now, move over to your boyfriend’s side there. It appears he needs more motivation.”
I take the empty chair next to Geoffrey. He looks tired, but still resolved. “Don’t do it,” I say under my breath.
“Yes, Geoffrey, don’t do it,” Sims says. “Because I would really love to hear her scream once more before she dies. She really is a screamer. Wouldn’t you agree, Geoffrey?”
Holy mother of...
Deep breaths, Jessica. He is fucking with you again. Don’t let him hold all the cards.
The game isn’t over until you’re dead.
“Geoffrey,” I say. “How true is it, what Lincoln said? Are these military plans really that old?”
“Shut up,” Sims says.
“Actually, no. They update the information in the boxes quarterly,” Geoffrey says, catching on. “They just updated the information the day before the break-in.”
“Huh,” I say looking at Lincoln. “So maybe it’s not a bunch of dusty old Cold War tactics.”
“SHUT UP!” Sims shouts. His gun goes off, shattering a window. Shards of glass rain down on the floor. “Geoffrey, you will access those files now, or I will shoot her.”
I shake my head. Geoffrey looks me in the eyes, and I see the enormous amount of fear he is forcing back. He places his hands flat on the table and clenches his jaw. “No.”
The next gunshot is quieter, even though the target is closer. I scream and clutch my leg, cussing at the pain, which I think just might kill me. “Motherfuckingshit!”
“Do it, or I’ll shoot her other leg,” Sims says.
I can’t see what’s happening because I’m curled over my leg, in excruciating pain. But I can hear the keys on my computer clicking away fervently for several seconds. “Done. Please don’t hurt her.”
“That’s all?”
“It’s all on there, check for yourself,” Geoffrey says.
Sims pulls Geoffrey out of his seat and checks the computer, making sure that what he needs is there. I force my head up, trying to will away the pain so that I can grasp what is going on. Sims is in the chair next to me, staring at the computer screen. I can barely lift my head, which is why I see his hand holding his gun under the table. It’s pointed at Lincoln .
Dammit . He doesn’t plan on leaving us alive to take the fall. He plans on killing us all.
I steel myself, deciding that the pain really doesn’t exist. It can’t—not for what I’m about to do.
“So now you’re going to shoot Lincoln?” I ask.
“What?” Lincoln sees what I need him to see—the gun pointed right at him.
I lunge forward, grabbing Sims’s gun with my injured arm. He falls for the fake, going at me with his free hand. I straighten up and push the heel of my other hand full-force into Sims’s nose. He
“Is that what Sims told you?” I ask. “That no one cares about these plans? They’re old and useless? That was enough for you to trade your entire life mission. Your whole career.”
“You don’t get it. I still get to keep the job. Because I’m not going down for this—you are.” Lincoln smiles and looks over at the computer in front of Geoffrey.
I take another step forward and follow his gaze. It’s my laptop.
Lincoln sees the recognition in my eyes and smiles. “I admit it’s not fair that any of us should go away for this, but I suppose someone has to. The story we’ll tell the CIA is that you kidnapped Geoffrey and stole the records yourself, selling them to the highest bidder. You’ll be locked up forever. But don’t worry, Jessica, I’ll continue the good fight. Only, with extra pocket cash.”
I feel the barrel of a gun at my back. “Glad you could join us, Jessica.” Sims says from behind me. “I’ll have that gun.”
He lifts the barrel to the ceiling and pulls the strap over my head. “Now, move over to your boyfriend’s side there. It appears he needs more motivation.”
I take the empty chair next to Geoffrey. He looks tired, but still resolved. “Don’t do it,” I say under my breath.
“Yes, Geoffrey, don’t do it,” Sims says. “Because I would really love to hear her scream once more before she dies. She really is a screamer. Wouldn’t you agree, Geoffrey?”
Holy mother of...
Deep breaths, Jessica. He is fucking with you again. Don’t let him hold all the cards.
The game isn’t over until you’re dead.
“Geoffrey,” I say. “How true is it, what Lincoln said? Are these military plans really that old?”
“Shut up,” Sims says.
“Actually, no. They update the information in the boxes quarterly,” Geoffrey says, catching on. “They just updated the information the day before the break-in.”
“Huh,” I say looking at Lincoln. “So maybe it’s not a bunch of dusty old Cold War tactics.”
“SHUT UP!” Sims shouts. His gun goes off, shattering a window. Shards of glass rain down on the floor. “Geoffrey, you will access those files now, or I will shoot her.”
I shake my head. Geoffrey looks me in the eyes, and I see the enormous amount of fear he is forcing back. He places his hands flat on the table and clenches his jaw. “No.”
The next gunshot is quieter, even though the target is closer. I scream and clutch my leg, cussing at the pain, which I think just might kill me. “Motherfuckingshit!”
“Do it, or I’ll shoot her other leg,” Sims says.
I can’t see what’s happening because I’m curled over my leg, in excruciating pain. But I can hear the keys on my computer clicking away fervently for several seconds. “Done. Please don’t hurt her.”
“That’s all?”
“It’s all on there, check for yourself,” Geoffrey says.
Sims pulls Geoffrey out of his seat and checks the computer, making sure that what he needs is there. I force my head up, trying to will away the pain so that I can grasp what is going on. Sims is in the chair next to me, staring at the computer screen. I can barely lift my head, which is why I see his hand holding his gun under the table. It’s pointed at Lincoln .
Dammit . He doesn’t plan on leaving us alive to take the fall. He plans on killing us all.
I steel myself, deciding that the pain really doesn’t exist. It can’t—not for what I’m about to do.
“So now you’re going to shoot Lincoln?” I ask.
“What?” Lincoln sees what I need him to see—the gun pointed right at him.
I lunge forward, grabbing Sims’s gun with my injured arm. He falls for the fake, going at me with his free hand. I straighten up and push the heel of my other hand full-force into Sims’s nose. He
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