information on her hard drive about agoraphobia that she’d downloaded from the Net. Evidently Avery was one for self-analysis, self-diagnosis and self-treatment. Except that her self-professed self-treatment on those occasions when she had to leave her apartment seemed to involve large quantities of scotch. Call him an alarmist, but Dixon wondered if maybe it was time to call in an expert. Besides Johnnie Walker, he meant.
Evidently she’d even been telling the truth about not sending out the virus, too, since it existed only on a laptop that had no communication capacity. It would have been impossible for her to send it anywhere from there, and she hadn’t saved it to anything but her hard drive. Not to mention the virus itself wouldn’t work the way she had it set up. Maybe with a few modifications it would, but Dixon didn’t see any way to make it work unless she started over again.
In other words, Avery had built a dud. But that was appropriate, since her boyfriend turned out to be a dud, too.
What ultimately pushed Dixon off the fence and into her camp was the way Avery looked when she talked about that dud, Andrew Paddington. She seemed genuinely hurt by the guy’s betrayal. And she seemed genuinely shocked that he hadn’t been who he claimed to be. This from a woman who lived her life on the Internet and should know better than anyone how people misrepresented themselves there. That was when Dixon decided Avery was innocent. In more ways than one.
Unfortunately she was OPUS’s only tie to Sorcerer, public enemy number one. Which made her their best chance to catch him. Whether she liked it or not. For now, though, Dixon played along with the laughable suggestion that she had a choice in the matter.
So he listened silently as No-Name explained it to Avery. How her beloved Andrew was actually an evildoer named Adrian Padgett who was wanted by OPUS for a variety of crimes. How she was the only known person to currently have a solid, credible, workable connection to said evildoer. How they’d deduced from their investigation that Adrian had deliberately sought her out after stumbling onto her file while working for CompuPax in Indianapolis, a company to whom Avery had sold a software design at the tender age of fourteen. How he was up to no good and needed a computer genius like Avery to help him achieve it. How he was trying to win her over to his way of thinking by luring her into a romantic relationship where he could manipulate her and use her, because that was what Adrian did with every woman he met.
And then more. About how Adrian thought her weak and gullible and completely enamored of him. How he had no idea that she was on to him now, knew who he was and what he had done and that she was cooperating with OPUS. How her relationship with the criminal formerly known as Andrew was OPUS’s only hope, America’s only hope—yeah, play that patriotism card, Big Guy—to prevent the man from committing who knew what kind of international crimes. How it was Avery’s civic duty to work with OPUS to bring the son of a bitch to heel.
How in building her virus, however inoperative, they could have her tossed right back into jail. And how OPUS might be persuaded to never mention it to anyone and bury the evidence if she helped them out in this endeavor.
What a guy.
Six hours after Dixon had yanked Avery Nesbitt from her home, her reality, her safety and her life, his boss asked her a question that would change all of it.
“What do you say, Ms. Nesbitt? Will you help us catch him?”
To her credit, Avery didn’t even flinch. But it wasn’t Dixon’s boss she looked at when she replied to the question. It was at Dixon himself. “Yes,” she said evenly. “I’ll help you. Like I really have a choice.” But she added a caveat of her own. “And after you’ve put this guy away,” she said softly, firmly, “I want you people to promise me that for the rest of my life I will be left
Evidently she’d even been telling the truth about not sending out the virus, too, since it existed only on a laptop that had no communication capacity. It would have been impossible for her to send it anywhere from there, and she hadn’t saved it to anything but her hard drive. Not to mention the virus itself wouldn’t work the way she had it set up. Maybe with a few modifications it would, but Dixon didn’t see any way to make it work unless she started over again.
In other words, Avery had built a dud. But that was appropriate, since her boyfriend turned out to be a dud, too.
What ultimately pushed Dixon off the fence and into her camp was the way Avery looked when she talked about that dud, Andrew Paddington. She seemed genuinely hurt by the guy’s betrayal. And she seemed genuinely shocked that he hadn’t been who he claimed to be. This from a woman who lived her life on the Internet and should know better than anyone how people misrepresented themselves there. That was when Dixon decided Avery was innocent. In more ways than one.
Unfortunately she was OPUS’s only tie to Sorcerer, public enemy number one. Which made her their best chance to catch him. Whether she liked it or not. For now, though, Dixon played along with the laughable suggestion that she had a choice in the matter.
So he listened silently as No-Name explained it to Avery. How her beloved Andrew was actually an evildoer named Adrian Padgett who was wanted by OPUS for a variety of crimes. How she was the only known person to currently have a solid, credible, workable connection to said evildoer. How they’d deduced from their investigation that Adrian had deliberately sought her out after stumbling onto her file while working for CompuPax in Indianapolis, a company to whom Avery had sold a software design at the tender age of fourteen. How he was up to no good and needed a computer genius like Avery to help him achieve it. How he was trying to win her over to his way of thinking by luring her into a romantic relationship where he could manipulate her and use her, because that was what Adrian did with every woman he met.
And then more. About how Adrian thought her weak and gullible and completely enamored of him. How he had no idea that she was on to him now, knew who he was and what he had done and that she was cooperating with OPUS. How her relationship with the criminal formerly known as Andrew was OPUS’s only hope, America’s only hope—yeah, play that patriotism card, Big Guy—to prevent the man from committing who knew what kind of international crimes. How it was Avery’s civic duty to work with OPUS to bring the son of a bitch to heel.
How in building her virus, however inoperative, they could have her tossed right back into jail. And how OPUS might be persuaded to never mention it to anyone and bury the evidence if she helped them out in this endeavor.
What a guy.
Six hours after Dixon had yanked Avery Nesbitt from her home, her reality, her safety and her life, his boss asked her a question that would change all of it.
“What do you say, Ms. Nesbitt? Will you help us catch him?”
To her credit, Avery didn’t even flinch. But it wasn’t Dixon’s boss she looked at when she replied to the question. It was at Dixon himself. “Yes,” she said evenly. “I’ll help you. Like I really have a choice.” But she added a caveat of her own. “And after you’ve put this guy away,” she said softly, firmly, “I want you people to promise me that for the rest of my life I will be left
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