Protecting the Innocent. Cassie Miles
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not exactly the sackcloth-and-ashes type.”
“Plus I hate the haircut.”
He opened the car door for her, and she slipped inside. A buttery leather interior wrapped around her. There were more dials on the dashboard than in a small aircraft. Nice car! But what else would she expect from Roman? He demanded the best of everything. Tailored clothes. Fine wine. Even his sneakers were custom-made. She could hardly imagine what his bay-front house looked like.
Anya turned to check on Charlie in the back seat. “Buckle up, young man.”
“I’m going to solve this puzzle now,” he informed her.
“Don’t be so sure,” Roman said as he closed his car door and plugged his key into the ignition. “Some people take days to solve a puzzle box.”
“Not me,” Charlie said.
“You think you’re that smart?” Roman teased.
“For sure. Neville says I’m a genius.”
“Neville?” Anya craned her neck to look at her son. “When did you talk to him?”
“I dunno.” Charlie eyed his puzzle box. “Maybe yesterday.”
Anya frowned. She didn’t want the company psychiatrist examining her son. Not without her permission. “I bumped into Neville today. I’m surprised he didn’t mention your visit.”
Charlie didn’t answer. He was absorbed in puzzle-solving.
“What do you think of Neville?” Roman asked.
She shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to say anything negative in front of Charlie. “He’s very tidy.”
“That’s an understatement,” Roman muttered. “The man alphabetizes the magazines on his coffee table.”
Under her breath, she asked, “What’s with his matching necktie and pocket hankie?”
“He has different colors for different days of the week. Blue on Monday. Red on Friday. That must be his day to get wild.”
“Wild?” She tried to picture Dr. Neville in an orgy mood and failed. “I can’t see it.”
“But don’t let his eccentricities fool you. Neville isn’t somebody you want to mess with.”
As they drove through the Legate gates, the atmosphere seemed to change. The pale blue sky expanded into a wider, brighter vista. Roman exhaled a deep breath. The tension lines across his forehead seemed to relax.
“TGIF,” she said. “Your job must be pretty stressful.”
“And how about you? How’s the translating work?”
She could use a bit more stress. “Not exactly my dream job.”
“You’re bored.”
He sounded so disappointed that she was tempted to lie and tell him everything was hunky-dory. But Anya had never been one to keep her true feelings to herself. “Bored stiff.”
“Still looking for fun?”
“You bet.”
“There’s fun coming up pretty soon,” he said. “Halloween. Everybody dresses up, and the kids from the school go trick-or-treating in the different departments.”
Anya found it difficult to reconcile the intense research and scientific experimentation that was the primary focus of Legate with the activities in the school, even if all the kids were geniuses.
“Are you telling me that all these Nobel laureates put on silly masks?”
“They love the chance to goof off,” he said. “In the meantime, we’ll get you started on more complex translation assignments.”
All she’d done thus far was proofread documents that were already translated by a computer service. “What kind of complex assignments?”
“The top secret stuff.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” he said. “We do geopolitical treatises and scientific experimentation on an international level. Jeremy worked on a couple of biochemical projects where the end results were reviewed by the President of the United States and Britain’s Prime Minister.”
“He never told me.”
“Which is why it’s called top secret.”
It irritated her to imagine projects that Jeremy didn’t tell her about. They were supposed to trust each other with everything. She’d thought their marriage was as open as sunshine. Instead, he’d been clandestine in his work. And in setting up the Legate schooling for Charlie. What else hadn’t Jeremy told her about? The armed guards at Legate, she thought. The high walls surrounding the compound.
As they crossed a bridge, she called over her shoulder to Charlie. “Bridge. Pick up your feet and hold your breath for good luck.”
“Not now, Mom. I’m busy.”
“The Bay Area is full of bridges,” Roman said. “Around here, you’ll build up a stockpile of luck.”
“Good.” Because she had a sneaking feeling that she might need all the luck she could get.
THE ELDERLY CHINESE MAN gazed impassively through the windshield as he tailed the Mercedes at a discreet distance.
“Don’t let them see us,” his companion warned.
“I am always cautious, Wade. You have no cause for concern.”
But Wade Bouchard couldn’t help feeling tense. After all these years, they were finally close to attaining their ultimate goal, which was nothing less than the absolute destruction of the Legate Corporation.
Wade was part of SCAT, Scientists Concerned About Truth. He and his associates had dedicated their lives to fighting those who used pure science for unethical purposes. Most of their battles were a matter of public record, but SCAT was ready to further their aims by whatever methods were necessary, including theft and violence. Wade had taken a bullet for his cause. And he killed a man in Taiwan. The face of that poor soul still haunted his nightmares, but he’d do the same again. Some principles were more important than life or death.
He could only pray that Anya would not disrupt his current mission. She had to agree. She had to understand that it was the only way to redeem the boy. Charlie. Wade’s grandson.
Chapter Four
Anya wasn’t wildly impressed by her first view of Roman’s house. Unremarkable landscaping obscured the front doorway and walls, which appeared to be little more than bland gray stucco. She noticed very few blooming flowers—not that autumn was the season for spectacular floral display.
When they parked inside the garage, Charlie gave a cheer. “I did it! I got the puzzle box open!”
“Good for you,” she said.
“Look what’s inside.” In his hand, he held a tiny dragon. The jaws were wide open as if the dragon were laughing.
“It’s for protection,” Roman said. “Keep that dragon with you, and you’ll always be safe from harm.”
Charlie regarded the statuette solemnly, then he held it toward her. “You need this more than I do, Mom.”
She was touched and, at the same time, concerned. “Why do you think I need protecting?”
“Duh,” he said. “Because you’re a girl.”
“Girls can take care of themselves just as well as boys.” It was never too early to start teaching tolerance; she didn’t want to raise a little misogynist. “You keep the dragon. It’s your special gift from Roman.”
Charlie stuffed