Read Online Unforgettable - eARC by Eric James Stone - Free Book Online
Authors: Eric James Stone
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so I managed to grab it first.
“I stole it first anyway,” I said, “so it really should be mine.”
“No, I stole it first,” she said. Of course, she had forgotten taking it from me at gunpoint. “You came after.”
She searched through a drawer and pulled out a metal knob. “Here is key,” she said. She held it next to the handcuffs and they unlocked.
I sorted through the black clothes, extracting my pants and making sure Yelena’s gun wasn’t in the pile. “You don’t think that safe drilled itself and opened its door for you?”
She grabbed her clothes and began to dress. “Ah, you hide when I come in?”
“Something like that,” I said. The quantum key was still in my pants. I put the prototype in a pocket and then dressed quickly. Now all I had to do was get clear of the building, and I could chalk this one up as a victory.
“Then is fair,” she said. “You do hard work, so you get prototype.”
She seemed to give in a little too easily, but it might just be a combination of professional courtesy and gratitude for my help in escaping.
She pulled her ski mask on, and I did the same.
By the time we snuck out the emergency exit door, fire trucks had arrived. In all the confusion, no one noticed us as we ran away from the building. I decided to abandon my car in the parking lot. It was just a rental under a false identity, anyway.
After we climbed the fence, I said, “I suppose we should split up now.” I felt strangely reluctant to have Yelena forget me.
“Nat, wait.” Yelena pulled off her ski mask, then reached up and peeled mine back. “To remember me,” she said, and gave me a long, slow kiss.
It was the best kiss of my life. It was almost, but not quite, good enough to prevent me from noticing that she was taking the prototype out of my pocket.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled back from the kiss. “Let me guess: you simply wanted the prototype as a reminder of the good times we’ve shared?”
She smiled and relaxed her wrist. “Do you blame me for trying?”
“No.”
“Good,” she said.
Then she kneed me in the groin.
Chapter Seven
My usual motto on missions was: if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. But this time, the entire paradigm of the mission had changed. Instead of just trying different ways of breaking into the InterQuan headquarters in order to steal the prototype, I would have to track down a thief without even knowing who she really was.
Much as I hated to do it, I phoned Langley to report my failure. After the usual rigmarole of authentication using the manila file in Edward’s desk drawer, I brought him up to date on what had happened—including the embarrassing way in which I had lost the prototype.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose I could have you come in and look through pictures to see if you can identify this thief. Russian, you say?”
“She sounded Russian, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Hmmm.” His keyboard clicked. “I think I’ve got a better idea. There’s a quantum tech trade show thingy going on in Rome. Just the sort of place our thief might go to either sell what she’s stolen or steal something else. Why don’t you head over there and see if you can spot her? She won’t remember you, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Seems like a bit of a long-shot, though.” The CIA must really be desperate to get that prototype.
“You can kill two birds with one stone,” Edward said. “There’s an Iranian physicist named, uh, Parham Rezaei. Genius in quantum mechanics theory, apparently. Giving a lecture at the trade show tomorrow. First time he’s been outside Iran in several years. Have you ever heard of Kazem Jamshidi?”
“Yeah, I even met him. Look at your notes for my mission in London two weeks ago.”
Papers rustled. “Hmm. Interesting. So you’re the hush-hush original source on the supposed ‘quantum supercomputer.’ That’s caused quite a stir here.”
“Really?” As far as I knew, this was the
“I stole it first anyway,” I said, “so it really should be mine.”
“No, I stole it first,” she said. Of course, she had forgotten taking it from me at gunpoint. “You came after.”
She searched through a drawer and pulled out a metal knob. “Here is key,” she said. She held it next to the handcuffs and they unlocked.
I sorted through the black clothes, extracting my pants and making sure Yelena’s gun wasn’t in the pile. “You don’t think that safe drilled itself and opened its door for you?”
She grabbed her clothes and began to dress. “Ah, you hide when I come in?”
“Something like that,” I said. The quantum key was still in my pants. I put the prototype in a pocket and then dressed quickly. Now all I had to do was get clear of the building, and I could chalk this one up as a victory.
“Then is fair,” she said. “You do hard work, so you get prototype.”
She seemed to give in a little too easily, but it might just be a combination of professional courtesy and gratitude for my help in escaping.
She pulled her ski mask on, and I did the same.
By the time we snuck out the emergency exit door, fire trucks had arrived. In all the confusion, no one noticed us as we ran away from the building. I decided to abandon my car in the parking lot. It was just a rental under a false identity, anyway.
After we climbed the fence, I said, “I suppose we should split up now.” I felt strangely reluctant to have Yelena forget me.
“Nat, wait.” Yelena pulled off her ski mask, then reached up and peeled mine back. “To remember me,” she said, and gave me a long, slow kiss.
It was the best kiss of my life. It was almost, but not quite, good enough to prevent me from noticing that she was taking the prototype out of my pocket.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled back from the kiss. “Let me guess: you simply wanted the prototype as a reminder of the good times we’ve shared?”
She smiled and relaxed her wrist. “Do you blame me for trying?”
“No.”
“Good,” she said.
Then she kneed me in the groin.
Chapter Seven
My usual motto on missions was: if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. But this time, the entire paradigm of the mission had changed. Instead of just trying different ways of breaking into the InterQuan headquarters in order to steal the prototype, I would have to track down a thief without even knowing who she really was.
Much as I hated to do it, I phoned Langley to report my failure. After the usual rigmarole of authentication using the manila file in Edward’s desk drawer, I brought him up to date on what had happened—including the embarrassing way in which I had lost the prototype.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose I could have you come in and look through pictures to see if you can identify this thief. Russian, you say?”
“She sounded Russian, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Hmmm.” His keyboard clicked. “I think I’ve got a better idea. There’s a quantum tech trade show thingy going on in Rome. Just the sort of place our thief might go to either sell what she’s stolen or steal something else. Why don’t you head over there and see if you can spot her? She won’t remember you, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Seems like a bit of a long-shot, though.” The CIA must really be desperate to get that prototype.
“You can kill two birds with one stone,” Edward said. “There’s an Iranian physicist named, uh, Parham Rezaei. Genius in quantum mechanics theory, apparently. Giving a lecture at the trade show tomorrow. First time he’s been outside Iran in several years. Have you ever heard of Kazem Jamshidi?”
“Yeah, I even met him. Look at your notes for my mission in London two weeks ago.”
Papers rustled. “Hmm. Interesting. So you’re the hush-hush original source on the supposed ‘quantum supercomputer.’ That’s caused quite a stir here.”
“Really?” As far as I knew, this was the
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