KEY WEST, FL. – The sounds of the fun at Finnegan?s wafted down the alley to
Yvonne like an aroma?enticing, pungent with expectation, pulling
her in against her better judgment. Maybe she ought to keep working,
pinging the mystery chip and pinpointing the origin of its owners.
But responsibility faded as she walked through the packed bar. Life
in the Keys had its own conventions, one of which was nobody
worked nights unless the job was connected to the entertainment.
Some people served the alcohol; others imbibed. There wasn?t much
going on in between, and she liked it that way. Work hard, play hard.
This rhythm of island life brought her back here several times a year.
She stopped at the door to the patio and surveyed. Sock, Ralph
and Rachel Teivel had commandeered a table?probably showed up
at four to make sure they got the best one?and basked in the coast?s
evening breezes. Thomas pulled a chair out to join them. The rest of
the crowd languished, elbow-deep in pitchers of beer. Yvonne saw
them as escapees from colder climates and lives they could never
quite justify, transported into this Jimmy Buffett reverie, people who
may once have had nothing in common, but now shared a healthy
disregard for appearances and conformity.
It could have been a grand ball. She might have worn an evening
gown instead of jeans and a tank top. Nearly every time she thought
about how else her life might have turned out, she imagined the
marble halls of her childhood, watching her parents circulate among
members of the Politburo and the rest of the Soviet apparatchiks.
She pictured her father in his army uniform, the red trim outlining
his broad shoulders. Although he held the rank of colonel, he looked
far more regal than any of the generals who might attend.
Descendants of the previous century?s royalty were rare, and he never
allowed anyone to forget that a few of the Romanov family had
survived the revolution and the purges that came after. Her mother
looked like royalty too, her Vietnamese and French looks making her
far more exotic than the pale Russians who surrounded her. Together
they always outshone whatever the Communists could stuff into a
dress or tux. No wonder so many people in Soviet society hated them.
Her parents, of course, returned the sentiment in their own way,
flaunting their intellects and lineage over the party hacks.
But that was the problem at home too?the rest of her father?s
family was more concerned with rank and cronyism than character.
They made her mother pay for it at every gathering, and made it
worse for her, because in the eyes of the aunts, uncles and cousins
she was something not completely Russian and never quite good
enough in their opinion. She remembered how frightened she
became when her parents left her with relatives; how, if she displeased
them, they would lock her in a servant?s closet for hours. And if she
complained to her parents when they returned, the aunts and uncles
would say her imagination bordered on insanity. They would insist
Yvonne be sent to a psychiatrist, or even an institution.
She rebelled as much as she could, immersing herself in
computer science. As soon as she was of legal age she took her
mother?s maiden name, Tran.
If her father hadn?t been assigned to America she might still be
over there, enduring familial slights, maybe cracking code for Russian
internet thugs, or worse, for the thugs in government. Much better
that she stayed here. Life was at least comfortable working for Stokes
and his boys, and as she leaned back and put her feet up on Sock?s
leathery kneecaps, she relaxed in the knowledge that it was so much
more casual too.
As much as she loved chasing down electrons, hacking into
valuable sites, or nailing the scum that wrote code to infiltrate
databases, she appreciated this part of her life just as much. She?d
never thought people like Sock, Rachel and Thomas would be her
friends, but they were among the few who let her be herself, who
could watch her get drunk and pick up some young stud for the night,
and never say a word about it the next day. Each time she thought
about the pretentious life she might have led back in Moscow she
knew she?d made the right decision. Her only regret was having lost
touch with her daughter, Lillian, so many years ago. She?d be
eighteen soon.
But she wouldn?t think about that now. It would put too much of
a damper on the good times she planned for tonight.
As she reached to sip her Stoli, an authoritative voice addressed
her from behind, through the din coming from the bar. It sounded
familiar.
?Miss, I have some questions I?d like to ask you.? She turned to
see hunky security guy, dressed now in shorts and a muscle shirt. A
bit of a bodybuilder, this one.
She ran her fingers along his triceps, feeling the hard symmetry
of what she estimated to be four hours a day in the gym. ?Not bad,?
she said. ?I have a few questions for you, too, and they have nothing
to do with airports.?
He picked up Sock?s seat?with Sock in it?and moved it two
feet to the side so he could slide another chair in. Then he pivoted in
next to her and introduced himself as Kyle. That was another thing
she loved about the Keys?meeting people, especially men, especially
good-looking men, was so easy. Even at forty she had no problem
hooking up whenever she wanted.
Sock was fine with the move. In fact, he applauded the display of
strength. The six at the table relaxed over drinks as the sun took its
time dipping through the persimmon-colored sunset into the gulf.
Yvonne caught up on the latest news from Sock and Thomas, while
Kyle performed a sitting pose-down for her and Rachel, flexing each
time he brought his beer to his lips. The cheap display lessened his
chances in Yvonne?s mind; but Rachel seemed interested. They were
both all about bodies?Rachel looked like she spent a lot of her time
in the gym too. Maybe they were made for each other.
Thomas and Sock went on about mundane island events?who
was dating whom, who had fallen behind on their house payments,
who would attend Finnegan?s New Year?s party. Sometimes it was
hard for Yvonne to get into their blue-collar obsessions. But she had
to pretend those things interested her to keep them from guessing
about her life. At least it was fun keeping her government work secret.
An hour or so later the sun had set and everyone settled into a
pleasant contemplation of the dark, glowing sky. Yvonne nursed her
third Stoli. Kyle was on the other side of the table now, and he and
Rachel were nuzzling each other like buff thoroughbreds. It was no
great loss, as far as Yvonne was concerned. Muscle men looked good,
but they were so into themselves it often meant disappointment in
bed. Rachel would find out later. The evening seemed to be winding
down. Even the loud conversations at the beginning of the evening
had quieted to a low buzz.
Inside, someone had found an instrument and began strumming.
Whoever had it was merely raking his fingers across the strings,
making a racket instead of music. Still, the sound was strangely
infectious, reminiscent of another place and time. She recognized it
as something from her childhood, something she and her father had
shared. Of course! A balalaika. Who had one down here?
Colin came through the doors to the patio like a wandering
minstrel?one, however, who had no idea how to play.
?Give me that!? Yvonne said. He did, and she cradled the
instrument like it was a baby. ?Where did you get it??
Colin smiled. ?The last time we met you told me how you used
to play duets with your father back in Moscow. I thought I would
surprise you.?
?You darling! How nice.?
?If you only knew how difficult it was to carry this on my back on
the Ducati at ninety miles an hour,? he said. ?Why don?t you play
something for us??
It had been years since she?d even held one, yet the songs she and
her father played came back to her as though they had practiced
yesterday. Yvonne fingered a few chords. The feel of the strings
against her fingers brought it all back to her?afternoons with the
winter sun streaming through the window of theMoscow apartment,
she and her father on the couch, leaning against each other and
taking different parts of the harmony, forgetting, for a while, the next
skirmish with the extended family.
Yvonne played ?Katyusha.? She knew no one in the bar would
know what it meant, but for a moment she was back in the living
room with her father, playing a song about a lovesick girl watching
her man go off to war.
A crowd of people from the bar and patio formed around her.
After a while they began to clap along with the rhythm. Yvonne
usually didn?t care for these kinds of group love-ins, but tonight was
different. The world felt good. Colin would be rewarded for his
thoughtfulness.
She kept on playing: ?Stenka Razin,? ?Along the Petersburg
Road,? even ?The Volga Boatmen.? The audience grew larger, as
more people from the front of the bar joined the show. She noticed
out of the corner of her eye that Rachel and Kyle were now sitting
close with their muscular arms around each other. Funny how her
brief infatuation with the muscle man had passed so quickly. And
here was Colin, not nearly as buff?a little geeky in fact?and yet
right now he seemed to be the sexiest man on the planet.
Yet while she was playing and looking at Colin, it was Stokes?s
voice she imagined. Yes, they?d had an affair, but now she merely
worked for him, and the workday was over too. What would bring
him to mind now? She stared at Colin and smiled, but the thought of
Stokes wouldn?t go away.
?I want to talk to you?now!?
?Rohan?? This wasn?t imagination. She heard him speak to her.
?Put down the ukulele and pick up your phone.?
?It?s not a ukulele, it?s a balalaika!? She was shouting now, to no
one. The people in the front of the crowd stopped clapping and
stared. She stopped strumming.
Colin looked at her as though she was having a breakdown.
?Easy, honey,? he said. ?We know it?s a balalaika.?
?I?I?m sorry, everyone,? she said. ?I was thinking of something
and I got carried away.?
The faces said they were trying to understand, but still she felt
embarrassed. She handed the balalaika back to Colin and headed
for the ladies?.
Inside a stall she picked up the smart phone. Stokes was waiting
for her. ?Rohan, what?s going on? How is it I can hear your voice in
my head??
?Must be love, Yvonne. You can?t get me out of your mind.? She
listened as he fought to hold back a laugh.
?My implant!? She touched her jaw. ?That was no upgrade. You
want to spy on me.?
?Think of me as your conscience. A friendly one who only wants
to make sure you?re okay and working on the case.?
?So you can hear everything that?s going on??
?As long as your cell phone is turned on.?
?And what if I take Colin home with me tonight? You going to
listen in on that too??
?Your conscience advises you to forget about him.?
?Pervert,? she said. ?I?ll have to make some adjustments to your
software.?
?What kind of adjustments? You can?t modify government issue.?
?And you can?t invade my private life, Rohan. I may work for you,
but I?m still allowed to have one, you know.? She could hear him
struggling to keep his temper. Good. She had the upper hand again.
?Listen,? he said. ?I don?t want to spoil your fun, but the people
at Network Systems are on my case to learn the problem with the
server. And do I need to mention my superiors at CyberCom would
like to see some movement on this too??
?Rohan, darling, you know no one works nights in the Keys. But
I promise I?ll get back on it as soon as the sun comes up.?
?No later, though. Rita Sanchez has already called me four times
today.?>
?Really. Maybe she has more than computers in mind.?
?Not funny, Yvonne.?
?All right. Tell Sanchez to hang on. I should have some answers
by noon.?
Stokes looked relieved. ?Good. Then as soon as you figure it out,
call me.?
She went back to the patio to join the others, but Stokes?s
reprimand was already doing its intended job, getting her to think
about the server problem again.When she had some answers maybe
she?d offer to chase the leads down herself. The chip in the server
intrigued her. It was the kind of attack she would have conducted
herself, back when she freelanced and sold her black hat skills to the
highest bidder. Now someone else was enjoying the thrill of the
virtual hunt. That irked her, made her a little jealous.
If she could convince Stokes to let her go, she?d need some people
she could trust, and that didn?t include the stiffs from CyberCom or
NSA that Stokes would recommend. Might as well start lining a team
up before he could push his own people into the case. Colin would be
perfect, in more ways than one. He was nearly as good a pilot as she,
and had a decade?s worth of experience, even though he was only
twenty-nine.
Yvonne took the chair next to Colin and put her head on his
shoulder.
?Show?s over?? he said.
?Public show,? she said. ?But there?s a private performance a little
later.?
He rubbed her thigh. ?Why wait for the previews when we can
leave now??
?Colin, darling,? she said. ?I have a proposition for you.?
?I thought you?d never ask.?
?Actually,? she said. ?I might have two propositions.?
End Chapter 3
