Billionaire Decoded (18 page)

"Do it," Williams said.

Brecken sighed and opened the
laptop, then powered it up. He began to type. Williams moved to stand behind
him. He accessed his mainframe and began typing in code as fast as he could. He
wasn't making words or sentences. He doubted Williams would know what he was
doing.

He knew what Heather was thinking.
She probably thought he was a coward. The truth was he had lied to her. He had
put her in harm’s way as well. He continued to type.

"Brecken, don't do it,"
Heather suddenly spoke up. "Don't-"

"Shut up," the Bolivian
colonel snapped from the other side of the room.

Alyson laughed. The Bolivian turned
to her. "You shut up, too."

Alyson scowled. “How dare you talk
to me like that!" she snapped. "Who do you think brought you in on
this deal, anyway?"

The Bolivian eyed her, and Brecken
stopped typing as he watched the colonel stand and walk slowly toward Alyson.
To Brecken’s surprise, she didn't show any fear. Rather, she smiled. Then, to
his dismay, the Bolivian reached out and stroked her hair. Alyson placed her
hand on his, brought his hand to her mouth, then licked one of his fingers and
then pulled it into her mouth. Brecken’s stomach heaved with disgust. She didn't
care that everyone was watching.

"Continue," Williams said.

Swallowing, Brecken tore his gaze
away from his ex-fiancée and returned to typing in code. Williams finally
seemed to notice what he was doing.

"What is that?"

"It's code to access my
files."

"Why don’t you just log on to
your server and access them?"

Brecken looked over her shoulder,
frowning. "And let every other hacker in the world back door access to my
files? No way. I created my own program, using my own combination of computer
languages so that only I have access to this information, and without leaving a
trace that I’ve been digging in classified files."

Williams eyed him with suspicion.
"How do I know I can trust you?"

Brecken shrugged. "I guess you
don't." He stopped typing and lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want me to stop
or keep going?"

"Keep going," Williams
gestured.

"Monster."

Brecken stiffened. That had come
from Heather. He kept typing. Every once in a while, a file popped up and
Brecken opened it. "Better write these names down, Williams, because this
file is going to disappear within five minutes of opening without inserting a
special code name and I don’t have that."

Heather made another noise. Brecken
glanced at her and tried to make eye contact, but she refused to look at him.
Williams quickly snapped his fingers and one of his team members scurried over,
pulling a small wire-bound notebook and pen from his pocket. Every time one of
the files opened, Brecken quickly translated the information while Williams
scribbled frantically.

"Wait, what was that name again?"
he asked one time.

“Al-Qasim,” Brecken said. He kept
typing. His fingers flew over the keyboard, the computer screen filled with
line after line of code. "Secret after secret," he commented,
glancing over his shoulder at Williams. "You see how much information our
government keeps secret?”

Williams smiled and clapped him on
the shoulder. "I told them you would come in handy with your computer
skills," he said, nodding to the Bolivian colonel. "There's not a
better hacker in the world."

Time passed. At one point, he
glanced up at Williams. "How long have I been doing this?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because it only takes a couple
of hours for even the slowest government geek to realize that someone has
hacked into their system. I've hidden my trail very well, but no matter where
you go, small packets of information end up getting through." Brecken was
lying through his teeth, but could only hope that neither Williams nor any of
the others knew anything about computer security. "I'll need to stop for a
while before I start up again."

Williams glanced at his watch. “It's
been about ninety minutes." He turned to the others. “I suppose we can
wait another half an hour, and then have you start up again. How many more
files can you access?"

"Have you ever seen the National
Archives?" Brecken asked. He realized that Williams didn't know what he
was talking about. "From what I've seen, there are more than a dozen more
files that I can access. Each file is filled with names, locations, family
members, massive amounts of information."

He still didn't know what the
Bolivian colonel had to do with any of this. He finally asked. "Williams,
if you're out for revenge, what is it that he wants?" he gestured over
shoulder at the Bolivian.

"There's a certain family he's
looking for. For his own reasons of course. When you've finished giving us what
we want, you're going to give him what he wants."

Brecken didn't blink. "I don't
work for him. I work for you."

"We'll see about that,"
Williams grinned. Then, moving to stand by Brecken, he watched as Brecken hit
the enter button for the last time. He glanced at Heather and tried to convey a
comforting glance. She merely stared at him. The screen filled with more code,
although the code was much different than he'd been typing in several moments
earlier. Williams didn't notice the difference. Good. Maybe he had managed to
buy them some time. He just hoped that it would be enough. The screen went
blank.

Heather watched in disgust as
Brecken laughed along with the others. How could he? He had turned toward her
several times while he was typing on his computer, tried to smile at her, as if
that would change her mind about him. How could he possibly think that she
would want anything to do with him after she had seen his true colors? He
wasn't a patriot. He was a traitor. Whoever had called and delivered that
mysterious phone message had been right. How does it feel to be working for a
traitor? She felt sick to her stomach.

She watched the group chuckling and
clapping each other on the back as Brecken merely sat there in his chair, the
laptop closed on his lap. He wore a strange smile on his face, watching the
others, but not joining in. Across the room, Alyson was rubbing her hand up and
down the Bolivian’s thigh. Her stomach churned again. Disgusting.

A few minutes later, Brecken turned
to glance at her. He mouthed something. What? The next instant, the doors burst
open. Everyone froze. Suddenly, the room exploded in a flash of bright light,
followed immediately by an overwhelming, ear-shattering
bang
. Brecken leapt from his chair and in two steps was in front of
her, reaching for her.

"Get down!" he shouted.

Before she could even reply, her
ears ringing from the loud noise, she felt his arms wrap around her. He pulled
her from the chair to the ground, cushioning her body from the hard cement
floor with his own body before he rolled over her, covering her body with his
own and sheltering her head with his arms and shoulders. Gunfire erupted in the
room. She heard screams. It sounded female. Alyson.

What the hell was happening? She
heard the spurt of an automatic weapon, and then the returning fire from what
sounded like handguns. A cry of pain. A gurgling noise. More gunshots. She
smelled the acrid scent of gunpowder in the air. Heard the dull thuds as
bullets found flesh. More cries and shouts. Chaos.

She could see some movement under
Brecken’s arm. Suddenly, the room was filled with helmeted, black-suited,
Kevlar vest protected figures. She saw the acronyms emblazoned in bright white or
yellow lettering on those vests. FBI…SWAT…DEA.

And then, it was over. As suddenly
as the commotion had started, it was over. Smoke roiled in the air. Heather
stared around her, stunned. The Bolivian colonel lay in a puddle of blood,
unmoving. An FBI agent already led a crying Alyson from the room. The man
Brecken had been talking to, his former unit commander, also lay on the floor,
half of his head blown away. She cringed, tried to swallow her cry of horror.
Brecken looked over her shoulder, saw what she was staring at, and quickly hid
her face in his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" she
snapped, trying to roll out from under him.

"It's over now, Heather,"
he said. "You're safe now."

Her mind was spinning. She was
confused. She tried to pull out of Brecken's grasp. She didn't want him
touching her. "Leave me alone!"

Instead, he quickly rolled off her,
jumped to his feet and then grabbed her hand and lifted her from the floor. He
propelled her out of the warehouse and into the darkness, now lit with flashing
red and blue lights. The pavement in front of the warehouse milled with local
police and agents from numerous agencies. Brecken pulled her off to the side.

"Listen to me, Heather. I was
typing encoded messages to one of my contacts at the local FBI office. They
were passing on the information to these agencies the entire time. I knew it
would take some time to get here, so I had to stall them-"

"Slow down!" she urged.
"I don't understand!" Now that she was away from the others and she
realized that she was safe, that she was going to live, trembling overtook her.
She knew it was adrenaline. Relief. Disbelief. Still, her mind was spinning.
What was Brecken saying? He'd been working with local law enforcement?

"It's going to be all right
now, Heather. You're safe."

They were safe? She was safe?
She looked up at him, drawn to the
look in his eyes. He was holding her shoulders, compelling her to look at him.
He stroked her hand along the side of her head, generally caressing, visibly
wincing as his hand touched her wound. Then, his fingers traced along the side
of her face and gently touched her split lip.

"I'm so sorry, Heather. So
sorry. I'll make this up to you-"

Still stunned, she gazed over his
shoulder. Every member of Brecken's former SEAL unit that had survived were
being led away in handcuffs. She didn't see Alyson, but figured she was already
in a car to be taken away by law enforcement. Good. It served the bitch right.
She was a traitor.

Law enforcement officers hustled
back and forth. An ambulance arrived. A coroner's van. All of a sudden, it was
too much for her. Uttering sounds that escaped from her sore throat, she began
pounding her small fists against Brecken's arms, his chest, his shoulders,
everywhere she could make contact. He didn't stop her. He let her pound on him,
as if he understood.

Dammit, she didn't want him to
understand. She wanted to be furious at him for jeopardizing her safety.
Suddenly, the anger drained from her. Shaking, she began to cry. Her relieved
weeping turned into sobs and she sagged against him. He wrapped her in his
embrace.

"It's all right, Heather,"
he said. "You're fine. You’re going to be fine. I'm so sorry you had to go
through this. So sorry…"

A moment later, a DEA and FBI agent
approached.

"Shaw, we're going to need to
debrief you-"

"I'll meet you in a little
while," he promised. "First, I'm going to take her home-"

"One of our agents can drive
her home," the FBI agent said.

"No," Brecken said,
shaking his head. "I'll take her home and then I'll come down to your office.
You know I'll keep my word," he said to the FBI agent.

With a sigh, the FBI agent
acquiesced. "It'll take us a while to clean up around here, anyway. I
expect you in my office in one hour."

Brecken cleared his throat.
"Could somebody take us to her apartment? I could call a taxi, but…"

*

In less than twenty minutes, Brecken
and Heather arrived at her apartment building. She knew she would have to move.
She couldn't stay here, not after tonight. Not when every time she stepped into
her apartment she would see those two bodyguards of his standing at the window.
She said as much to Brecken.

"I can help you find a
place-"

"I don't need anything from
you, Brecken," she said. She felt numb, still trying to process
everything. "And by the way, I quit."

Brecken nodded as if he understood.
"I'm going to walk you up to your apartment, and then I have a few things
I need to explain. If you decide you're through with me after I finish, then
I’ll accept your decision. All I ask is that you give me a chance to explain."

Heather said nothing, but allowed
Brecken to walk her up to her apartment. The minute she got inside, she sank
down on the couch. She looked up at Brecken, who had moved to stand by the
window. "Okay, say your piece."

It took everything she had not to
throw herself at him, to revel in the comfort that she knew his embrace could
provide. She was still upset. "Are you going to tell me that all of this
happened because Alyson couldn't let you go? Because she's carrying your
baby?"

He turned to her. "I don't
think Alyson is telling the truth about that. I've given it a lot of thought.
She hasn't shown me any proof that she's pregnant-"

"Be that as it may,
this...whatever it was that happened tonight, is something I never want to go
through again. Was Alyson behind all this? How in the world can I even consider
a relationship with you when you've got people like that in your life?"

"Heather, I need to tell you
the truth-"

"That would be a nice change of
pace," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Look, I'm not a traitor. I
haven't been selling and trading information-"

She interrupted. "Brecken, are
you forgetting the article in the
New
York Times
? The innuendo? The accusations? And were you doing in that
warehouse, divulging all that information to your former SEAL team, against
insurgents?"

He shook his head. "I've been
working undercover, Heather, unofficially. I'm not a part of any government
organization, but I've been working with several agencies to uncover the person
responsible for a number of terrorist attacks, as well as trying to identify
individuals like that Bolivian colonel who've been selling arms, drugs, and
dealing in human trafficking."

She stared at him, not sure whether
she believed it. "But all of this… You mean your company is on the up and
up? You really are just a computer programmer, and your company doesn't deal
with espionage, counterespionage, or any of that other spy stuff?"

He smiled and shook his head.
"One of my old friends, an FBI agent, asked me about a year ago to take on
the persona of, well, let's just say somebody like Assange or Snowden. There
were rumors that some members of my old SEAL team had gone rogue. I didn't want
to believe it at first. I told him I would do what I could. Unfortunately, the
whole operation got pretty complex, and the more I dug, the bigger it grew.
Before I knew it, I even began to believe that I was a traitor."

Heather couldn't believe how
relieved she was that Brecken wasn't a traitor, that he was indeed a patriot.
He hadn't been involved in any underground or illegal activities. Still…
"Couldn't you have trusted me, Brecken?" she asked. "How did I
manage to get dragged into the middle of it, anyway?" She shook her head.
"Wait, don't answer that, I already know. But are you telling me that Alyson
was the traitor? Your business partner?"

"Apparently so," he sighed.
"Heather, I know we haven't known each other for long, but I want you to
know that I have already developed feelings for you. Strong feelings…" He
shook his head. “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t go for one night stands. I
want something more.”

Heather didn't want to admit it, but
she felt the same. There was something about Brecken that pulled her toward him
like the old cliché – like a moth to the flame. Still, his background, his
history, the thing with Alyson…

"Brecken, I have feelings for
you, too, but I have to be honest with you. I'm not sure I can deal with all of
your history-"

He was about to interrupt when they
heard the knock on the door. Thinking it was law enforcement; he went to open
it. Heather glanced over her shoulder and then sat upright, her eyes wide.
Alyson was walking into the apartment, forcing Brecken to walk into the living
room ahead of her. She was holding a gun. How the hell had she gotten away from
the police?

"Alyson, there's no need to
hurt Brecken," she said, knowing that it would take very little to tip the
crazy woman over the edge. "Your baby needs its father."

Alyson laughed, a jittery, crazed
laugh. "I'm not pregnant, bitch. Never was, but I knew that Brecken
wouldn't come back to me for anything else. And, you know what? It might've
worked if you hadn't come along."

Heather saw the look in Alyson’s
eyes. It wasn't good. Brecken turned to his ex-fiancée. "Alyson, put the
gun down. It's over."

Heather saw him glance at her, and
then back at Alyson. Alyson freaked.

"I want you to look at me like
you look at her!"

"Alyson," Brecken said
calmly. "Give me the gun."

"You don't want to be with her,
Brecken," Alyson said, her voice whiny and shaking with fury. The hand
holding the gun shook, but she didn't release her grip on it. "You want to
be with me… You want to be with me!"

Suddenly, Brecken lashed out with
his foot. It caught Alyson in the stomach. She doubled over, the gun flying
from her hand. Brecken pounced while shouting over his shoulder.

"Heather! Call 911!"

Alyson was screaming, shouting
epitaphs at both of them. "Your life is over, Brecken! Your company! Your
girlfriend!"

They struggled for possession of the
gun. Suddenly, it went off. Heather didn't know what happened, whether Brecken
fired, or whether Alyson had grabbed the gun and shot herself. All of a sudden,
she was lying still on the floor, blood oozing from the wound in her skull, her
eyes glazed and staring unseeing at the ceiling.

"Shit,” Brecken muttered. He
stood, wiping blood spatter off his face.

Seconds later, they heard the
sirens. She hadn’t even had a chance to call the police. One of the neighbors,
maybe more than one, had called. Thank God. She stared in horror down at Alyson
while the puddle of blood spread under her head. Brecken quickly grabbed her
arm and tugged her out of the apartment and into the hallway as two police
officers rushed upstairs. Brecken gestured inside the apartment. He told one of
the officers his name, asked him to call a man at the local FBI office named
Carl Erickson.

In less than fifteen minutes,
Heather and Brecken sat in the rear seat of a police cruiser as they were
driven to the local FBI office. "Alyson was a dream in the
beginning," Brecken said softly. "But within a relatively short time,
she began to behave erratically. She put on a good front for me, but then, the
more I found out about her, the more I realized that she was unstable. Her
family background, no matter how much money she had, was a disaster from the
beginning due to neglectful parents and abuse. She couldn't handle being left
alone."