Blonde Ops (26 page)

She blew out a slow breath. “It's part of the job. Protect the First Lady at all costs.”

I glowered at her, curling my lips in a sneer. “Do you
really
think I'm such a threat?”

Her laughter was clipped. “One with your skills and rep? Yes!”

“I'm pretty sure I have some rights that are being trampled.”

“I was following orders.”

“Candace's?” I demanded, a sharp edge to my voice. “She said she didn't order it.”

“There are people with more authority than Candace.”

Oh God, who else had been digging into my past?

“I don't care,” I said, jamming my hands on my hips. “You had no right.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “True, but can you … do me a favor?”

She was asking for a favor? From me? Even when I was pissed at her? I tried to read her face, but couldn't. “Depends.”

“The CIA and the Secret Service have to work together, and it's not always friendly. Candace doesn't like taking orders from anyone not on her team even if they are higher up, and she doesn't like to be kept out of the loop.”

I could understand both sides, Candace's and Ortiz's. And it was interesting to know that as powerful as she was, Candace had others to answer to. “Go on,” I said.

“She's still upset about what happened at the Vatican, even though I was following procedure. Once she goes through the chain of command I'll be cleared, but I'd rather not deal with … how should I say it? Her attitude. So can you keep this between us? For now—just until the First Lady's visit is over.”

I feel your pain, Ortiz
, I thought, but I still let her squirm a few long moments before I gave in. “Yeah, sure,” I said, and was about to add,
even though you told Candace about my trip to see Parker,
when I realized that maybe Ortiz didn't tell Candace that I'd been to the hospital. Maybe in one of her lucid moments, Parker remembered me being there and told Candace herself. It was also possible that a staff member notified Candace that I'd been in Parker's room uninvited. I had promised Candace not to discuss anything about Parker, so I zipped it.

Ortiz grinned at me. “Thanks, Juliet.”

In our suite, Candace was sitting in front of a laptop, but she quickly switched off the screen when I entered. Secret stuff, I got it. Dumping my backpack at my feet, I sat down on the chair opposite her, waiting to see what type of mood she was in. An empty wineglass was on the table next to her, but the accompanying bottle was mostly full. Was that good? Was she enjoying a single glass to unwind, or had she just gotten started?

Candace looked tired, dark circles under those famous hazel eyes. “Hello, Bec. Thank you for getting in at a reasonable time. I appreciate your being responsible and not making me chase you down.”

“You have enough to do. Where's Varon?”

She laughed softly, and it made her look younger. “You're right about that. And Varon's out on a date with Joe. What about you? Was it Taj or Dante tonight?”

I tried not to be annoyed. I never got answers, yet she expected them. Sounded a lot like a certain blogger. “Taj. And just a long walk back to the hotel. Don't worry. I was careful.”

“Have a good time?”

I relaxed a small bit with the easier camaraderie. “He's very interesting, been to a lot of places, but I still don't know much about him. You guys checked him out, right?”

She flashed a hard glance. “No one would come within an inch of the front door of this hotel or the office without clearance. Including you.”

Uh-oh. That was a definite “yes and be quiet.”

“I've dealt with hackers before.” She held up her hands, seemingly aware that I was about to launch into defense mode, which I was. “I know that a good percentage of you are simply out to expose security weaknesses, but even you have to admit that can put people and information at risk, and there are a small number that use their skills to hurt and steal.”

I had arguments against that too, starting with the fact that any information a hacker gained access to was already at risk, but I could see this wasn't the time for
that
discussion.

“You're basically honest,” she continued. “We won't count changing your grades since it was only one class, one time, and I hear there were extenuating circumstances. If there's one thing being a celebrity has taught me, it's how to tell if a person is honest. In my experience, an honest person is rare.”

“I know.” I thought about all the phonies and liars at St. X's. I may have cheated by changing that one disputed grade, but I'd done the work. It was more like correcting a wrong. Still, it was funny coming from Candace. Not only was she was an authority figure, but her life was based on deception—using makeup, enhancing her looks, playing roles, and now, pretending to be an editor.

She searched my face. “You read people too, don't you?”

“People are like puzzles. I like to figure them out.”

She nodded. “And you're compassionate. You have a good heart. You hack for fun, and, I believe, for what you think, maybe misguidedly, is justice.”

I swallowed. Did she know about the Kevin debacle?

Candace poured herself a small amount of wine and swirled it around in her glass. “Now tell me, what do you know about Parker's accident?”

I frowned. “Someone tampered with the car's systems.”

“We've figured that out. But which?”

“It was the seat belt,” I said. “And the airbag.”

“But Parker's seat belt was fastened—”

“The lap belt was. What about the one across her chest?”

Candace sat up straight.

“If it was an automatic belt, it didn't function properly. It should have held her back or she wouldn't have hit the dashboard so hard,” I said.

“How do you know that's what happened?”

“When I went to see her—”

Candace narrowed her eyes at me, definitely not happy about that reminder.

“When I saw her,” I began again, “she had this weird bruise on her chest.” I looked around and, finding a pad and pen by the phone, quickly sketched it out and handed it to her. “I know what it is now—a logo. What kind of car was it?”

“A Lancia.”

“A shield in a circle,” I said. “So when Parker hit the dashboard hard, it left an almost exact imprint.”

“If you're right, that would explain her chest injuries,” Candace said in a tone that told me she wasn't completely convinced. “The airbag should have prevented that. It deployed in the crash.”

I nodded. “Yes, and Ortiz said that the car was checked out before that day and everything was working fine. We know that all the safety features, the seat belt and the airbag, worked perfectly on the driver's side because although Ortiz was bruised and banged up, she walked away without being seriously hurt.”

Candace blinked several times. Unsure if she was following where I was going with this, I continued, “Parker's seat belt had to malfunction for her to hit the dashboard. The injuries on her face and head came because the airbag was late being deployed. Along with the seat belt, I think the airbag sensor was also tampered with. It was like a one-two punch.” I took a breath. “Anyone with the right know-how could do that with a laptop and a couple of cables. Whoever it was, they made the accident look legit by frying the system so that the seat belt hack couldn't be traced. After that, it was just a matter of a little offensive driving on someone's part—get in Ortiz's way on a narrow street.”

She shook her head in wonder, then her eyes focused on me. “Keep this between us. Until we can verify this, trust
no one
. Do you understand?”

I nodded vigorously. “And there's another connection. Or maybe it's nothing.”

She leaned forward, attentive. “Go on.”

“When I was doing the expense reports I saw that Serena had bought these cables—the same kind that could have been used to hack Parker's car.”

Candace relaxed a little bit. “Yes, Varon mentioned you were doing some recon. In my office.”

I felt the blood rush to my face. “I didn't think it was
you,
I was checking to see if Serena bought the cables for one of the offices before I made any accusations.”

“Serena? I don't think she's capable of anything that technical.” She studied my face, realizing I was serious. “I'll look into it—we have to chase down every lead, even if it seems small. Or unlikely. She's been investigated, but it's possible we missed something.”

I didn't respond. Every time I came up with an argument to connect Serena to the accident, a counter one cropped up: she was technically running the magazine now, but she didn't get to replace Parker. She bought the cables but didn't seem to have the knowledge to use them.

“I was going to ask Sophie if she knew or saw anything unusual about that day or Serena, but never got the chance.”

One of Candace's sculpted brows rose. “Better that you didn't. We have enough extra noses in this situation.” Tapping her chin with her index finger, she mused, “I don't know why Serena would need any extra technical equipment.” Clearly the fact stuck in her head and puzzled her, as unlikely as Serena's involvement seemed at first. “If she was involved—and I'm not saying she was—I don't think she did everything herself.”

I nodded. “That makes sense. But who would she be working with?”

“Has Dante ever shown any interest or aptitude for working with that kind of technology?”

I was taken aback, but the answer came quickly enough. “No!”

“But he is pretty agile on that Vespa. Enough to drive defensively. Maybe offensively,” Candace countered.

He
was
slick on that scooter, but I was hesitant to either agree with her or defend him. It was getting harder to sort through the facts and not make guesses that could get people—maybe innocent ones—in lots of trouble. What if I was wrong about everything?

Taking a deep breath, I answered as honestly as I could. “That's true, but I've never seen him talk to Serena. I know what you're going to say: that I like him and I might not be thinking logically, and I admit that I don't know him that well. But I also don't want to accidentally help someone who might be involved. The only thing he said to me that might connect him to what happened is that he asked to meet Mrs. Jennings.”

“Did he push hard? Pressure you?” Her voice was soft, but it felt sharp like steel.

“No, he didn't insist or offer me anything. I honestly think it's more of a ‘meet a celebrity' thing.”

Trying to meet the First Lady was something most people would want to do if they got the opportunity—I knew, because I was thrilled to get the chance. Could anyone really blame Dante? I waited, holding my breath, not certain I wanted to hear what she was going to say if it was going to be bad for him.

Candace replaced the cork, her long, strong fingers forcing it deep into the bottle neck. She appeared to be debating something. “I don't think I'm giving away any state or agency secrets by telling you that Dante came back with a clean record.” She rested back in her chair, a slight upturn at the corners of her mouth that wasn't a smile but an expression of adamant determination. “We'll keep an eye on him.”

That didn't sound too bad—not much different from what they were already doing with me. But there was still something else—I knew one person who had the know-how to use those cables.

“What about Taj?” I said.

“What
about
Taj?” She almost sounded defensive.

“Taj is … very tech-savvy.” I didn't want to say how savvy. It might be nothing, and I didn't want to get him into trouble, any more than I wanted to get Dante into trouble—but I had to tell Candace everything.

“I'm aware of that—he also came back clean. And he has the curse of being a celebrity, which makes it easy to track his movements. Always watched and never alone.” I nodded, and she took a sip of wine, staring at me over the rim of her glass. “It's good that you're so observant, and it's smart that you're conscious of the company you keep, especially in this situation. That's a sign of good judgment, which I'm sure your parents and former headmasters would be thrilled to hear about, but, unfortunately, can't.”

I gave her a wry look. “Too bad. A good word from you might help when my parents try to get me into a new school. They may even let me have a say where my next prison will be.”

“I might be able to help with that, once this is all over.”

“Thanks.” I rose and picked up my backpack. “Good night, Candace.”

“Bec? Don't worry. That's my job.” She smiled grimly at me, and I felt a genuine concern—and realized that she was more worried than she wanted me to see.

 

TRICKS AND TIPS FOR
THE EDGE-Y GIRL

If you're taking lots of vacation photos, don't force a smile. Think happy thoughts, add a slight curve of the lips and you'll be a natural!

25

For a job well done. Join us for the interview. Breakfast at the office.

Please don't be late.

C.

The note I found when I woke up was written in Candace's elegant script. It had been placed on top of a hot pink dress, one of the coveted sample pieces sent to
Edge
by Dolce & Gabbana! There was also a little matching jacket and crystal-covered platforms that weren't so slanty that I felt like a leaning tower when I stood up. I was going to rock these.

I showered, put on a bit of makeup, then dried and curled my hair the way Joe had shown me. It looked almost as good as when he did it. Enjoying the stares I got as I wound my way up the street to the office, I felt like a native; I knew my way around, I was picking up the language. More than that, I was an asset. Candace had said as much.