Wired

in my trunk—including the gun strapped to my ankle You can frisk me to be sure.” He paused. “In return, you can hang on to your weapon. Just don’t point it at me.”

Desh gazed at the scarred man thoughtfully, but said nothing.

“And while we have a little discussion and get to know each other,” pressed Smith, “I’ll even drive you home. As long as you sit in the front seat. Be easier to talk that way, and I refuse to be your chauffeur.”

Desh thought through all the angles and finally agreed. Five minutes later two guns and a combat knife were tucked in a bag and locked safely away in the trunk, and Desh was satisfied that Smith was now unarmed. After allowing the wiry man to contact his men to give them a quick situation report, Desh settled into the passenger seat, safely restrained in a seat belt, but angling his body so he was facing Smith rather than the road and was out of the man’s easy reach.

“All right,” said Desh, as Smith accelerated back onto the road, his left hand on the steering wheel and his right arm resting on the storage console between them. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t how this needs to work,” said Smith evenly. “I will tell you everything. Make no mistake about that. I do understand how confused this woman can make someone and that we surveilled you without your knowledge. So I’m willing to cut you some slack. But we’re going to do this my way,” he insisted. “First you answer my questions. Then I’ll answer yours. Despite heading a Black Ops agency that doesn’t formally exist and using an alias, I am still your superior officer. I’m sure Connelly told you that.”

Desh raised his eyebrows. “Superior officer?” he said, unimpressed. “Come off it, Smith. You’ve been calling me Mr. Desh. You know I’m a civilian. Connelly did tell me to follow your instructions, but Mr. Desh can tell you to go to hell anytime he wants.”

Smith sighed. “All right, Mr. Desh. Let’s try this another way, then. If you want to know what’s going on, you’ll have to answer my questions first. Period. Otherwise, I’ll leave you completely in the dark.” He glanced sideways at Desh. “Well?”

Desh glared at him for several long seconds but finally nodded irritably.

“Good,” said Smith. “So tell me how Kira Miller got the drop on you.”

Desh told him about receiving the fake message from Griffin and what had happened at the hacker’s apartment. Smith interrupted occasionally for clarification but said very little otherwise. When Desh described how Kira had stripped him and had him dress in sweats, Smith glanced at his gray outfit, considerably worse for wear since Kira had pulled it from her duffel, and an amused smile came over his face.

Smith listened intently as Desh described the precautions Kira had taken at the motel. Smith was well aware that they had worked to great effect on his men. Desh ended his narrative at the point at which Kira had exited through the adjoining motel room, leaving out any mention of her claims of having invented material that could hide her heat signature.

“Damn she’s slippery,” commented Smith when Desh was finished. “It’s uncanny how she manages to stay at large. And then, to risk kidnapping the elite soldier coming after her practically in the middle of the nation’s capital —and get away with it. She has balls the size of Texas,” he said, partly in frustration and partly in admiration.

Smith paused in thought as they shot along the dark highway, nearly abandoned at this early hour except for the occasional trucker hauling cargo through the night. The car’s ride was smooth and its well-tuned engine issued only the softest of roars to interrupt what would have otherwise been a cocoon of silence. Desh’s entire universe had been reduced to the luxury interior of an expensive sedan, the twenty-foot swath made by its headlights as they cut through the enveloping darkness, and a stranger using an alias whose motives were currently just as hidden as the stretch of road beyond the headlights.

“Okay,” began Smith, having finally plotted his interrogation. “You said she talked with you for an hour or so. What did she talk about?”

“She claimed she was innocent,” said Desh. “She wanted to convince me.”

“Did she say why this was important to her?”

“No,” said Desh. He considered telling the Black Ops officer that she had told him her goal was to recruit him to her side, but immediately decided against it.

“Did she explain away all the bizarre deaths and disappearances that occurred around her when she was growing up? Or the death of her boss? Or the murder of her brother?”

“She insisted she didn’t kill her parents. The other incidents didn’t come up at all. Neither did any mention of Ebola or bio-weapons. She mentioned terrorists only in the context of denying that she had any connection to them.”

“I see. Then on what grounds did she claim to be innocent if she made no effort to refute the airtight evidence against her?”

Desh shrugged. “I don’t know. Your men interrupted before she got that far.”

“Let me understand. She wanted to prove her innocence. Yet after an hour of discussion she had not addressed even a single thing she was accused of?”

“That’s right,” responded Desh.

Smith took both eyes off the ruler-straight road and studied Desh for several seconds. Finally, apparently unable to find any signs of deceit, he returned his attention to the road. “So what did she talk about in that time?”

Desh sighed. “About experiments she conducted to increase her own intelligence. The theory behind it, the results of the experiments; that sort of thing.”

Smith raised his eyebrows. “Did she say she was successful?”

Desh nodded. “She claims to be able to enhance her intelligence to immeasurable levels.”

“I see,” said Smith, noncommittally. “And did she tell you how she applied this newfound brilliance of hers?” he asked.

“Not a word,” said Desh.

“Did she offer you anything?” asked Smith.

“Like what? Money?”

Smith studied him carefully once again, as if this would enable him to precisely judge the sincerity of Desh’s response. “Like anything. Money. Power. Enhanced intelligence of your own.” He raised his eyebrows. “Other considerations that might be appealing.”

Desh furrowed his brow in confusion. “Other considerations? You can’t mean sex,” he said in disbelief.

Smith shook his head irritably. “Of course not,” he replied.

Desh shrugged. “Then I’m afraid you’ve lost me. But regardless of what you’re trying to hint at, she didn’t offer me a single thing. Period. Not a thin dime. Not that I could be bought in any case,” he added pointedly.

Smith paused for a long time in thought. “Did you believe her story?” he asked finally, taking a new tack.

“What, about her ability to elevate her IQ, or that she was innocent?”

“Both,” said Smith.

“With respect to enhanced intellect—I don’t know,” said Desh, shrugging. His eyes narrowed in thought. “She’s an extraordinary scientist, that’s beyond dispute. And she weaved a very convincing scientific rationale around the concept. Autistic savants do exist and do demonstrate what one hundred billion neurons can do when wired slightly differently than normal. As farfetched as it is, she made optimizing her own brain seem possible, even reasonable, for someone with her talents.” He paused. “Is she innocent? That one is easier. Of course not. Other than claiming she was innocent, she didn’t provide a shred of evidence, as we’ve discussed.”

The corners of Smith’s mouth turned up in a knowing smile. “But she still got to you a little, didn’t she? Even without providing any evidence, you half wanted to believe her, didn’t you?”

“What I might have wanted to believe and what I actually do believe are two different things,” snapped Desh defensively.

“I’ve never met her,” said Smith. “But she’s brilliant and I’m told she has a way about her. She can suck you in, dazzle you with logic that seems irrefutable, and do it in a way that’s absolutely sincere. Not to mention that she has a wholesome, doe-eyed beauty that some men find hard to resist. You must have felt her pull.”

Desh frowned. “A little,” he admitted. “But I know what she is and my guard was up. She may have intended to provide evidence of her innocence. Maybe she would eventually have even tried to bribe me, but we’ll never know. Your men crashed the party and all she talked about was her ability to make herself smarter.” He paused and added sharply, “You can believe anything you want. That’s what happened. That’s