Chapter 91: Deception
January sixth.
The fifteen-day break ended the way breaks always ended — faster than they should have, leaving behind a specific tiredness that was different from the tiredness of being busy. The campus filled up again with the particular energy of people who had been away and were readjusting to the fact that they hadn't actually escaped anything.
Simon was at his locker when they found him.
"You've been avoiding me for two weeks," Meg said.
She was standing with Veronica, who had positioned herself with the comfortable energy of someone who had front-row seats to something and intended to enjoy them.
Simon raised both hands. "I've been busy. Not avoiding. There's a difference. I can walk you through my schedule if that helps—"
"Don't," Veronica said to Meg, without looking at him. "He's redirecting. Classic."
Simon looked at Veronica. "You know, you're much more annoying when you're applying your actual skills."
"I know," Veronica said cheerfully. "And you know I'm right, and you know I'm not going anywhere, so."
"Explanation," Meg said. "The real one. Not the one you've been rehearsing."
Simon looked at her for a moment. She wasn't angry in the way that wanted to fight — she was the kind of serious that wanted to understand. Those required different responses.
"Okay," he said. "Real version."
He'd spent some of the holiday constructing this. Not a lie exactly — more of a true story with the classified elements removed and replaced by something that would hold up.
"I already knew Mouser was a problem before he came through the door," Simon said. "I'd seen a file. Casey and Sarah — you've met them. They're not retail employees. They work for the government, and I've been doing some peripheral work for them since the fall." He kept his voice even. "I came across Mouser's name in connection with a federal case. When he walked into the Buy More and started running the negotiation, I recognized him. The rest followed from that."
Veronica's expression was doing something careful. She was listening, not accepting.
"Casey and Sarah are federal agents," Meg said.
"Yes."
"And you've been working with them."
"Peripheral work. Support. Nothing that puts me in direct danger." This part was technically inaccurate but directionally defensible. "The situation on Christmas Eve escalated beyond what I expected. I'm sorry you were in the middle of it."
Meg looked at him for a long moment.
"You can't tell me more than that," she said.
"Not without creating problems for people I work with," Simon said. "Which I'm not willing to do."
"And the gun."
"Casey's," Simon said. "I took it before the situation escalated. Returned it after."
Meg was quiet.
Veronica was also quiet, which was more concerning.
"I need you to not be actively in danger," Meg said finally. "That's what I need. I don't need to know everything. I need to know that you're not going to get yourself killed."
"I won't," Simon said.
"Promise me," she said. "Actually mean it."
"I promise," Simon said. He meant the spirit of it even knowing the specifics were beyond his control. That was the most honest version of the promise he could give.
Meg looked at him once more, measuring something.
Then she nodded. "Okay."
Veronica said nothing. Her expression, when Simon glanced at her, was the one she used when she'd noted something and filed it rather than challenged it. Simon recognized it. It was the face she used when she was starting an investigation.
He kept his own expression neutral.
"We're going to be late," he said, checking the time. "Meg, isn't your journalism elective first period?"
"It is," Meg said.
"Then I'll see you at lunch."
He picked up his bag and left before Veronica could find the question she was looking for.
Behind him, at the lockers, Veronica waited until he was out of earshot.
"You believe him," she said.
"I believe some of it," Meg said. "The parts he actually said clearly — those I believe. The parts he went around — those I don't know."
"So what are you going to do?"
Meg watched the corridor where Simon had gone.
"I need to know he's safe," she said. "That's the part I can't let go. I'm not trying to catch him in something — I just need to know that whatever he's doing isn't going to get him killed."
"And you want my help," Veronica said.
"You're the best investigator I know," Meg said. "And you already think something's wrong."
Veronica thought about this for approximately four seconds.
"Okay," she said. "But we do this carefully. If he finds out we're looking into him—"
"I know," Meg said. "Carefully."
Veronica nodded once.
They went to class.
Simon arrived at the Buy More after school and was inside the door for approximately ten seconds before Chuck found him.
"Can I borrow your car?"
Simon looked at him. "The Mustang?"
"Just for a couple hours."
"What for?"
Chuck's expression did the thing it did when he was about to give a technically true but substantially incomplete answer. "Personal errand."
Simon handed over the keys. "The throttle response is aggressive at low speeds. Don't gun it from a stop."
"Got it, thank you—"
"Chuck."
"Yeah?"
"Don't take it above eighty."
"Absolutely. Thanks." Chuck was already moving.
Simon watched him go, then found Casey near the large appliances.
"What's happening with Chuck?"
"He thinks he's about to lose Walker," Casey said, with a tone that was somewhere between amusement and resigned acknowledgment.
"What does that mean?"
"Private time. Personal situation." Casey moved away. "Not your problem."
Simon watched Casey go and concluded, from the specific quality of Casey's non-answer, that it was absolutely going to become his problem within forty-eight hours.
The weekly briefing the next morning confirmed this.
Beckman's face appeared on the screen at the usual time. The operational updates were routine. Then, at the end, Sarah spoke.
"General. In the interest of full disclosure — my father has defrauded a man named Sheikh Rajiv Amando of approximately one million dollars."
Casey raised an eyebrow. "Your father."
"Yes."
"How much?" Chuck said.
"Close to a million."
"That's ambitious," Casey said.
"Casey," Beckman said.
"I'll arrest him myself," Sarah said. "Just give the order."
"Whoa," Chuck said. "You'd arrest your own father?"
"If he committed a crime—"
"It's not that simple," Beckman said. She pulled up a file. "Rajiv Amando has been on our counter-terrorism watch list for six years. He's suspected of financing multiple extremist organizations across three continents. He uses aliases, changes locations, and has successfully avoided surveillance for years." She looked at Sarah directly. "Your father's financial exposure to Amando gives us something we haven't had before — a current contact point. A recent photograph opportunity. Potentially, a line into his financial network."
"General," Sarah said. "My father doesn't know what I do. He has no idea I work for the CIA."
"I'm not asking you to tell him," Beckman said. "I'm asking you to go to him. Bring Chuck. Your father is currently in proximity to one of our highest-priority intelligence targets, and the situation your father created is, for once, useful to us."
"What if Amando moves against my father before we can—"
"Then that's a reason to move quickly," Beckman said. "Your father put himself in this situation. Our job is to make it useful. Go find him. Bring the Intersect. And do it before Amando's people find him first."
Sarah was quiet.
"Is that understood, Walker?" Beckman said.
"Understood," Sarah said.
The screen went dark.
Simon looked at the group. Chuck was already doing the calculation of what this meant for a road trip with Sarah. Casey was checking his weapon. Sarah was looking at the dark screen with the expression of someone processing a complicated instruction.
"I'll drive," Simon said.
Everyone looked at him.
"You were going to ask," he said. "I'm just saving the time."
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