Page 2 of Once a Killer

“You know how Cody is,” Mel said, scrubbing her face with her hands. “He likes to joke around. Tease.”

“Yeah? How would you feel if Parker called you Anneliese? Or Annie?”

Mel stopped, scowling. Turned to face her. “I don’t know how you know my birth name, but I don’t use it here.”

“I did my research before I decided to come to work for you and Dev. I dug up everything. And I know you don’t go by Anneliese.” She paused. “Or Annie.” One side of her mouth curled up. “Only your sister Zoe calls you Annie. And you’re trying to train that out of her.”

“So is Annie my new name?” Mel asked, scowling.

Bree shook her head. “Nope. You’ve always called me Bree, so your name is Mel. I’ll never call you Anneliese or Annie.”

“I appreciate that,” Mel muttered.

Bree turned to head back to her apartment, but Mel put her hand on Bree’s arm. “I was going to ask you to come to see me later. I’m thinking about an assignment for you. You want to talk about it now?”

Bree glanced at her boss. She’d noticed the tiny twitch of Mel’s mouth when they’d discussed what had just happened. She didn’t seem angry. And she had an assignment. Which was good. She needed to get away from the compound. It had been two weeks since she’d finished her last job, and she was getting twitchy.

“Absolutely. Now’s good.”

As they walked toward the office building, they talked about training and some new exercises Dev was considering adding. Bree got the sense that Mel wanted her opinion. She must have looked puzzled, because Mel nudged her shoulder.

“You think it’s odd that I’m asking you for input? You’re the fittest agent we have,” Mel said. “No one prepares more than you. I’ve seen you take down Diego, and he’s no slouch. He’s almost as good as you, but you made it look easy.”

Bree shrugged one shoulder. “Got in the habit of keeping fit in the Marines.” She swallowed. “Needed it, with my job. Never knew when I’d have to run like hell or take on a tango, one on one. No backup.”

“That’s why I like to have your opinion about training. After we talk about your new assignment, let’s work out in the gym. I’ll show you what I’m thinking about.”

“That’d be great, Mel.”

Once they were in Mel’s office, she pulled a folder out of her file drawer and pushed it over to Bree. “This is your new assignment. Your principal is Jameson Ford. He’s a PhD in computer engineering. He writes programs for games and apps. Right now, he’s working on an app. And he’s… nervous. Worried.”

Bree frowned. “About anapp?”

“This isn’t just a new game. Or a new way to communicate with your friends. This is something completely different. It has applications for social and personal use, but there are also possibilities for use by the military. Jameson didn’t tell me exactly what it does, but he’s concerned. He’s had a couple of unsettling encounters that spooked him. He’s copyrighted the app, and his patent application is in the final stages before approval.

“He’s been very close-lipped about it. He has his own lab and has a number of computer engineers working for him. I have the sense that he doesn’t completely trust any of them. He definitely doesn’t trust anyone from another lab.”

“That sounds… ominous,” Bree said, staring at Mel. “Disturbing. What’s the big deal with this app?”

“Ford didn’t tell me, but I talked to Theo Graham, his PhD advisor. Apparently, Ford used a precursor of this app as his thesis project. His advisor said he’d never seen anything like it. And Graham said, knowing Ford, that he’s refined it and improved it dramatically in the past few years. According to his advisor, this app will be a game changer. Graham told me, ‘Based on the app he used for his thesis, and knowing how Jameson Ford thinks, he’ll make billions of dollars from it. And the sharks are already circling’.”

* * *

Jameson frowned at the lines of code on the screen, looking for the faulty bits. He tipped back in his chair, staring at the screen, then twined his hands together behind his head, leaned back and closed his eyes, visualizing the code.

He had no idea how long he sat there, thinking, when he heard footsteps approaching his office. Someone knocked, and Jameson opened his eyes and brought his chair upright. Stu Rivers stood at the door, looking flustered.

“Come on in, Stu,” Jameson called. He saved his work, shut down his computer and rolled his chair away from the desk. “How’s it going?”

Rivers shook his head. “Not good. This damn program has a mind of its own and doesn’t want to fall into place for me. You have a moment to take a look at it?”

“Sure,” Jameson said. He stood up, grabbed the key to his door and locked it behind him. Then he shoved the key into the front pocket of his jeans, sliding it beneath his wallet.

He stayed in Rivers’ office for about a half-hour, working backward with his colleague until they found the spot where Rivers had gone wrong. Rivers sighed. Bumped fists with Jameson. “Thanks, man. I think it was one of those deals where I’d looked at it too many times. Needed a fresh set of eyes.”

“Probably so,” Jameson agreed. “I do the same thing.” He stood up and wheeled the chair back into the corner. “Looks like you’ve got some good work done on that program,” he said. “You apply for a copyright and patent yet?”

“Getting close,” Rivers said. “I want to nail it down a little more before I fill out the forms.”

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