The Secret

Chapter Two

Two days later, Ana found herself curled up on a sofa and staring down at the San Francisco city lights from a hotel room window. Cars, twinkling a hazy white and red through the grey mist that seemed to cloak this side of the Bay, wound their way through the twisting, twilight streets.

She pulled her knees to her chest. "I don't think this will work," she said for the hundredth time since she'd heard the "master plan."

Agent Lyon inspected her with cursory efficiency, his gaze resting briefly on the slender shoulder bared by her oversized sweater. "Unless he's blind, it will," he muttered.

Ana stood self consciously, smoothing her hair and clothes. "Okay, run over everything with me again before Agent Farrell returns. After she gets back with the equipment, I will leave the hotel on my own and go to the French cafe?"

Agent Lyon nodded, "Yes, you'll turn right onto Broderick Street directly after exiting the lobby. Walk two blocks until you get to California Avenue, and take a left. The patisserie has a green and white awning."

"Okay, and then what?"

"Agent Farrell will return soon with a laptop. Set that up at a table and be sure to sign in to the WiFi. Also, buy a coffee or something."

Ana frowned.  "Wait. I don't say anything or do anything other than buy a snack and get online? That's it?"

"Basically." Agent Lyons brows twitched. There was more to this than that.

A frisson of irritation ran through her, which was very welcome after all the vulnerability she'd felt over the last two weeks. Ana crossed her arms over her chest. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

Agent Lyon's eyebrows rose, "Quite a bit, Miss Laveaux, but that's everything you need to know to effectively engage the target."

Ana said nothing, just mirrored his expression. After several moments,  he relented with an almost inaudible sigh, "Ask me specific questions. I'll answer them if they might help you today."

"Why the patisserie?"

"We believe that Daniel works at the building across the street. Under a different name, but our sources have provided information that strongly suggests it is him. He normally sends his assistant to the shop mid-morning on a coffee run."

"What information suggests it's him, since he doesn't go to the cafe, himself?"

"That's classified. "

"Fine," Ana agreed, then continued. "Why, exactly, will my presence be of use to you, if it's just his assistant coming? Do I know that person?"

"Not to my knowledge, ma'am."

Ana bit her lip, a bit too hard, then took a seat at the small, round table for two by the window. She forced herself to use her most reasonable, unbiased tone after shooting him a placating smile. "Listen, Agent Lyons, I just want to do my best to help you get the results you need. In order to do that, I need to have as much information as I can, so that I don't feel vulnerable. All I really know from last night's conversation with your boss is that Daniel is some kind of secret, high-powered executive. If I feel as out of control of the situation and my role in it as I do right now, I could well do more harm than good."

He considered her point, then nodded, taking the seat across from her.

"We believe that Daniel still keeps track of you. As you know, he works in the tech industry, and we think it's likely that he's placed what hackers call a 'tag' on you, keeping him apprised of your online activity."

Ana absorbed that, absentmindedly twirling her hair. "It's hard for me to believe that he's known I'm alive, and where I've been, all this time."

She didn't notice the angry sheen of tears in her own eyes as she waited for his response.

Agent Lyon's look was kind, "We believe he keeps you under observation."

"So he's been, what? Cyber-stalking me? Watching my Amazon shopping cart? Reading my emails?"

The agent didn't respond to her, but he didn't dispute her questions, either. Before she could say anything else, his partner, Agent Farrell, announced her arrival with a perfunctory knock. She handed a familiar computer tote to Ana without comment. 

"Wait. Is this my laptop?" Ana asked, while unzipping her bag. Sure enough, her personal computer was inside. "Who in the do you think you are to break into my condo without my permission?"

The agents exchanged yet another of their irritating nonverbal conversations. Ana's fists clenched.

Agent Farrell spoke for the pair, "Our apologies for the miscommunication, Miss Laveaux. We need your laptop, specifically, to signal your presence in San Francisco."

Ana scrubbed at her eyes, grumbling,  "Because of my IP address?"

The agents exchanged another look, "Not quite."

Ana felt the tips of her ears begin to heat in anger. "Are you implying there's some kind of tracking device in my personal computer?"

When neither agent would confirm nor deny her suspicion, Ana ran another hand through her hair and sighed, "Okay, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this."