Under His Skin

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4

Ben let himself into Lennon’s condo and let out a long, low whistle. His ex had certainly moved up in the world. When Ben had left, he’d walked away from an old, rickety apartment in a building that just needed one accident with microwave popcorn to burn to the ground. Now he had a condo that was upwards of two thousand square feet, with a view of Boston from every window and a nice balcony to boot.

He didn’t linger to admire the minimalist decor. He had a job to do, and if he spent time getting maudlin about a relationship that couldn’t have ever been, he would only hurt himself. He swept the place from top to bottom for hidden cameras or listening devices, and he wasn’t surprised when he found three. The enemy had placed three sophisticated surveillance devices in Lennon’s home, intended to monitor comings and goings without attracting notice. The devices didn’t take pictures, and unless Ben had missed some major development in the past couple of weeks, they wouldn’t record much in the way of sound. They just recorded comings and goings. Someone wanted to know if Lennon was home or not.

If Ben disabled the devices, the enemy would immediately know the Agency was onto them. Lennon would be thrust into immediate danger. Ben had faced this dilemma before. He’d even seen these devices before, although he’d seen them used more often in Russia or Dubai. He placed a small device onto each transmitter that interfered with their broadcast, sending back a signal that all was normal.

Then he turned his attention back to the apartment. It wasn’t enough to know if Lennon was coming or going. No, the Agency needed to know everything that was going on in Lennon’s life. He placed listening devices. He placed cameras. He placed monitors on the doors and windows, so the Agency would know if anyone entered the condo by any means at all.

Only when the job was done did he take the time to remember, once again, this apartment wasn’t just some mark’s. This place belonged to Lennon. He could protect Lennon better if he understood how to protect him now, right? He could justify looking around if it wasn’t personal, if it was just to get a sense of the client.

Lennon’s decor seemed to be mostly minimalist, which fit with the man he’d been when they were young. He didn’t want much to get in the way of his ability to spread out and work, and he liked clean and sparse sight lines. He did have a few pieces of art on the walls, though, and those told Ben a lot.

In public areas, Lennon hung pictures on the wall of water, and of fireworks. That made sense, because Lennon was a swimmer and he’d always had a thing about fireworks shows. The balcony, with its view of Boston and the river, made even more sense now. He’d have been willing to pay a fortune to watch the annual display on July 4.

The two guest bedrooms had been decorated the same way, but the giant master bedroom was different. There were water pictures on the blue walls, and they were kind of pretty, but one picture stood out in Ben’s mind. A framed photo of Ben and Lennon on the nightstand, the only photo in the entire residence to occupy a horizontal surface.

Ben didn’t dare touch it. An object in such a place, so clearly treated differently from anything else in the house, was a treasure to the resident. The target—whether suspect, victim, or witness—would notice if it had been moved so much as half an inch. He could crouch down, though, and examine it closely. He remembered the party where this had been taken. He remembered how frightfully young the undergrads had seemed, and how passing even for twenty-two had been a strain. He remembered the feel of Lennon’s slim arm as Lennon wrapped it around his shoulders.

He remembered making love to Lennon for the first time that same night.

Ben’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. He’s on his way to you. Townsend didn’t preface his message with anything else, but he didn’t need to. There was no one else Townsend would have been speaking about. You’ve got about ten minutes.

Crap. Well, at least Ben had finished taking care of unwanted eyes. He left the condo and set up shop in one of the recesses out front. If he angled himself right, Lennon would never see him. Civilians never did.

He pulled out his phone. What’s the situation? Where’s he going and what’s he doing?

Townsend replied after two minutes. He’s coming home to get ready for an interview with French TV. He’ll probably take a ride share to the interview site, which is the Long Wharf Marriott downtown. After that, he doesn’t have a schedule.

Awesome. Ben settled in to wait.

He almost cried out when Lennon walked past him, but biting his lip kept the sound inside. He’d kept track of Lennon over the years, as much as he dared given who he worked for. He knew Lennon was still beautiful, but it was one thing to see that beauty on a TV screen or on the glossy pages of a magazine. It was something very different when the love of his life walked right past him.

Lennon looked older, but he was thirty now, or close to it. That was only natural. He’d filled out a little, although he was still slim, and his wavy platinum hair was still all over the place. Ben could imagine running his fingers through it, right now, out on the sidewalk.

Lennon passed him and headed into the building. The first drops of rain fell, and Ben cursed.

Well, he had a car. He could go and sit in it. He scrambled to do exactly that. Since he was only a man, he used his phone to watch surveillance footage of Lennon getting changed for the interview. God, but he was beautiful. He seemed to be in a hurry, too. He didn’t look around much, although he did hesitate when he walked into the condo. He simply threw his clothes on and headed out the door again.

After a moment, Lennon appeared at the building entrance and got into a black Jeep with tinted windows. Ben took a picture of the license plate, out of habit, and started his car.

He knew where the Jeep was going, and he knew how to get there. Part of him didn’t want to take his physical eyes off the car that Lennon was in, but that would be the best way to let Lennon know he was being watched. He gunned it past the Jeep and headed toward the Long Wharf Marriott.

He expected to have to wait. The ride was usually a twenty minute trip, but Ben had a lead foot and no worries about speeding tickets to slow him down. When the twenty-minute mark hit and the black Jeep didn’t show up, he squirmed a little. Traffic hadn’t been bad in the tunnel.

When the thirty-minute mark passed, he started to sweat.

His phone rang. It was Townsend, of course. No one else around here had his number. “Kellogg, it’s me. You’d better head back here, to Interior.”

Ben pursed his lips. He didn’t report to Townsend, for crying out loud, and he resented the implication that he did. “What’s going on?”

“Lennon’s phone’s gone dark.” Townsend’s voice was tense enough to play a tune. “And his ride share’s been waiting there for five minutes with no sign of him.”

Ben’s mouth went dry. “He got into his ride share.”

“That’s why you should come back to the office, bro.”

Ben cursed and ended the call. Then he started the car up again, pulled out into traffic, cut off a tour bus, and headed back to Cambridge.

GPS said the ride would take eighteen minutes. Ben made it in nine. He parked in front of the building with the confidence of a man who cannot be towed and raced inside. The security guard tried to stop him, but he flashed his credentials and raced up the stairs.

He pulled his phone out and called Townsend. “Where am I going?”

“Sixth floor, look for my office. My name’s right on the door.”

Ben took the stairs two at a time. Townsend’s office wasn’t hard to find; it was right between the stairs and the washroom. It was large, though, and his name was on the door. He had a fantastic view of Kendall Square, which didn’t look like much at the moment.

Townsend sat at his desk, face bathed in light from the monitors arrayed before him. A woman stood behind him, hands on the back of his chair, and it took Ben a second or two to recognize Rada Parsons. She’d been Lennon’s best friend since freshman year, but Ben had managed to avoid her most of the time.

Rada didn’t take more than a second to recognize Ben. “Greg?” She blinked at him. “Greg Nelson?”

Townsend raised an eyebrow at Ben, but lowered it before he turned around to face Rada. “Not exactly. Um, do you remember how I told you that I used to work for the military?”

“Sure. We checked your record.” She frowned and sat down on Townsend’s couch. “What’s going on here?”

Ben put down his bag. “Do we have time for this, Townsend?”

“I think we have to make time, bro. We need cooperation.” Townsend made a face. “Rada, listen. The research Lennon was doing, way back in undergrad, it attracted some interest. And that interest made him a very attractive asset. Not just for the US government, but for some foreign players who tend to be less scrupulous.”

Ben chewed on his lip, and then he took up the story. “Because of the potential in his research, and because of the potential for abuse of his work, Lennon was placed under the covert protection of the National Security Agency. Twelve years ago.” He looked at the floor for a second and took a deep breath. Then he lifted his head and turned to face Townsend. “We don’t have to take thirty years to read her in, man. If Lennon’s in danger, we can’t waste a minute.”

Rada’s jaw dropped. “So your name never was Greg Nelson.”

“Ben Kellogg.” Ben sent the photo of the Jeep’s license plate to Townsend.

“My God.” Rada pinched the bridge of her nose. “I…He didn’t know. Did he?”

“No.” Ben clenched his jaw. He wanted to pour his heart out to Rada, explain everything, but it wouldn’t change anything. He’d still screwed Lennon over. Trying to explain himself would waste precious time. “Okay. That’s the car he got into.”

“I’m in his phone records.” Townsend looked at Rada and his face softened. “When I came on board, I set up his phone to ‘back up’ to a disk that I controlled. I don’t look at it, I respect his privacy, but I figured if anything happened I’d be able to trace his steps. And here we are. According to his ride share app, he never got the message that the company actually sent. Instead, the message was intercepted by a message from ‘Jamal.’”

“I found three surveillance devices in Lennon’s apartment when I got there.” Ben explained what he’d found and how he’d disabled them. “These were high-end. They didn’t come from a stalker. My guess is Russia or a very wealthy Gulf nation. I don’t think that any of our other enemies has quite this level of sophistication.”

“China?” Townsend’s hands were a blur as he typed.

“Maybe, but not usually. We don’t usually see this type of tech from them.”

Rada put her hands to her ears. “Oh my God, are you guys listening to yourselves? China? Russia? Gulf states? How does any of this get Lennon back?”

“It doesn’t.” Ben moved over to the back of Townsend’s chair. “It helps us figure out who’s behind it so we can take them out and stop it from happening again. Townsend’s looking for the owner of the car.”

“Car’s registered to Michael E. Maus, of Orleans.” Townsend frowned.

“That’s Mickey Mouse.” Rada stood up. “Mickey f*****g Mouse. Is your name even really Kaden Townsend?”

“It is.” Townsend met Rada’s eyes.

“Son of a b***h was allowed to use his real name for this op. Not that I’m bitter.” Ben ground his teeth together. He didn’t want to see those two gazing into one another’s eyes. Not while he couldn’t see Lennon. “All right, so the registration’s a bust. What about surveillance?”

“Good point.” Townsend hit the keys again.

“You’ve been in one job too long.” Ben smirked. “You need more time in the field.”

Rada glowered at him. “What, you mean seducing innocent freshmen and then breaking their hearts? Son of a b***h. You think we might want to involve the state troopers in on this, seeing as how they’ve got an army of guys on the highways who could stop this Jamal guy and save Lennon?”

Ben’s heart twisted at Rada’s initial words, but he couldn’t let them affect him. “Under normal circumstances, I’d say that was a great idea. It would keep the Agency off everyone’s radar and let local law enforcement shine.”

“The thing is, Rada,” Townsend told her, turning to face her again, “the players who could pull this kind of operation off—I wouldn’t want to risk the Staties or Lennon that way. Right now, they want Lennon alive, and they want minimal attention. If they wanted him dead, they’d have done it right in front of the building.”

Ben’s stomach gave a lurch at the thought, and he clutched at his middle.

“If we put them in a spot where they feel like we’ve backed them into a corner, they might decide to cut their losses. If they can’t have him, no one can, that kind of thing.” Townsend kept speaking, as though Ben didn’t look like he’d just been punched. Ben appreciated the gesture. “We don’t want to force their hand until we can extract Lennon from the situation.”

“We can’t just sit and do nothing!” Rada pounded her fist on Townsend’s desk.

“No. We’re not going to. We’re going to head out once we’ve got a better bead on where he’s going. We need to know where that is.” Townsend gave Rada a weak smile.

Rada opened her mouth. She closed it again. Then she took a deep breath. “Okay. I guess you’re a secret agent or whatever, just like scumbag Kellogg here?”

Ben winced. He hadn’t chosen to leave.

“I am.”

“Okay. Show me how to track Jamal. I’ll sit up here where I’m not in the way, since I’m not a secret agent or anything dumb like that. I’ll tell you guys where to go. The two of you will go out there and you’ll get Lennon back. And then you’re going to come clean about everything you’ve done, and everything that’s going on, because I know for damn sure he would have been more cognizant about getting into that car if he’d known there was a risk of being kidnapped.” Rada leaned on Townsend’s desk and smiled, deceptively sweet. “Are we clear?”

Ben bit his lip. He didn’t want to read a civilian into the job without authorization from the higher-ups, but he knew that they’d be better able to rescue Lennon as a team. Townsend didn’t seem to have any such qualms.

“Sounds like a plan.” He stood up. “Let’s go to your office, though. I’ll show you everything on your machine. That way it looks perfectly normal, like an average work day, and you don’t have to worry about explaining why you’re sitting in my office instead of yours.”

“Good point.” Rada nodded once.

“And if you get calls from a bartender, just roll with it.” Townsend led the way toward Rada’s office.

“Seriously?” Ben whacked Townsend’s arm as they stomped through the hall.

“She needs to know. She’ll be talking to him anyway. Who do you think told me Len’s phone went dark?”

Ben didn’t like it, but he had to accept it. He needed Townsend’s help if he wanted to bring Lennon back alive, and he knew Rada would die before betraying Lennon.

He trusted Rada more than he trusted himself.