“No, he won’t,” Derek snaps. “I’m already sticking my neck out for you two.”
“But you said you wanted to be a hero.”
“No, I said I liked thesoundof being a hero. I don’t actually want to be one if it means I might get in trouble.”
Park’s phone buzzes on the table.
“Alright, I just decoded the last email between Sasha and Todd and forwarded it to you.”
We both lean over the device, reading the file Derek sent.
1228. Port of Seattle. Terminal 30. Come alone. Have the packages ready for shipping and bring the computer chips.
“There’s your date and your location,” I say.
Park straightens. “Sasha must be taking the weapons from the Port of Seattle to Russia by boat.”
“So, how do we stage a meeting?”
Park looks down at the phone. “Derek, can you send an encrypted email to Todd Allen—similar to this one—and make it look like it was from Sasha Petrov?”
“Yeah. I just need to know what you want the email to say.”
Park looks at me. “How about ‘Change of plans. 1227. 10:00. Still Terminal 30. Come alone.”
“So you’re changing the meeting to a day earlier?” I ask.
“Yeah. That way, we can control it.”
My brows pull down. “But what if between now and the fake meeting on the twenty-seventh, the real Sasha Petrov sends an email with different instructions for a meeting on December twenty-eighth?”
“I can flag this sender, so all emails from Sasha Petrov to Todd Allen go through me first,” Derek says.
“Perfect, do that and send the fake message to Todd.” Park looks at me, smiling. “Are you ready to go undercover again?”
“Are you kidding?” My lips tilt. “I’m at my best when I’m undercover.”
FORTY-FOUR
PARK
December 27
“I’m in position,”I say into my earpiece. I set my bird-watching book on the bench next to me and pick up my binoculars, scanning over the pier and container ships around Terminal 30.
“Roger that,” Lacee says. “I’m also in position.”
I swing my binoculars over to her on the opposite side of the pier. She’s sitting on the ground holding a guitar with her instrument case open to collect tips. There’s a sports wagon next to her that she carried her stuff in with. She has a colorful beanie over her head, and her red hair is covered with a wig of blonde dreadlocks. Large sunglasses hide most of her face, and a rainbow-colored scarf hides the other half.
“I’m still upset that your disguise is so much better than mine.” I look down at my jeans and the white Seattle Mariners jersey left unbuttoned over a black sweatshirt. I have a black beanie on, and the hood of my sweatshirt is pulled up over my ears.
“Well, from that distance, Todd Allen will never see you, so you didn’t need anything fancy.”
I move the binoculars down the sidewalk and back up the pier, searching for Todd even though I don’t expect him for a few more minutes.
“This feels like old times,” Lacee says, prompting me to find her again.
“Yeah, it does.”
