Page 11 of Protecting the Nerd

The outside world fell away as I closed my eyes, surrendering to the melancholic beauty of Morning Mood. Each movement in the suite carried me further from the tension and the fear and the discomfort that had plagued me all day until I fully relaxed. My thoughts wandered like they always did when I listened to music, following a chaotic pattern of associations. From wanting to visit Norway to making a mental note to buy a new winter coat now that they were on sale, needing to invest more in semiconductors, and concluding I hadn’t been to the library in forever and was due a few hours of bliss.

My eyelids grew heavy, and the music faded into the background. The receding notes lulled me into a peaceful state where my thoughts slowed until oblivion swept over me, a merciful tide pulling me into the depths of sleep.

I woke up in the darkness and blinked blearily. A blanket was draped over me. Not just any blanket, but my Star Wars fleece throw—usually tucked away in my bedroom. A warmth that had nothing to do with the fabric spread through my chest. Quillon must have covered me while I slept.

I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. How long had I slept? I glanced at the clock—three-seventeen a.m.—and stifled a yawn. Shaking off the tendrils of sleep, I pushed myself out of the chair’s embrace. My protesting muscles reminded me of the unnatural angle at which I’d surrendered to fatigue. It wasn’t the first time I’d fallen asleep in that chair, and it wouldn’t be the last. I stretched my arms above my head, working out the kinks with a series of satisfying soft pops.

Where was Quillon? He had to be asleep by now. I took a few careful steps into the room. The sight that greeted me was disarmingly domestic. Quillon lay on the couch, his form outlined by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm while his gentle snoring cut through the silence. His face looked softer in sleep now that the ever-present tension that seemed to pull the lines of his body taut had eased.

Satisfied he was as comfortable as he could be on the couch, I retreated to my bedroom, bringing my Star Wars fleece with me. I crawled back into bed and, within seconds, was out like a light.

4

QUILLON

The glass walls of the EDS meeting room made me feel like a specimen under a microscope, but at least they offered a full view of our surroundings. York sat across from me, tapping on his phone with a deep frown on his forehead. With his dark hair peppered with gray and thoughtful brown eyes, he looked every bit like a math wizard lost in his own world.

The door swung open with a purposeful bang, and my boss strode in with a fortysomething guy in a suit on his heels. Ah, the FBI had entered the building. The gravity of his presence dialed up the intensity in the room. York put down his phone and sat up straight.

“This is Special Agent in Charge Coulson Padman.” Remington gestured toward the newcomer. “He’s from the Washington, DC office. He’ll be briefing us on the latest updates regarding the threats.”

From DC? Why on earth had he gotten involved? On top of that, he was a special agent in charge rather than some lower-level agent. My stomach roiled. This was not good.

Padman’s handshake was firm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Quillon. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Thank you, Agent Padman.”

“Coulson, please. I’m not big on formality.”

Well, that was a check in the plus column.

“York Coombe,” York said. “I’m?—”

“I know who you are.” Coulson’s tone was friendly. “And I appreciate you working with us and taking the time to meet with us. I know you have other things to do.”

Okay, I was starting to like this guy.

We took our seats again while one of the secretaries brought in coffee and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Coulson waited until she had left the room, then looked at me. “Your background check has cleared. You have the necessary clearance to be fully briefed on this case. Your military record and subsequent experience make you highly suitable for the role of Dr. Coombe’s protection.”

A surge of pride knotted in my chest—the FBI didn’t hand out validation like candy at a parade. “Thank you. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to keep him safe.”

Coulson’s gaze landed on Remington with the precision of a laser. “Unfortunately, that clearance does not extend to you.”

Remington seemed to be taken aback for a moment, but then his face lit up with understanding. “You can’t discuss the case in front of me.”

“No, and we won’t request that level of clearance either,” Coulson said. The man was a straight shooter, and I appreciated that. “This is top secret and on a need-to-know basis. Unfortunately, it’s been determined you don’t have the need to know.”

Remington held up his hands. “No need to apologize. I understand. Can you give me a broad overview as far as you’re allowed? Other than that, I trust Quillon to handle it. He’s my most senior and experienced operator.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Coulson took a moment to put some sugar in his coffee and stir it. “All I can tell you is that we have a credible threat that people are trying to get their hands on Dr. Coombe’s invention, probably by kidnapping Dr. Coombe. And we have evidence that suggests an internal leak here at EDS.”

“York, please,” York said. “Dr. Coombe makes it feel like you’re talking about someone else.”

“York,” Coulson acknowledged with a small smile.

“Gotcha.” Remington rose from his chair. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Please let me know if there’s anything you need from me, Coulson.”

“I will. Thank you for your cooperation.”

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