Cutting Edge: A Novel of Suspense Read online

  “I—you have me, Nora. I’m not going to push you, I’m not going to crowd you, I know you’ll have a lot of things to settle after tonight. But I hope you’ll let me be part of your life, when you’re ready.”

  She felt like Cinderella, being swept off her feet by a handsome prince as they battled her evil mother. But her life wasn’t a fairy tale. It had been hard, cold, unforgiving, and ruthless.

  Yet she still had hope. Maybe she could have a future where she could make a real difference.

  “I’d like that.” Her voice sounded foreign. Had she even spoken?

  Then he kissed her. It was short and light, but it was clear he was kissing her, his lips on hers, his hand pressing gently on her back. Kind, hopeful, supportive. But this wasn’t friendship. Nora knew exactly what it meant.

  I hope you’ll let me be part of your life.

  “You’ll be safe, Nora,” he whispered. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Nora jumped when Cameron slapped her thigh hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Gone were the memories of Andy kissing her, the warm feeling of being safe even for a moment. She was back in the Jeep, facing a half-deranged man.

  Also by Allison Brennan

  Sudden Death

  Fatal Secrets

  Killing Fear

  Tempting Evil

  Playing Dead

  Speak No Evil

  See No Evil

  Fear No Evil

  The Prey

  The Hunt

  The Kill

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  For a wonderful storyteller,

  a kindred spirit,

  and a very wise woman.

  ELAINE FLINN

  1939-2008

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Terence Higgins, the wonderful firefighting husband of award-winning author Kristan Higgins; my brother-in-law Kevin Brennan, a wildlife biologist with the California Department of Fish and Game who has always been generous with his time and knowledge when I need it; my husband, Dan Brennan, who is always willing to answer any odd question I throw his way without blinking; Tammy Cravit, from the San Mateo Coroner’s Office; CJ Lyons, who always seems to know the answers to the most arcane questions; Phelan Evans with the Sacramento County Coroner; retired FBI agent Max Noel; the Sacramento FBI special agents, especially the terrorism squad; Tom and Margie Lawson for online “flying lessons,” and Margie for always being cheerful; Josh Rappaport for helping me understand genetic research and gene therapy; Elisa Warren with Avid ID Systems for her help in understanding microchip technology—and letting me take some liberties with my fictional prototype!

  “Superagent” Kim Whalen and the Trident team, especially Lara Allen who does a magnificent job selling my foreign rights; my insightful editor, Charlotte Herscher, who really went above and beyond with this trilogy—the time difference worked to our advantage!

  Dana Isaacson, editor extraordinaire; Linda Marrow, Libby McGuire, Scott Shannon, Kim Hovey, Kate Collins, Kelli Fillingim, and the rest of the Ballantine team—especially the production department—this marks an even dozen. Thank you so much for your support and patience.

  Friends are especially important when in deadline mode, and writers understand writers, even when we get loopy from lack of sleep. I particularly want to shout out to Toni McGee Causey for her humor, wisdom, loyalty, and brainstorming. Two thousand miles is nothing with the World Wide Web. And Roxanne St. Claire, a smart and supportive buddy who might not understand my hourglass analogy, but is still there to catch me if I fall. I miss you guys and can’t wait for the next conference.

  My kids deserve an extra-special acknowledgment because deadlines often interfere with fun time. Thanks gang for helping keep the house running smoothly and letting me disappear into my office or at Starbucks every night. And my mom, for being the surrogate driver when I was “in the zone,” and trying to keep me organized.

  PROLOGUE

  Twenty Years Ago

  I am going to die tonight.

  It was a random thought, and should have been fleeting because Nora didn’t believe she was in any real danger. As soon as they breached security, they’d be arrested, and then she’d be truly free.

  But as soon as the dire prediction flitted into her mind, it hung heavily in the air as she drove with her mother, sister, and two men toward the Diablo Canyon Power Plant, nestled in the coastal mountains of Avila Beach. She had never been so close to a nuclear reactor in her life; fear flowed through her veins, riding on her blood cells, squeezing her until she could scarcely breathe. It was the situation that gave her fearsome thoughts, not that she was truly going to die.

  Nora didn’t want anyone to get hurt. She tried to be strong as they turned off the Pacific Coast Highway and drove the winding roads into the mountains east of the power plant. Ten miles as the crow flies, and then they’d be at the end of the narrow road. They’d proceed the last mile on foot.

  How her mother thought this plan was even remotely sane, Nora didn’t know. When Cameron laid out the idea last month, she had laughed out loud and told him that the security at nuclear power plants was probably better than security for the president of the United States.

  He’d slapped her. Lorraine hadn’t even flinched. Nora wasn’t surprised that her mother hadn’t stood up for her, but it hurt deep down where Nora had thought she no longer cared how her mother felt about her.

  Kenny used to work at Diablo Canyon, knew all the security protocols. He’d get them in, Cameron assured the group with complete confidence.

  “Once we’re in,” Cameron said, “it doesn’t really matter if we are able to cause a radiation leak. Getting in is the key. The press we get for penetrating their so-called security will be worth any trouble we have. The public will wake up, demand change. The revolution will start. And we’ll be martyrs in a far greater movement.”

  Nora wasn’t so sure. For years, her mother had been involved in every kind of protest under the sun. They lived off the grid—Nora didn’t even have a Social Security number or a driver’s license or a birth certificate. She’d been born in a cabin in the woods. Had anything gone wrong, she would have died. She didn’t think her mother would have cared.

  Nora was exhausted. She’d be eighteen in October—her mother didn’t remember her exact birthday—and had never had a real home. No formal education; her mother’s friends taught her what they knew, which was heavy on creating fake IDs, making bombs that were rarely used, and stealing food. But she got by, and was giving her little sister an education that involved reading and math more than it did picking pockets.

  Quin was smart. Nora couldn’t let her grow up like she had. Her sister needed a permanent home, a real school, people who cared about her.

  If Nora had even one small doubt that what she was doing was right, it disappeared when Cameron insisted on bringing Quin with them—and Lorraine didn’t object. “She’ll stay in the car,” Cameron said. “No one is going to be left behind.” And he stared at Nora. For a moment, she feared he knew. Then he went back to pontificating.

  Last summer, Nora had contacted the FBI when Cameron and Lorraine attempted to burn down a housing development under construction in San Luis Obispo. The bomb fizzled, causing little damage, and the FBI said they didn’t have enough evidence to arrest Cameron Lovitz. Since she hadn’t been with them when the bomb was planted, her testimony would be hearsay and the U.S. attorney wouldn’t prosecute unless he had an eighty percent chance of winning. But the FBI asked Nora to be an informant
for them. They’d been watching Cameron Lovitz for a long time and believed an insider could give them the information to catch the radical activist red-handed.

  Special Agent Andrew Keene was her handler. She’d been meeting him several times a week for the last eight months.

  As Kenny drove the Jeep over the jagged, unpaved road, Nora shrank into herself and thought about Andy and what he’d said to her early this morning, before dawn.

  She’d set up an emergency meeting behind the student union at Cal Poly to tell him about the bombs. Cameron was a lab assistant at the university, and Lorraine had moved Quin and Nora into his small faculty apartment last year. As much as Nora hated Cameron, the two-bedroom apartment was the closest thing they’d ever had to a home.

  “Can you arrest him now?” Nora said as soon as she approached Andy.

  “You’re late—I thought you wouldn’t make it.” Concern marred his handsome face.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t want to take any chances.” The truth was, Cameron scared her. She’d almost chickened out. But then she remembered the night Quin almost died when Cameron had her nine-year-old sister hanging banners off the freeway overpass, and she was empowered. This had to end.

  “Andy, the bombs—did you get my message? Are they going to arrest him now?”

  She knew the answer was no even before he spoke. She blinked back tears, wanting to be stronger than this.

  “Don’t,” Andy murmured, and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. Her heart skipped a beat, her skin flushed. Nora had loved Andy almost from the day she met him. He’d promised her he would protect her and Quin, put Cameron and the others in prison, where they couldn’t hurt anyone. He was her guardian angel and her link to the real world, all in one. He’d shared stories about his large, fun-loving family, about the four-bedroom, one-bath house he’d grown up in, where he and his five brothers and sisters fought over who showered and when. But he said it with affection and wistfulness, and there was no doubt in Nora’s mind that the Keenes had loved one another.

  But Nora couldn’t say anything about her feelings for him. Andy was twenty-five, she seventeen. When tonight was over, he’d go back to D.C. They had separate lives. He was a college graduate; she’d never had formal schooling. He was a federal cop; she’d broken so many laws she didn’t know what was legal and what wasn’t. He had a job; she would need to find one to provide a home for Quin. A place where her sister would feel safe and loved. A place she never had to leave, a place to keep her things and know they would be there when she returned.

  But for now, for the next twenty-four hours, Agent Andrew Keene was her only hope for a real future—without Lorraine, without Cameron, without fear. She would be emancipated and her new life would begin.

  If she survived tonight.

  “I did everything I could, Nora. But in the end, it wasn’t a solid case. He burned the security map of the power plant, and he could argue that the bombs were for a lab project.”

  “But I’ll testify! Tell the judge what they planned.”

  “Without physical proof, the U.S. attorney won’t take it to court.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Shh.” He hugged her and it felt right to be here like this. She wanted to enjoy his warmth and affection but she was too worried to relax.

  Andy stepped back, tilted her chin up. “There is nothing they can do to damage the reactor or even create a small radiation leak, you know that, right?”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “Believe me, Nora. They won’t even get inside the reactor building. Even if the FBI wasn’t going to be crawling all over that place, there’s no way they’d get past security. Lovitz’s plan is pretty solid as far as getting past exterior security—and the plant will rectify that after tonight. But the rest is idiocy. The guy’s a lunatic.”

  “He doesn’t care about success. He wants to make a statement.”

  “And he could get you and everyone killed trying to make that damn statement.” Andy sounded more than a little angry. “No one wants a fatality tonight. We are optimistic that we can make the arrests without violence.”

  “Cameron isn’t like the others—the other men my mother has been involved with. He’s, I don’t know. He doesn’t seem quite … right. That sounds dumb.”

  Andy shook his head. “Not dumb. Our in-house shrinks suspect he’s borderline schizophrenic. Paranoid, distrustful of anyone in authority. He could just as easily be targeting abortion clinics as nuclear power plants. Whatever he wraps his sick mind around. Remember that—this isn’t about you, or even Lorraine, who is an enabler. This is about a violent, psychopathic criminal, and I will put him in prison. He’ll never hurt you, Nora.”

  She believed Andy. He knew what he was doing; she could trust him.

  “I think you should stay with Quin. We have his plan, and will—”

  She shook her head. “I have to go. Cameron insisted. I don’t think he trusts me. Not this, but in general. He’s always watching me, it gives me the creeps.”

  “Make an excuse. Get sick. Can you make yourself throw up? They won’t want someone with the stomach flu to slow them down.”

  Nora feared that if she pretended to be sick, Cameron would kill her. She evaded Andy’s question and asked, “Is everything set for my emancipation and Quin?”

  He nodded. “But we’re keeping it confidential.”

  “She’s all I have.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Nora looked at him, hearing something different in his voice. Something like longing. But she had little experience with boys her own age, let alone men like Andy Keene.

  He took her hand. Her stomach fluttered, her head felt light. “You have you. You’re a strong, smart young woman with great instincts and boundless compassion. Never doubt yourself, ever.” He looked nervous. “I—you have me, Nora. I’m not going to push you, I’m not going to crowd you. I know you’ll have a lot of things to settle after tonight. But I hope you’ll let me be part of your life, when you’re ready.”

  She felt like Cinderella, being swept off her feet by a handsome prince as they battled her evil mother. But her life wasn’t a fairy tale. It had been hard, cold, unforgiving, and ruthless.

  Yet she still had hope. Maybe she could have a future where she could make a real difference.

  “I’d like that.” Her voice sounded foreign. Had she even spoken?

  Then he kissed her. It was short and light, but it was clear he was kissing her, his lips on hers, his hand pressing gently on her back. Kind, hopeful, supportive. But this wasn’t friendship. Nora knew exactly what it meant.

  I hope you’ll let me be part of your life.

  “You’ll be safe, Nora,” he whispered. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Nora jumped when Cameron slapped her thigh hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Gone were the memories of Andy kissing her, the warm feeling of being safe even for a moment. She was back in the Jeep, facing a half-deranged man.

  “Pay attention, Nora!”

  They had parked at the base of a mountain. Behind her were trees towering high into the sky—or so she imagined from the dense blackness on this moonless night. In front of them was two thousand feet of open space. A meadow blanketed with wildflowers—she remembered them from their earlier reconnaissance, bright and breezy. Now the grassy plain looked like a bottomless pit in front of an industrial complex that lit up the coast.

  Quin had fallen asleep in the backseat; now she stirred. “Mom?”

  “Stay here,” Lorraine commanded.

  “I want to go with you and Nora,” she whined, her voice quavering with unshed tears. “It’s dark.”

  Cameron turned and glared at Quin with his dark eyes narrowed, and she didn’t say anything else, just pulled her blanket closer to her chest. Nora hated her mother then, for not protecting them. For bringing Quin into this.

  “It’ll be okay,” Nora told her sister.

/>   “I expect every detail to be handled with precision,” said Cameron. “You’ll have ten minutes to get out, then ten minutes to rendezvous back here after Ken and I set the charges. Ten minutes before the valves blow, releasing toxic radiation. If you don’t move quickly you will die. It will be painful. Understand?”

  Nora nodded and Quin stared with wide eyes, shaking.

  Nora reached over to console her, surprised at her steady hand. Maybe she’d gone on too many of these; she’d become jaded, complacent. The time her mother broke into a university research lab and released seventy rabbits, Nora had been lookout; she’d been nine like Quin was now. Or when Lorraine, pregnant with Quin, had staged a protest outside a slaughterhouse and gotten national news attention when she went into labor and gave birth in a nearby field. Nora had been the one to wrap her new sister in blankets and cut the umbilical cord because the ambulance hadn’t arrived. She’d been eight. Or two years ago, when Lorraine first met Cameron Lovitz during an anti-nuclear-weapon rally, and they’d broken into a military museum and spray-painted obscenities and slogans all over the walls. That they’d gotten away amazed Nora; she thought for sure they’d all be caught and thrown in prison. The vandalism was all over the TV news for weeks.

  But they were never caught, and soon thereafter Lorraine moved them off the streets of San Francisco to an apartment in San Luis Obispo and Nora thought she might have a home.

  She’d been wrong.

  After Nora turned informant, the FBI came up with a plan and brought in Special Agent Andrew Keene undercover at Cal Poly to handle her involvement. And now, eight months of secrecy, deception, and fear was nearly over.

  Nora focused on breathing, on getting through each too-long minute. “Be brave,” she told Quin. She handed Quin her small teddy bear, the one Nora had saved every time Lorraine uprooted them without warning. She mouthed I love you, and meant it. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her sister.

  The air was cold at one in the morning, the salt-tinged breeze urging Nora to pull her windbreaker tighter around her thin body. She wore only a T-shirt and threadbare sweater under the windbreaker; Cameron insisted they all travel light.