Access Denied: The Bullseye

8. Thriller Odds

It wasn't something genetic or passed down within generations. It was abnormal. Few people were and most weren't. Some of those few people either never knew about their advanced state of mind and being or were never acknowledged for it. It was just luck. Some people lived good quiet lives and some people never found peace until death.

"And what's going on here?" a voice came from behind them.

When Genevieve turned around she saw Ishaan Singh trying his hardest to hide his limp as he walked toward them. The first time she had seen Ishaan again in the basement of a diner, he had been walking with a stick. It's classified. That's what he had said when she had asked him what happened to his leg all those months ago.

"Nothing," Nicole uttered, still clearing out the remaining things on her desk. She picked up a half-eaten sandwich stuffed in its cardboard wrap and held it warily. She looked at it strangely.

Ishaan and Genevieve shared a look. "Are you okay Nicole?" Ishaan finally spoke up.

"Oh, nothing," she said again, looking at them. "I think I dropped this earlier, but I haven't had lunch yet and I don't want to go out and get lunch. But I don't want to eat this either. And I also don't want to leave you guys. So-"

"Go get something to eat Nicole," Genevieve told her. "Besides, Ishaan's here now. He'll make sure I don't touch anything important."

With another moment of thought and a confirmation from Ishaan about keeping her entertained, Nicole left to go get her lunch. It was three-o-clock and in three hours time Genevieve would be getting Blind Spot packed dinners delivered to recovering patients by the nurses.

Ishaan nodded his head at her. "Come on," he said. "We'll go to my desk."

As Ishaan led her through a hallway keeping her near the wall, Genevieve saw Kiara Deaton with another man who seemed to be of the strong-silent breed of agents. A stiff nod was passed between them when their eyes met. And then Kiara Deaton was gone. Their interaction felt incomplete but Genevieve chose not to dwell on it.

"Why are the agents here so... so, quiet?" she asked.

"Maintains mystery, I guess. Besides there are plenty of agents that will talk your head off," he told her entering a wide room filled with computers. Only a few people were at their desks working and tapping away at their keyboards, eyes trained on their screens. "Nicole Harvey. Just to name someone you know."

"She isn't an agent-like not a field one." When they left through the hallway Nicole had taken her in, Genevieve asked: "Why is your desk so far from Nicole's? Aren't you both in intelligence?"

Ishaan looked back at her before leading her to where his desk was. "I'm in the intelligence sector. Engineering and IT. That's separate from weapons and all the other stuff they do. It's more hands-on, you know. We're mostly behind computers."

"Is this where Jackson is usually?"

"Most of the time, yes. But right now he's probably at home."

"Home?" Ishaan knew he had said something wrong when he heard the obvious confusion in her voice. It was a normal thing to have a home. A place you live in. But for some reason Genevieve thought her brother was just existing? He was a living breathing human being. Of course, he had a home.

"Yeah, we share an apartment," he told her. He stopped when they finally reached his desk and sighed heavily. "I thought you knew, Nevi."

A shaky smile spread on her face, trying to hide her disappointment. "It's fine," she told him. She was still realizing that Jackson may have been alive and well for the five years he faked his death, but they had still been apart. Genevieve wasn't a part of Jackson's life like she was before. They weren't the same Wilfred brother and sister. They had grown apart. "Honestly."

"Do you want coffee or anything?" Ishaan said quickly, changing the subject.

"Are you taking anything?" Genevieve asked, knowing already that he would want tea or chai if he was going to be drinking anything.

"If you are, yes," he told her, smiling. "Chai."

Genevieve smiled and said yes to his offer for coffee. Looking around his working space, she saw basic things. A framed picture of him, Mrs. Singh and his deceased father. There was a computer with all its extensions and accessories. Everything, like Genevieve remembered from Ishaan's room and personality, was neat and organized. There wasn't anything that looked out of place. He had a green potted plant that Mrs. Arya probably gave him. He even kept post-it notes along the edge of his desk like he did when they were younger.

The only green post-it note in Ishaan's row of reminders was at the end of the line, meaning it was probably the most important and recent. It said:

New boss - Vanguard

- meet at 17:05 EST.

Carlos was the only person that had talked to her about the change in leadership at Blind Spot. Genevieve knew that Blind Spot was an international organization, but she didn't know the real boss of the whole thing was someone named Vanguard and not Cory Davidson.

If Carlos-a sniper for a spy organization-was taking super secret breakfasts with her to talk to her about this, it had to be important. Whoever this new commander-in-chief was, he or she was important. And they were going to cause something big. Change was coming.

Genevieve didn't know how old the note was, but she hoped it was for today or tomorrow. The meet was probably going to be virtual since it was unlikely that the new head of Blind Spot Agency would come here and there would be no preparations at all. The atmosphere in the Old City HQ was quite dull and dead. Maybe, that's because Old CIty, Philadelphia is the North American headquarters.

Where's Blind Spot's actual head base? What was the one place where every country in the world was viewed as neutral? Where no one would be biased based on nationality or race or religion?

Space, Genevieve thought to herself. No, Even that had human satellites now.

Shaking her head, she decided she'd have to wrap things up with Ishaan and Nicole as fast as she could. No matter where Vanguard was contacting them from, it was happening through a secure line. Genevieve smiled to herself. Nothing's secure online. She'd have to get her hands on a laptop or some sort of computer. The last time she was brought here, people were afraid of what she could do if her hands were free. If she wasn't hand-cuffed.

Genevieve looked at her unchained hands. Free. Blind Spot was never scared of her. She didn't stand a chance against them. If they wanted her dead, they wouldn't even need a hitman. Shocking her insides with a taser would probably be easier. But it felt nice to know Blind Spot kept an eye on her. Just in case she did something wrong. Like steal something. God, she missed slipping something under her jacket sleeve and acting as if nothing was wrong. She missed the thrill.

Now, Blind Spot was kind enough to have Kiara Deaton-a special agent-on her protection detail. She could take care of herself.

Inching her hand slowly towards some company pen on Ishaan's table, Genevieve slipped it under her sleeve and let out a deep breath. Then breathed in again. The air suddenly felt cleaner. And fresher. And-

"Here you go," Ishaan said, placing a styrofoam cup on his desk. Genevieve casually slid her hand into a pocket, leaving Ishaan's pen in there before taking her hand out to take the cup of coffee. "One black coffee for you and-ah, look. There's Nicole."

"I thought I lost you guys," she said as she strolled in.

But Genevieve couldn't concentrate on Nicole's arrival. She couldn't concentrate or take part as Ishaan and her talked on and on. She felt the buzz of stealing that she always felt. But she could control it this time. Therapy, medication, some counselling here and there. It had been enough. This wasn't Kleptomania anymore. It wasn't a rare disorder. This was controlled. It was fun.

She felt better. Happier. The thrill was back. And it was here to stay.