Access Denied

27. Tickets for Rejection

Davidson motioned to the door with his hand, but said nothing. She didn't think she could hear any more of it anyway. But she was only opening the door when he spoke again.

"I'm sorry for stopping you, but with the way things turned out," the drawer opened and closed as he rushed to find something in it. Genevieve stood awkwardly at the half open door. Before the door closed Genevieve just barely caught the glimpse of Flynn Davidson and Kiara Deaton standing outside the door, waiting.

Before she could think further into it, she focused back on Davidson rummaging through his drawers. He held up another envelope. It was smaller than the one with money in it, but in her experience smaller things held more weight.

Her brother's paralyzing microchip certainly did.

"Think of this as a parting gift," Davidson said as he walked toward her. "With the way that things ended, this my way of making it up to you." At Genevieve's raised eyebrows, he sighed. "Blind Spot has a few seats on domestic airplanes reserved for agent travels. I would like to offer you, this one ticket—or rather a permission-slip of sorts—for you to start again anywhere the country."

She looked at the envelope and she felt it get bigger by the second. Davidson moved to hand it to her, but she shook her head. "Thank you, Davidson, but I can't take this."

"Who says you can't?"

"I say," she replied, firmly. "You already cleared my records, gave me I don't even know how much money and saved me from having to work this whole case. A lie Jackson told shouldn't have to cost you this much."

He clicked his tongue, waving it off with his hand. "Please don't worry about the agency's financial situation. I've got people for that. This doesn't cost us anything. And besides, Jackson will have his own making up to do. This is something I am giving you. Take it and go."

"I said, no David—"

He pulled her hand from her side and pushed the paper in her palm, then closing her fist around it. "Take it," he said pulling the door open. He gestured for the two agents outside to come in and for her to leave. "I have matters of international security to attend to. Please don't waste the minimal breaks I have so you can argue with me."

Begrudgingly, Genevieve walked out the door, exchanging a small nod with Flynn and Agent Deaton who carried mission reports inside.

She made her way through the halls of Blind Spot Agency. She passed the labs, the briefing rooms and then the training areas. Young agents, probably new recruits, were on padded floors with combat instructors getting ready to fight. There was a punching bag in the corner of the dojo where two trainees took turns hitting.

Walking further down the training area, she found the gun practice-range. A line of trainees watched one of their instructors shoot at the target. After hitting bull's-eye seven times continuously, the shooter turned the gun's safety on and took off his headset.

He gestured for the first trainee to come up to the line. The instructor reached for a blue canteen resting on the ground and pointed out the mistakes in the trainee's stance. It was Carlos De' Gracias.

Genevieve was just about to leave when Carlos turned around and waved his hand at her. And of course, she waved back.

He said some quick words to his trainees and then stepped outside the glass door. "Leaving already? I thought Davidson would keep you in there a few more hours. Thought he could convince you to stay here and become an agent."

She gave him a flat look and held up the 'rewards' Cory Davidson had given her. "He tried, but I shut him down," she said, looking through the glass, she nodded at his class. "We just got back a few hours ago and you're already working. I didn't even know that you did more than shoot."

"This is nothing more than shooting," he told her. "I'm just giving them a few pointers."

Looking back to him, she gave him a small smile. "Then I guess I'll leave you to it. It was nice working with you Carlos."

Carlos held out his hand to shake hers. She gave him a confused look. Carlos didn't look like the kind of person who shook hands.

But still, she took his hand in hers and gave it a firm shake. When she tried to let go, his hold tightened. Pulling her upper body closer, Carlos lowered his voice and said, "You're brother and Davidson are not giving us the whole truth. Paralyzing chip and all, I call bull."

"What do you—?"

"I had info that this super-chip kills and I went through a lot to get it. Marek may be a jerk, but he delivers."

Her forehead creased. "Marek? Lenny Marek from the fight clubs?"

Carlos's eyes widened, as he dropped her hand and started walking towards her quarters, gesturing for her to follow. "You know Marek? How?"

"His wife owns a pawn shop up north and she doesn't ask questions when I have something to sell."

Genevieve had found the pawn shop in Boston four years ago. It was a family business and Naima Marek had just taken over. She was a few years older than Genevieve, gave her money for stolen goods and was nice to talk to. Genevieve had found herself going to Boston more than she should have.

Her friend had eventually gotten married to a weapons' dealer and a fight club champion, Lenny Marek.

She and Carlos had almost reached her dorm where Nicole was waiting patiently. Carlos shook his head. "Never mind that. Listen, when you're somewhere safe and have a secure line waiting, call me on this number. No one from Blind Spot or anyone from your side of the line should find out. Understand?"

"I don't even have your number," she said quietly, scrambling in search for the right words. "How am I supposed to—?"

Carlos brought up his canteen as a blinding grin spread on his face. They were standing outside her quarters next to Nicole and Genevieve turned around to face Carlos as he patted her arm. He raised his canteen as if making a toast and said: "It was nice knowing you, Nevi. I really do hope we get to work together again."

He spun around and let his head fall back as he took a swig from his canteen. Genevieve watched until he rounded the corner and disappeared. Still a bit confused, she turned to face Nicole. "Nicole, why are you here?"

Genevieve moved forward to unlock her temporary Blind Spot assigned quarters. Pushing the door open, she led Nicole inside. "I heard you were leaving today. I wanted to say goodbye"—Nicole held up the box Genevieve had asked for her help with, in her hand—"and I wanted to return this. Now that Jackson's here, I don't suppose you'll need me."

"No. This is all his problem now," she said, returning Nicole's smile. She took the box from Nicole and turned around to place it on the bed. Tossing it onto the bed, Genevieve noticed a slip of white peeking out from her jacket sleeve.

Carlos's number.

"What is that?" Nicole asked, peering over Genevieve's shoulder.

She crumbled it up in her hand before Nicole could see properly. Genevieve walked over to the empty trash bin at the side of the door. She watched as the one thing that could help her find out the truth about everything fell into the bin.

Genevieve turned around to Nicole, knowing that after Nicole left, she would be retrieving that piece of paper. "Nothing," Genevieve told her. "Nothing important."