Read No Time to Die for Free Online

dunno,” he repeated.
    â€œWhat don’t you know?”
    â€œI’m s’posed to be done hacking.”
    Les snapped the briefcase shut and stood up with a regretful smile. “Okay, but I don’t think your probation officer will be very happy to hear that you’re hiding drugs.”
    â€œWhat! I am not!”
    â€œDoes it matter?”
    Cylon’s eyes closed. “Fine. When will you talk to the President?”
    â€œAs soon as it’s done. I’ll make it my top priority.”
    â€œHow d’you know he’ll pardon me?”
    â€œI’m positive. Now, when you have the info, copy it onto this blank drive and then call me with this phone.” Les handed him a thumb drive and a disposable cell. “I’ll come pick it up. You don’t even need to leave.” He turned to go, briefcase in hand.
    â€œWait, what about the money?”
    â€œOh, of course.” Les opened it and shook it out, watching Cylon’s rapt face as the wads rolled to his feet. The earthy scent of paper money filled the room. “And remember what I said about time?”
    â€œUh-huh,” Cylon grunted, still transfixed by the cash.
    â€œYou have twenty-four hours.”
    He snapped to attention. “But what if—”
    â€œYou don’t want to find out.”
    Â 
    New York City
9:00 A.M.
    Â 
    Zoe’s heart flapped like a panicked bird as the door to Dr. Carlyle’s office shut behind her. A dissonant chime jingled. I am here, she thought. I am really doing this.
    In the waiting room, rows of black plastic chairs were stationed like sentries on either side of a center aisle. At its far end a receptionist waited behind a tall wooden desk. About a dozen people were scattered throughout the room, paging through worn-out magazines or plugged into headphones.
    Zoe ventured a few steps down the aisle as if she were walking a plank, but her steely mouth and defiant chin concealed the struggle behind each step. No one watching her would have guessed the extent of her terror. At the front desk, she stood on her tiptoes and smiled up at the bored young woman on the stool, who looked to be about her own age. Probably a college student killing time for the summer, doing what Zoe ought to be doing—making money, not just spending it.
    â€œHi.” She hated the way her voice came out—small and questioning like a child’s. She cleared her throat. “I’m here for a nine a.m. with Dr. Carlyle.”
    â€œYour name?” the girl asked, barely glancing away from her computer screen.
    â€œZoe Kincaid.”
    The girl typed a few words, paused, and then looked Zoe full in the face. The corners of her mouth twitched down, though it was hard to read her expression. Was it pity? Fear?
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Zoe asked.
    The girl’s face smoothed into a professional smile. “Dr. Carlyle will be right with you, sweetie. Come this way.” She walked around to the front of the desk, towering in her heels above Zoe, and extended a hand out to her.
    â€œIt’s okay, I’m not a kid,” she said wearily. “I’m probably older than you are.”
    The girl drew back her hand with a frown, looking her up and down. Zoe could only shrug.
    They walked down an antiseptic hallway to a tiny room, where she soon found herself alone under the glare of fluorescent tube lights. She climbed onto the examining table and kicked her heels against the strip of translucent paper stretched across it.
    She had lied to the receptionist out of grown-up duty, but to herself she could admit the truth—she did want a hand to hold. As the doctor’s knock loomed, all she could focus on was the emptiness of the chair in the corner. Its white plastic sheen radiated loneliness like heat. She closed her eyes and pictured Gramps sitting there, inevitably distracting her with an off-color joke— Maybe he’ll help you fill out. Better