Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) by Fiona Quinn (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📗

‘Would you like to change your guess, Joe?’ ‘Nope,’ says Joe. ‘I’ll stick with number one.’”

The men nodded.

“So door number one turns out to be a goat. Joe feels bad. But Joe would feel so much worse if when Monty gave him the opportunity to switch, and he switched. Following the new choice, Monty’s assistant opened door number three, the number Joe switched to, and Joe finds a goat. Had he stuck with door number one, he would be a winner. Hmmm. Are you following me? Stick to the original, fail, and feel bad. Switch and then lose, and you’ll be beating yourself up for a long time. That’s the psychology.”

“Let me see if I get this,” Cho said. “We have two goats—identical twins—showing up. Their job is to catch the attention of our field officers. Once our field officers decided to focus on the goats—”

“Right, but they perceived the two goats as one entity,” I clarified.

“But once they targeted the goats—twins—human psychology said don’t change your mind and look for anyone else.”

“Exactly.” I smiled. “Because if, in the end, the officers switched their attention onto someone else, and it turned out that the goats were the right target, they’d feel super bad. And that’s where the metaphor stops being useful. The car, the real spy, is taking advantage of the confusion. The confusion is created by the two men. These men pulled the eyes off the spy. Also, they confused the heck out of your officers by being in two places at once.”

The officers exhaled.

Casper asked in a small voice. “Did you happen to figure out who plays the car?”

I walked over to the screen and pointed at the woman with a baby carriage. “This is her getup that day. She’s very good at her disguises. But you can tell it’s her because she has this tattoo under her watch and when her watch moves, you can see it.” I pointed to the computer. “May I?”

“Sure.” Casper pushed his chair back out of my way.

I pulled up picture after picture, showing the woman in a variety of disguises. But in each instance, the tattoo was partially hidden under a watch or bracelet.

“Do you know what the tattoo is?” Cho squinted.

“Yes.”

“Care to share?” Casper’s nostrils widened like a bull snorting.

“No. Sorry. I recognize it. And I know what it symbolizes. But that’s classified with the FBI. I could ask them if it’s all right to share.” Hmm, maybe this was the leverage I needed to force the CIA to follow through with me. But was I the kind of person who would put my country’s classified information in danger because I wanted my life to be tidy?

“We play on the same team,” Cho said.

“True. And yet, I have rules governing my security clearance. Sorry.” Not sorry.

“Hey, Mrs. Sobado, can you finish with the statistics? The person who picked door number one should have switched when given a chance?” DiSarro asked.

“Right. Their chance of winning actually doubles if they switched their answer. But you’re not going to believe me until you see the stats play out for you. Just do an Internet search, and you’ll find sites that allow you to play. You can assess the odds for yourself.” I smoothed my hands down my skirt, drying my damp palms. “To conclude, gentlemen, the field officers were meant to put the focus on the twins. The twins weren’t committing espionage. They conspired to thwart the spy’s detection. The crime was committed by the car if you will. The woman who is spying knew that the chances of the officer settling their attention on her and solving the crime was the same probability as the game show contestants winning the car. I believe there’s a fourth person whom I haven’t identified today, playing the role of Monty Hall, who has manipulated the officers into thinking the twins were the prize and not the goats.”

All right, maybe that wasn’t the best way to present that information. But I was tired and distracted. And they were further along than they had been.

Interesting about the woman, though.

I’d bring it up over at the FBI if I saw Damian Prescott, who was working that case.

Striker stood. “Gentlemen, I believe this has been a productive meeting. Today you identified an issue. You wanted to assign culpability to a single man. Mrs. Sobado was able to identify that man as a set of identical twins conspiring against our government. She was able to identify the spy as a female with a wrist tattoo who is excellent at changing her appearance. I believe this information will help you move forward with your case. Mrs. Sobado is now due at the FBI, and we need to leave. Should you have further need of a creative way of assessing your crime picture, you now know that our Iniquus puzzler,” he held out a palm in my direction, “is an amazing talent. Thank you for your time.”

And he headed for the door.

I scooted after him.

Right outside, standing sentry, was Oliver. “I thought since there was that incident earlier that I’d escort you out. I don’t want you to have any trouble.”

“Thanks,” I said, falling in line with the men as we made our way to the elevator bank.

Down we went to the main entrance.

We followed the hall toward the front door.

Making his way through the metal detector, a man stopped with his hand resting on his briefcase. He looked me dead in the eye. “Mrs. Rueben?” he asked with incredulity.

I stopped in my tracks. It was like an icy fist squeezed down on my heart, and my whole system ceased functioning for a moment.

I recognized him.

Maybe I recognized him…

Maybe my mind was making a collage of my past as I remembered my dad’s accident and funeral.

But I