And when it was acquired, interest from the film world came quick and fierce.
Its now in development at Universal Pictures, and Charlize Theron isattachedto both produce and star.
The book is shaping up to be one of the years biggest new thrillers.
Credit: Jessica Scharpf
Safe to say, its as suspenseful and intriguing as the hype made it seem.
Read on below for an exclusive first look atNeed to Know.
you might pre-order the bookhereahead of its Jan. 23 release.
A night-light bathes the room in a soft orange glow.
Furniture crowds the small space, far too much of it for a room this size.
Cribs, one old, one new.
A changing table, stacks of diapers still in their plastic.
The bookcase Matt and I assembled ourselves, ages ago.
I hear Matts footsteps on the stairs and my hand clenches around the flash drive.
Tight, like if I squeeze hard enough, itll disappear.
Everything will go back to the way it was.
The past two days will be erased, nothing more than a bad dream.
But its still there: hard, solid, real.
The hallway floor creaks where it always does.
I can feel his hesitation.
The words are quiet, but the sound is enough to stir Chase.
He sighs in his sleep and then settles, still curled into a ball, like hes protecting himself.
Ive always thought hes so much like his father, the serious eyes, taking everything in.
Whats there to say?
Matt takes a step closer, puts a hand on my arm.
I move away, enough to free myself from his touch.
His hand lingers in the air, then falls to his side.
What are you going to do?
His hands are open, his pink lips open.
He has no idea how vulnerable he is, how cruel the world can be.
I always said Id protect him.
How can I do that, if Im not around?
I would do anything for my kids.
I uncurl my fingers and look at the flash drive, the little rectangle, nondescript.
So small, but with so much power.
Power to fix, power to destroy.
Rather like a lie, when you think about it.
TWO DAYS EARLIER
CHAPTER ONE
Bad news, Viv.
I hear Matts voice, words anyone would dread, but a tone thats reassuring.
Its something unfortunate, sure, but its manageable.
Anything truly bad and his voice would be heavier.
Hed use a complete sentence, a complete name.I have some bad news, Vivian.
I guide the cursor to the owl-shaped icon on the screen and double-click.
A hundred point eight.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Weve been expecting it.
Half her class has been sick, falling like dominoes, so it was only a matter of time.
Four-year-olds arent exactly the cleanliest bunch.
It had to happen today?Anything else?
She seemed fine when I dropped her off.
I swallow past the tightening in my throat and nod, even though he cant see me.
Any other day and hed pick her up.
He can work from home, at least in theory.
I cant, and I used up all my leave when the twins were born.
But hes taking Caleb into the city for the latest round of medical appointments.
Ive been feeling guilty for weeks that Ill have to miss it.
And now Ill be missing it and still using leave I dont have.
Ill be there in an hour, I say.
The rules say we have an hour from the time they call.
Fifteen minutes less leave to add to my negative balance.
I treated myself, a splurge in celebration of the long-awaited day, fuel for the tedious hours ahead.
Precious minutes wasted in line that could have been spent digging through digital files.
Thats what I told the school, Matt says.
School is actually our day care center, the place where our youngest three spend their days.
But weve been calling it school since Luke was three months old.
It didnt, but old habits die hard, I guess.
Theres another pause, and I can hear Caleb babbling in the background.
I listen, and I know that Matts listening, too.
Its like were conditioned to do so at this point.
But its just vowel sounds.
I know today was supposed to be a big day .
, Matt finally says, and trails off.
Im used to the trailing off, the evasive conversations on my open line.
I always assume someones listening in.
Thats part of the reason Matts the first one the school calls when theres a problem.
But really, thats about all Matt knows.
Not that Ive been trying in vain to uncover a connection of Russian sleeper agents.
Or that Ive developed a methodology for identifying people involved in the highly secretive program.
Just that Ive waited months for this day.
That Im about to find out if two years of hard work is going to pay off.
Calebs appointment is whats important today.
My eyes drift back to the cubicle wall, the bright crayon drawings.
Ellas, a picture of our family, stick arms and legs protruding straight from six round happy faces.
From his superhero phase.
Its me, in a cape, hands on my hips, anSon my shirt.
Theres a familiar feeling in my chest, the pressure, the overwhelming urge to cry.Deep breaths, Viv.
Matt says, and I feel the hint of a smile creep to my lips.
He always does this, finds a way to make me smile when I need it most.
Both of us so happy, soyoung.
We always talked about going somewhere exotic for our ten-year anniversary.
Its certainly not in the cards anymore.
But its fun to dream.
Fun and depressing at the same time.
Bora Bora, I say.
I could live with that.
He hesitates, and in the gap I hear Caleb again.
More vowel sounds.Aah-aah-aah.In my head, Im calculating the months Chase has already been making consonant sounds.
I know I shouldnt all the doctors say I shouldnt but I am.
I hear from behind me, faux-incredulous.
I put my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and turn.
Its Omar, my FBI counterpart, an amused expression on his face.
That one might be hard to justify, even for the Agency.
He breaks into a grin.
Infectious as ever, it brings one to my own face, as well.
What are you doing here?
I say, my hand still covering the mouthpiece.
I can hear Caleb babbling in my ear.Os this time.Ooh-ooh-ooh.
Had a meeting with Peter.
He takes a step closer, perches on the edge of my desk.
I can see the outline of his holster at his hip, through his T-shirt.
The timing may or may not have been a co-incidence.
He glances at my screen and the grin fades ever so slightly.
It was today, right?
I look at my screen, dark, the cursor still in the shape of a timer.
The babbling in my ear has gone quiet.
Honey, I have to go.
Tell him I said hi, Matt says.
Love you, too.
Matt says hi, I tell him.
Aaah, sohesthe Bora Bora connection.
The grins back, full force.
In theory, I say with a half-hearted laugh.
It sounds pathetic enough that I can feel color rise to my cheeks.
He looks at me for a moment longer, then thankfully down at his wrist.
All right, its ten-ten.
He uncrosses his ankles, crosses them the opposite way.
Then leans forward, the excitement on his face unmistakable.
What have you got for me?
Omars been doing this longer than I have.
A decade, at least.
Hes looking for the actual sleepers in the U.S., and Im trying to uncover those running the cell.
Neither of us has had any success.
How hes still so enthusiastic never fails to amaze me.
I havent even taken a look.
Fleshy face, hard expression.
A few more clicks and Ill be inside his computer.
And hopefully prove that hes a Russian spy.
Who are you and what have you done with my friend Vivian?
Omar asks with a smile.
Id have had a few minutes to look around, at least.
I shrug and gesture at the screen.
Then I nod toward the phone.
But in any case, its going to have to wait.
I need to go pick her up.
Always the worst timing.
Movement on the screen draws my attention, and I roll my chair closer.
The longer the string of text, the more classified.
This ones pretty darn long.
I click past one screen, then another.
Each click is an acknowledgment.
Yes, I know Im accessing compartmented information.
Yes, I know I cant disclose it or Ill go to jail for a very long time.
Yes, yes, yes.
Just get me to the information already.
This is it, Omar says.
I remember hes there and glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
Hes looking away purposefully, studiously avoiding the screen, giving me privacy.
I hope so, I murmur.
This methodology is a gamble.
Came up with an algorithm, identified five individuals who best fit the pattern.
The first four turned out to be false leads, and now the programs on the chopping block.
Everything rests on Yury.
Targeting the handlers is a new approach.
Close doesnt count, I say quietly.
You know that better than anyone.
Around the time I started on the account, Omar was a hard-charging new agent.
A completely self-contained cell.
That got our attention, for sure.
Dmitri the Dangle, we called him after that.
That was the end of the program.
And with that, Omars once-promising career trajectory stalled.
The screen changes, and a little icon with Yurys name appears.
As if on cue, Omar stands up.
He knows about our efforts to target Yury.
But still, he cant access it directly.
Call me tomorrow, okay?
You got it, I reply.
I only have minutes until I need to leave.
But its long enough for a peek.
The background is dark blue, dotted with bubbles of different sizes, in different shades of blue.
There are icons lined up in four neat rows on one side, half of them folders.
The file names are all in Cyrillic, characters that I recognize but cant read at least not well.
I took a beginning Russian class years ago; then Luke arrived and I never went back.
I know some basic phrases, recognize some words, but thats about it.
For the rest I rely on linguists or translation software.
I open a few of the folders, then the text documents inside them.
Page after page of dense Cyrillic text.
I feel a wave of disappointment, one I know is nonsensical.
I know that what Im looking for is encrypted.
Not in Moscow, because the SVR Russias powerful external intelligence service fears moles within its own organization.
Fears them so much that theyd rather risk losing sleepers than keep the names in Russia.
We have the code from Moscow.
Weve just never had anything to decrypt.
We cant break in.
We dont even know its true purpose, if there is one.
It might just be passive collection, or it might be something more sinister.
And then I see a Cyrillic word I recognize.
The last icon in the last row, a manila folder.
I double-click and the folder opens into a list of five JPEG images, nothing more.
My heart rate begins to accelerate.
There are five sleepers assigned to each handler; we know that from multiple sources.
And theres the title.Friends.
I click bring up the first image.
Its a headshot of a nondescript middle-aged man in round eyeglasses.
A tingle of excitement runs through me.
The sleepers are well assimilated.
Invisible members of society, really.
This could certainly be one of them.
But my gut tells me this is something big.
I launch the second.
A woman, orange hair, bright blue eyes, wide smile.
Another headshot, another potential sleeper.
I stare at her.
Theres a thought Im trying to ignore, but cant.
These are just pictures.
Nothing about their identities, nothing the ringleader could use to contact them.
But could he be a recruiter?
And these five people: They must be important.
I double-smack the third image and a face appears on my screen.
A headshot, close-up.
So familiar, so expected and yet not, because its here, where it doesnt belong.
Then I swear that time stops.
Im staring into the face of my husband.
Excerpted fromNeed to Knowby Karen Cleveland.
Copyright 2018 by Karen Cleveland.
Excerpted by permission of Random House.
No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
