Single Malt

by Layla Reyne

* * *

  Luck was not on Jamie’s side.

  Not when Aidan came out of his room dressed in worn cowboy boots, dark wash jeans, and a faded gray Western-style button down, looking right at home in Texas.

  Not when they crested the causeway bridge and his partner shot him a smile, his hair windswept, the midday sun reflecting off his silver-rimmed aviators.

  And definitely not when a good-looking young man dressed in jeans and a V-neck tee entered the room and gave him a slow-once over, eliciting a rumbling, sexy, hands-off growl from Aidan.

  Before Jamie could ponder the stranger’s interest or Aidan’s reaction, an older gentlemen joined them.

  “Agents Talley and Walker, I’m Gary Clark.” Hand outstretched, Gary rounded the table to greet them. Despite his thinning gray hair, Gary’s shoulders were broad, his figure trim, his skin wrinkled and bronzed from a lifetime in the Texas sun. This was not a man you wanted to meet in a bar fight. “Pleasure to meet you in person,” he drawled, his accented voice deep and commanding. “SAC Cruz speaks highly of you both.”

  “Aidan, please,” his partner said, all trace of hostility gone. “Mel says the same of you.”

  “Glad to hear I’m on her good side. That woman scares the piss out of me.”

  Aidan laughed. “Try being her brother-in-law.”

  “Married to her sister?”

  “Brother.”

  Gary’s eyes widened slightly, but the Texas City SAC betrayed no other reaction. Jamie wondered how that reaction would differ if he’d made such a statement.

  Aidan’s introduction interrupted the thought. “My partner, Jameson Walker.”

  “Whiskey Walker.” Gary shook his hand with enthusiasm. “It’s a real pleasure, though I’m still holding that Final Four loss against you.”

  “I’d expect nothing less of a Longhorn alumnus.” He’d read up on their host during the flight from hell last night. “And your nephew made my Heels pay for it in last year’s College World Series. Hell of a pitcher. He’s going to make some major league team very happy.”

  Gary’s milky blue eyes lit with pride. “Rangers and Astros are already scouting him. So are a dozen other teams, but it sure would be nice to keep him close to home.”

  “May the draft gods be with you.”

  “From you, I’ll take that.”

  Most people would. He’d been fortunate, or so it seemed. Drafted by the Charlotte Bobcats, back before they became the Hornets again, he’d stayed close to home. That had ultimately been his downfall.

  As if sensing his discomfort, Aidan spared him further draft talk by extending a hand to the younger agent. “Agent Talley,” he said, a more formal greeting than he’d offered Gary. “Agent Torres, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir.” The striking, dark-haired man—Jamie guessed near his own age—tucked the files he carried under his left arm and shook Aidan’s pale, freckled hand in his brown one. “You received those additional reports?”

  “We did. Thank you very much.”

  He turned to Jamie, a blinding white smile splitting his tan face. “Oscar Torres.”

  “Jamie Walker.”

  “I’m a big fan, too.” Using their clasped hands, Oscar pulled him close and lowered his voice. “That demo you put on at the Black Hat convention in Vegas last year was something else.” Oscar’s hazel eyes gleamed with mischief and flirtation.

  Jamie was surprised into silence by the fact Oscar knew of his not-so-legal recreational activities behind a computer screen. Before he could reply, a fourth voice joined the fray.

  “Excuse me, coming through.” A wiry thirty-something hipster type entered with a box of files. He dropped it on the table and glanced between Aidan and Jamie. “I’m sorry I’m late. Agent Todd Barnes, at your service.”

  After another round of handshakes, Aidan jutted his chin toward the files. “What’ve you got there?”

  Todd adjusted his too-tight black vest and pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up his sharply angled nose. “First responder reports from each breach. I thought you’d want to see these too.”

  Of course they would.

  Frustration and anger flared in Aidan’s eyes and Jamie intervened before he exploded. “Thank you, Todd. Have you looked through them yet?”

  “Briefly,” he said with a cautious look toward Aidan. “We just received them from the local departments yesterday afternoon. I spent all night collating them.”

  Aidan’s irate glare shifted to Oscar. “And what were you doing?”

  “Sweeping network logs,” he answered, then pointedly addressed Jamie. “I’d be happy to go through these with you.” He nodded at the folders he’d laid on the table.

  Feeling the tsunami of tension rolling off Aidan, Jamie shut the solicitous agent down. “We’ll get to that later, Agent Torres.” Using Oscar’s own tactics against him, Jamie ignored him and spoke to Todd. “Tell us what you’ve found.”

  Todd’s wariness vanished, Aidan relaxed, and Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled out chairs for him and Aidan. Oscar and Todd sat across the table, Gary at the head.

  “In addition to the alerts to GNL network security, alerts were also transmitted to UT campus security, GNL and UT biohazard units, and local fire and police departments.” Todd pulled different colored files out of his box. “No tampering or interference detected with any transmissions. Response times varied from two to ten minutes, depending on the day and time.”

  Jamie rotated his chair toward Aidan and rapped his knuckles on the table. “Knock, knock.”

  One corner of his partner’s mouth quirked up. “This game again?”

  Smiling, Jamie knocked again.

  Aidan rolled his eyes, but played along. “Who’s there?”

  “I don’t care. I just wanted to see how long it took you to answer the door.”

  Understanding dawned, the other side of Aidan’s mouth lifting as his gaze sharpened. “Someone’s gauging response times.” He turned to Todd. “Was it a different shift for any of those response teams?”

  “Yes. It varies by day and team. I’ll have a correlated report to you by end of day.”

  Aidan was on his feet again, pacing the area between their chairs and the conference room windows, pen spinning around his thumb. Chair sideways, one eye on Aidan, the other on Todd and Oscar, Jamie asked the latter, “Any further breaches?”

  “None, and the internal firewall behind the air gap remains untouched.”

  He rattled off a string of diagnostic and penetration tests, making sure Oscar had run them all, until his chair was spun around to face an exasperated Aidan. “English, Whiskey. Translate the technobabble.”

  Jamie shot out a hand, snatched the pen from Aidan’s grasp, and broke it in half. “Say ‘babble’ one more time, and I’ll break something else.”

  By the challenge glittering in Aidan’s eyes, Jamie knew a repeat of the obnoxious word was on the tip of his tongue. Gary interceded before war broke out. “I’d appreciate an explanation too, Agent Walker.”

  Smirking, Aidan raised both hands. “Last time, I promise.” He moved to stand by Gary, and Jamie split his gaze between the two of them, explaining in idiot’s English the pen-tests Oscar had conducted, including the one he’d missed.

  “I should have caught that,” Oscar said, his tone a harsh rebuke of himself. “I’ll call GNL network security and have them run it right away.”

  “No, don’t,” Jamie said. “We’re headed over there next. I’ll do it myself.”

  “Planning to leave a little something behind?” Aidan asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Would you like us to join you?” Todd asked.

  “We’ve got it,” Aidan replied. “We’ll take the GNL security and biohazard responder reports off your hands.”

&n
bsp; Todd dug the green and yellow file folders out of the box and pushed them across the table.

  Jamie flipped through them as Aidan continued speaking. “That leaves you two with the fire and police responder reports, and Barnes, make sure you email us that correlated shift log. While you’re at it, crosscheck all responders with anyone who has BSL-4 access at GNL.”

  “What’re you thinking?” Gary asked.

  “Someone inside GNL is trying to move something out.”

  Jamie followed his partner’s train of thought. “If they need to breach the internal air gap to do so, that inside person could be conspiring with someone directing response teams.”

  “Directing or monitoring.”

  Gary nodded. “Worth a look.”

  “We’ll get right on it.” Todd scribbled notes on a legal pad.

  “Be sure to include all agencies who responded, including this one,” Aidan said.

  Todd’s hand froze, the lead of his pencil cracking under pressure. His green eyes grew wide as saucers behind those black-frame glasses.

  “You don’t need to do that.” Gary drew their attention away from the junior agent’s blanched face. “I’ve personally questioned everyone here.” The SAC’s tone contained not a trace of defensiveness, only pure professionalism, and Jamie understood why Cruz regarded him so highly. For such a large man, whose bearing might frighten some, his demeanor was calm and steady.

  Aidan nodded. “Good, one more thing off our plate. Can we use this conference room for the rest of the week?”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.” Gary pushed up from his chair and addressed his agents. “Todd, make sure Nora reserves this room first thing tomorrow morning. Oscar, get IT to set up some workstations in here too.”

  “Yes, sir,” they both answered.

  Jamie gathered files as Aidan shook Gary’s hand at the door. “We look forward to working with you.”

  Todd followed them out, having a much easier time with his lightened box.

  Holding his and Aidan’s share of the files to his chest with one arm, Jamie used his free hand to enter search parameters into his phone. Focused on his task, he nearly ran into Oscar, who was waiting in the doorway.

  “Here’s my card.” Oscar dropped a business card in front of the files. “My personal number’s on the back.”

  Jamie didn’t miss Oscar’s invitation. Neither did Aidan, judging by the pointed look he shot him once they stepped into the elevator. “Run that search on connections here to GNL.”

  “Already on it.” Jamie flashed his phone at Aidan and almost dropped the files doing so. “Here, hold these.” He shoved the files at Aidan and turned his attention back to his search algorithm, disregarding Oscar’s card, which had floated to the floor.

  “You can do that deep a search from your phone?” Aidan asked, snit forgotten.

  Jamie waited until they were outside the building doors before letting his partner in on a little secret. “I can bring down an empire from this thing.”

  “Speaking of, I didn’t know the FBI condoned its agents attending Black Hat conventions.”

  “Surprised you caught that,” Jamie said without looking up from his phone. “Much less know what one is.”

  “I’ve seen every Michael Mann film ever made. And you didn’t answer the question.”

  The smack of file folders hitting leather seats halted Jamie before he ran into the side of the car. Search variables entered, he pocketed the phone and leaned his hip against the side of the Benz. “Jameson Walker has never attended a Black Hat convention.”

  “I’m sure he hasn’t.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Guy’s gotta get his thrills somehow.”

  Aidan’s eyes cut to the brick office building. “I’m thinking Torres would like to give you some thrills.”

  “Not where I’m looking for thrills these days.” The words were out of Jamie’s mouth before he could catch them.

  Heat flared in Aidan’s eyes, but he shuttered it quickly and tossed Jamie the keys. “Your turn to drive. Top up, though, with those files in the back.”

  Catching the keys one-handed, Jamie ran his other hand through his hair, giving the top strands a frustrated tug.

  Partner, mentor, friend, he repeated his new mantra. Nothing more.

  He slid in behind the wheel, waited for the convertible top to lift, and clicked the E350 into sport mode.

  Aidan arched a brow. “Another source of thrills?”

  “The good kind,” Jamie answered.

  An easy smile spread across Aidan’s face, melting the tension between them. “Just remember, you break it, you bought it.”

  “Like you said, I’m good for it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sunday operated like any other day of the week at Galveston National Laboratory. People in white lab coats and biohazard suits moved behind sealed glass walls while countless others traveled the main hallways. Even with uniformed security guards outside the main entry to each BSL-4 lab, the sheer number of people circulating in and around GNL made Aidan’s head hurt.

  How were they supposed to narrow down their suspect list?

  He reached up to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow, only to whack his gloved hand against the plastic mask covering his face. He’d never experienced claustrophobia before. Sealed up tight in a biohazard suit, he imagined it felt a lot like this.

  “As you can see, gentlemen, we’ve taken every precaution to secure these pathogens,” a tinny voice said from the speaker inside Aidan’s suit. Standing next to Walker, Henry Altman, GNL’s director, had one gloved hand on the breast pocket of his suit, activating the lab-wide comm system, while the other rested on the keypad lock of a vial cabinet.

  “Excuse me.” Another suited scientist, this one a woman, brushed past Aidan to a different cabinet behind them, keyed in her code, and opened the door. She transferred a vial from the cabinet into a small box at the side of a large enclosed hood and air locks clicked in place. A robotic arm withdrew the vial from the box and moved it into the center of the hood, within reach of the black gloves she slid her hands into. Aidan suppressed a shiver as he wondered what deadly disease was uncapped inside the hood five feet away.

  “These keypads are on the internal system behind the air gap, correct?” Walker asked.

  “That’s right,” Altman said. “And so are the doors from the changing rooms further in. Each person with access has a unique badge and code assigned by GNL network security.”

  “Can those badges or codes be changed?”

  “Only by network security, and it’s not a frequent request. Most of us find it easier to memorize the first one they give us.” Altman walked ahead of them. “That being said, everyone’s badges were replaced and codes reset this past weekend.”

  “It’s randomized. Less likely to be guessed or figured out.” Walker’s voice directly in his right ear caught Aidan by surprise, even though he’d been the one to suggest concealed comm devices that would allow them to speak on a private, closed channel. “Looks like they took our advice to increase security.”

  “They’ve seen all the outbreak movies too. No one wants to be ground zero for an incident like that.” Aidan tapped his front pocket for the open mic. “Dr. Altman, who’s responsible for background checks on personnel with BSL-4 access?”

  “Everyone goes through the same clearance process as CDC staff.”

  “And the hiring decisions?”

  “Lab supervisors,” Altman said. “Principal investigators, in a normal academic setting, which is one difference between CDC and GNL. Despite the shared terminology, we operate more like an academic institution, with students and academic researchers.”

  “Isn’t that risky?”

  The other suited scientist approached, the top o
f her head barely reaching Walker’s shoulder. “I assure you, these are the best of the best,” she said. “They’ll save us all one day, when an attack happens.”

  “Though not from our facility,” Altman added.

  “That’s what we’re here to ensure, Dr. Altman.” Walker extended his gloved hand to the woman. “Jamie Walker, and this is my partner, Aidan Talley.”

  “They’re with the FBI,” Altman supplied. “They’re investigating the security breaches.”

  “Dr. Naomi Griffin.” The woman’s sharp brown eyes assessed them through the plastic barrier. “Welcome to GNL. This is my lab, specializing in anthrax.”

  Another chill raced up Aidan’s spine and by the quirk of Griffin’s lips, he didn’t think he hid that one so well.

  “I also oversee the BSL-4 labs at GNL, including hiring decisions,” she continued. “I have the utmost confidence in my people.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Jamie flashed the smile that had everyone eating out of his palm. “I have to ask, though, is there anyone with access to the BSL-4 labs who you don’t have final hiring say over?”

  She glanced at Altman, who nodded. “Dr. Altman and his staff,” she said.

  “Okay, anyone else?”

  She paused a moment. “Network security and building janitorial, though the janitors don’t have access beyond the changing rooms.”

  “You do the interior cleaning yourselves?” Aidan asked.

  “Yes, each lab has two lab managers responsible for upkeep, ordering and general lab maintenance. They keep this place running.”

  “Not an easy job.”

  “That’s why there are two per lab.” She finally cracked a smile, and Aidan thought he might like this woman. She reminded him of Mel. All business and protective of her people.

  “Were they included in the personnel files you provided our colleagues?” Aidan asked.

  She nodded. “They’re professional lab managers, not students. They’ve had years of experience in other labs, and before starting here, they go through special training at the CDC.”

  “After you, I’m guessing they know more about what goes on here than anyone.”