by Blaze Ward
“He’s safely on his way,” Leonard announced as he took his seat again. “What do you think?”
Eugen grimaced.
“I just don’t know,” he replied. “And that’s odd for me. Usually, I can follow my gut and be satisfied. Obregon is more than he seems, and less at the same time. He has to be good to score that high on the range, but then he dropped back into that farm boy simplicity.”
“Spent too much time around folks that could have cracked nine hundred easily?” Leonard suggested. “That might make a man consciously self-deprecate. Plus, he probably doesn’t want to give up all the money Morgan has, but understands that the clock is ticking. At some point, he’ll be on his own again, and wants to be able to knock on your door when she throws him to the wolves?”
“That makes the most sense of the scenarios I’ve considered,” Eugen nodded, mostly to himself.
“But?”
“They always say to never look a gift horse in the mouth, Leonard,” Eugen reminded the man. “Except that Priam took that advice and really should have. Look where it got him.”
“You think you have another Achilles on your hands?” Leonard laughed.
“Maybe,” Eugen said. “Or rather, someone more like Odysseus the Trickster. Facile and harmless on the surface, but so twisted that he could still get home from everything the Greek gods could throw at him. And get the girl.”
“So we watch him,” Leonard offered. “We don’t need any new recruits right now, but can keep him in mind when he does finally lose his meal ticket.”
“Maybe, but what happens if someone else happens along at that moment and hires him instead?” Eugen asked. “I’d hate to be facing someone like Rob, if one of the Syndicates managed to steal him away from us. Bergier only tolerates us, you know. Black Aurora would happily send their own ninjas after me.”
“Well, none of them sent Obregon,” Leonard assured him. “Remember, we went looking for him.”
“Indeed,” Eugen conceded. “But I keep thinking about Trojan Horses.”
22
Mac was careful not to notice that a few of her things weren’t where she’d left them earlier. She had close to an eidetic memory, and had placed everything with exceptional care this morning.
Plus, Alicia had it all on a hidden camera, so they knew roughly where the burglar had gone. Nothing stolen, so much as everything touched and reviewed.
At no point had the man damaged anything, so the really interesting secrets remained just that, but maybe she should complain about housekeeping and get the manager to review his footage of the hallway. As much as she was spending, there would be a camera image of the wrong person entering.
They might even be able to track the man, since a resort like this took physical security seriously. Find the cab he no doubt took when he left and get that tracked to where he’d been picked up. Maybe even score a hit on the credit account used to route everything.
If she wanted to go down that path. Without Alicia, it might be the only way to handle such a mess.
But she had an expert on computer systems.
The device that looked for bugs and jammed them was registering clean, and Mac had more faith in it than she did the hotel detectives, so she tapped on Alicia’s door and waited for the woman to answer.
“Can you track our burglar off-premises?” Mac asked quietly as Alicia answered.
“Funny, I was just about to see if the concierge’s system was accessible from here,” Alicia grinned evilly.
“Keep me posted,” Mac nodded and stepped back.
Pros needed time and space to do their thing. Alicia would probably stay up all night and have an answer in the morning.
A key in the outer door to the suite drew Mac’s head around. It would have been nice to have a weapon handy in moments like this, but that would be outside her character. She still moved to a spot where she could get to one of Rob’s little pulse pistols quickly if she needed it.
But it was Rob who opened the door and stepped in. He closed it quickly and made an offhand gesture that silently asked if the suite was secured.
It would have been nice to have the patio doors open for the breeze instead of just the curtains, but that would compromise the perimeter too much. She nodded and stepped towards him, just in case someone had a view through the glass.
“That’s a new shirt,” Mac observed, smiling innocently as she moved into a hug and kissed Rob.
She wore just enough heel today that they were eyeball level right now. He returned the kiss but it only looked fiery.
Method acting kabuki, he had called it.
Still, Rob was a nice kisser when he took the time.
“Had an interesting afternoon,” Rob said, stepping back to ogle her with maybe a little more interest than two agents on a mission required.
Then she followed as he went into the kitchen area and opened the refrigerator. A small bottle of juice came out and got well shook before he opened it and drank half.
“So Tanaka has a combat simulator range out at his ranch,” Rob said, moving now to sit on the couch.
Mac curled her legs under her and leaned against him. Again, playing for whatever galleries might be watching.
Never break character.
“I know a woman who might have gotten a perfect thousand, the way they had it set out,” Rob continued, not mentioning any names. But the implication was clear.
Mrs. Jones. The Can’t Shoot Straight Gang. Deadliest woman alive.
“I got a nine-oh-five after watching someone run it once,” Rob said. “Then a lot of fast talking and hand waving about a shadowy past and possible warrants out for my arrest.”
“And the shirt,” she reached out to touch it and tease him. “Did they try to seduce you and got makeup all over it?”
“Got motor oil from the range,” Rob grinned. “But yeah, successful seduction, I hope. Got me closer to Tanaka and the ability to use the phrase Lonelyman in conversation. Even sounded innocent, I think.”
“And?” Mac let herself get a little angry now.
That man, whoever he or she was, had shipped at least a dozen crates full of arms to Ramsey that she had been able to uncover in her investigation. Serious, revolutionary stuff.
Not all of it had been retrieved when the Service finally had what they needed to break Guadarrama’s organization and arrest everyone. Not by a long shot.
There were still overarmed punks and possibly assassins out there in private employment. Like Rob, she didn’t like to see the Service used for simple law enforcement tasks, but importing war moved into the realm where she wanted a piece of someone’s hide.
“And both Tanaka and his second-in-command reacted, at least unconsciously,” Rob said. “Not sure either of them even realized it, but I was gone home not too long after that, so I couldn’t be sure.”
“But you think Tanaka might be our man?” Mac asked, letting her voice get a little rough now.
Her case. Her mission. Her takedown. Handsome Rob the assassin was just a gun in her hand. And he didn’t even mind.
“Worth digging,” Rob said, finishing the other half of the juice. “How was your afternoon?”
So she told him about the burglar Alicia was tracking. Hopefully they would be able to follow the trail of money and camera images backwards and forwards and find a connection there as well.
Or maybe not. If he was just a burglar, then maybe she needed to complain to the police after all and shake up the management structure of this resort a little.
It wasn’t like Esmeralda Morgan was ever likely to return to Shravishtha Prime.
Mac might, but it would be under a different cover if she did.
“So now what?” Mac asked as she finished.
“Now, I’d like a nap,” Rob answered. “Been one hell of an afternoon, and I still need to make an impression taking you dancing later, so our watchers don’t get suspicious.”
Mac checked the clock on the side table and nodded.
<
br /> “I’ll wake you in an hour or so to get dressed for dinner,” she said.
“Had a shower at Tanaka’s after I got smelly,” Rob grinned.
“Well, then, maybe I’ll just make you watch as I walk around naked instead,” she grinned back.
It felt good to tease with the man, knowing that she could trust him to behave.
At least until she didn’t want him to.
And they now had some leads they could pursue.
Worse come to worst, she could always just blow Lonelyman’s cover, but he’d get away from her and be able to do his evil elsewhere.
No, she wanted him taken down. Prison would be nice.
Dead would be acceptable, too.
23
The knock at the door caught Miguel off guard. Usually, people rang him up before coming.
“Come!” he yelled loud enough to be heard outside, closing the current file he had been reading and sliding it anonymously into the pile on the left.
Dillon Vergrue opened the door and stepped over the threshold before he stopped. The Director of Research and Development.
Miguel gestured for the man to take a seat and took the opportunity to study him. Short for a male, and a bit rotund because he needed to spend less time sitting and more time on the treadmill. Miguel made a mental note to chide him about it later, and possibly get Dillon’s assistants involved as well.
African genotype, which wasn’t rare, but also not that common in this sector of space. Dark skin that made the many Hispanics in the building look pale by comparison. Darker eyes as well.
His curly hair had gone white everywhere now, except for a spot left at the top of his skull where the sides and back hadn’t quite climbed high enough yet. It always reminded Miguel of a horn from a unicorn.
Not an impossible comparison, since Dillon was possibly the smartest man in the building. And his hands were forever in motion, as if invisibly tinkering with a motherboard or piece of gear that needed to be modified, upgraded, or fixed.
“We might have a problem with the mission to Shravishtha Prime,” Dillon began without small talk.
“Details?” Miguel asked.
He had learned a long time ago to not interrupt the man, but just prod him to over-explain and then sort out the details afterwards.
Fantastic nerd. Lousy spy.
“There are suggestions, just hints mind you, but solid enough to be put through a second and third analysis by blind sampling,” Dillon started to build up a head of steam. “They remain in place after double-blind and data washing to eliminate confirmation bias and other statistical anomalies.”
“Bottom line?” Miguel asked, not even sure what the man had just said, but confident that it meant something to the right people. Like Dillon.
“Lonelyman might be a deep cover agent for someone else,” the man said. “Possibly Aquitaine, but more likely the Fribourg Empire. Nothing says it clearly, but random shards hold together when that legend is applied to them.”
“And your confidence in the analysts?” Miguel asked.
“I’m sitting in your office, telling you about it, Miguel,” Dillon smiled seriously. “That sufficient?”
“It is,” Miguel decided. “We were planning to send a second chase ship after our team, and I believe that the vessel is scheduled to leave tomorrow, but we can move it up. Can you put together a package for Mac and Alicia in four hours?”
“I will,” Dillon rose and turned for the door without another word.
Robin was standing in the open doorway when Dillon left, awaiting instructions.
Miguel stewed for a second and then remembered the old adage that a good plan today beats a perfect plan sometime next week.
“Ben first,” Miguel said. “Then ask Dolf to carve me out fifteen minutes in an hour or two so I can get him up to speed. Notify the flight team for that second Shravishtha Prime vessel to be on call for a possible early launch, but not for at least four hours, so they have time to settle things first.”
“Aye, sir,” Robin nodded, pulling the door shut.
Like many of the people in the building, Robin had served in Lincolnshire’s tiny navy, mostly made up of vessels bought secondhand from Aquitaine. Office of Naval Intelligence in Robin’s case, and then a transfer to a civilian job with the real spies in the Service.
Not that Miguel would ever say that to ONI’s faces.
At least unprovoked.
Ben appeared quickly and took the same chair Dillon had just vacated.
“Dillon was here?” he confirmed.
“Yes,” Miguel said. “Lonelyman might be a double or triple agent, based on crypto and statistical analysis. Mattie’s people are doing the work for Dillon, so he brought the news.”
“For whom?” Ben asked.
“Possibly the Republic,” Miguel grimaced. “More likely the Empire.”
“Does it matter to us, either way?” Ben probed. “Either Aquitaine forgot to mention it and they should have told somebody, or he’s been in Salonnia since before Fribourg got friendly and peaceful, so we still have a reason to take him out. After all, the Empire could have shut him down themselves if they really wanted peace out here.”
“Are you suggesting that the mice might continue to play if the cat isn’t looking?” Miguel asked.
“I’m suggesting that Lincolnshire needs to take care of itself if the big players won’t,” Ben said. “I’ve never been a fan of the criminal Syndicates that own the government of Salonnia. You know that. But if they stay on their side of the border, it’s not my problem. Lonelyman forgot that lesson. Or didn’t care.”
“I see you’ve been following the case,” Miguel grinned now.
“Nothing gets to your desk first, except when Dillon barges in,” Ben grinned back. “My job is to figure out when to tackle the man in the hallway, and when to show up afterwards.”
“So we’ll update folks in three hours,” Miguel decided. “That gives Dillon time to write up a briefing pack and Dolf can figure out what orders to update the team with.”
“I understand the need to take the man out if he works for Fribourg,” Ben said. “But what if he’s a semi-friendly?”
“There are no semi-friendlies here, Ben,” Miguel answered darkly, emotions flip-flopping. “There are enemies of Lincolnshire that need to be dealt with. However, that is likely a decision that will need to come from Mac, and possibly Handsome, in the field. Our job is to give them all the information they need to handle it.”
“They might not kill him?” Ben asked, obviously surprised.
“Handsome has highly specialized training in social assassinations, Ben,” Miguel grinned again. “Destroying organizations without actually killing anyone. It might be enough to unmask their target if they can identify him. To suggest in the right circles that the man is a triple agent turning everyone against the middle so he can profit from the chaos.”
“And then?”
“We let someone else do the dirty work.”
24
Alicia was willing to admit she could be a little compulsive, at least when it came to data. And computer communications systems, which really should have been better secured than this.
Granted, the place was only a resort, and needed to be accessible to tourists as well as folks coming on campus for various corporate meetings and events, but seriously? It should have been a harder nut to crack than that.
The sun hadn’t even set yet. Hell, she was sitting in the front room of the suite waiting for Esme and Handsome to get back from dinner, picking at the remains of the burger and fries that room service had delivered.
And reading a new article on encryption protocols and the design philosophies underneath them. Except that she was taking so many notes and leaving so many highlights to complain about the idiot who wrote it that Alicia just knew she’d end up writing a counterpoint article to refute such malignant stupidities.
Whether Dillon ever let her publish it wider than just the departme
nt was a whole other battle, but she’d at least feel better snapping her fingers at the moron who produced this drivel.
Of course, if more people listened to her than to him, she might be out of a job, since they would actually have data encryption security that couldn’t be hacked, spoofed, or sniffed.
Alicia shrugged. Maybe it was for the best that fools listened to this goober. They built systems like the resort used. Systems she currently owned because unlike them she didn’t believe in making data accessibly unencrypted during transmission. Sure, it sped things up maybe one tenth of one percent, but unless you were dumping your entire datacore across a cellular handcomm line, the difference wasn’t going to be fast enough for humans to even notice.
She snorted at the latest indignity in his article and tossed the tablet onto the other end of the sofa before she screamed and actually threw it.
Someone was approaching the outer door to the suite, from the little chime in her earpiece. The one that looked like a simple bronze cuff set with emeralds.
A key hit the lock and it opened. Rob looked in before actually entering and Alicia lifted her thumb off the little emergency screamer that could wake the dead on the next island.
A girl needs to be prepared.
The two agents entered and closed the door. Esme ended up on the wingback chair. Handsome handed her back her tablet and sat at the far end of the couch.
Alicia subdued her grumbles and pasted a smile on her face. Esme wasn’t fooled, but she wasn’t supposed to.
“Amateur hour,” Alicia replied to the unasked question, gesturing with the tablet. “The man who turned over the suite was actually already in the resort’s systems, in the identification files. He works for Tanaka.”
Rob blew out a breath and relaxed further back into his end of the sofa.
“Did he find anything?” Rob asked.
Alicia gave him the exact same look her seven-year-old nephew had used when she said something once that was equally stupid.