“As if you’ve ever listened to my lectures.” I can almost hear her eye roll.
Owing her an explanation, or perhaps an excuse, I say, “I can’t wait. I’m almost positive Owen isn’t safe, and if this person has any information, I need it as soon as possible.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line before Ella puffs out an exasperated breath. “So we’re saving your target now?”
It’s such a loaded question. I don’t know how to answer her, and my silence is telling.
Ella sighs. “Listen, Nova, I’m not just your assistant. I’m your friend, and from what Eagan has dug up, I know these companies are scum and we’re better off without them.” She pauses. “But…hekilledthem.”
“We don’t know that,” I respond quickly. Too quickly. Ella immediately catches on.
“No, you’re right,” she says, her tone chastising. “But he’s suspected of it, and you’re supposed to be getting the evidence to prove it. Not off chasing bad guys that don’t have anything to do with your actual assignment.”
I let out a frustrated growl, and Ella chuckles. “I know that sound, and I’m damn glad I’m on the phone and not with you right now, otherwise I’d have to explain a black eye to Dec tomorrow.”
“I’d never punch you.”
“No, only use another unsuspecting hard object.”
That gets me to smile, and I relent. “I understand your concern.” When she snorts, I choose to ignore it and continue, “And I’m still trying to find the evidence, but I can’t just let this go. And no, it’s not about Owen. It’s about my safety, too. It’s about gettingallthe bad guys.”
“Oh, we’re using first names now?” Ella quips.
I refrain from commenting, and say instead, “I won’t try if it’s too dangerous. I promise.”
Ella sighs again. “I’m giving you one hour once you’re there, and then I’m calling Dec and sending a team in.”
I grin, because that’s more than I deserve. “Thanks, Ella. I owe you one.”
“You owe me a trillion, but who’s counting?”
I laugh. “See you on the other side.”
A grunt is all I get in response, and by the time I hang up the phone, I’m already heading inland to the coordinates Ella gave me, to what I hope will provide me answers. The problem is: I don’t know what I need.
I push down the questions and the thoughts that follow. I’ve done this many times before in my life and career. It’s easier to get the job done when you leave the emotion behind.
But for the first time since joining the CIA, I’m having a difficult time doing that.
Ella wasn’t lying. The whistleblower’s house is so far from civilization that I find myself driving for over an hour on an overgrown dirt path. I lost cell service thirty minutes ago, and there isn’t a light to be seen for miles.
Knowing this person also has an intense security system and I’m quickly approaching the house, I slow the car, keeping my eyes peeled for the telltale signs of cameras, bugs, and other tech traps. I don’t want an unsuspecting bullet through my head.
I brace for anything.
For a time, I feel like Ella was wrong about the security, but soon there’s a disturbance in the dirt beside the road. I’ve been trained to spot any sign that a place has had human interference, and though it's subtle, I notice the slight imprint of a boot.
I stop the car and get out, straining to hear any sign that I’m not alone. The forest around me is alive with the chorus of crickets and frogs, but there are no sounds of human activity.
Bending down, I study the print. It looks new. Made within the last day or two. I follow the direction it points to and find bent bushes. A few branches look to have broken off. The cut seems new.
The path stops at a large tree, and, sure enough, there’s a camera posted ten feet off the ground. I pull out a tool I’ve used often. It mimics the way a tree rat might chew through a camera wire. Cutting it, the faint red light flickers out of existence. Heading back the way I came, I make sure not to disturb the area further.
I abandon the car, needing my full senses to find other security traps. As I anticipated, there are a few more cameras, but instead of cutting the wires and raising an alarm, I skirt around them through the forest, careful not to make any noise or leave behind any evidence.
A few more minutes of maneuvering around the extensive system, and the house finally comes into view. There’s a light outside, illuminating the front porch, but otherwise, the house looks almost abandoned. It’s small and brown, blending in with the surrounding trees. There is no garden or any potted plants. The only sign that the place isn’t completely abandoned is the footpath that leads from the house to the detached garage. Tire tracks indicate the person has left recently, but the grooves aren’t deep.
This person doesn’t go out often.
