"General Kirsch's office has called three times since yesterday. His aide is getting aggressive. I've held them off with references to Mr. Caisse-Etremont's recovery schedule, but they're expecting the Banshee update by the end of the week or they'll start making noise about contract compliance."
"Schedule a call for 1400 hours. I'll handle Kirsch personally."
The sixth position today was held by Reyes, one of Commander Reid's tactical specialists who rotated onto my detail when ground transport was involved. She said nothing because her role was observation and protection, not information delivery. Her eyes moved constantly across the tarmac, identifying threats, assessing sight lines, tracking every vehicle and person within a two-hundred-meter radius.
We reached the Bentley in the time it took to complete the briefing, without a wasted step or a wasted word. This was how I operated, how I'd always operated, how I'd kept Algerone's empire running through eighteen months of his absence. Six people, each exceptional in their domain, each trained to deliver exactly what I needed in the exact format I required.
"Callum, status on the Singapore surveillance."
"Commander Reid has a full package waiting at Spade Tower. Satellite imagery, communication intercepts, personnel movement analysis. Updated as of thirty minutes ago."
"Archer, I want those access log anomalies on my desk within the hour. Cross-reference Dr. Hardin's badge history for the past six months."
"Already running the analysis, sir."
"Lukas, trace those liquidated assets to their final destinations. I want to know exactly where Shaw is positioning his money."
"I should have preliminary findings by the time you reach the executive floor."
"Isaiah, have the option three documentation ready but keep it in my private safe. If we need it, I don't want a paper trail until the last possible moment."
"Understood."
"Sloane, draft talking points for the Pentagon call. Emphasize project timeline confidence while leaving room to adjust deliverables if recovery operations extend beyond initial projections."
"I'll have them on your tablet before you exit the elevator."
I dismissed them with a gesture, and they scattered to their assigned tasks, dispersing across the tarmac toward waiting vehicles and communication stations. Only Callum remained, opening the Bentley's door as we approached.
"Will you require anything else during transit, sir?"
"No, make sure Reid's package is comprehensive. I don't want to discover gaps when I'm briefing Xavier."
"Already verified, sir. It's thorough."
"Then why are you still standing here?"
Callum nodded and stepped away, unoffended by my dismissal because he understood my methods. What he didn't understand was that the harshness in my voice had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the man sliding into the Bentley's back seat without acknowledging that I'd justorchestrated six simultaneous work streams in the time it took to walk from the aircraft to the car.
Algerone hadn't even looked up from his tablet.
The Bentley's interior gleamed pristine with black leather seats, privacy partition raised, and temperature set to Algerone's preference though I'd always found it too cold. A crystal decanter of Macallan waited in the console with two glasses beside it, and the sight of that second glass made something twist in my chest.
I settled into the seat across from Algerone, maintaining maximum distance. My hands found the medical case in my jacket pocket. I prepared his afternoon dose of anti-inflammatories, nerve supplement, and the analgesic Dr. Pierce had added last month.
I held them out with the water Callum had stocked at room temperature.
He took them without comment or even a glance in my direction. His fingers didn't brush mine during the exchange, a careful avoidance that required deliberate effort.
"The Pentagon call is in two hours," I said, filling the silence with business. "Shaw has liquidated approximately sixteen million in assets over the past twelve hours. The pattern suggests he's preparing to relocate or make major acquisitions."
"Your assessment?" His voice carried no inflection or warmth.
"He's preparing to move the prototype. The Banshee requires specialized equipment for transportation and testing. Three shell companies in the Caymans have received significant transfers."
I continued the briefing, laying out options with the thoroughness I'd applied to every presentation for thirty-two years. He selected option two, as I'd anticipated. Through the window, Spade Tower grew larger against the morning sky, forty-one stories of black glass I'd overseen from foundation topenthouse. The building had been my project during the years before his injury, and now it loomed ahead like a mausoleum.
You're just convenient.
