Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three.
The elevator was too warm. I closed my eyes and inhaled. He was wearing the Tom Ford Oud Wood. It was one of his favorites now, but I remembered a time when he smelled like Acqua di Gio, and when a celebratory dinner out meant we splurged on milkshakes and onion rings instead of caviar and pinot.
Sometimes, I missed those simpler days, back when anything was possible and we were still young and stupid enough to take risks.
Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three.
"You got here fast," he said.
"Reid called me first."
"Of course he did."
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened to chaos held at bay by training. Armed security personnel moved about with purpose, voices carrying down the hallway. Other than the armed security and the unusual hour, nothing seemed particularly out of place.
Algerone moved forward, and I followed.
Commander Reid was at the lab entrance, speaking rapid-fire French into his comm. Reid had the kind of face that belonged on a movie poster with his perfect dark curls and serious brow. Women fell for him with predictable regularity. Men too. The betting pool in HR currently had his latest relationship lasting another three weeks, maximum. I gave it another three days.
He looked up when we approached, dark eyes taking in the two of us arriving together. "Sir. Maxime." He switched to English for Algerone's benefit, though his Quebecois accent still colored the edges. "Three guards down with Banshee symptoms. Dr. Hardin missing. MK I prototype gone. Design specs wiped from the servers."
"Wiped how?" I asked.
"Accessed with Hardin's credentials, downloaded to an external device, then the originals were corrupted."
Algerone's knuckles went white on his cane. "Who outside this building knows about the DoD contract?"
"Six people. All Pentagon, all vetted."
"Apparently not well enough." Algerone moved past him into the lab.
I followed.
The space where the prototype should have been was empty. Technicians were swarming the workstations, and the air smelled like burnt electronics and stress sweat.
People straightened when Algerone walked in. Voices dropped. I moved to his side, making sure to stay close enough to be useful but not close enough to crowd him.
"Show me the footage," he said.
The tech pulled it up on the main screen. Masked figures moved through the corridors like they'd memorized the route. They stopped at each checkpoint long enough to aim some kind of device at the guards. The guards went down hard, hands on their heads, then unconscious.
"They're using our prototype," I said.
"No." Algerone leaned closer to the screen. "Look at the design. That's not ours. It’s a competing model."
I looked harder. He was right. Smaller, less refined, but definitely the same technology, which meant we were either dealing with GidTech or the Chinese. I doubted the Chinese would be so…obvious.
"Pause." Algerone pointed at the screen. One of the intruders was facing the camera. The mask covered most of their face, but the build was distinctive.
"Five foot five, approximately. Could be Hardin," I suggested.
"Or someone who wants us to think it's Hardin." Algerone straightened too fast, and his jaw clenched.
My hand moved toward his elbow before I caught myself, and I adjusted my cuff instead.
He noticed. Something crossed his face before he turned to Reid. "Full background on Hardin. Twenty years back. Every connection."
Reid nodded. “Xavier’s team is already working on it. But… Sir. There's one more thing."
