Her fingers moved with sudden decisiveness.
Riley:Now. Please.
Talon:Thirty minutes. Your apartment.
The mining compoundsprawled under the late afternoon sun like a military installation disguised as a mining facility. She’d told Webb that she had a headache and was going to lay down. The man was a pain in the ass but a decent employee. She put on her sunglasses and headed back to her apartment. The air hung thick with dust and the metallic tang of processing ore mixed with the sharp scent of diesel fuel. It was a smell that used to comfort her. Now, well, now it reminded her that someone waswatching her. Someone was trying to block her access to the information she needed.
Riley's shoes were soundless against the packed earth as she made her way toward her apartment. Outside, there was a slice of shade created by the compound's main wall, half-hidden from the active mining grounds by a cluster of storage sheds.
He was waiting for her in the shade when she arrived, leaning against the low concrete barrier that separated the clear zone of the perimeter fencing from the storage area. His dark shirt clung to his shoulders with the kind of sweat that came from hours of physical training, dust streaking his tactical pants and boots like war paint. Despite the casual pose, his eyes swept the perimeter.
When his gaze found hers, she saw him take in her appearance in a single, comprehensive glance. Could he see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands gripped her notebook like a lifeline, or the barely controlled panic she was trying so hard to hide?
"You look like hell," he said without preamble, pushing off from the barrier. "What's going on?"
Riley felt her composure waver under his direct attention. Talon’s way of cutting through pretense was both reassuring and terrifying. No corporatedoublespeak, no careful dancing around the truth. Just honest, straight questions.
"I think someone's watching me," she said, then immediately felt foolish for how paranoid it sounded. "Mauro Delgado. He's a senior logistics officer and has been with the company for fifteen years. He's always nearby when I'm reviewing manifests, especially the ones tied to overseas shipments. And not just nearby. Talon, he’swatching. Like he's waiting for me to find something I shouldn't."
Talon's expression didn't change, but she caught the slight tightening around his eyes. “Are you looking for something?” And then he asked, “You're sure it's not just normal logistics overlap? Your ESG work and his operations intersecting?"
"I shrugged it off, thinking that was it … at first." Riley ran her free hand through her hair, disturbing the careful arrangement she'd started the day with. "But then my father called me today, out of nowhere, and told me to stop looking at logistics altogether.Stop.And he was angry, Talon. Not irritated the way he gets when I ask for more resources or push back on timelines. This was … cold. Threatening. Like I'd stepped into something I wasn't supposed to see. And yes …" She glanced around the area, half expecting Mauro to be lurking. “I’ve been tracking something. I think someone is stealing yellowcake. But I can’t prove it. I need access to the manifests to gather the proof.”
She watched him process this information, saw the way his jaw tightened bit by bit.
"What exactly are you looking at in those manifests?"
Riley opened her notebook, her hands steadier now that she was focusing on facts instead of fears. "Shipment discrepancies. The expedited shipments caught my attention. See here, this one is going to Indonesia, and this one is going to Bolivia. Different dates, different routes, but both with identical drum counts and processing times. Everything looked fine on the surface until I started cross-referencing weights with historical data and factoring in external variables."
She flipped to a page covered with her precise handwriting and careful notations. "Here's the thing, during the timeframe these shipments were processed, we had weather delays that affected every other international route. The typhoon in September of last year backed up Pacific shipments by an average of nine days. The dock workers' strike in October should have impacted anything going through the southern ports. But these twoshipments? They moved like clockwork. No delays, no adjustments, no variations in processing time."
Talon moved closer, studying her notes without touching the notebook. "What kind of materials?"
"That's what I can't figure out. The manifests list them as 'industrial chemical compounds'—standard classification for about sixty percent of our exports. But when I tried to cross-reference with the specific product codes …" She trailed off, feeling the frustration build again. "The database access was sanitized."
"And you think something's being diverted."
It wasn't a question. Riley met his gaze and nodded. "I can't prove it yet, but the pattern is there. And if I'm right, my father doesn't want me anywhere near it. The question is whether he's protecting the company from a problem or protecting the problem from me."
Talon didn't answer immediately. His gaze swept the compound's perimeter. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but carried the weight of absolute certainty.
"All right. I'll get a check on Delgado. We'll run background checks to see if we can find anything in his financials. Don’t take any chances." He turned back to her, and the intensity in his eyes made her breath catch. "Keep doing your ESG work like nothing's wrong. Don't change your routine but avoid the logistics wing. Give them every reason to think you've backed down. If they think you're scared, they'll continue what they’re doing, and hopefully, they’ll get careless."
She nodded, but the knot of unease in her stomach only tightened. Playing ignorant went against every instinct she'd developed in years of work.
"And, Riley?" Talon's voice dropped lower, taking on the edge she'd never heard. "Don't dig alone. Give me a day. I can get a computer specialist to pull the information they’re trying to hide without them knowing we’re in the system. We won't know what the information means, so I’ll get it to you. Don't try to do this yourself, don't confront anyone, don't even take notes where someone might see them. This isn't about corporate espionage anymore. People who divert industrial chemicals aren't usually doing it to undercut competitors' pricing."
The implications hit her like a physical blow. She'd been thinking about corporate malfeasance, about regulatory violations and profit margins. But Talon was right. The kind of resources and coordination required to manipulate internationalshipping manifests suggested something far more dangerous than simple corporate greed.
Riley closed her notebook with hands that trembled slightly, the weight of what she might have stumbled into settling on her shoulders like a lead blanket. The familiar world of compliance reports and inspections suddenly felt very far away. The unease that had been gnawing at her transformed into something sharper, more immediate. Fear.
CHAPTER 17
Talon leaned back on his bunk after kicking off his boots and grabbing a bottle of water. Jug took the floor because the one chair in his room was about as comfortable as a waiting room chair. Plastic, no give, and zero thought given to comfort. Jug opened his water and took a chug. “Ready when you are, Skipper.”
“Dude, we’re ready,” Talon said and took a drink of his water.
“When they go live, you’ll have Ronan, Jason, and Gabby on the line.” Dude’s low growl was fierce tonight.
