"Keep going down the path you're going, you’re gonna end up just like your friend. Is that worth it?”
"Man, you’re way off base.”
"Want to tell me where you were last night?”
"I don't have to tell you shit. Get off my property.”
I wedged a card into the weatherstripping. "I'm pretty sure you already know where I live, but I will leave you my phone number in case you want to talk.” Then I added, "Oh, and by the way, it really pisses me off when people try to kill me. Try it again, you’ll end up like your friend.”
I backed away from the door and plunged down the steps to the sidewalk. I whistled for JD, and he joined me.
"He's our guy," I said.
"Was there ever any doubt?”
“I think his cage is sufficiently rattled.”
We walked back to the Porsche, hopped in, and left the complex. We had nothing on this guy, and that was burning me up.
I figured whoever he was working for wouldn't let up. There would be another assassination attempt. JD and I needed to keep our wits about ourselves. If Shane couldn’t get the job done, I'm sure his employer would find somebody else.
They were poking the bear, and they were going to get the claws, sooner or later.
Isabella called. “Alright, you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Bad news first.”
“I couldn’t get into the Aqus network. They are using some high-level security. It’s going to take time.”
“What’s the good news? Don’t tell me there isn’t any.”
“In theory, your modified shark has a neural implant and a satellite tracking tag that relays data back to Aqus. I’m sure they have real-time data, as long as the shark is near the surface or near a buoy. That data is encrypted, but it’s being sent over a commercial satellite network, and like anything else, they have to pay Celestial Services for the privilege.”
I liked where this was going. “Please tell me you hacked the satellite provider’s data stream.”
“You catch on quick. Each tag has a unique ID number—a 15-digit IMEI number. I cross-referenced the known wildlife tags and found six Cerulean Industries tags on the Celestial network that are unlisted and fall into unallocated or defense-reserved IMEI blocks.”
I groaned. “So this is a covert op.”
“Maybe. Could be an unsanctioned, off-the-books program.”
“That’s just great.”
“Right now, I’ve got real-time data on the shark. At least, I think it’s a shark. It’s moving faster and deeper than a great white.”
“Where is it?”
She gave me coordinates. “What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to go take a look and get visual confirmation,” I said.
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Be careful, Tyson. This isn’t your usual adversary.”
I told her I'd be in touch when we got out on the water. "I'm not going to do anything stupid," I said before ending the call.
