Mac leans forward and claps me on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right, Short Round. You and Mads’ll figure your shit out.”
My lips twitch at the nickname.
“Now, since I’m here, why don’t you give me an update? Whatcha got?”
“Fuck all,” I say, impossibly more miserable. It’s a reminder I didn’t need of the fact that if I just gave in and did what Madison wanted—brought her in, accepted her help—I’d probably be much further along.
“Really?” Mac asks, shocked.
“I’ve got all this data, but it’s difficult to refine. Unsurprisingly, my initial search combinations for ‘the General’ yielded nothing. Obviously it’s an alias, and there are plenty of people within the SmarTech framework who have some relation to the word.”
Mac chuckles, but it’s not with humor. “Sure. Makes sense.”
“And once I filtered out anyone with a history as a ‘general’ of some kind—post masters, general education, etc—I’m left with a handful of names who lead me down dead ends. People with no connection to the previous hits, or no access to the kind of resources the General would have.”
“You’re going through SmarTech’s client files?” he asks, scratching his jaw with his knuckles.
I nod. “And employee files. I think it’s more likely it’s an employee.”
“But you checked the client files for previous targets?”
“I did. They’re all in there, Mac,” I say, seriously. “Even the names we didn’t take. It’s still possible it’s a coincidence, since SmarTech is used by half the country, but the likelihood gets smaller and smaller with each confirmed name. We’re sitting at around 0.001%.”
He whistles. “So the General is someone working at SmarTech, finding hits from a database of people who use their software? Fuck, man. That’s bonkers.”
If he only knew… “It is.”
“He’d have to be pretty high up the food chain, right? To have access to all the data—everyone’s names?”
“Certain roles at the company would have access to more, but essentially yes. I’d expect so.”
He leans his elbows on his knees, threading his fingers in the space between. “You think someone is… executing a personal vendetta?”
I give a half shrug. “I must admit, I’d begun to agree with Felix’s assessment—I thought perhaps it was a criminal, paving the way to sit at the top.”
“Does that still fit if they work at SmarTech?”
I sigh and rub my eyes. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. It’s clear SmarTech is somehow involved. I just don’t quite know how. I don’t know who’s pulling the strings. I don’t understand the motive. I feel like this investigation is all over the place—it’s not following normal patterns I’d expect to see.”
“You’ll figure it out. I’ve got faith, man.”
“Thanks.”
Just at that moment Eleanor breezes down the hallway, bottle of water in hand, headed for the stairs. Mac throws her a fond look, then does a double take. I do the same.
“Wait, Eleanor? If she’s here, who was at the gate?” I ask, terror rising in my throat because I already know.
“It was her car,” Mac says slowly, connecting the same dots.
I pull my phone out. The notification I ignored a moment ago flashes across my screen—an alarm from Madison’s flat that the system was disabled and someone went inside. I pull up the feed from all the cameras I left in there ages ago and rewind to the time of the alarm.
Son of a bitch.
“Fuck!” I cry, shooting out of my seat.
“What?” Mac wants to know, moving out of my way then following me as I charge through the hallway, into the foyer.
“What?” Eleanor echoes from the landing of the stairs leading down to the gym, purely confused.
