Told you.
After the briefing wraps, Thatcher walks me to the secure NCIS wing where Nox will be working. He stops at the entrance, checks the badge reader and security checkpoint with the same thorough assessment he gives everything.
"You'll stay in this building?" he asks.
"Just checking on Nox, then I'll be in the conference room reviewing case files with Rivera's team."
His jaw works for a moment. "Briggs is still out there."
"And this is a secure facility with armed NCIS agents on every floor." I touch his arm. "I'll be fine for a few hours."
"Keep your phone on you. Text me when you move between locations."
"Yes, sir." I say it with enough bite that his mouth curves slightly.
"Smart ass." He kisses me quick, mindful of the cameras. "I need to brief my team on the Garrison operation. I'll find you when we're done."
By midmorning, Nox's set up in a borrowed office down the hall, three monitors running simultaneously while she digs into the base network. I stop by to check on her progress and find the door propped open.
"Knock knock," I say from the doorway.
"Come in if you must." Nox doesn't look up from her screens. "Though if you're here to ask if I've found anything yet, the answer is no."
"Actually, I was going to ask if you needed coffee."
That gets her attention. "Coffee would be lovely. Black, no sugar."
I grab two cups from the break room and return to find her scowling at code on the center monitor.
"Problems?" I ask, setting her mug down.
"Not problems. Admiration." She leans back, takes a sip. "Whoever built this hacking infrastructure is brilliant.Absolutely brilliant. Which is infuriating because I'd like to strangle them but also means tracking them down will be satisfying."
"How bad is it?"
"They compromised everything. Inventory systems, security logs, even camera feeds were being monitored." She pulls up another screen. "Multiple access points, sophisticated operation. This wasn't some amateur with a laptop. This was planned, executed, and maintained over months."
My stomach drops. "They were watching us."
"They were watching everyone." Nox's expression sharpens. "Which means they knew exactly when to move, who to avoid, how to cover their tracks."
The door opens behind me. I turn, expecting Thatcher or Rivera, and instead find a man in fatigues with EOD insignia on his sleeve. He's tall, built solid, with dark eyes that take in the room with the same assessing intensity Thatcher uses.
"Bradshaw?" he says. "I'm here to check your equipment. Make sure nothing's been tampered with."
Nox's entire demeanor shifts. "I'm perfectly capable of checking my own equipment, thank you."
"Standard protocol for anyone accessing classified systems." His tone stays professional but there's an edge underneath. "Won't take long."
"I'm sure it won't, because I've already verified everything." She turns back to her monitors. "You're wasting both our time."
"Protocol isn't negotiable."
"Neither is my patience, and you're testing it."
He moves into the office without waiting for permission, starts examining the equipment setup with methodical precision. Nox watches him like a hawk, fingers drumming against her desk.
"Those are expensive monitors," she says when he leans in to check the connections. "If you break one, you're buying the replacement."
