“The World Games has excellent security. Chances are an attack could be stopped by local law enforcement or the added security for an event,” I remind Oliver.
“Exactly.” He nods his head. “We can’t dismiss the potential threat. This was a huge arms sale. If you hear a thunder of hooves, you think horses, not zebras, right? We have someone with a cache of arms and a credible threat at a marquee event. Logic says they are somehow linked.” Oliver leans back in his chair.
He waves his hand as if swiping away at that theory. “I think, if anything, Castillo is there to re-sell the arms to some mercenaries working in Lagos. He wants Vallus to be the only internet provider in sub-Saharan Africa. If those weapons are used to blow up any existing infrastructure, Vallus can come in and look like the good guy, even when they provide expensive internet.”
“Sounds very on-brand for him,” I agree. “We need to know for sure. Let’s monitor Castillo at the World Games to see who he’s re-selling to,” I say, listing the first item that comes to mind.
“You’ll be part of our team going to Rome later this summer. Charlie will be there too,” Oliver tells me. “Maybe Castillo will slip up and tell her something helpful,” he mutters. I can tell he doesn’t like this idea. Ihateit. My fists clench beneath my desk. The idea of that man being near her again flash-boils my blood. “Let’s hope we discover the real target before we get there.” Anything to get this solved sooner and spare Charlie another minute with Castillo. “I’ll see if there’s any chatter on another target in Rome.”
Oliver nods but remains seated. His gaze is focused ahead of him, lost in thought. I wait for him to share whatever theory is forming in his mind. “You know, we’ve been focused on Frank Castillo. But he may just be joining the Order. The real kingpin is Holden Ambrose.”
I nod to show I’m following. Holden Ambrose is the man who invented social media. People either love him for his tech ingenuity or they hate him for the addictive all-consuming media he invented. “You think Ambrose could have something planned?”
“He’s always talked the talk of a pacifist, but his earnings have been in decline. Social media lives and breathes advertising dollars. But as people find ways to avoid ads, his bottom line is hurt. The algorithms know so much about us. Where we go, who we like and don’t. They start serving up baby-registry ads before people even realize they’re pregnant.” Oliver pauses, his thoughts still forming.
“So what do the arms have to do with that?”
“I’m not sure.” Oliver shakes his head. “But Ambrose has been meeting in DC a lot. The potential for the data he owns to be used to apprehend enemies of the state, however that is defined, could be lucrative to Ambrose. A defense contract to mine data will always pay way more than banner ads.”
“Huh,” I say, catching on to his logic. “You think Ambrose could trigger an attack that would push through his pending contracts?”
Oliver equivocates. “It’s a lot ofcoulds andmights. It’s a weak theory.”
“Don’t discount your gut and I’ll keep an ear out for any chatter,” I assure my boss.
Oliver nods and stands up. “That’s good, but let’s cast a wider net just in case.”
A wider net. There is always more to do. Another riddle to solve, some hidden game. We make progress at making the world safer, and then someone else decides to mess it up. I don’t feel expendable like I did in the navy, but the missions, once thrilling, are starting to feel a little like whack-a-mole.
I jot down my next steps from Oliver and there is a knock at my office door.
“Come in,” I say a little too forcefully, hoping it’s Charlie.
Ian pops in and closes the door behind him. “I printed out the images of those in the database that most closely matched your description. Even those without facial hair, in case the beard is new.”
I nod and take the stack from Ian. This will save me combing through the server myself.
Oliver catches Ian up on our new focus: Rome and the upcoming World Games. Oliver doesn’t mention his theory about the Rome threat being a decoy or about Ambrose and his contracts, but I’m sure Ian can riddle that out for himself.
“Alright, I’ll refocus my searches,” Ian says.
We have a plan.
Oliver opens the door to my office; the conversation is over. “Good work, team,” he says and heads back to his office.
I hazard a glance at Charlie’s desk; she still isn’t there. Damn. I have to admit that so much of my angst about Charlie is actually about my growing attraction. My defenses are buckling under what I’m trying to hold back.
I haven’t tried to romance anyone in a while. And it doesn’t even matter. If I decided I cared about Charlie and wanted something romantic, that’s reason enough to never try. She would be a liability, a weakness any enemy could use as leverage. And if they hurt her, I’d never forgive myself.
Best to focus on her faults, reasons to not want to be with her. I’m going to have to dig to find something, anything, to stop these longings from jeopardizing our mission, FIRE, or her safety.
30
DECLAN
Knock knock knock.
I tell myself this will be quick. A short mission and then back to work.
