Ian is a typical tech guy. Has to be the smartest one in the room, a bit of a complex about it. Doesn’t like being corrected or questioned. He’s a coding wizard, but he lives up to the stereotypes of his profession – the good, the bad, and the neurotic. He definitely overreacted to her questioning the firewall.
“So we’re letting him waste time and resources to spare his ego?” I can hear the disdain in Charlie’s voice.
“He may turn up new information,” I explain. “Blaed should be in the database as a known potential associate. Ian will be able to update his status and potentially give us information on his whereabouts over the past three years since I’ve seen him. And it’s not that much work for Ian. It will take him a few keystrokes to pull up the profiles based on the description you gave. Maybe you’ll recognize if anyone else has been tailing you.”
“Alright,” Charlie concedes. But she says it as if she is still questioning my reasoning. Not fully convinced. What I won’t admit is that a small part of my brain is searching for a different explanation. Because if someone else told me this situation, I’d say X.C. was more involved than I realized. But I know that can’t be true. No way. Besides, even if he was involved, they killed him. I can’t riddle out how X.C. could have been involved with the Order. Did he get too close to stopping them before, so they recruited people he knew? Is that how they eliminated him?
I take the exit for Ybor City and navigate the redbrick streets to our safehouse. A refurbished cigar warehouse rehabbed into an apartment blends in here.
I use the security code to enter the steel-reinforced garage and park.
Charlie hops out and waits for me to open the interior door. The air-conditioning hits me first, which is a welcome reprieve from the humidity that has seeped into the garage. The concrete floors and open-concept design give the safehouse a cavernous echo. The kitchen and living room flow into one another on the first floor, and there is a loft with one bedroom atop a metal spiral staircase.
I close the door behind me and set the security system. Charlie wanders through the space, taking it all in. She gravitates to the kitchen and I realize she probably hasn’t eaten anything.
“I think it’s mostly stocked with frozen meals,” I say, nodding to the refrigerator. There’s enough food to last for a full week.
“Good to know,” Charlie says quietly. She passes through the kitchen and over to the bookshelf on the far wall. The safehouse is also fully stocked with books. Because you never know how long you have to lay low for. While here, operatives aren’t supposed to log into any streaming services or e-reader devices. They ping off the nearest cell tower and any spy worth their salt would triangulate the location easily. It kind of defeats the point of hiding.
Charlie starts to read off the last names of the authors. “King, Patterson, Grisham. Austen, Atwood.” She pauses and pulls out a book. “Le Carré? Really?”
“Too on the nose?” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
I let her wander the first floor and I head up to the loft area. There are FIRE-branded clothes in the dresser. They’re probably all too big for Charlie, but likely more comfortable than wearing her work clothes.
“Declan?!” Charlie calls out, startled. I tuck the clothes I could find under my arm and thunder down the spiral stairs, careful not to trip.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I set the clothes down and reach for the pistol on my hip.
“Nothing, I just thought you left,” she says, staring down at her feet.
“No, not yet. I’ll show you how the security system works and then I’ll go,” I tell her.
Charlie walks over to the couch and takes a seat.
“The security panel is here,” I say, pointing to the wall near the garage entrance. “You can seal everything with this button, and close off the windows and doors. It will send an alarm to headquarters, so we’ll know to come get you.” Charlie isn’t so much as looking at what I’m trying to show her.
“Over there –” I point to the massive steel door in the middle of the far redsbrick wall – “is the escape route if the safehouse is breached. The emergency elevator leads into one of the infamous Ybor Tunnels as a last-ditch escape if necessary. It locks once you’re inside the tunnel entrance. They can’t get in and it puts the house on lockdown. Only a manual override at headquarters can unlock it. It’s the ultimate panic button.”
“Tunnels? Elevator?” Charlie asks. “Where do they go?”
“If necessary, away from danger,” I reply, grateful that at least some of what I’m saying is getting through to her. I can sense her unease, but I continue. “All the entrances and exits are covered by security cameras. You’re safe here.”
Charlie glances over at the door and then the panel. “Can we assume that whoever the mole is, they know about this place? About these ‘secret’ tunnels?” she asks, using air quotes.
I want to reassure her. But the truth won’t do that, so I don’t say anything.
“They would, wouldn’t they?” Charlie sits on her hands and starts to rock back and forth on the couch.
“Yes.”
Charlie rolls her eyes. “So it’s not really that safe?”
Her expression is awash with fear. Given how close Blaed was to her tonight, how easily he could have kidnapped her, I don’t blame her. “It is. Ian personally switched out the systems last month, all-new passcodes, all-new wiring. Everything’s up to date.”
Charlie doesn’t answer me, so I continue to point out what she’ll need. “I grabbed some clothes for you. All oversized but better than sleeping in jeans.” I point to the stack of clothes I’ve put on the kitchen counter.
She doesn’t say anything back.
