She reached into her small bag, pulled out a business card. “Text me, if you change your mind.” He took the card. She shot him a sweet smile before marching back to her table.
Teddy checked in with his head chef before returning to his office. Once behind the closed door, he trashed her card, unlocked the supply closet, and extracted his laptop. Back at his desk, he logged in, navigated his way into the Dark Web, and began scanning for messages in the private anti-American chat rooms.
C’mon assholes, give me something.
As he scrolled, he searched for a coded message, where the Haqazzii terrorists were hiding out, where they might be striking next. While a lot of these thugs sent texts directly from their burners, these radicals didn’t. Their cryptic messages were hard to decipher, but not impossible.
Though Teddy was mostly self-taught, he’d learned a lot from master hacker Stryker Truman. Never one to boast, Teddy knew his skills were dope. As he was skimming and scrolling, a message caught his eye.
The raptors are back. The nest is full.
There was a response.
Blessed be those who avenge the wicked.
And another comment.
We will overtake and watch them fall one by one.
Target one is marked for death.
Anger ripped through him, and Teddy released a long, low growl. He screen-shot the messages, dropped them into the ALPHA portal with an email to his team.
“We have GOT to WATCH OUR BACKS,” he typed. “Meeting Nov 1, 8:30 am. If you can’t make it, text me.”
Knock-knock.
Teddy closed the laptop, opened the door.
“Mr. Santini, your dinner,” said the server.
Teddy took the tray, shut the door. Back at his desk, he re-read the cryptic messages.
They’re back in the DMV.
As Teddy ate the perfectly-seasoned chicken parm, he opened the BLACK OPS text thread on his phone and sent a message to his team.
Check portal for update
Once he finished his dinner, he logged out, locked the computer in his closet, and strode out of his office. In the kitchen, he set the tray next to the sink.
“Chef, il pollo alla parmigiana era perfetto. The chicken parm was perfect.”
“Eccellente, Signor Santini,” she replied. “Let me get you tonight’s dessert special, four mini-samples. Sì?”
Teddy’s sweet tooth kicked into high gear. “Hell, yeah.” He moved out of the way while she set the small desserts on a plate.
His phone started buzzing and binging with texts from his team.
From Hawk.
Here we go baby
From Addison.
This is bad, but we got this
From Sin.
