Page 177 of Operation: Defiance

I screenshot everything, set alerts for any new pings on Eddie’s identity, and pick up my phone.

Inara answers almost immediately. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“That’s not reassuring,” I say. “More heat coming down on Raine?”

“Yes, but that’s not the problem.” Inara sighs, and the vague sounds of typing carry over the line. “More on that in a minute. The inquiries on Raine are deeper than yesterday. There’s a ‘continuity of care’ verification on her insurance. Not an alert flag, but an actual scan of local hospital records. They expected her to show up somewhere for treatment. Two more soft hits on her bank accounts, routed through different channels. The most serious ping though, was on a federal benefits exclusion list. Whoever this is…they’re trying to figure out what systems Raine Calder still exists in. And you’d only do that⁠—”

“If you wanted to erase her. Fuck. I know.” I glance through the small crack in the bedroom door. At least Inara’s not on speaker.

“If you want origination data, I’ll have to bring in another member of my team,” she says.

“Don’t.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. The position stretches muscles that feel like they could snap at any moment. “We know where this shitstorm is coming from, and no, I won’t tell you. Safer that way.”

“No complaints here. Just know that if you need more, you have options.”

I don’t have the words to tell her what that means. Inara might have owed me a few favors, but she’s paid them back five times over by now.

“What else?”

“Raine’s apartment is being watched. Actively now. I found repeated parking violations on her block over the last twenty-four hours. Same plate number. I sent a photo to your secure inbox. Someone’s waiting for her, and they’re willing to be noticed while they do it.”

Shit.

“That’s going to hit her hard,” I murmur, mostly to myself. I’d vaguely entertained the possibility of an overnight visit. She needs something that’s hers. Something to hold onto. But I won’t risk it now.

“Asher, all of this is low-level terrifying, but the real problem is what’s going on with Mason Locke. Multiple DMV hits. Issuing office, dates, hell, even the clerk who approved the damn thing. They’re searching customs records. I know someone who works at the airport who confirmed their facial recognition systems were compromised the other day. Whoever did it downloaded footage from the past two weeks. Unless you were disguising your face, they’ve got it now. Along with the make, model, and license of your rental car. They’re not asking if Mason Locke is real any longer. They’re hunting him down.”

“Anything else?” I ask.

“That’s not enough for you? I should introduce you to a friend of mine. You both think worst-case scenarios are when things finally get interesting.”

“If we live through this, I’ll consider taking you up on that. But for now, stand down. You pull on the wrong thread, and your name ends up next to Mason’s. I’m burning this number as soon as we hang up.”

“Asher—”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll send up a flare if I’m still here when this is all a bad memory.”

In under a minute, I’ve wiped the phone, snapped the SIM in half, and shoved all the pieces into a Faraday bag. The way this day’s going, I’ll need to venture down to the storage unit before dinner for my backup stash of burners.

I glance at the tablet I left on the edge of the bed. That fraud alert on Eddie Stewart’s credit shouldn’t bother me. But GSD is closing in on Mason Locke. What are the odds that someone is digging into Eddie on the same day?

Pretty fucking slim.

Raine

I spread a layer of peanut butter over a slice of toast, my gaze fixed on the laptop on the table.

Reading a few pages of one of Asher’s most boring books—Notes on Nineteenth Century Fences—helped me sort my thoughts into something close to order. Now, I can go back into the files he stole from the black site.

The new computer is quiet and sleek, the security protocols so enhanced, they’d make GSD’s IT department jealous.

Ellen’s words are still close enough to the surface, I can taste them.

Operational Standards Intensive.

RJ-3

Those two phrases give me something to aim at. Something that won’t be in the detainee logs.