Page 48 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“We told Nathan we’re doing a security system update tonight,” I say. “All cameras in the building are offline until midnight.”

She nods, already moving into the dim back corridor. As she passes, I catch a faint whiff of clean cotton and warm skin, like fresh laundry dried in the sun.

I recognize it immediately.

She’s on one of our suppressants. Specifically, the formulation designed to soften an omega’s scent. Depending on individual chemistry, it produces different results. Some end up smelling like baby powder, others like unscented soap or pale detergent. Sophie apparently landed on clean linen.

Sophie shrugs her backpack off one shoulder and unzips it, pulling out what looks like a tablet. “I’ve studied the layout. Only two floors are worth sweeping. The executive floor and security, since that’s where sensitive conversations happen. If anyone would plant a device, I’m guessing it would be there.”

“Makes sense,” I say. “How long will it take?”

“Two nights. Tonight we do the fourth floor. Tomorrow, the second.” She tucks the tablet back into her bag. “After that, we can focus on the human element.”

We walk toward the elevator in silence. Sophie is ahead of me, moving with that efficient, purposeful stride I’m starting to recognize as her default.

“So, Sophie,” I say as we reach the elevator. “How are the staff quarters treating you?”

She quirks an eyebrow at me as we step inside, her finger pressing the button for the fourth floor. “It’s... comfortable.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

The elevator hums as it ascends. Sophie is quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on the floor numbers ticking upward.

“No, but it makes my job more difficult.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It seems like the staff is well taken care of and happy. Happy employees are loyal employees, and they don’t leak information for money. Which means whoever your mole is, they’re motivated by something else. Which means it could be a hundred other things.”

“Fair enough.” The elevator chimes and the doors slide open onto the fourth floor. “Shall we start with the conference rooms? The ones outside Max’s office see the most traffic.”

“Fine.” Sophie steps out, already scanning the corridor. “Lead the way.”

We walk to the first conference room, a glass-walled space with a long table and a view of the grounds that’s currently just a dark rectangle against the night. Sophie draws the blinds before flipping on the lights, then immediately starts unpacking her equipment, pulling devices out of her backpack without looking at them.

The first thing she does is set a small matte-black box on the table and flip a switch on its side. A faint hiss rises from it, white noise pitched just at the edge of hearing. “Audio jammer,” she says, without being asked. “Any microphone in this room is recording static now. We can talk freely.”

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I move closer, watching as she assembles something that looks like a cross between a radio and a metal detector.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Non-linear junction detector.” She doesn’t look up. “It identifies electronic components, even ones that are turned off or passive.”

“How does it work?”

“It transmits a radio frequency signal. When it hits a semiconductor junction, the signal gets reflected back at harmonic frequencies.” She adjusts something on the device. “Different materials produce different harmonic signatures. Metal produces even harmonics. Electronics produce odd harmonics.”

“Fascinating.” And I mean it. I’d love to take that thing apart. “What’s the range?”

“Depends on the power output and the size of the target.” She’s moving now, sweeping the device along the wall in slow, methodical passes. “For something this size, I can detect a bug from about ten feet away. Smaller devices require closer proximity.”

“If you find one, we leave it in place.” I think out loud. “Feed it whatever we want them to hear.”

Sophie glances at me, and for a second she almost looks impressed. Then she smooths it away. “That’s one option. But first I need to know how many there are, and who’s had access.”

She continues her sweep, moving from the walls to the ceiling, then to the table, the chairs, the light fixtures. Her movements are efficient, like she’s done this a hundred times before, and I’m guessing she probably has.

After a moment she pauses, lowering the device. “You don’t need to stand around watching me work.”

“I know.” I move to stand beside her. “But I’d like to help if I can.”

She looks at me, then turns back to her equipment. “Suit yourself.”