Page 43 of Jacking Jill

“No idea,” said Kay. “Romeo spoke to her privately some time back. He just told me today, which makes me think she asked him to keep it to himself. Also, the IMG person used some kind of Artificial Intelligence voice. It was a female voice, but that doesn’t mean it was a woman.” She chuckled dryly. “Maybe it wasn’t a human at all. The CIA has a long history of making deals with aliens, right, Benson?”

Benson smiled. “I’m not at liberty to discuss our alien partners, Kay.” He rubbed his jaw, shot a look at Nancy, who gestured for him to push on, ask more questions, find out more about IMG while Kay was in a talkative mood.

But Benson stayed silent. Something unsettled him about this conversation. He couldn’t put his finger on it. At first he’d considered the possibility that Romeo was in the room with Kay, that this was some kind of a double-cross, a setup. But Kay had revealed too much, and although a seasoned prosecutor like Kay Steffen would be a world-class liar, Benson was a masterful deception-artist himself and had a solid sense of when somebody was bullshitting him.

And so far Kay had been telling the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth.

That’s what’s so damn unsettling, Benson thought as he shifted in his seat and bit his lower lip. Why is a cold-hearted tough-as-nails former prosecutor who survived hell by becoming one of its demons suddenly coming clean?

She’s scared, Benson realized. She’s got good instincts, and they’re telling her she’s in over her head, is messing with powers that she doesn’t quite understand.

And maybe you don’t fully understand either, Benson thought grimly as he considered this surprising new information about IMG entering the game, influencing the players. You need to take a step back, John, he told himself as time did that thing where it slowed down and also sped up. His temples throbbed again, and Benson chewed on his lower lip and played with the possibility that Kay Steffen might be a Darkwater woman, that maybe there was a way out for her.

Now Benson realized he was looking right at Keller as the question of Kay swirled through his pulsing head. He stared at the stoic former Delta killer who’d spent a decade as a CIA assassin.

Keller and Kay.

Had a nice ring to it, right?

Wrong, Benson told himself angrily. Names have power, but that doesn’t mean you can wield that power like it’s your own. The moment you start believing you’re in control is the moment when the universe cuts you down to size, puts you back in your place, reminds you that you’re just like all the others on the dancefloor. You don’t control the music. You don’t control a damn thing except your own choices.

And so Benson chose.

He cut Kay loose.

“Thanks, Kay,” Benson said softly. “There’s nothing else I need from you. And there’s nothing I can do for you. Goodbye.”

He reached out and killed the call, then turned off the phone so Kay couldn’t call back.

“John, what are you doing?” said Nancy, whipping off her reading glasses and glaring at Benson. “She’s our only connection to Diego!”

“And to Nina!” Jill was livid.

Benson said nothing. He drummed his fingertips on the table, peered into his cup of coffee. Nothing but cold black sludge at the bottom of the white porcelain. He sighed and glanced at the silent phone on the desk. Looked at his watch, that trusty old Fossil from his Navy days. It was looking more battered than ever, but still kept perfect time. Hopefully his timing was still as good.

Time ticked onwards. Three minutes, then five, now ten.

The room buzzed with questions and protests, but it all faded to background noise as Benson rubbed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. Those puzzle-pieces still swirled around looking for their places, but Benson couldn’t get them to fit.

Not after this new twist with the IMG woman.

Who was she?

Was she even a she?

This couldn’t just be about money anymore, could it? Surely an investment company could find safer ways to make money than by getting involved with assassination attempts and CIA conspiracies. It was one thing for IMG to buy out Northrup Capital’s portfolio and passively hold on to it. But to actively intervene by connecting Diego and the Zetas with an American Mafia boss?

No, this wasn’t just about money.

Maybe it wasn’t even just about power.

Maybe it was personal.

Because everything was getting personal with Darkwater these days.

Benson felt a chill go through his aching body, and he almost shivered in his chair. Who the hell was this mystery woman running IMG? Was it someone Benson had double-crossed somewhere along the decades-long road from the CIA to Darkwater?

Benson reached for some instinct or intuition to give him the answer, but suddenly he felt empty inside, like he was looking into a vast abyss of nothingness. He rubbed his eyes again, asked for something from his subconscious to guide him. But all he got in response was silence, vast and thick, deep and dark.

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