Page 79 of The Wrecked One

“The pigeons could just be symbolic of how they were used in the past, which is why they chose them. Plus, pigeons are about the last thing that’d raise red flags with customs,” Sydney added on.

“Can you remember anything else from that day that’d be helpful, so we can track where the pigeons were coming from or going to from there?” Gray asked. “Your hotel room in Thailand was raided before we could get there. All of your stuff was gone, so we can’t access that.”

Mya took a moment, then shook her head while studying me. “But Oliver might. He’s not nicknamed Kodak for nothing.”

Birds. Not just any birds, fucking pigeons. Were innocent little birds really what led to our covers being blown and us being taken?

Closing my eyes, I did my best to pull up the scene from that day by the pier, going through a play-by-play of every image like a slideshow in my mind.

I reached beneath my shirt and grasped Tucker’s ID tags as if somehow he’d have my six. Help me work through these memories. Anything relating to Thailand gave me a sick stomach and flu-like chills.

My mind kept circling back to Mya in that sundress instead. It took her holding my arm, letting me know she also had my six, to get past the brain chaos and focus.

If this longshot theory was remotely right, and it’d somehow help us take down enemy number one, then I had to pull it together and help out.

“There was a crate beneath the cages,” I shared. “A standard wooden shipping crate.” I nodded, the memory peeling back. If only I could use my fingers to zoom in on the image to get a better look. “Five numbers in red were on the side next to the letters USA.”

“Five? Zip code of origin, maybe? Or possibly a code,” Sydney suggested. “Happen to remember?”

“I think so.” I opened my eyes after recalling the numbers. “85250.”

“Give me a sec,” Gwen said, already typing. “Scottsdale, Arizona. Paradise Valley.”

“The younger brother and his family live there.” Mya looked up at me. “Sylvester Soren.”

“That’s a good enough link for me.” Carter’s attention moved to another screen, presumably to Gwen, as he requested, “Look into any past shipments involving these racing birds around the world. See what you can find out.”

Mya was back on her feet again, letting go of my arm, drumming her fingertips against her lips, lost in thought. “Soren sent those birds to Thailand with a message, and not long after, that pharmaceutical company went bust and their competitor’s stock soared.”

Wyatt braced against the desk where he stood by Gwen and asked, “How in the hell would your source know about this shipment unless they’re part of The Collective? And if that’s true, why in the bloody hell would they want you to know that?”

“Billion-dollar question, Dad,” Gwen said with a shrug, and he sent her a lopsided smile. Doubtful the man ever tired of hearing her call him that. I could relate. I’d missed saying it without my dad around.

“More to think about, I guess.” Mya’s sigh was probably less from feeling defeated and more so from being overwhelmed.

I’m right there with you.

“Confusing anonymous source aside, this does have me wondering something.” Mya used air quotes when asking, “What if the Sorens are a metaphorical ‘pigeon’ themselves? They’re the middleman, if you will, for The Collective. The messenger who not only handles falsifying news stories but passes along orders and intel. What if that’s their role in all of this?”

“They’re not at the top of the food chain, they’re the hub of the wheel that connects everything, and that’s why they’re still alive despite everything that went down in Thailand with us,” Gwen translated Mya’s thought into a brief summation, all the while typing at her laptop, following Carter’s search request.

“Craig Paulsen gave us the Sorens’ names, and I doubt he even knew how significant of a lead it was, or the Sorens’ role in the organization. He must’ve somehow heard it in passing.” Carter didn’t try to hide the bitterness in his voice, and I didn’t blame him when it came to that asshole.

Sydney nodded in agreement. “If the Sorens are in charge of delivering orders or requests for the group, then they can also determine which ones are sent and received. They can ensure no one else in the group knows their names have been exposed to anyone, especially to those the President tasked with hunting them. They can make sure that message never gets out to the rest of their group,” Sydney pointed out, and fucking hell, I really hated these people. All of it.

“A wheel. Well, a circle of any kind has no points.” Mya stopped tapping her lips. “Yet something has to make it go around, which is the hub. That’s the Sorens’ place in all of this.”

With my dad somewhere in the house, I hid my ID tags and tried to keep up with the analogies.

“There really is no head of the table. No one family is in charge, is there?” Mya continued. “Knights of the Round Table concept. Equality among members. Explains a lot, now that I really think about it.”

“These last four months, it’s just been the Sorens after us, then, right? You all assumed The Collective knew our identities because of the hacker’s message, but what if it’s just the Sorens who know?” I had to make sure I was understanding what was being suggested here. “The Sorens kept Falcon’s names a secret from their other group members knowing if word got out to The Collective as a whole, their family would be targeted. The Sorens couldn’t let anyone know we got so close to them.”

Mya nodded. “And our names may have made it to the news because of what happened with the police and Interpol, but that doesn’t mean The Collective had a clue our arrests had anything to do with them if the Sorens kept their mouths shut.”

“Because the Sorens never released their racing pigeons, or whatever it is they do, to transmit messages to the others,” Jack commented, a touch of humor to his tone, his way of keeping the heavy shit a bit lighter. “The Sorens saving their own asses, in a sense, helped save us from having the entire Collective after us, I guess.”

“That means the Sorens have access to every group member, though, if they’re the hub.” I was finally connecting the dots, still shocked Jack’s joke about pigeons of all things brought us here.

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