Page 17 of Centurion

“No, the standard is at least three dates and, in my life, passing a background check.”

“I’ve already done that. Multiple times by multiple agencies. I’m an open book.” He smiled at her. “We’ll be in London soon. I propose to have our second date then.”

“What about work? I don’t think the powers-that-be would appreciate us taking time off for a date.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt anyone.” Con shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Actually, what they don’t know could kill someone, but still, we’re both professionals. If there’s no time, then there’s no time.”

He shut his eyes and chanted, “Please let there be time.”

Ronnie laughed as the car pulled to a stop outside a small building. Con opened his eyes and blinked at the sleek black jet embossed with the gold Guardian logo on the tail. He whistled. “My mom has one of those on order. The wait time is forever.”

Ronnie glanced over her shoulder at the aircraft. “It isn’t his nicest one, but I like it.”

Con got out and walked around to open her door while the chauffeur retrieved their bags. “You get to fly around in one of these?”

Ronnie smiled. “Perks of the position.”

“Not for Val. She and Smith were in economy on the last assignment. She was not happy, and how Smithson folded up to fit in one of those seats is beyond me.” Con grabbed the suitcases and followed Ronnie into the small building. They filled out forms for the customs officer, presented passports, and were cleared after their bags were x-rayed. After relinquishing the bags at the steps, Con followed Ronnie into the aircraft.

She pointed to a work area with a desk. “That has the communications hookups,” she said as she moved back to the small kitchen area. “Are you hungry?”

“Always.” He had a fast metabolism that kept him hungry and a workout regime that kept him in shape … well, when he was at home, that was. He sat down and pulled out his computer. A man exited the cockpit and bypassed him to go to the rear of the plane and talk with Ronnie. She smiled up at him, and they visited like they knew each other well. Con gave him the stink eye for the thirty seconds it took his computer to boot up. He used his cables and connected them to the system the plane had installed. He smiled at the encryption and the speed of the connection. Whoever the hell Gabriel was, the man ran one hell of an organization.

Con stopped and looked from his keyboard to where Ronnie stood. He’d tried to find out information about Gabriel when he first considered working for the firm, but he’d run into brick walls. The same went for the company's owner, David Xavier. That billionaire’s security was buttoned up so tight nothing he, Brando, or Ring tried penetrated the wall built around him. Ronnie’s security seemed to be of the same quality.

Con turned back to his computer and muttered to himself, “To quote Alice, things are getting curiouser and curiouser.” But that was okay, he fucking loved a good puzzle. He logged into Guardian’s system.

CHAPTER 6

Ronnie sat down beside Con, who was on the floor. “What are we doing again?”

“The bosses want everything we can find, right?” Con looked at her as he put a series of papers on the floor. He pointed to each sheet. “Sometimes, when I look at documents in another format, I can see things I digitally skim over. It’s like writing on the computer in a different font. It causes you to pay more attention to the keystrokes.”

“It does?” She laughed. “I’ve never done that.”

“Probably not, but my life is in front of a keyboard, so I’ve learned the tricks.” He pointed at the series of six pages. “This is the crime scene evidence.” He handed her the stack. “Use a highlighter and highlight anything that catches your attention. I’ll do the same. Question each line. Ask yourself how it fits into the process. We’ll do this with each file. Attention to the smallest detail can get us the jump on this bastard.”

Ronnie sat cross-legged with him as they worked. She got up after about an hour and stretched. Con was zeroed in on the work. She went to the galley and brought them both back some water and a bag of chips. They’d demolished the chips by the time they made it to the series of photographs he’d takenfrom the flashes during the video. After she’d laid them out, they studied the pictures. “This is like ‘Where’s Waldo?’” Con chuckled, but his eyes never stopped moving over the stills.

“Con, where are the papers with the list of evidence?” Ronnie asked while staring at the last of the photographs.

He turned around and grabbed the stack of papers. “Here. What do you have?”

“There’s no mention of a purse for Trueman. Is there?” She pointed to the pictures of Trueman and Eisenberger walking toward the shadowed corner of the ballroom where they’d eventually be killed. “She has a purse. Here, see?”

Ronnie grabbed the other stills Con had made from the video. “Can you call up the video? Here, Eisenberger gives her something.” She pointed to the still.

Con was up and on his computer in two seconds. “Hold on.” He called up the frame. “Got it.”

She brought the picture over and watched as he enlarged the area. “It’s too blurry.” Damn it, she’d thought she had something.

“No, hold on. I’ll clear it up with our AI.”

“How?” She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to watch. “A program that can manipulate the pixels for clarity.” He worked and then snapped a grid on the frame. The picture started to clear up. “What is that?” She pointed to the item Eisenberger gave Trueman.

“Looks like a film canister, you know, the old-fashioned ones that used to go into cameras.” Con worked on the picture some more.

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