Page 50 of Undercover Savior

SULLIVAN

David had returned from Edinburgh, then left almost immediately after exiting the helicopter. Even from the window seat, I could sense his anger through his body language alone.

Fallon and I decided, at my insistence, that we’d wait for his return to discuss our individual efforts in the Tower-Meridian investigation.

Instead, we focused on the changes she’d been implementing behind the scenes at the Crown Herald. While I’d kept the bulk of my research off the main servers, I wasn’t naive enough to think my own computer was secure. In fact, it was far less so. I supposed a part of me believed I could fly far enough under the radar that no one would be looking. It was a ridiculously stupid supposition in light of what was intended to be my murder.

When she mentioned the UK’s National Cyber Security Centre—or NCSC—I admitted to having heard of it. What stunned me was that she’d worked with them on the cybersecurity protocols that had protected our research from the massive data breach that occurred simultaneously with my arrival at Edinburgh Castle.

The media’s relationship with any government entity was tenuous in the best of circumstances. The mandate of news agencies, at least the ones who still practiced ethics in journalism, was to inform the public of issues that would affect their lives. Governments strove to keep those same issues out of the press entirely. Theoretical independence was tested on a daily basis with conflicts often playing out through legal injunctions, public criticism, restricted access to officials, or threats of prosecution under the Official Secrets Act.

Agencies that operated under the umbrella of SIS, such as the ones David and his friends worked for, were particularly under threat of exposure. Case in point, David aka the Duke of Ashcroft, was a bloody assassin. If outed, not only would the Crown face criticism and scrutiny, but he’d have a target on his back for the rest of his life.

I understood the threat the media represented not just to him but anyone in government, all too well. Journalists would do anything to protect their sources and refused to turn a blind eye when it came to political scandals. Classified information was leaked either in an attempt to raise subscription rates via sensationalism, whether it be online or in print, or under the guise of whistleblowing. What few comprehended were the moral and ethical dilemmas we regularly faced. I truly believed the majority of people who chose to pursue a career in my profession had no interest in exploitative journalism. Another way I supposed I was naive.

“Sullivan? A hand?”

I looked over to where Fallon precariously balanced on top of a rolling ladder while she attempted to reach a rather large book from the highest shelf.

“Why couldn’t I have inherited my father’s genes and grown beyond five feet four?” she muttered, standing on tiptoes. I’d offer to get it, but I was only an inch taller.

“What are you after?” I asked.

“What appears to be monastery records. Ancient ones. The entire shelf is lined with them.”

“Is there a good reason you wouldn’t want to request assistance?” I asked.

“Of course there is. Climb up and spot me.”

“Got you,” I said, placing one hand on her waist. Honestly, I doubted I was any help at all. If she toppled over, I’d likely go with her.

“Success,” she said, handing the volume to me. “I think I might be able to reach another.”

“Or die trying,” I muttered.

“Come now, Sullivan. Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Having come close to death once this week, I’m hesitant to tempt fate twice.”

“Shall I save you a second time?” I heard David say from behind me.

I turned and smiled. “This time, it’s Fallon who needs your assistance.”

He walked over to the ladder and took the heavy book from my hands, then held his free one out to help me down.

“What are you after up there?” he asked Fallon, who hesitated to accept his assistance once my feet were firmly planted on the floor.

“History has always intrigued me,” she said, abandoning the second tome she already had her hand on. “I can’t resist once I spot something that looks remotely ancient.”

David set the book on the table and stood by the ladder when Fallon made her way down.

“It’s a silly fascination, really,” she said under her breath.

“So, you’re back,” I said, attempting to distract David from looking at the book he’d placed on the table. While it maycontain nothing significant, my gut, along with Fallon’s level of interest, told me it might.

He sighed. “I am that.”

“Did you learn anything of value?” I asked.

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