Page 63 of Code Name: Grit

On screen, the man gave a modest shrug, though his eyes held a glint of satisfaction. “Just following the breadcrumbs. The pattern was there—just needed the right perspective to see it.”

“They traced the origin of the cyber attacks,” Alice explained to Admiral. “Multiple sources, but all coordinated through a single command center.”

“Where?” Grit asked.

Tex transferred a map to our main display. “This area in Midtown. Can’t pinpoint the exact building yet, but we’ve narrowed it down to about ten square blocks.”

I examined the highlighted zone. “That’s near the federal building where Keller keeps an office.”

“Never believed in coincidences,” Grit remarked.

As the evening wore on,I continued analyzing the history between the Patriarca and Belcastro families, finding hints of a deeper conflict that stretched back generations.

During a secure video call between Tank and Kodiak to coordinate surveillance, Dragon noticed unusual interference.

“Something’s wrong with this connection,” she said, abruptly terminating the call. “I think someone’s trying to trace it.”

“How is that possible?” I asked. “These are supposed to be secure channels.”

“Nothing’s truly secure if someone knows how the system works,” Dragon replied grimly. “We need to assume our communications might be compromised.”

Admiral turned to Alice, who immediately ordered the communications protocols changed. New encryption, different channels, alternative methods of contact. The entire command center shifted into what felt like siege mentality.

By midnight, the team was exhausted but still vigilant. The cyber attacks had diminished in frequency but not sophistication.

I returned to my earlier research on Giovanni Patriarca, pulling up everything I could find about his father’s murder.

The case file was thin, with more questions than answers. As I examined the photos from the crime scene, something caught my eye—the angle of the fatal shots and the precision of the execution. “This wasn’t a typical mob hit,” I murmured, enhancing one of the images.

I compared it with other known Belcastro operations from that era. The method was completely different from their usual approach. I expanded my search to include all similar assassinations during that period, regardless of family affiliation. What I found sent a chill through me—three other murders with the same distinctive characteristics, all attributed to different families, all remaining unsolved.

“Dragon,” I called. “Can you run facial recognition on these four crime scenes? Look for anyone who appears in multiple locations.” She nodded, taking the files I’d compiled.

Within minutes, her expression changed. “Got something,” she said quietly. On her screen was a much younger Ethan Keller—probably when he was still an FBI agent—present at three of the four murder scenes.

“He wasn’t investigating,” I muttered. “He was observing.”

The implication was clear—Keller’s involvement with organized crime went back years further than we’d suspected.

“They’re testing us,” I heard Tex’s voice say from the videoconference happening behind me. “Alice, look at the timing intervals between attempts. What do you see?”

She studied the data, then nodded with dawning understanding. “They’re systematically mapping our network architecture.”

“Exactly,” Tex responded.

“They’re looking for something specific,” Alice agreed.

Admiral finally ordered rotating rest periods. “Four hours each. That includes you,” he said, pointing at me.

I wanted to protest, but the burning in my eyes and stiffness in my neck told me he was right. As I stood to leave, Grit appeared at my side.

“Walk with me?” he asked quietly.

Outside, the night was clear and cool, with stars scattered across the sky. We followed the path down to the lake in silence, our footsteps crunching on pine needles.

“I’ve been thinking about our argument,” I finally said.

“Me too.” He stopped, turning to face me. “I was wrong.”

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