Page 17 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
Something tightens in my chest. I ignore it.
An older man with salt-and-pepper hair and thick-rimmed glasses stands in her place, organizing beans on the back shelf. I walk to the counter, keeping my movements relaxed while noting every change in the surrounding space.
Different barista. Different music selection. Same half-empty pastry case.
"Ethiopian coffee, black." The words come out before I'd consciously decided what to order.
The barista nods, punching in the order. "Good choice."
I slide a five-dollar bill across the counter, keeping my movements relaxed. "The woman working a couple of days ago,morning shift, recommended it. Dark hair with pink streaks. She seemed to know her coffee."
The barista's expression remains neutral as he makes change. "Ah, probably Vanessa. She's got quite the palate for our specialty blends."
Vanessa. Her name courses through me again. I memorized it with every detail from her personnel file.
"She working today?" My question is too direct.Sloppy.
He shrugs, turning to prepare my drink. "Not sure about her schedule this week. She comes and goes."
My fingers drum against the counter as I wait, an uncharacteristic tell I force myself to stop. I scan the café again, noting the cameras' positioning, mapping blind spots, calculating sight lines to the street.
He hands me the coffee, the same complex aroma rising from the cup. I take it to a corner table with clear views of both the entrance and back exit. My position gives me 85% coverage of all approach vectors.
I check my watch. Nineteen minutes past my projected arrival time. Another nine minutes before my presence becomes suspicious.
Why am I here?This isn't standard protocol. Intelligence gathering on a civilian barista isn't mission-critical. Yet here I sit, watching the door each time the bell chimes, something unfamiliar stirring beneath my calculated exterior.
After a few minutes, my earpiece crackles to life.
"Any sign of 'Echo', or are you just enjoying the ambiance?" Cole's voice carries a hint of amusement I don't appreciate.
I resist the urge to adjust the earpiece. Twenty seconds of silence while I consider my response.This isn't professional. This isn't me.
"Negative. Moving to secondary position." I take a final sip of coffee and stand, leaving nothing behind.
I slide into the cramped surveillance van, immediately colliding with Xander's broad shoulder. The space, designed for two operators maximum, currently houses three full-grown men with combat training.
"Damn it, Chaos," I mutter, adjusting my position in the confined space. "Move your equipment."
Xander grins, shifting his massive frame a few inches to accommodate me. "You try fitting rugby player shoulders in a sardine can, Frost." He gestures to Cole, hunched over the keyboard. "At least Blade here's practically a yoga instructor with that posture."
Cole doesn't look up from the screens, his fingers moving with practiced precision across the keyboard. "If you two are done with the spatial negotiations, we have work to do."
The van's interior glows with the soft blue light of multiple monitors. The equipment hums—state-of-the-art tracking systems, signal amplifiers, and decryption modules.
The room's air is heavy in my lungs, too hot and recycled. It's nothing like the coffee shop, with its pleasant smells of espresso and pastries. Between our three bodies and all the humming equipment, the temperature keeps climbing, making me miss the café's comfortable atmosphere.
I settle into the cramped jump seat, my knees nearly touching the back of Cole's chair. "Status?"
"Our mystery hacker left traces in the coffee shop's security system. Subtle but definitely there." Cole's voice shifts to his analytical tone as he pulls up the relevant screens. "Check the timestamp markers. They're accessing feeds but leaving virtually no footprint."
I lean forward, studying the security camera footage from inside Temple Roasters over Cole's shoulder. The recording shows imperceptible stutters that most would miss. Someone hijacked the feed, but left it nearly perfect.Nearly.
"Like breadcrumbs, man." Xander moves to the side viewport, checking the street before shifting back to peer at the screens. "Too perfect to be accidental. No one's that clean unless they want someone to notice."
The observation prickles at my professional pride.I don't miss things. Not ever.
"There." I point to a segment of code on Cole's screen. "Digital signature buried in the protocol."
