Page 62 of Undercover Infidel
“Surveillance equipment is in place,” Tag responded. “Renegade and Archon installed perimeter monitoring overnight. We have eyes on all external access points.”
Con studied my face. “Something wrong?”
I debated sharing what I’d overheard, but decided to wait until we were alone. “Just thinking through everything from yesterday,” I said. “Where’s Dr. McLaren?”
“Already reviewing the data feeds,” Tag replied. “She’s been up for hours. Maybe never went to bed.”
An hour later, we gathered in the command center for a final briefing. Bennett appeared composed, no trace of his earlier agitation visible as he outlined our objectives for the day. His hands moved with confidence across the maps, highlighting the observation points and potential vulnerabilities.
“Initial monitoring only,” he emphasized, his gaze sweeping over all of us. “No contact or intervention without explicit authorization. If Orlov is there, I want visual confirmation, but absolutely no engagement.”
The authority in his voice made me wonder again about his history with the Russian scientist. The personal vendetta Bennett harbored seemed to run deep.
We broke into teams—Con and I would observe from a mobile position at the western approach, whileBennett and Tag would watch the facility’s main entrance. Dr. McLaren would coordinate from the safe house, with Renegade and Archon handling the perimeter security.
As we prepared our equipment, I found myself alone with Con in the gear room.
“I need to tell you something,” I said, lowering my voice. “Bennett was on a call this morning—speaking Gaelic. I couldn’t hear him well enough to understand what he was saying, but he was agitated, looking over his shoulder like he was afraid of discovery.”
Con’s brow furrowed. “That aligns with what Gus just sent me. Bennett has connections to this region that go beyond what he’s disclosed to MI6.” He checked that the door was closed before continuing. “His obsession with Orlov appears individualized—their paths crossed in Estonia during a mission that ended in disaster.”
“What kind of disaster?”
“Unclear. Records are heavily redacted, but whatever happened, it left lasting scars.” Con’s gaze locked with mine. “I suspect that’s what’s driving him now.”
I tucked the information away, wondering why Viper hadn’t briefed me on it. More, why Bennett was still an active agent. “We need to watch him closely.”
“Already on it.” Con brushed a strand of hair from my face, the brief touch lingering. “Be careful today.”
“I always am,” I replied, the corners of my mouth lifting.
“That’s debatable, given how you stormed into my castle and hacked my systems,” he said with a half smile.
“That wasn’t recklessness,” I countered. “That was a calculated risk.”
His smile widened. “And was I worth the risk, Dr. Sterling?”
The lightness in his tone did nothing to diminish the weight of the question. “The jury’s still deliberating,” I said, but couldn’t keep my own smile from emerging.
Dr. McLaren entered before Con could respond. “Vehicle is ready for your departure,” she announced, her sharp eyes moving between us. “The eastern approach has been cleared. Tag and Bennett are already in position.”
En routeto our observation point, Con drove while I prepared our equipment. The day was clear but cold, the Scottish landscape breathtaking even as we focused on what was ahead. We parked the unmarked vehicle in a wooded area with clear sight lines to the western side of the facility, then set up our monitoring station.
“Range check,” I said into my comms.
“Clear,” came Dr. McLaren’s voice. “All channels operational.”
The facility looked unassuming from our vantage point—a series of industrial buildings surrounded by perimeter fencing with security checkpoints at each entrance. Nothing in its external appearance hinted at the neural weapons development we believed was occurring inside.
“Movement at the south gate,” Con observed, adjusting his binoculars. “Delivery vehicle approaching.”
I documented the arrival, noting the corporate markings on the side—another shell company, no doubt, providing components for Labyrinth.
Our surveillance revealed steady activity at the facility—deliveries, security patrols, staff rotations. Nothing beyond what we’d anticipated untilmidmorning, when I intercepted a transmission on one of the frequencies we were monitoring.
“I’ve got something,” I whispered, adjusting the parameters. The communication was encoded but with known Russian military protocols. I applied a decryption algorithm, and fragments of text appeared on my screen.
—Sterling’s expertise critical for neural interface refinement?—
