Page 2 of Undercover Infidel
“Nicely played, Dr. Sterling,” I acknowledged, watching her interaction with my gate staff.
Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek knot, and she wore a tailored charcoal suit over a crimson silk blouse that reminded me of the warning flashes on my screen last night.
Once inside, her heels resonated against the marble, each step deliberate as she followed my head of security through the main hall.
Rather than wait for her to be announced, I opened the door just as they approached.
“I’ll take it from here. Thank you, Bastion.” Daniel Fraser, who referred to himself as my “defense chief,” also served in an almost undercover capacity as my butler. The man was a former Royal Marine who’d been with me for several years.
I stepped aside to let her enter and noticed her perfume—subtle and expensive.
“Dr. Sterling,” I said, closing the door. “Most people request a meeting rather than hacking their way into one.”
She turned, taking in my study with one sweeping glance before meeting my eyes. “Most people aren’t dealing with the aftermath of Chimera’s betrayal and a weapons system that could redefine warfare as we know it.”
Her voice was lower than I remembered, with a hint of an accent I couldn’t place.
“And you thought hacking into my system would what—impress me?” I moved to the window, giving her my profile rather than my full attention.
“No.” Her simple utterance made me turn around. “I thought it would prove I’m not just another analyst you can dismiss or manipulate. I needed to establish certain ground rules before Typhon forces us to work together.”
Typhon—my commander at Unit 23 and the bastard who’d agreed to this arrangement with Sterling’s boss, Viper, the new MI6 chief.
“You’ve succeeded in proving you have technical skills,” I conceded. “Though to be fair, I hadn’t yet patched the breach point you exploited. An oversight I’ve since corrected.”
Her lips curved slightly. “Have you?”
The question hung between us, a challenge that stirred something in my chest. This woman wasn’t intimidated by my reputation or my title. The realization was oddly exhilarating.
“What exactly does Viper expect us to accomplish together?” I asked, moving to the bar cart near my desk. “Coffee?”
“Tea, please.” She took a seat without waiting for an invitation, crossing her legs. “She and Typhon want us to track down the network behind Chimera’s AI-weapons program, aka Project Labyrinth.”
I handed her a cup and took my own seat. “I’m already doing that.”
“Without access to MI6’s resources? Without specialized knowledge of neural networks and militarized AI architecture?” She took a sip, watching me over the rim of her cup. “You’re good, Lord Blackmoor?—”
“Con.”
“Con,” she amended. “As I said, you’re good. But this is my field of expertise.”
Before I could respond, my private mobile buzzed.
“Excuse me.” I stood and moved away from the table. “Tag. What is it?”
“Nightingale’s been extracted from Syria,” he began. “They’re debriefing her at Station G now, and what we’re hearing goes beyond what was contained in the encrypted file she sent. Her background in cryptanalysis has enabled her to intercept communications tied to Labyrinth that others missed.”
Station G, our field office in Glasgow, was housed in a converted warehouse near the River Clyde. Established specifically for operations in western Scotland, it saved us the journey to either Edinburgh or Vauxhall Cross when time mattered.
Leila Nassar, code name Nightingale, was a highly skilled Unit 23 field operative. That Tag, who was one of my closest friends and a respected colleague, would reach out about the information she was providing in the debrief was promising.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” I told him, ending the call. After calculating the flight time in my private helicopter—thirty minutes versus a two-hour drive—I sent a message to my pilot, asking him to meet us at the helipad.
“Problem?” Dr. Sterling asked.
“Opportunity. One of our operatives has returned from Syria with information that may be relevant to Project Labyrinth.”
“I’m coming with you.”
