Page 7 of Undercover Infidel
“Was that necessary?” Lex asked.
“It was. Her cover was thoroughly blown, which meant there was already chatter about a price on her head.”
“Good God,” I exclaimed. “That didn’t take long.”
“It doesn’t usually,” Tag replied. “Anyway, Typhon wants us to proceed as if her intel is compromised.”
“Which brings us back to our approach,” Lex said, glancing from Tag to me. “We need to pursue multiple avenues simultaneously.”
“Let’s divide our resources,” said Tag. “I’m heading to Glenshadow now, but will be available tomorrow. Which, by the way, is New Year’s Eve.”
“So it is,” I said under my breath, remembering several that he, I, and our two closest friends—Ash and Gus—had spent together, starting when we were wee lads. Once we reached adulthood, the celebrations became fewer and farther between, given the four of us had pursued careers in espionage that took us through hell together more times than I could count. We each brought something unique to our tightly knit unit—Tag’s lethal instincts, Ash’s unparalleled sniper capabilities, Gus’s unwavering loyalty and technical skill. They accepted my less conventional methods without judgment, even when I kept certain aspects of my operations compartmentalized.
That thought made me glance at Lex, who was listening intently to Tag’s reminiscences of previousyears’ celebrations, told much to my dismay. There was something about her that unsettled me—not just her impressive intellect or her directness, but the way she seemed to see through the crafted layers of my persona.
“Earth to Carnegie,” Tag said, breaking into my thoughts.
“Sorry, just thinking.”
“I said I need to head out. Early start tomorrow.” He downed the last of his scotch and stood. “Good luck with your collaboration. You’ll need it.” The last bit was said with a wry smile that made me want to punch him.
After Tag departed, Lex turned to me, arms crossed. “So, are you going to tell me about the message you received earlier? The one you deliberately hid from me?”
“I wasn’t hiding anything,” I lied automatically.
“Transparency works both ways, Lord Blackmoor.” Her use of my title was intentionally formal. “You asked for it from me this morning, yet you’re deliberately lying as well as concealing communications.”
Her accuracy struck a nerve,and I raised a brow.
She leaned forward. “Your body language speaks volumes, Con. The way you angled the screen. The tension in your jaw when you dismissed it as nothing important.”
I had two choices—continue the charade or admit she was right. I chose the latter, if only because lying would prove her point even more effectively than the truth.
“I received a message from one of my contacts. He claims to have information about AIWS movement. We’re scheduled to videoconference at twenty-two hundred hours.”
She appeared satisfied, yet her words proved I was wrong. “Here? Meaning in yoursecondaryworkspace?”
I stood, making a decision I hoped wouldn’t come back to haunt me. “Come with me.”
I led her through the castle to the east wing, then down to the underground level where military-grade defense systems became more evident with each step. After passing through three layers of biometric authentication, we entered a space that bore little resemblance to the historical castle above it.
“Welcome to my operations hub,” I said, watching her reaction as she took in the array of cutting-edge technology.
Multiple monitors covered one wall, displaying everything from global news feeds to encrypted communication channels.
“This is impressive,” Lex admitted, taking in the space with obvious appreciation. “Though I am curious as to why several of your systems are running outdated protection software.”
“Deliberate vulnerability,” I explained. “Honeypot to track intrusion attempts.”
She appeared to understand and approve. “Smart. And the air-gapped systems?”
“For the most sensitive inquiries. Nothing connected to any network.”
We settled into work, each leveraging our respective expertise. She navigated MI6’s classified repositories while I activated my contacts across Europe and Asia. The functional rhythm we established surprised me—an unspoken understanding forming between two specialists with complementary skills.
At precisely twenty-two hundred hours, my secure communication system alerted me to an incoming connection. Lex raised her head when I accepted the call.
A heavily encrypted video feed appeared on the main screen, showing a person whose features were deliberately obscured.
