Page 10 of Undercover Shadow
I hated how easily he could read me. Or knew me. Yes, there’d been a coup, but that wasn’t the only reason I’d requested extraction.
“I was able to piece together something else in Idris’ files that I hadn’t understood until then. I received intel about a mole within MI6. Someone on the inside who’d been feeding information to the Labyrinth network.”
“You ‘received intel.’ Let me guess, from Kestrel?”
My gaze remained steady on his, but I didn’t confirm or deny what he’d said. He knew I wouldn’t. Not yet anyway.
“I made Typhon aware of it during my debrief in Glasgow, which is why I disappeared the next day.”
His jaw tightened, and he scowled. “There are times I hate thatsonuvabitch.”
“I’ll admit to occasionally feeling the same way.”
“Go on. Forgive my interruption.”
“He arranged for a new location and complete blackout. That’s when Viper took over as my handler.”
His eyes widened. “The chief of MI6 became your handler?”
“It made sense, given the circumstances. If there was a mole, we needed to keep the circle as small as possible.” I stood, too restless to sit. “We spent several days going through everything. Cross-referencing communications, tracking patterns, building a profile.”
“And?”
“We narrowed it down to a handful of possibilities.” I set my cup on the counter. “Eventually, we zeroed in on one name. Malcolm Bennett.”
Recognition flickered across his face.
“He was a mid-level analyst with a cryptography background,” I continued. “And had access to exactly the kind of information that had been leaked.”
Tag stood and paced across the room. “What happened next?”
“Viper sent him to work with Con and Lex to see if he’d make a move.” I stood by the window, studying the sleet as it streaked down the glass. “Then the lab exploded, and Bennett and McLaren died. At least we think that’s what happened. As I’m sure you know, her body was never found.”
Tag stilled. “You think she’s alive.”
“I do.” I chose my next words judiciously. “I told you I thought either she or Orlov could be ‘the Architect.’”
“Go on.”
“There were certain things about him or her, specific skill sets, operational patterns. After the explosion, when similar patterns emerged through fresh intel, I figured it couldn’t be Orlov. The next best guess was McLaren.”
Tag’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a significant leap.”
“It is. But when I began pulling threads, everything fell into place.” I moved to retrieve my tablet from where I’d left it on the counter. “After her supposed death, I went through the Syrian intel again systematically and narrowed it into four categories.”
I pulled up the files and turned the screen toward him. “First, the communications. Encrypted channels between Damascus, Cyprus, and somewhere in Scotland. The coding was complex, but once I broke it down, I discovered the messages use technical terminology she coined. Specific phrase constructions. Even the way she structures her arguments—it’s like hearing someone’s voice in their writing.”
Tag moved to stand next to me and studied the screen. “That’s not proof.”
“No, it’s not. Second, the financial trail. I found transfers also through Cyprus but in Malta too. Small amounts, nothing that would trigger standard monitoring protocols, but they aggregate over time.”
I swiped to the next file. “Third, operational patterns. Cells we thought were eliminated are active again. Different leadership on the surface, but the same infrastructure, same tradecraft. And fourth, technical signatures. Only two people ever understood the AIWS technology at this level—Orlov and her.”
“And Lex,” he added.
“Yes, Lex neutralized the interface at Orlov’s lab, but she learned from McLaren’s and Orlov’s work. She didn’t pioneer it.”
He didn’t speak for several seconds. “The people following you in London. They don’t want to kill you. At least not yet. They want to know how much you know.”
