Page 138 of Fractured Allegiance
Unregistered. Anonymous. The kind of burner you buy with cash at a convenience store and toss after one use.
But every phone leaves traces. Registration databases. Procurement records. Tower pings.
I don't have access to those systems. Not anymore. Not while I'm deep cover.
And I can't ask Naomi.
Not after what I found in Drazen's office—those Bureau files sitting on his desk like trophies. Someone inside is leaking information to him. I don't know who. I don't know how deep it goes.
But until Naomi confirms she's caught the leak, I can't risk going through official channels.
Which leaves me one option.
Tyler.
We went through training together six years ago. He went into cyber analysis. I went undercover. We stayed close—not officially, but enough. The kind of friendship that exists in the margins. Useful. Quiet. Built on mutual trust and a shared understanding that sometimes the rules need bending.
If anyone can run this number without triggering flags, it's him.
I open my laptop and launch the encrypted messaging app we set up years ago. It's not tied to the Bureau. Not tied to anything official. Just a secure line between two people who know better than to leave trails.
The interface is clean. Simple. Messages auto-delete after 24 hours unless manually saved.
My username: Wraith.
His: Cipher.
I type: Need a favor. Off-book. Urgent.
I hit send and wait.
One minute passes. Then two.
Finally, three dots appear at the bottom of the screen.
Cipher: How off?
Wraith: Way off. Got a burner number. Need you to run it through procurement and registration databases.
The dots disappear. Reappear. He's thinking.
Cipher: You know what you're asking?
Wraith: Yeah.
Cipher: If I get caught pulling records without authorization, I'm done. Career over. Maybe worse.
Wraith: I wouldn't ask if it wasn't critical. And I can't go through official channels right now.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Cipher: Why not?
Wraith: Leak. Internal. Don't know who yet. Can't risk it.
Cipher: Shit.
Wraith: Yeah.
