Page 36 of Covert Affairs

She wanted to stick around and see if her words had any effect on him, but timing was everything. If she tried to hammer home that this was really about him and walking again, he would put up a barrier. That wall every human had when they were pushed to face their fears.

Handing him the ball rather than shooting it, she gave him a sad smile. “Thanks for teaching me more than basketball.”

Heading for the elevators, she left him sitting there facing the basketball hoop, as well as his fears about standing on his own two feet again.

Fifteen

Someone had taken the bait.

Ian sat in Cal’s office, their heads down as Cal walked him through the layout of the Reese house, the upgraded security system, and the hidden compartments where he kept weapons.

“The doctor should stay here,” Cal said. “She’s a distraction. If someone tries to take you out, which we’re hoping they will, you’ll be too worried and focused on keeping her safe.”

Ian didn’t need the team leader to tell him that, but he also knew Vivi. When push came to shove, telling her she couldn’t do something was like waving a red cloak in front of an angry bull. “I have a plan.”

Regardless of how good the computer geeks employed by NSA or whoever was keeping tabs on her old emails, phone records, and bank account information were, Rory was better. He’d called Ian to his hub earlier and showed him, quite proudly, how he had snagged their interest and they had put even more, nearly invisible, triggers on all of her virtual accounts. They knew someone had been looking at them, scrolling through her emails. He wanted them to, and now, because every computer expert and hacker had a signature, he believed he knew who was watching her accounts and would subsequently use the trail of breadcrumbs he’d left to find Ian.

MonkeyFingers was a legendary black hat who’d disappeared in 2018. Gossip among the hacker community ranged from claims she’d gone underground, was assassinated by the government, or had reinvented herself as somebody else. In reality, she’d avoided the hefty prison sentence she’d been handed after breaking into Homeland databases and planting spyware by loaning her services to NSA for the next ten years.

Rory, on the insistence of Beatrice, had been the one to anonymously alert the head bureaucrats at that time about the breach and how to find MonkeyFingers. He knew everything about her since the CIA had once ordered him to assassinate her back in the day when he performed wet jobs.

The world of hacking was no longer dominated by those under twenty-five anymore. These days, the earliest generations were now middle-aged. MonkeyFingers avoided being killed by Rory, but only because he didn’t believe her crimes warranted such extremes. He’d let her get away and took the fallout from his bosses without remorse, claiming she’d outmaneuvered him.

Fat chance that, but she was alive today because of him. When the CIA sent the next assassin, he made sure she’d had no choice but to sign on with NSA. The irony was, she hadn’t been the person to plant the spyware that got all of them up in arms—hehad. But he’d made it appear to have her ‘signature.’

If she was the one watching those accounts, it meant NSA—and more specifically Command & Control—was behind all of this, and they didn’t play nice.

Cal sat forward. “Let’s hear this plan.”

Ian didn’t like sharing, but this was his boss now. He’d only been here a few months and was still trying to earn his trust, as well as the other SFI employees. Still waiting for them to earn his. He swallowed down his unease. “I have arranged for her to be detained by Beatrice. I know you don’t like it, but you’re part of that plan. I need you to do me a solid.”

“Me?”

“You and Beatrice haven’t had your sessions about Sloane with her yet. In order to keep her here, guess what? Beatrice is about to rope you into spilling your guts about the night of Sloane’s birth and your feelings regarding what happened.”

Cal groaned and threw himself back in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Quite the paradox, isn’t it? You get to talk about what went down in your house the last time you were there, while I’ll be squatting in it, hoping something similar happens.”

“I knew I should sell that place when I had the chance,” Cal said with a chuckle. “Guess if this works, it will be worth it.”

“I appreciate you letting me use it for this. I can’t guarantee it won’t get damaged or end up with a few bullet holes. I mean, my strategy is to use stealth and cunning to outwit whoever shows so I can interrogate them, but if I have to go Jason Bourne on their asses…”

“Shit happens.” Cal shrugged. “There’s nothing of real value left, with the exception of my guns. I’ve been meaning to clear them out, just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“I bet Vivi has a theory on that.” He grinned. “I know it’s like walking through hell and back to go to therapy, but she really is good at what she does. You might find it helps you, Beatrice, and your daughter.”

Cal rubbed his eyes. Ian wondered how much the man slept. He never let himself rest. Because of the demons chasing him? No wonder Sloane had absorbed the underlying anxiety he and Beatrice constantly wrestled with. Shaking his head, as if shaking off the tiredness, Cal blinked and fought a yawn. “I’m not opposed to therapy—in fact, I know how incredibly important it is for all of us. I’ve just never been good at discussing the junk in my head. Or my heart.”

“You and me both, brother.” Ian held out a fist and Cal bumped it. “Imagine if you’re married to a psychologist like Vivi. I can never tell when she’s analyzing me. I assume always, which makes it hard to let my guard down. Seems like the only time I can get her to turn off that big brain of hers is—” Whoops, better back that train up before he offered too much information and embarrassed them. “Well, you can probably guess.”

The wolfish grin that crossed Cal’s face said he knewexactlywhat Ian was talking about. “How did a couple guys like us end up with wives who are so damn smart?”

“Pure luck?” They shared a laugh, and Ian rose, giving the blueprints a final scan and snapping a photo with his phone. “Think he or she will try to take me alive?”

“They’ll send a team.”

“My thought, too. If it were me, I’d send at least four to cover the quadrants and two to breach.”

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