“Thus conscience does make cowards of us all…” – Hamlet.
San Antonio, April 29, Afternoon
As she immersed her mind in the mission's intel, Briel pushed the previous evening's date to the back of her consciousness. She had mostly enjoyed the excursion into society, but she had never lived for social life. She lived for her work.
For days, nothing had turned up to give Briel direction, but finally a break had come in the case of the diplomat's missing daughter. When Felicity Miller had effectively shut down the U.S. branch of ProtoComm, leads in Briel’s case had dried up, an effect Briel could not have predicted. Having spoken to her client for the past thirty minutes, however, Briel hung up the phone in her apartment with renewed hope.
Her client always managed to amaze her with his strength of character. In a largely corrupt country, surrounded by the fetid haze of evil in the Mexican government, how could a diplomat maintain such high moral and ethical standards?
Raphael Alvares had proven unwilling to compromise with criminals, a fact that had led to his current unthinkable dilemma. After years of empty warnings by both the government and the drug cartels against himself and his family, one drug lord had followed through with his threats. According to the email sent by the cartel's representative, Mr. Alvares had caused them too many headaches, and the cartel intended to make him suffer.
Mr. Alvares had three daughters and two sons, and he loved them more than his own life. Against his better judgment, Mr. Alvares had allowed his middle daughter, a strong-minded, intelligent girl, to transfer to the Autonomous University of Morelos. The girl, Emilia, wanted to follow in her father's chosen profession and help eradicate the drug lords from Mexico.
For the purpose of investigating drug activity, the area around Morelos had proven lucrative ground. While maintaining her studies, Emilia spent her spare time digging for information on some of the wealthier families of the region, hoping to provide leads for her dad. Shortly after a hurried message to her father regarding one of the local families, all communication from Emilia had stopped.
Using his government connections, Mr. Alvares had followed Emilia's investigations to an American telecom company – Brendon Miller's company, ProtoComm. Mr. Alvares could possibly have traced his daughter through the drug channels, but his ability to extract information ended when her captors had introduced her into human trafficking through ProtoComm.
Rightly so, he had believed that since an American company had helped abduct her, he could best trace his daughter using an American company to find her.
Because of her admiration for Mr. Alvares, Briel felt compelled to solve his dilemma, whatever the cost. There were too few heroes in the world, and Briel worried that if she failed to find Emilia Alvares, the girl's father would stop being one.
How could a man believe in honor when it had cost him his daughter? As Briel walked into the briefing room, she prayed that she could prevent that possibility.
“According to the information retrieved from ProtoComm's files,” Briel informed her team, “ProtoComm turned Ms. Alvares over to an ‘hindú billetudo’ and his trafficking company run by a man named Dev Nigam. Nigam is a newcomer to the Mexican market having usually limited his activity to areas -surrounding India: Bangladesh, Nepal and, inside India, Andra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. In the last five years, his success has allowed him to branch out into the Middle East, Russia, and China. Through ProtoComm's other endeavors, Nigam encountered Jack Buckley, once vice-president of the Manhattan division of ProtoComm.”
“Hindú billetudo?” asked Mario, one of the ops Briel did not know well.
“It basically means a very wealthy person from India,” explained Nessa, a native Spanish speaker. “Is Buckley still active?” she redirected toward Briel.
“Mr. Buckley mysteriously stepped down last month, and no one had seen or heard of him since; until Mr. Alvares encountered him a few days ago during the investigation into his daughter's disappearance. Jack Buckley convinced Nigam to invest some resources in Mexico, take advantage of the nearby rich American clientele, and Nigam has transferred a large organization to Mexico. We are concerned that, with the crossover, Nigam might choose to export Ms. Alvares back to his native India. We need to act quickly.
“Those of you who worked with me last month in Phoenix know that Bill Henry, the CEO of ProtoComm, suffered a stroke of some sort during our action in Banff, and he is reportedly in a hospital in Switzerland.
“The chaos resulting from his absence has rendered ProtoComm weak in the area of security, and we believe that if we are to find and extract Ms. Alvares, this would be the best time. The specs of the mission are on your tablets. We leave tonight, half an hour after sunset. Today, that is 7:04 p.m. See you then.”
As she watched the seven operatives file out of the room, Briel had trouble keeping her eyes off of Liam. What had possessed her to include him on her team? She knew him; he would consider the inclusion an invitation, some form of reconciliation.
In the professional sense, that was true. She hoped that she could continue to work with him, and by choosing him for her own team, she made a powerful statement about her opinion of his ability. In the personal sense, though, she worried that he would interpret her request for him as proof that she really still wanted him around. His ego is just about big enough to think so.
Though she should not have felt guilty, she couldn't suppress her self-condemnation entirely. She had slapped him with the break-up out of the blue, and he had taken the news surprisingly well. Such a strange reaction made Briel curious again about him, and she could not allow herself curiosity about him. Like a shark, he could smell blood, and Briel may have just given herself the fatal wound.
Instead of Liam, Briel could have asked Jase on the mission. Sure, she couldn't trust him, but for what Briel needed, Jase would prove far more useful than Liam, and he wouldn’t screw something up with so many people watching.
Not only that, but it would give Briel more opportunity to observe him. If he were going to be running in her circles, she intended to ferret out his motives. She had missed the opportunity, though, and picked Liam out of guilt.
“Should we pack more ammunition than normal this time?” Nessa interrupted Briel's moment of regret. “I assume we may encounter some drug cartel personnel.”
“Just maybe an extra firearm. I don't expect heavy resistance. With ProtoComm's part in exposing so many corrupt Mexican politicians, Jack Buckley will have few allies south of the border. He'll probably have limited resources and few if any competent associates. I expect a routine extraction. And, of course, we’ll have the van for backup.”
Nessa turned and followed her teammates out the door of the small conference room, and within five minutes, Briel had crossed the parking garage to her car and begun her drive home.
If Briel deduced correctly, she would spend a couple of days gathering intel and an hour or two retrieving Emilia. Briel actually regretted the simplicity of the mission – she needed something to keep her busy. Instead, she would finish her mission and return to her colorless life in less than 96 hours.
Maybe including Liam had been a smart choice, Briel grinned to herself. She could not afford to lead Liam on, but she began to think that his presence served some purpose. At least she wouldn't find herself bored with him around – which was kind of her whole dilemma with him.
Without incident, Briel arrived at her apartment, and she turned her Saab into her long narrow drive. Rather than turn off the car and enter, she sat, car idling, at the mouth of her garage. The idea of returning to her empty apartment turned her stomach. Without the promise of even Liam's annoying nightly phone call, the prospects for the evening appeared dull. I'm a masochist, she chastised herself.
Her sudden remembrance of the computer, however, opened her car door and placed her feet on the path to her house. After her discussion with Nessa and Jase, Briel had heard nothing from her mysterious computer contact, but merely two hours before the mission briefing, a message had shown up once again. It had been simple, but it had piqued her curiosity. Was Jase fishing for information? Or had the unknown contact just happened to reach out to her just before her first mission move in a stagnant mission?
Sorry I couldn't talk to you earlier, he had written. I had some weird hits on my computer and had concerns about security.
Since Briel had been away from the computer when her correspondent had sent the message, she could not be sure if he had gotten her response.
Why would I regret that? she sassed. You act as if you're not a deranged stalker I need to stay away from.
The clock had forced her to quit watching for a response, but she hoped now that he had answered her during her absence. He did not disappoint, though she could not figure out how he had guessed what he had guessed. The screen name Kernal.ted had entered a message.
Where are you going?
The words flashed on her screen. Checking the time stamp, she saw that he had answered her only five minutes earlier, and he still appeared to be online. Her pulse sped in anticipation.
How did you know I was leaving?
Your calendar says “Mission briefing, 2 p.m. Depart 7:04 p.m.”
Briel wanted to slap herself; she always intended to shut her computer off when she left the house – she had told Jase she did – yet she sometimes forgot. Nothing had ever come of it in the past, but now? Now she had no way of knowing how Ted had found out the information? Had he really hacked her calendar; had he physically spied on her conversation with the team? Or had Jase heard about it from Drew?
You haven't answered my question, stalker, she pressed. Why should I regret that you didn't contact me for three days? Rolling her eyes at herself, she waited silently. Noticing the passing of time meant that she had paid attention, and if she paid attention, it meant that she was interested.
I miss that attitude, Kernal.ted mocked. Always one of my favorite things about you.
Why don't you come say that to my face?
Again, an unusually long pause. I’d love to see your face in person again, but…no can do, he finally offered, much to Briel's frustration.
Who are you?! She yelled at the screen as she typed the words. When he didn't respond, Briel stood up, slamming her hand on the desk. I don't have time for this right now. I'll deal with you when I get back from my mission.
Your mission…Ted averred mysteriously.
Uh, mission briefing? So yeah, a mission usually comes after. And if I die, you won't be able to stalk me anymore. So if you want to shock me with your identity, you'd better do it now.
Is your ex going on the mission?
Briel wanted to punch the screen. Was Ted just a jealous creeper? He seemed unnaturally concerned about Liam. My ex, the guy who has five black belts, is weapons certified with seven types of firearms, trained in knife battle, and could probably bench press two of you? Yes, he is going with me, and he is still highly protective even though we broke up.
Another of those maddening pauses, and Briel almost turned off the computer in protest.
Aren’t you worried about his mental state after the breakup? Someone like that, you don’t want to piss him off.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I can handle him. Just like I can handle you.
That’s probably pretty accurate.
When heat rose to her cheeks, Briel bit her lip to keep from making a sound. Was he mocking her?
What kind of mission is this? Ted interrupted her thoughts. Retrieval? Honeypot? Under cover?
Nothing creepy about asking if I’m going on a honeypot op.
Get over yourself. Those are the only three types I know the names of.
Briel laughed, at herself and at him. I’m not telling you. You know better than to believe that I would hand over intel to a stranger.
I’m just trying to get a sense of how dangerous this is – how worried I should be.
If you’re serious, that’s going too far.
Believe me; I know. No one gets to care about Briel Cortes.
No one needs to care about Briel Cortes, she corrected. Because I can take care of myself.
Except when you feel bad about something you’ve done, and you start worrying more about hurting people than about taking care of yourself. Or when you get too deep under cover and start to actually care about the people you’re playing. Or when you listen to people who don’t respect you.
Briel shook her head. Even if he was right, no one got to know that. I don’t know if you’re in this business and are just projecting, but I don’t have those problems.
I’m not projecting. Just calling it like I see it, noting my observations of you and how you deal with the people around you.
Because you’re a stalker, Briel accused, deflecting his dead-on accuracy.
I'm not a stalker, he contradicted, and I’m not talking about what I see right now. It has been far too long since I’ve seen you.
It was a few days ago…
I mean in person. What I mean is what I saw when we were together. When you second guess yourself, or let other people make you doubt yourself, that’s when you make mistakes. I’ve watched people you care about do that to you. If you would just trust yourself, though, you’d never miss.
The words stung, not because they were wrong, but because they spoke of a truth she would never admit, even to herself. Her greatest weakness lay in self-doubt, knowing she was competent and capable, and sometimes brilliant, but still knowing just how likely she was to fail on any given task. There have only been a handful of people who have ever known me well enough to try to make a statement like that, and a couple of them might try, but they would be wrong. I don’t think you have an idea what you’re talking about. I don’t even think you know me.
Oh, Bri. There is an entire class of people who have encountered you that you have willfully refused to remember. Most of them probably know nothing about you, but a few of us are astute enough to see the truth.
A whole class of people? Marks? Surely not. This conversation is over.
Ted didn’t reply for a minute, and Briel wondered if he had just obeyed her immediately. His contact hadn’t signed off, though, and when he typed a message a minute later, she shook her head. Ok. I get it. I won’t try to go there again, just – whatever you’re doing on this mission, be safe.
She had expected Jase, but Jase wasn’t ever that sweet. Had Ambrus found her, hired someone to hack her stuff? Portland was a long way away, but he had seemed by far the most attached. But if this person were sincere, she couldn’t let that go on. I won’t be safe. Safe is not my job. I’ll be competent, and that has always been enough.
I’m sure it has been. You are very competent – better than competent. At least I can count on that.
Just stop this game. Tell me who you are, or I’m not going to keep talking to you.
I can't tell you who I am. It wouldn't be safe for me or you, not to mention some other people I have an interest in.
Briel narrowed her eyes at the screen as she realized that he might be stalking other people, too. Maybe she would be doing the world a favor if she could find out Ted’s identity and pass him off to her FBI friends. Tell me who you are or you'll regret it.
I can't. Another long pause. But you can ask me some questions. I’ll start: your ex couldn’t even bench press one of me, much less two.
An ego stroke or a reference to his weight? Briel couldn’t quite restrain a laugh as she imagined a nerdy, soft-bodied man with a secret crush. The thought almost made her less judgmental of Ted. Okay, so you weigh over 300 pounds?
It’s more about the leverage than the weight. I’m not small, but I’m not that heavy.
Briel laughed. So with that in mind, are you male or female?
That would be an unusually large woman. I am a male.
So far so good. You said we're acquaintances. Where do I know you from?
Can't say.
Not particularly helpful. Are you government or civilian?
For a moment, she thought she had scared him off, but he finally offered, I’d have to be crazy to do what I have done if I worked for the government.
Of course, Briel thought he was crazy for daring to hack her system, but they were two different kinds of crazy. If he didn’t work for the government, Briel could not imagine who would benefit from the game.
Suddenly, she realized how mindless she was being. If he had hacked her computer, she was playing his game on his turf! If it were someone from ProtoComm, “Ted” was likely not a single person, but a team tasked to track her down, and they would probably have unlimited resources. She just didn’t believe it. Did Ted sound like some smooth corporate attempt at counterintelligence? Quite the opposite, actually.
Are you just some punk kid hacker who lives in his mom's basement?
Her basement?
Somewhere else in her house, then, kid?
I'm less a kid than you, but I really can't say anymore.
Whoever he was, he possessed enough self-control not to engage her in battles of sarcasm. She couldn't decide if she liked that about him or hated it. Even the possibility that she would believe him made no sense. Still he had given her something. Older than Briel and not in government work – and too big for Liam to bench press, which was saying something. None of those spoke of Ambrus, who had stood a good inch or two below average height – not to mention he was almost six years younger than she was. In fact, how many people had she encountered in the last decade who fit the parameters she had gathered?
If you’re telling me the truth, what you've said narrows you down to a short list of people in my circle of knowledge. Only a few people I have to kill if anything goes wrong with my mission.
Briel, came the unlikely reply, I know it is pointless for me to say, but you can trust me. I would never do anything to compromise your safety. If talking to me on here compromises your safety, I’ll sign off and never contact you again.
For a moment, Briel couldn't think of a response. She didn’t want him to cut off contact – as he had said, “not before you solve the mystery.” Well, then, I suggest you don't do anything to screw things up for me, and you won’t have to worry about it.
I’d be an idiot to risk your wrath…
Very funny.
But seriously, take your phone with you, and if you need anything while you're gone, contact me.
Briel rolled her eyes. As if she would bring a stranger in on a mission – she wasn’t an idiot. You do realize, she informed the computer, that you've given me enough to figure out within a pretty near range who you are. It wasn’t exactly true, but maybe convincing him she was closer than she was would pressure him to carelessness.
Uh, oh. Guess I’m caught.
So, you don’t plan to tell me who you are?
Look, it's not like I'm trying too hard to keep my identity secret from you – you’ll find out soon enough. I just have my reasons to hold back for a while.
Briel's stomach did a flip, and she had to think for a minute before she recognized the sensation – anticipation. In spite of all her claim to rationality, the thought of finding his identity sent a thrill through her. Seriously? she asked herself. Why aren't I taking this guy as a threat?
Most likely, he had hacked her computer to gather intel or mess with her mind. Instead of indulging him, she should track him down and have him locked up. She couldn't make herself want to, though. Was it because she was holding back from going after Jase? No, it was because it might not be Jase. It might be anyone. It might be a stranger, or a mark, or a coworker, or an enemy. Any of the options stirred a burning curiosity in her gut that she couldn’t bring herself to snuff out.
There was something really wrong with her. More than anything at the moment, more than solving her mission, more than making plans for her future, she wanted to find out who had hacked through the company app just to find her.
Three things had happened to her within a few weeks of Ted’s appearance: she had helped shut down ProtoComm, she had broken up with Liam, and Jase had shown up at her door. Any of those occurrences could have given rise to Ted. Of course, he also could have come from some more distant escapade, but the coincidence of timing gave her pause.
If he were with ProtoComm, then her objective was simple: track the signal and offer some counterintelligence to interfere with whatever agenda had sent them against her.
More complicated were the men.
None of her FBI coworkers really seemed compelling, and though she kept them in the back of her mind, she had trouble considering any of them seriously.
There was Ambrus, but she just didn’t think he held the capability. Unlike Chuck, Ambrus was squarely upper middle-class. Rich enough to blow a few thousand dollars on a flower, but not rich enough to hire a professional hacker without fear of the authorities.
What about Jase? He was the obvious choice, but he came with so much complication. Despite her obvious mistrust of him, they had a history that was not entirely unpleasant. Even in Banff, they had bickered like old friends – not like enemies. When the moment came, she had trusted him, and it had paid off. Still, every circumstance could have played the same whether he were working for money inside ProtoComm – which would prove her theory about his corruption – or whether he were inside ProtoComm working for someone else. Either way, he would save face. Either way, he might save Felicity – he always had a strange ethic about protecting innocent people. In that, he had acted better in Banff than Briel had. But why would he want to screw with Briel on the computer? Interested, but too shy to approach her outright? That was a delusional thought by Briel at best. Trying to make up with ProtoComm by finding out if Briel was about to complete her mission? Much more likely. Or there was the slight chance that he had targeted her personally. There had been something about the way he had looked at Felicity Miller…
You'd better get that, her screen flashed, and the words drew her out of her reverie.
Briel turned to the ringing phone next to her left hand, but Nessa could wait.
How did you know my phone was ringing? I uninstalled my mic.
Uninstalled, not disconnected. It's incredibly easy to reinstall. Don't worry, though. I have no access to your camera because it was external and you unplugged it. Plus, that would be too invasive, right?.
Because eavesdropping is so much better, she accused. It’s like you are determined to make me mistrust you.
Just focus on your mission, he replied, undaunted. I'm the least of your concerns right now. You have a plane to catch, your ex to worry about…the mystery has to be way down the line of importance. I won’t bug you again before you leave. I’ll be waiting for your message when you get back.
The audacity of this man! For a moment, Briel could not think of a response. Like hell she would message him. At least that's what she told herself for about two minutes until she considered the possibility of never solving the mystery. She would definitely contact him again.
I probably won't, she sassed. I owe you nothing. I've got to go.
You do, he agreed.
So, goodbye...Ted, she prodded. She wasn't sure if “you do” meant that he was agreeing she needed to go or that she did owe him.
For now, he agreed.
Goodbye for now? Or Ted for now?
Always so clever...
She would have made another snarky comment, but she missed her chance for the last word. In his now-established, annoying manner, he signed off without another word. “Kernal.ted is offline,” the message flashed before she could respond.
One thing for certain, anyone in her vicinity – save maybe the egotistical Jase – would know better than to cut her off like that. If Ted knew her as he claimed, he couldn’t live close. Still, what could she do about it now? “Ted” currently held all the power, a situation which she would remedy once she got back. She gritted her teeth. If nothing else, Ted did not seem to be afraid of her, and the fact made him even more interesting – and irritating.
Rather than give in to her frustration, Briel forced herself into motion. Better to pursue a distraction than obsess over an unsolvable conundrum. As little as she wanted to, she turned off her computer and concentrated on the task that should have held her focus for the past half hour.
She called Nessa back to seal up the plans for proceeding with the mission, and Nessa's calm confidence soothed Briel's rising frenzy of emotions. Before the sun set, Briel and her team would board a plane for Mexico, and Briel would have to forget everything but Emilia Alvares.
+++++++++++
“He’ll be back, Brielle. He is with Uncle Remy, the best pilot in the air. Take your sister over to watch the new lambs.”
Sighing up at the trees overhead, Brielle stood from her perch on the grass, where she had watched her father’s car all the way down the narrow drive. Her friend had thought her father would be back, too, and then he had ended in a coma in the hospital. How could Maman know that Papa would come back?
Grabbing Evie’s hand, Brielle dragged the toddler over to the pine fence, hold the tiny hand tightly enough to prevent any climbing through the pickets. She practiced drawing her breath slowly through her nose, focusing on the horizon as her mother had taught her to do. Why did her heart not still?
When the hand brushed gently across her shoulder, Brielle turned to peer up into Maman’s gentle smile. “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, mon ange?”
Without letting go of Evie’s hand, Brielle turned to wrap her arms around Maman’s waist, grateful that she finally stood tall enough to rest her head on her mother’s shoulder. “How can you know, Maman? How can you know that he will return?”
Maman gripped Brielle’s hand, and she dragged her girls as a train across to the wicker settee that stood under the eaves of the converted barn. Taking a seat, she pulled Evie onto her lap and patted the spot next to them for Brielle to sit.
“Chouchou, I believe that your father will return, but you are right – no one knows tomorrow. But, Love…if you waste your time in worry, it will smother your joy.”
“That is not an answer.”
“That is all any of us is ever given. Do you think that if you asked Genevieve how she wished she had spent her last days with her father, would she have said that she wished she had worried more?”
Brielle leveled Maman a skeptical look. “That is unkind…you know she would not.”
“She would wish that she had soaked up every moment of fun and happiness with her father. And if something were to happen to Papa, would it please him to think that you would spend all your days in misery?”
Rather than answer, Brielle fixated on a cloud that resembled the mother ewe. Her mother was right, of course, but Brielle did not like the answer. When she grew up, she would not leave her life so subject to uncertainties.
Maman reached over and placed Evie onto Brielle’s lap before leaning down to kiss both her daughters on the hair. “Your father will be back, Brielle, and will practice the joy, d’accord?”
Brielle nodded noncommittally as she watched her mother make her way back to the coop to gather eggs. Maybe Evie would leave her fate to a mental exercise, but Brielle would not. She could not control her family – should not control them – but when she held her own fate, she would find a more substantial way to find security.