Blade (The Alpha Elite #11)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Blade

A fter grabbing a quick shower, I went straight to my home office.

Logging into the AES servers from my desktop, I started running down every damn detail the crazy chick had given me.

Ninety-degree heat.

High humidity.

7-11 runs midday.

Lays, Chunky Monkey, and fucking pickles.

The last search triggered a call on my work cell.

I answered. “November.”

“You’re hacking convenience store security cameras for the entire Southern half of the United States.”

I knew what the fuck I was doing. But he didn’t. “Not all Southern states.”

November typed for five seconds, then figured it out. “All states that had temperatures above eighty degrees this week.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a faster way to do it. Accessing remotely. Hold.”

“Holding.” I took my hands off the keys as he hijacked my machine.

A minute later, my screen was populating with hundreds of stores’ security feeds. “Parameters the same?”

“Yeah.” Christ, this chick could be anywhere.

“Were all the purchases on the same day? Same payment method?”

“Same day, but two separate purchases. No idea how she paid.” I widened the timeframe by an hour on either end. “Try between oh nine hundred and thirteen hundred, Eastern Standard Time.”

“Copy.” November typed code into my setup, and the thousands of camera angles cut down to a hundred, then cut down again.

I scanned my screen. Five dozen stores across five states. “You’re telling me that sixty stores had people purchasing ice cream and pickles at the same goddamn time?” Fucking stoners.

“I’m not telling you. The data is.”

“Christ.” I started with the stores in California. “Thanks.”

“Who is this?”

“No fucking clue.”

“Any other intel?”

“Not unless you’ve got a way to search for Uggs.” Whatever the hell those were.

“No, but I can run a search on footwear, then boots.”

“You have a program for fucking footwear?”

“Software,” he corrected. “Similar concept to facial recognition. Hold.”

“Copy.” I eased off the keys, and he took over again.

Another minute, and the number almost halved, but I was still looking at five states. California, Arizona, Texas, Louisiana, and Florida. “Can you narrow it down to geo locations that had temps above eighty within the timeframe?”

“Yes.” November typed, and another dozen locations disappeared. So did California. “Four states, twenty-two locations.”

I wasn’t looking at the overall intel.

I was staring at fucking coincidence.

Miami.

“You see something,” November stated.

“Yeah.” I used the touchscreen to highlight the one fucking convenience store that made me start to wonder how the fuck she’d gotten my burner number. “Liberty City.” Near the bar Church had been to.

“Ten-oh-two and eleven forty-eight a.m.” November typed on my screen, and two security cam feeds populated. “Female, boots, cash purchases.”

I stared.

Detroit Tigers baseball cap, sunglasses, dark hair twisted up, sweatshirt and fucking fur-lined boots—in Miami. “Local temp at time?”

“Eighty-nine degrees Fahrenheit at ten hundred, ninety-one at twelve hundred.”

It was her.

Walking in and out both times with her head down, going straight for her shit like she knew the store layout, she paid without getting her face caught once on the feeds.

It was so damn textbook, it’d been fucking purposeful.

“Can you ping a cell phone on her?”

“Hold.”

November typed, and I reran the footage. The camera angle shit, the field of view almost aerial, the resolution grainy, her concealed appearance—I couldn’t get a lock on her. She could be twenty or forty.

“Only cell in the store at those times trace to the cashier.”

Fuck. “Exterior security cams?”

“One with a compromised lens.” November pulled up another feed on my screen, but the image was spidered.

“Any cells in the parking lot that match both timestamps?”

“Three. Already tracking them, but one’s coming back blocked. Attempting to bypass.”

“Don’t bother.” That was hers. “I already tried to run it.”

Hacking in his fucking blood, November ignored me. “Running an advanced trace now.”

I scanned the feed from the compromised security cam but didn’t see her getting in or out of a vehicle. “Do we have any other angles on that parking lot? I’m looking for plates or any vehicles that were there during both timestamps.”

“Only partial. No plates, and no apparent repeat vehicles.”

My burner vibrated with an incoming call, and I glanced at the screen. Blocked number. “I gotta go. Let me know if you find anything.”

“Copy.”

Ending the call, I answered the burner. “Who the fuck is this?”

The asshole from this morning spoke. “I have a job for you.”

Ghost’s warning resonated. “Busy.”

“I’ll text the details.”

“Go fuck yourself.” I hung up.

A text came through.

Blocked number: Do you want to know Crazy Chick’s name?

Motherfucker. I quickly texted November from my AES cell.

Me: My burner’s compromised. Encryption hacked. Assist STAT .

November: Running diagnostic. Thirty seconds .

I waited half a minute, then called November from my AES cell.

He answered immediately. “Your burner’s encryption wasn’t completely hacked, only the last three texts. Two outgoing, one incoming. Then the AV software caught it.”

“What the fuck, November?”

“No other data was breached. This line is secure. I suggest retiring that burner.”

“I’m not fucking dumping it.” I needed it right now. “Is this gonna happen again?”

November hesitated only a second, but I caught it. “Possibly.”

“That means yes.”

“That means it’s a possibility.”

Fuck. “Let me know if it happens again.”

“Copy.”

I hung up and replied to the asshole’s text.

Me: Lose this number.

The asshole upped the ante and spoon-fed me a detail only a handful of people would know.

Blocked number: Your brother wasn’t in Syria on an Op.

GPS coordinates and a headshot followed.

Blocked number: Don’t use AES resources. Time-sensitive target. You have twenty-four hours.