4. Admiral
4
ADMIRAL
O nce home from the office, I dug into the Gordon family’s background. The sisters lost their parents six years ago, when they died after being involved in a car accident. The police report was frustratingly sparse—a head-on collision on a rainy night, both parents pronounced dead within hours of one another after being transported to the hospital. It appeared straightforward, but the lack of information nagged at me, the same way everything about this case seemed to pull at threads I wasn’t ready to unravel.
While Sarah had attended college, Alice took a different path, and as evidenced by the money trail, it proved to be quite lucrative. She listed her job title as a computer programmer on her taxes, and by eighteen years of age, she was already earning six figures as well as paying self-employment tax, so she was clearly not on any one company’s payroll. The numbers didn’t add up in the way that made federal agents very interested, but that wasn’t why I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
After rising at dawn, which was typical for me, I powered up my laptop before making a pot of coffee. As I stood in the kitchen, waiting for it to finish brewing, my mind drifted to Alice Gordon—not the sister I should’ve been focused on.
The intrigue I felt was inexplicable. Perhaps obsession might be a better word since I hadn’t thought about much else since yesterday.
When my coffeemaker dinged three times, indicating it was finished, I poured a cup and returned to the table where my laptop sat. On the screen, there was an alert indicating I’d received a secure message from Tank. Steam curled up from the black coffee in the mug I held as I took a drink. It tasted bitter and strong, the way I needed it this morning after another restless night.
Cheshire picked up bleed at zero three hundred, read Tank’s message.
The “code name” he’d given Alice made me chuckle. That she’d picked up on our Van Eck Phreaking attempt was inconvenient but not surprising. To be earning what she was, she had to be damned good, especially considering she probably didn’t report a good percentage of what she actually brought in. The fact that she’d detected our surveillance attempt so quickly only added to my fascination.
Copy that, I responded, looking at the barely touched case files spread across my kitchen table. My usual methodical approach to an investigation was derailed by thoughts of red hair with pink streaks and a half smile that haunted my dreams.
This was so far from my modus operandi that I went and took a look at myself in the mirror. Truth was, I looked like shit. I needed to take time off, but right now, there was no way I could. Sarah’s death alone made it impractical. Adding my cousin Bobby into the mix as the man responsible made it impossible.
A few minutes later, my cell pinged again, this time with a call from Tank. “Hey,” I answered.
“Mornin’, boss. Sorry about the no-go on the bleed.”
“Did you really think she wouldn’t figure it out?”
“Nah. Just maybe not as fast. She went through a quick diagnostic but didn’t initiate any countermeasures.”
“So she doesn’t know we know she’s onto us.”
“I’ll tell you, Admiral. Looking at what little code I could see, she’s a fucking cyber whiz.”
“Who have you got on her now?”
“Me and Blackjack. That’s one of the reasons I called. She left her building about ten minutes ago and appears to have set up shop at a coffeehouse in the next block. Oh, and there’s a report on its way to you now. We couldn’t find much.”
“Roger that, and thanks.”
“You got it. We’ll be rotating shifts at thirteen hundred. Atticus and Kodiak will take over then.”
“I appreciate this.” Since the other two men weren’t under contract with the bureau, Tank must’ve arranged for their off-the-books assistance. “Oh, and send me the coordinates for the place where she’s at.”
“Will do. Later, boss.”
Apparently, Grit had told him to tone down the “yes, sirs” too. Not that I necessarily agreed. But like my boss had said, none of us were still active duty. I leaned against the chair, trying to decide what to do next. My inability to focus was as atypical for me as my building obsession for Sarah’s sister.
I needed to get my head straight, but I had no idea how, especially after the first thing I pulled up when I opened Tank’s report were photos. Most were stills from security footage, allowing me to see a myriad of the woman’s expressions. Each frame captured a different facet of her personality—sharp intelligence in the set of her jaw, defiance in the tilt of her chin, and something vulnerable in the moments when she thought no one was watching. After viewing them all once, I went through them a second time and found myself grinning at the ones where she almost smiled. Those I looked at the longest, wondering what had taken place around her that she found amusing, and wishing I was in on the joke.
I wasn’t what someone might consider a computer expert. I knew how to use one, but that was about as far as my expertise stretched. Still, that Tank had complimented Alice’s abilities said something. In our line of work, respect wasn’t given easily, and Tank’s praise carried weight that made me even more curious about the woman who’d earned it.
My forehead furrowed when I saw another call from him.
“Hey, boss. Sorry to bug you again, but we picked up on our own hacker.”
“Alice?”
“Affirmative. I have several dummy profiles set up, so it will take her a little longer to navigate through.”
“Keep me posted, Tank.”
“Will do, sir. There’s one other thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“The one she’s been on the entire time belongs to you. There’s nothing factual in there, but she’s still looking.”
Given we hadn’t picked up any security footage showing her, Sarah, and Bobby together, I doubted she’d ever met my cousin. However, if she was looking, it had to mean she’d figured out my connection to him and his to her sister. The realization that she was investigating me while I investigated her sent an unexpected thrill through me. It was like a chess game where both players were trying to figure out their opponent’s next move, except the stakes were far higher.
“What’s the name of the place she’s at?”
“Method Tea and Coffee.”
“I’m headed there now.”
“You sure about that, boss?”
“I’ll only engage if she does.”
“Copy that.”
I printed one of her photos, only lying to myself for a minute that it was for identification purposes, before slipping it into my jacket pocket, not really giving a shit whether I’d overstepped. Like the first time I saw her, I felt a pull I couldn’t explain. She wasn’t what I’d call my type. In fact, she was the opposite. Yet, I was so intrigued I almost felt giddy over seeing her in person. My usual iron-clad self-control was slipping, and the weirdest part was that I couldn’t bring myself to pull it back.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Alice raise her head when I walked in the door of the coffeehouse. There was a short line, and while I waited to order, I could feel her gaze on me. It was as though the air crackled with electricity the moment our awareness of each other registered. I wondered what she thought of me. I was attired the same way I normally was on a workday: black suit, white dress shirt, and plain black tie. Since it was warm for mid-winter in the city, I hadn’t donned an overcoat before leaving my apartment. My familiar “uniform” felt like armor now, as if it was protection against the intensity of her scrutiny. Except it was probably the opposite. It told her more about me than I’d wanted to reveal.
After ordering a double-shot espresso, I stood at the opposite end of the barista bar, where, in order to see me, she’d have to turn her chair. Or at least look over her shoulder, both of which she couldn’t do discreetly.
I, on the other hand, could study her all I wanted. She wore faded and frayed blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and hiking boots. A coat was draped over the chair beside her. The confident way she occupied the space and the subtle grace in her movements as her fingers flew over her keyboard captivated me.
Her red hair was longer than I thought, almost waist-level, and while the pink streaks were subtle, the way the light from the window hit her, I could see them more clearly than in her photos.
The image of that hair wrapped in my hand while I bent her over and took her from behind had me shuddering. The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel the silk of her locks against my skin and hear the sounds she might make. I shut my eyes, wanting to hold onto the image a little longer. When I opened them, Alice was studying me. Her green eyes met mine with an intensity that suggested she could read every inappropriate thought running through my mind.
“Double espresso,” I heard the barista say. I reached to my right without looking, unable to tear my gaze away—not until she did. Once I held the cup, I raised it in her direction before taking a sip of the scalding brew. The heat of the coffee was nothing compared to the laser-focused intensity passing between us.
That half smile I’d so often seen in the security footage had me wishing I could walk over, pull out a chair, tell her who I was, and explain that if she’d let me, I’d spend every minute I could getting to know her. The urge to cross those few feet between us was almost overwhelming, protocol and professionalism be damned.
Instead, I took another sip of my coffee and walked out of the shop. Each step away from her felt like I was fighting against a magnetic pull. Once I rounded the next corner, I dug out my cell and called the one person I knew wouldn’t give me shit when I told him about the cataclysmic shift in my personality—my college roommate, Diesel Jacks.
“Admiral, Bryar and I were just talking about you,” he said when he picked up my call.
The woman Diesel married used to work for me in another branch of the bureau. Admittedly, I hadn’t been a great boss to her, something I still regretted, no matter how many times she said she forgave me a long time ago. The memory of those days still stung—I’d been younger then, more rigid, more convinced that following the rules was the same thing as doing the right thing. Still, I learned a lot about trust and loyalty from her and her husband.
“What’s up, man?” he asked.
“On a case. An undercover agent died of an overdose we believe was actually a staged murder.”
“Shit, that’s tough. Sorry, Pershing.”
“That’s not the half of it, Deez. I’m pretty sure Bobby’s responsible.”
“Fuck,” he said under his breath, but I still heard him. “What can I do to help?”
“The victim has a sister. A world-class hacker.”
“Yeah?”
I shook my head. What else could I say? Why hadn’t I thought this through before making the call? “Do you remember how you felt when you first met Bryar?”
Diesel chuckled. “Sure do. I also remember that she hated the sight of me.”
“I did not.” I heard her say in the background.
“Yeah, you did, but I won you over eventually.” The phone rustled with what sounded like them kissing. “Sorry, Admiral. I’m back. So, the sister? What’s she like?”
“I haven’t met her yet,” I admitted. “But I feel like I know her already, like I’ve been waiting to meet her my whole life.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, more honest than I’d intended to be. I stopped and did a three-sixty. Someone was tailing me. I could feel it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could swear I spotted Alice’s long red hair, but with a blink, she was gone.
“But?”
“I can’t stop thinking about her. In fact, I thought I just saw her. I’m hallucinating, Deez. I mean, who am I?”
Diesel chuckled. “First of all, trust your gut, my friend. If you think you saw her, you probably did. Second, what you’re going through happens to all of us, if we’re lucky. The only advice I can give you is, go with it.”
“She has pink streaks in her hair.”
“Right up your alley,” he joked.
“As if.” But even as I protested, I knew he was right. Everything about her that should have put me off only drew me in deeper.
“So, what’s the next step?” he asked.
“No idea, but my gut is telling me she’s planning to avenge her sister’s death, one way or another.”
“Is Bobby still hanging out with the Castellanos?”
“Affirmative.”
“I don’t need to tell you how dangerous they are. Do you need backup?”
“I appreciate the offer, Diesel. Outside of the bureau, I’ve got four from K19 Security Solutions helping out. Two are on contract.” Diesel worked for the same firm but on a team called Shadow Operations.
“Good deal. The backup offer will stay open. By the way, I was over at your place yesterday. Everything’s looking good.”
The peaceful lake in the Adirondacks, where Diesel and Bryar lived, felt thousands of miles away from where I was. “I need to get up there,” I muttered.
“Damn straight, you do. Bryar and I have big news, but we’re waiting to tell you in person.”
I could guess, but I wouldn’t. “I’ve got a bunch of personal time accumulating. As soon as this case wraps, I’ll get up there.”
Back when I worked out of the Albany field office, my parents had asked if I was interested in the lakefront estate—called a great camp, in the Adirondacks—that had been in my dad’s family for years. If I wasn’t, they planned to sell it since the upkeep was becoming too much for them. After all the summers I’d spent there, I couldn’t let it leave the family, so I bought it. Once I transferred to the field office in Manhattan, the four-hour drive got harder to fit in than the ninety-minute one had. Diesel was great about checking on the place for me, but I sometimes wondered if I should have stayed at my previous job. However, if I had, my only involvement in Sarah Gordon’s death would’ve been my connection to Bobby.
While it was the weekend, I decided to go into the office since it would be quiet today. Rather than returning home to get my laptop, which I really didn’t need, I went straight to the building. When I got off the elevator, Tank was getting on. I stepped out, and he followed me down the hall.
“What’s going on?” I asked when he closed my door behind him.
He held out his phone, and I read the message he must’ve been about to send me.
Cheshire made contact. Wants to meet with you.
My mouth gaped. “Seriously?” My heart rate spiked with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety coursing through my veins. This was what I’d wanted and dreaded equally—when the game of cat and mouse would become a face-to-face confrontation. That it was happening so much sooner than I’d anticipated should’ve worried me a helluva lot more than it excited me.