Heartless Legacy (Heartless Heirs of Canyon Falls #4)

31. Thea

Chapter 31

Thea

T he Phoenix agents live in a residential community a short drive from the headquarters. The building is a four story structure outfitted in bulletproof glass. It looks like a normal office building on the outside, but the inside is just as tech heavy as the ship. I feel like an Avenger sitting in the ergo dynamic chair in the conference room. The touch screen tablets on the table and video screens all around the room add to the feeling.

I’m slowly acclimating to my new surroundings and falling into a routine of waking up and coming to work, even though I don’t really have a job here. I just walk the halls and people watch while Alexz goes to meetings and mission briefs and Wolfe goes to help the new hires train. He has an apartment on the same floor as mine, but he spends a lot of time at my place. I flip-flop between being comforted and annoyed that he’s around. When I get annoyed, he goes to his place. No matter how much of a bitch I’m being, he makes sure I eat.

My stomach picks this moment to growl. We’ve been here nearly three weeks, and slowly, my appetite has returned. I can’t stuff my face like I used to, but I’m no longer repulsed by the idea of consuming food. No matter where we are, I wait for Wolfe to eat first, then take his plate. Is it wrong that he’s my official taste tester? Sure, but it’s progress.

“Hungry?” Wolfe asks, as if my loudly rumbling stomach could mean anything else.

“I could eat.”

He smiles at me, and my stomach reacts again, but not in the way it did before. It’s a warm feeling. Tiny. Barely there. I chew my lip and look away as the feeling slowly fades. “I’ll feed you as soon as we’re done here.”

I nod. I can wait. I’ll just sip on the bottled water that’s on the table in front of me. Alexz walks in with assistant number one and assistant number five. Yes, I’ve given them numerical numbers, instead of trying to remember their names, because he has six assistants in this building. They’re all responsible for something different. He says it makes it easier to track tasks. His Executive Assistant, who is stationed in the DC office, manages all the assistants across the organization. He flies out to meet Alexz when he needs him. Otherwise, they talk through virtual calls. Assistant number one is the officer manager and direct supervisor of assistants two through six. There’s a similar structure at the other Phoenix offices. It sounds confusing, but it makes sense to me. It’s similar to how gangs run their organizations with multiple chapters.

The offices are closed for a week to allow everyone to spend time with their families for Thanksgiving. Two nights ago, Alexz hosted a catered dinner for the staff that don’t have family to go home to. It was nice sitting around listening to them tell stories about the jobs they’ve done over the years. The unclassified ones, of course, because I haven’t met anyone from the teams who have clearance for classified missions. Alexz calls them ghost teams and they’re located all over the world. The staff whispers about them like they’re boogie men, so I’d say the name fits.

He says this will all be mine someday. I can’t even wrap my head around it. Could I plan missions and things? That’s easy. I’ve been doing that for years, with nobody but Sasha as my tech support. But on a global scale? I really don’t know, and how would this fit into my dreams to be an archeologist? Is there a way to do both? Because I don’t want to give up that dream.

I shake the thought from my head. Those are future decisions that I’m nowhere near ready to make. It’s not like Alexz is retiring anytime soon. Assistant Number Five is staring at me. I tilt my head to the side, sizing her up. Is she trying to intimidate me? She turns away when assistant Number One says, “We’re up, sir. The room is secure.”

The video screen comes online and Alexz gets straight to business. “Good Morning, Charlie Team. How’s the weather?”

“Good, sir. We’ve had a lot of rain the last few days, but the sun’s finally out.”

“Glad to hear that. I won’t keep you long because I know you all have plans for the holiday and some of you need to catch flights or get on the road. I appreciate you working down to the wire on this.” He takes his seat and says, “Let’s get started. What have you found?”

The guy on screen says, “Sir, we think we have something we can use to force the council’s hand.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Each year, the challenge is given to second-year prospects and above, guaranteeing the winner the chance to advance two year groups.”

“Go on.”

“The nickname for it is The Impossible Challenge. The tasks are supposed to be so difficult that very few prospects sign up for it. They’ve come to think of it as some kind of hazing ritual.” He checks his notes. “When Malcolm Cox was a second year, he entered the challenge. He’s the only one out of his Trium who thought it was worth pursuing.”

Alexz leans forward in his chair. “Did he find whatever this item was?”

“If he did, it’s never been presented to the council.”

Wolfe asks, “Any idea what this challenge item is? A painting? A watch? Diamonds?”

“No clue. We’ll do some more digging.” Everything stops. Time completely stalls as I listen to the agent say, “From what we’ve gathered, some of the other prospects said they were given false leads which directed them non-existent archives.” I turn to face Alexz. I take the finger he’s holding up as a warning not to say what I’m thinking.

Charlie Team Lead asks, “Sir, would you like us to follow up on this?”

“No, thank you. You go off on holiday, I’ll have Delta Team run point in California.”

The call ends, and he clears the room. As soon as we’re alone, I blurt out, “Sounds a lot like that rare bearer bond you never found. Are you sure there wasn’t something else in that case? Maybe the note was a clue?”

He admits, “I didn’t have time to read the note, but it could have been a clue.” Steepling his fingers under his chin, he continues, “ If this so-called Impossible Challenge is about finding that bearer bond, that means the council has been trying to get their hands on it for fifty years.”

Wolfe adds, “And since it appears someone tried to kill you the night you retrieved the case, that means an unknown third party doesn’t want The League to have it.”

I’m more inclined to believe that there is no third party. The whole thing could be league infighting. I doubt Malcolm is the first person to want to overthrow his daddy.

Wolfe asks, “What are you thinking, Thea?”

Alexz is basically a spy. He lies for a living, but I still look for hints of dishonesty when I ask, “Are you sure you don’t know who helped you?”

Shaking his head, he says, “I do not know who it was, and for my safety and theirs, I never tried to find out. I haven’t stepped foot in Canyon Falls since the day I left. I don’t do public appearances, and the whole world knows me by my alias. The only people who know the truth about my identity are my Executive Assistant, Ghost Team One and Two, and the Alpha team members.”

That explains why he didn’t want me asking questions when Delta Team was online. He pushes a button on the speaker box in the middle of the table, and the blinds open. The assistants come into the room with his coffee and pastry.

Speaking of hiding and being presumed dead, I need to let Sasha know that I’m not. Dead. Hiding is a given. “I need a phone.”

Assistant Number Six steps forward, placing a box on the table in front of me. “It’s already activated with a new number, but in this room, you’ll need to make your call from the secure line over there.” She points to the table by the door.

A new phone means it won’t have any of my contacts in it. That’s okay. The number I’m calling is one I know by heart. I walk over to the phone and dial the number. It rings three times, and a recorded message comes across the line: “The number you reached is no longer in service. If you think you’ve reached this recording in error, please hang up and try your call again.”

It beeps and disconnects. I dial the same number again and transpose the last two digits. A gruff voice answers, “Joey’s Pizza.”

“I’d like to order a number five, cheese fries, and a mint chocolate chip shake, and three large pepperoni’s for delivery.” I rattle off the name and address for where I need the food delivered, tell them to bill the corporate account on file, and hang up.

Alexzander and Wolfe are both staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. I haven’t. The food is the second part of a message to Sasha. Nobody orders the number five, except her and maybe four other people. She tips the pizza joint a couple hundred dollars no matter what she orders, just to keep it on the menu.

The first part of the message was me dialing the wrong number. It’s protocol, so that if anyone ever gets ahold of my phone, they’ll think I was trying to dial the pizza place and transposed the numbers wrong the first time.

What I did was leave a message on the fake voice mailbox that Sasha set up. She’s already received an alert that the number was called, and will wait up to an hour for the food to arrive. That’s the signal that I’m alive and well. If the food doesn’t come, then she knows the call was in error. We’ve worked out a different system to alert her if I’m in trouble or in distress.

Wolfe asks, “What’s a number five?”

“Five alarm chili with extra red pepper flakes and a side of jalapenos. Basically, a dish you might still regret eating five days later.”