Chapter 7 #2
“I don’t—no!”
“Your oldest son’s middle name?”
“Michael. His middle name is Michael.” Silverton’s voice cracked. “Please. I’ll give you anything you want. You can have the passwords to my bank accounts. I’ll transfer my savings wherever you want me to!”
“We didn’t bring you here for that.”
“I haven’t done anything.” He spread his hands.
Mason stepped closer, using his size to increase the pressure. “You build computers on the side. Who are your clients?”
“Local businesses, mostly. Some individuals. I have records of everything!”
“Any clients pay in cash? Ask for systems with specific capabilities? Unusual security features?”
“No—I mean, everyone wants security these days, but nothing unusual.”
“Your supervisor’s name at the IT department?”
“Janet Morrison.”
“How long have you worked there?”
“Twelve years.”
Mason’s voice cut through like a blade. “Twelve years is a long time to build trust. Long enough to be useful to someone.”
“I don’t do anything wrong!”
Mason rapid-fired the next questions. “Your login credentials get shared with anyone?”
“Never!”
“Remote access to your systems?”
“Only for IT maintenance, and that’s all logged.”
“The name of your youngest son’s teacher?”
Silverton blinked at the shift. “Mrs...Mrs. Masterson. Third grade.”
“Ever notice unusual activity on your work computer? Processes running you didn’t start? Files appearing or disappearing?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
Mason drew a breath. “Charles, tell me about Cipher.”
The man froze. “Cipher?” The word came out like he was testing a word in another language. “I don’t—what is that? A code? I don’t understand.”
“You sure?” Dante’s voice carried the gravel of too many battlefields. “No one named Cipher has contacted you online? You haven’t received emails, messages? Maybe payments routed through your accounts? Have you taken any bribes?”
They knew at least one person who had—a general of a military base who had accepted bribes from Cipher in exchange for moving a bomb.
Silverton shook his head violently. “No! I—I work in IT for a local branch of the government. I build computers for people on the side. That’s it. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Mason pulled out a chair and sat, bringing himself to Silverton’s eye level—a technique used to build trust. “You mentioned your job. Tell me about your current projects.”
“I—it’s mostly infrastructure updates. Server maintenance.”
“Anything classified?”
Silverton hesitated. “Some Pentagon work for national security reasons, but it’s just—”
“Pentagon?” Con’s voice sharpened. “Explain.”
“It’s a security project! Completely legitimate! They said it was routine monitoring, sending daily status updates.”
Mason exchanged a glance with Dante, but he couldn’t read his eyes under the dark glasses. “Daily updates. What kind?”
“Just…just confirmation that systems are operational. It’s two words: ‘All clear.’ Every morning at 8:45.”
“What happens if you don’t send it?”
“I…I don’t know. They said it was critical for national security.”
Mason leaned back. “Who’s ‘they,’ Charles?”
“The directive came from higher up. I didn’t question it.”
“The street your parents live on now?”
The sudden return to security questions made Silverton stumble. “Oak…Oak Ridge Drive.”
“Your first girlfriend’s name?”
“Sarah Williams.”
“Ever wonder why ‘all clear’ was so important?” Mason’s voice deepened dangerously. “Ever think about what you might really be clearing?”
Silverton’s face went pale. “I just follow orders. It’s legitimate government security work.”
Mason studied him in silence. The guy’s hands trembled, and sweat traced a path down his temple. Either he was a world-class actor, or he was exactly what Elin feared—innocent. A man framed with precision so clean it looked deliberate.
And Cipher did like to use people.
“Ever hear the name EchoZero?”
His brows pinched. “That’s the name of the security project.”
“Is it, Charles?”
“That’s what I was told. Look, I’d never risk my job. My family.”
Mason felt the ache between his ribs, an echo of Elin’s emotions when she realized they might have the wrong man. He could hear her trembling voice in his memory.
There was a dog.
“There’s a golden retriever at your house,” Mason said quietly.
Silverton’s eyes flew wider “Max. Did…did someone hurt him?”
Mason shook his head once. “He’s fine.”
“My wife? My sons?” His voice notched higher with hysteria.
“They’re safe too.”
He sagged forward, a breath shaking out of him. “Please. They don’t know where I am. Can I call them?”
Con spoke in a hard tone. “You’ll get that chance once we know what you are. Right now, you’re a question mark in the middle of an active op.”
His hands clenched tighter, knuckles bone white. “I swear, I’m not part of anything.”
“Charles,” Mason said slowly, “if you’re telling the truth, we’ll prove it. But if there’s anything you’re holding back, now’s your chance to come clean.”
Silverton’s voice was barely more than a breath. “I don’t even know what to confess to.”
Mason believed him.
And that concerned him more than if the guy had cracked.
* * * * *
Elin’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the rhythmic clicking a counterpoint to the interrogation live streaming through Dante’s computer. Each answer Charles Silverton gave became another thread she pulled, unraveling his digital life layer by layer.
So far, his answers checked out.
There were no suspicious transactions. No unexplained deposits or withdrawals that would indicate bribes or payoffs. His bank records read like a suburban dad’s monthly budget—mortgage payments, grocery stores, soccer league fees for his kids.
She switched to his encrypted messaging apps, diving past the surface-level security most people thought protected them. Nothing. No coded messages, no hidden conversations, no breadcrumbs leading to Cipher, just the daily communication with EchoZero.
“He’s clean so far,” she murmured to Sophie, who leaned over her shoulder, watching the cascade of data flowing across multiple monitors.
“Could be using burner phones,” Sophie suggested.
“Already checked the cell tower pings near his home and office. His phone patterns are predictable as clockwork. Home, work, kids’ school, grocery store.
” Elin pulled up a heat map of Silverton’s movements over the past six months.
“The most exciting place he’s been is a hardware store forty minutes away. ”
The feed continued with the live interrogation, and Elin listened to every single word so she didn’t miss anything between the lines.
The door opened behind them, and Dante’s presence filled the space. “Getting anything?”
Elin paused, her attention drawn to the video feed from the interrogation room. Her breath caught.
Liam.
Even with the mask covering the lower half of his face and dark glasses hiding his eyes, he was glorious. Every move he made—controlled, deliberate—was dangerous to her peace of mind. The black clothing he wore emphasized every line of the muscle she’d traced with her hands just hours ago.
Her own body responded instantly, heat gathering low in her belly, nerve endings sparking to life.
He turned, facing the camera head on. God, she wanted to climb him like a tree.
The thought hit her with an intensity that made her grip the edge of the desk. After everything—after he’d left her, after two years of believing he was dead, after one night that solved nothing—she still wanted him with a desperation that bordered on pathetic.
But wanting and trusting were different beasts entirely. How could she ever trust him not to disappear again? To wake up one morning and find another note, another goodbye, another gaping wound where he used to be?
“Your wife’s favorite restaurant?”
“Uh...Giuseppe’s. The Italian place downtown.”
“Ever been asked to hold something for someone? Store data? Forward messages without reading them?”
“I don’t—no!”
“Your oldest son’s middle name?”
She heard the catch in Silverton’s voice as he answered. For the first time ever, she doubted that her information was correct. Not because there were gray areas—because this man’s humanity was tugging at her.
“I haven’t done anything,” Silverton insisted on the feed, his voice cracking with fear.
Mason’s response was calm, measured. Elin noted the tension in his shoulders, like he wasn’t buying any excuses when the evidence said otherwise.
She’d seen it once before, years ago, when some guy had bumped into her on a crowded street and kept walking without acknowledging it.
Mason had called out to him, voice deadly quiet, and ordered him to apologize.
The man had taken one look at Mason’s expression and stammered out an apology before practically running away.
That same coiled readiness vibrated through him now, barely contained beneath his professional facade.
A shiver ran through her, and she suppressed it, keeping her expression neutral for Sophie’s benefit. She didn’t need Sophie to know that watching Mason work was doing things to her that were entirely inappropriate for the situation.
“Some Pentagon work for national security reasons, but it’s just—” Silverton’s words made Elin’s hands freeze over the keyboard.
“Did he just say Pentagon?” The words escaped her in a rough rasp.
Then she attacked the keys with renewed intensity, fingers flying as she incorporated this new information into her search. She used everything—the security questions Mason had extracted.
The data streamed across her screens, building a complete picture of Charles Silverton’s life. Boring, predictable and normal.
Except for one thing.
“Found something.” Her voice was tight with focus as she pulled up a series of emails. “Daily messages to a Pentagon server. Started six months ago.”
Sophie crowded closer.
The interrogation on the live feed faded to background noise as Elin realized this was it.
“All clear,” Sophie read the email in a whisper.
“All clear,” Elin repeated, her mind racing. It was too simple not to be something meaningful. “What happens if he doesn’t send the all clear?”
Her foot tapped against the floor. Her body demanded movement while her mind demanded she stay seated, stay focused. The emails formed a pattern, as predictable as breathing. A check-in every. Single. Day.
“When those check-ins don’t happen…” She spoke to herself, pieces clicking together in her mind. “Someone notices. Someone acts.”
The realization hit her like ice water. “Oh God. He’s a dead man’s switch.”
Sophie jolted. “What?”
“Look at the pattern.” She pulled up a calendar view, showing six months of identical messages. “Every day, same time, same message. It’s not communication—it’s confirmation. As long as he sends it, nothing happens. But if he misses one?”
“Someone higher up moves pieces,” Sophie finished, understanding dawning on her face. “He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He thinks he’s just checking in for some security project, but really—”
“He’s keeping a bomb in play.” Elin’s stomach churned. “Cipher turned him into an unwitting handler. He has no idea what happens if he stops sending those messages, but someone else does. Someone who’s watching, waiting for that check-in to stop.”
On the screen, Mason pushed to his feet, following Con and Dante to the door, clearly wrapping up the interrogation. Silverton slumped in his chair, exhausted and confused, with no idea how deeply he’d been played.
“We need to tell Con.” Sophie was already moving toward the door. “This changes everything. Silverton’s not a terrorist—he’s a tool.”
Elin remained frozen, watching the video feed. The three SEALs filed out of the interrogation room, and she stole one last glimpse of Mason’s broad shoulders before he disappeared from view.
Her insides clenched with a mixture of desire and dread. He was coming. Not to the lab, not right away, but eventually. They were in the same house, breathing the same air, and after last night, the space between them crackled with unfinished business.
She turned back to her screens, getting back to work.
After all, there were eleven more handlers.
They were out there, going about their normal lives, likely having no idea they were chess pieces in Cipher’s game.
Each one probably had their own version of “all clear,” their own daily routine that kept catastrophe at bay.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Her body recognized Liam’s gait before her mind processed it, every nerve ending quivering on high alert.
She stared at the screen, watching code scroll past, but her awareness had narrowed to the SEAL’s footsteps. Her pulse throbbed in her throat as a single thought consumed her.
He was coming for her, and this time, she didn’t know if she had the strength to survive it.