Chapter 16
DECLAN
Weekends when I’m not traveling for work follow a thorough routine: Training rides. Sauna at the gym. Muscle recovery.
This past weekend was anything but routine. Certainly not relaxing. Instead of training, I ran through hours of security footage on my laptop while I staked out Charlie’s apartment.
You need to be more trusting. Oliver’s parting words to me on Friday evening played over and over in my mind.
It’s not lost on me that no one was shooting at me before Charlie Ross arrived.
But if I take Oliver at his word and we can trust Charlie, then she is in a shitty position. She didn’t know what she was signing on for. Like it or not, she’s one of us now. I need to assume she’s going to help our team, but I’ll keep my guard up for a double cross.
I am the kind of person who helps, who protects. And Charlie needs someone – me – to watch out for her. That’s why I’m here. I’m working. I won’t let us lose another team member, not on my watch.
Walking into the office on Monday morning with a crick in my neck, my eyes catch on the fresh patches on the cement pillars in the parking garage. I needed rest to be able to focus, to be able to get to the bottom of what is going on. I didn’t get that, but work still demands my attention.
I let out a yawn as I walk past Charlie’s desk. “Good morning,” I call out before I set my bag down and dock my laptop. In the hours of footage I watched from the driver’s seat of my parked car, I couldn’t get a clear shot of the motorcyclist’s plates. It’s like they knew where the cameras were.
I don’t hear Charlie respond. Did something happen between when I saw her leave for work this morning and arriving? But she is there, steadfastly ignoring me.
At nine thirty, everyone heads to the lobby for an all-company town hall. Oliver does this once a quarter and the atrium of our building is the only space large enough to fit us all. The lobby has a few couches and ledges where people can sit. Many opt to stand.
I spot Charlie at the far end, sitting near the lobby fountain, chatting with Trey and one of the paralegals. I make my way over and sit next to her. She does a double take and then unlocks her phone and makes every attempt to ignore me.
“You OK?” I ask.
She gives one nod and sets her phone aside. “How is your wrist?” she counters, finally looking at me.
I move my right hand, the one with a receding bruise, and show her. “It’ll be fine. How’s your hip?”
Charlie has her arms wrapped round her waist. Her salmon-colored T-shirt dress and navy-blue blazer are professional. Her hair is down and neatly straightened. Nothing about her appearance would give away any trace of the trauma from Friday night. “I’ll live,” she says, once again avoiding my gaze.
“You on board?” I ask. The cat is well and truly out of the bag. She’s involved in this now, whether she likes it or not. It would be nice to start briefing her on the mountain of information for her to catch up on.
Her dark blue eyes connect with mine through her glasses. I think she is about to say yes or to ask for more time. Instead, she looks away and shrugs. Not the enthusiastic sign-on I was hoping for. Charlie waves Ana over. She moves to the side so her friend can sit between us.
This tells me two things: 1. Charlie thinks I will give up because someone is sitting between us, but she has no idea how focused I can be. 2. She hasn’t told Ana about what happened on Friday. Otherwise there is no way Ana would smile and sit next to me.
I pull out my phone and send a text message to Charlie. I could have pulled her number from her file, but instead I asked Oliver for it. He was more than happy to give it to me if it means more protection for Charlie.
Declan Davidson
It’s Declan.
Are you going to help us, like
your uncle suggested?
I try to push on the familial obligation.
I see Charlie check her phone out of the corner of my eye. She dismisses the notification.
I try to get her attention with the financial benefit.
Declan Davidson
The pay is better on the
strategic operations side.
She picks up her phone again. This time she taps out a response.
Charlie Ross
Don’t care about the pay.
Declan Davidson
Good answer.
Charlie leans forwards to make eye contact with me again. Ana hasn’t noticed yet. Then Charlie pointedly puts her phone face down on her lap. Conversation over.
Oliver steps to the middle of the crowd and delivers a fifteen-minute company-wide update.
The new race in Finland. Our annual championship event on the horizon.
“A delegation from our office will be going to the World Games in Rome – keep an eye out for an email from Charlie.” Our colleagues all look her way.
She gives a sheepish grin and nervous wave.
Oliver dismisses us and Shauna from HR chimes in that there are complimentary bagels, donuts, and coffee in the break room. Our hardworking and hungry coworkers jump up and make for the elevators. Ana and Charlie stand up together.
“Charlie?” I call out. “Can you stay back for a second?”
Charlie looks annoyed. Ana appears confused but gives a small wave and heads upstairs with the rest of the staff.
“Let’s go for a walk to Caffeine Corner,” I suggest. It’s a little off-brand café that serves most of this office park, about a five-minute walk on the other side of the complex. “My treat,” I add. “We need to talk.”
To her credit, Charlie may very well be as stubborn as I am. “I’m too keyed up for caffeine.”
“Tea then.”
“I’m allergic,” she counters.
“Will you just go for a walk with me?” I am exasperated and running on too little sleep for these games.
Her stoic expression breaks and a small smile sneaks up her lips. It’s a slight shift, a playful adjustment in her demeanor. It feels like a win, a small victory. I can’t help but mirror it and my own lips curl too.
“Let’s go,” Charlie says and leads the way.
The morning sun has relented behind a dense arrangement of clouds, threatening to let loose their cargo of rain any moment. We’re halfway to Caffeine Corner when Charlie stops on the sidewalk. I pause and face her.
“Who was shooting at us and why?” she asks. I guess she’s finally fed up with not knowing.
“Can we get coffee first?” I ask. My head is starting to ache; my muscles are sore. I am in need of serious caffeine.
“I thought that was a ruse so we could talk without anyone overhearing?” Charlie is much sharper than I ever gave her credit for.
I’m suddenly realizing that all of my first impressions of her were wrong.
Well, except that she is beautiful, that is undeniable.
Even sweating in the midday sun that first day, she was a stunner.
“It was,” I confirm. “But I’m also exhausted. I was on a stakeout all weekend,” I confess.
“Were you tracking the guy who shot at us?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her. “I was making sure he didn’t show up at your place.” She takes a half-step back and wraps her arms round her body again. Charlie’s blue eyes dart to the ground, her face sober. Her lips disappear, as she pulls them into a tight line, biting back some comment.
I thought it would have been obvious that whoever shot at us would have tried to come back. It seems Charlie hadn’t considered this at all. I didn’t mean to scare her, but maybe a little fear will help her understand how serious this is. How committed the Order is to their precious plans.
I continue walking and she follows in silence.
I have a hot coffee in hand. Charlie finally caved and ordered a decaf iced latte.
We find a seat in the back of this small café.
It’s empty, except for a few of the staff changing out the morning breakfast for their lunch set.
No one else is here, and with the clouds pouring their deluge outside, I don’t expect anyone will arrive any time soon.
“Start talking,” Charlie commands before taking a sip of her drink.
“What Oliver said was true. Endurance events are where these nefarious plans can often go down. In the aide tents, jogging alongside each other on course. No wires, no eavesdroppers, just open road and an alibi. ‘I was running an ultra-marathon.’” I watch Charlie’s reaction, how she fidgets.
Her worldview of happy finish lines tarnished.
“These heads of crime syndicates, arms dealers, they aren’t lazy thugs sitting around.
While they may not be the muscle of their group, they want to show how strong they are.
How powerful they are. And how rich they are.
How better to do that than rolling up to a cycling event with a ten-thousand-dollar bike, another couple thousand for the bike fit.
Show off their muscles, flex on their splits, intimidate their potential buyers into giving them asking price.
International sports events are the best opportunity for sharing intelligence, brokering peace, and occasionally running down a bad guy or three. ”
Charlie considers my words. “So why are they after you? Shooting at you?”
“Ian, Oliver, and I came to the consensus that this wasn’t a botched hit.
It was a warning, a shot across the bow.
Telling us to stop meddling, to stand down.
We had another incident at one of our events a few months back.
A bomb. Left somewhere it would be found, easy enough for us to intercept and disarm.
But the threat was clear. That they can get to us. ”
“Who is ‘they’?” Charlie asks. She’s leaning forwards now, curious.
“We think this attack came from a group that calls themselves the Order.” Charlie rolls her eyes at this.
“Yes, they think highly of themselves.” I lean in too, trying to keep this information close.
“It’s a group of some of the wealthiest people in the world.
Massive corporate titans who still want more.
Even though the age of colonialism is over, in some ways it has just shifted.
It isn’t countries trying to conquer the underdeveloped world but corporations.
They think if they can disrupt the status quo enough they can remake the world. ”
“How so?” Charlie asks. We are leaning in so close, I can smell her perfume again. The fruity aroma I’ve been thinking about on and off since Friday afternoon. Breathing it in is so much better than my memory led me to believe. The hints of strawberry and vanilla are so subtle yet tantalizing.
“The nations without infrastructure need roads, power lines, solar-powered internet, you name it. And these tycoons want it to be their steel, cable, pipelines used. They want to create peace by first causing chaos. It’s a backward logic, but that is what corrupt people do.
They call themselves the Order as in the ‘new world order,’ the world made for them and by them. ”
Charlie’s eyes widen. When I first learned about this, the magnitude of it, I was shocked too. “So you’re trying to stop them?” she clarifies.
“Little by little. We believe a massive cache of arms was exchanged recently. We don’t know what they’ll be used for,” I begin, and Charlie finishes my thought.
“But it can’t be anything good.”
“Exactly, and the person who was previously in charge of strategic operations on our side, Xander Caruso –” I watch as recognition flits across her face – “was killed on a mission six months ago in Osaka. Someone knew we were going to be there and rigged the dock to explode. We think someone within FIRE is leaking information about our plans to stop the Order.”
Charlie sits back in her chair and takes a sip of her imposter coffee drink.
“We never had anyone actively working against us before. But now we do. It’s a shadow war between two agencies that aren’t supposed to exist, taking on missions that never happened,” I continue.
Charlie is silent, still processing. I wouldn’t need to think about it.
I’d jump in and ask, where do I sign up?
How do I help? Since I was a kid, I wanted to be the hero.
To stop the bad guys. I grew up and went to Annapolis and served in the military and learned that there isn’t always one clear bad guy or good guy.
The villains are telling themselves a different story, one in which they are right.
Helping to stop illegal arms deals and broker peace, I’m living out my childhood dream. Mostly.
Charlie seems more hesitant.
I press her for an answer. “Now that you know, what are you going to do? Go back to being an assistant and pretend you don’t know about the bad things in the world?
Let someone else take care of it?” She meets my gaze, her blue eyes curious and probing.
I finish my question: “Or are you going to do something about it?”