Chapter 33 #2
I don’t know why I have to say her name.
Or why I need confirmation. Perhaps a part of me still hopes there’s some explanation that doesn’t make me a fool twice over—once for not seeing her initial deception, and again for allowing myself to hope for something genuine between us afterward.
The mythology metaphors from last night echo mockingly in my head: Icarus falling after flying too close to the sun.
Except in this case, the sun might be a carefully constructed illusion.
“Yep. Your missus.”
“Don’t call her that.” A jogger comes around the bend and I make eye contact, nod, pull my foot up to my ass to stretch my quad, and once the jogger is out of earshot and past us, say, “Just spit it out Daze.”
“I got her CIA file.”
“How?” I put a hand up, gesturing for her to not speak. “I don’t want to know.”
“No, you don’t. I didn’t use ARGUS. Not for this. Her file includes redacted information about an operation in Moscow that went wrong.”
“I thought she was based in France when she was pulled back.”
“All I’m saying is she’s got ties to Russia, even if it was a short-term op.”
This news isn’t particularly surprising. The assets she was cultivating in France worked for the Russian embassy.
“You needed to say that to me in person?”
“And ARGUS is being attacked by a sophisticated bot network.” She delivers this bombshell with the same tone she might use to comment on the weather.
I freeze mid-stretch. “I’m hearing about this just now? About an attack on our primary system?”
“I’ve got it under control.” She waves dismissively. “You were on vacation.”
“A vacation you and Miles practically forced me to take,” I snap, dropping my voice as a pair of older walkers pass by. “Define ‘sophisticated bot network.’ Are we talking standard DDoS or something more targeted?”
Daisy’s expression shifts subtly—the slight tightening around her eyes that I’ve learned means the situation is worse than she’s letting on.
“They’re probing for vulnerabilities in our encryption protocols.
Not trying to take us down—trying to get in.
Whoever designed it knows our architecture intimately. ”
Jesus fucking Christ . Someone with inside knowledge of ARGUS is targeting us, and meanwhile I’ve been hiking and sleeping with a woman who admitted to investigating me.
“Daisy.” I close my mouth and focus on breathing through my nose to rein in the growing anger. When Miles convinced me to take a vacation, I agreed under the condition I would be apprised of any major issues.
“Don’t get like that. I’ve got it under control. And you knew I was investigating. Remember our call last night? Containment protocols? I kept you updated as I researched. And now I have an answer.”
I motion for her to get to her fucking point.
“My first suspicion was Russia. Especially after, you know, the ambassador yesterday.”
“Is that why you’re telling me Sydney may have worked in Moscow?”
“I traced the attack to servers owned by Zenith—Dorian Moore’s company.” Daisy’s fingers tap a rapid pattern on her laptop lid—her tell when she’s connecting dots mentally. “And like I mentioned to you, Sydney and Dorian’s wife, Caroline Moore, have history.”
“What’s the connection to Russia?” She’s treading on frayed nerves.
“There might not be any direct connection,” she says, looking at me like I’m a simpleton, yet she’s the one sitting on the bench like a child with her arms wrapped around her legs. “But Zenith has several contracts with Roscosmos—the Russian space agency. They share certain orbital lanes.”
She doesn’t need to spell it out. Sharing orbital lanes means sharing data collection opportunities.
“You’re saying this could be corporate espionage, not state-sponsored?”
“Except we both know the line between corporations and state isn’t exactly clear anymore, especially in tech,” she says with a shit-ton of smug pride.
“Russia wants access to the Forbes database. Moore may want ARGUS. Sydney works for Moore’s wife and has a history with Russian operations.
You need to know that she could be running a double operation—serving both corporate and state interests.
KOAN’s ownership is seriously vague. Like we’re talking so covered it’s deep shade. ”
“Double operation? I told you I’m not sure I can trust Sydney.”
“Right.” She lowers her sunglasses back onto the bridge of her nose and waits. “I’m backing you up.”
“And Sydney could be working for KOAN and Russia.” Repeating it back to her sounds as repulsive as when she said it.
“Lots of possibilities,” she says as casually as if we’re standing in front of the deli counter in San Francisco.
“I’ll admit that I don’t trust this group she’s working for. But Sydney’s not working for Russia. Not knowingly at least. She’s hunting for someone who would leak a list of assets. She thinks someone within our company might have done it.”
I take off my backpack and the flow of air over my drenched shirt immediately cools my skin.
“Word of advice,” Daisy quips, nose crinkled.
“Yes?” I unzip my bag, searching for my phone.
“Shower before you try anything with the missus.”
I shoot her a glare that should warn her to back off this. Besides, it’s not like she’s my missus if I can’t trust her.
“She played you.”
She didn’t play me is right there, on the tip of my tongue, aching to come out, but I bite it back because the denial would be a lie.
“Now you need to play her.”
I crush the plastic bottle in my grip.
“We need to figure out what angle KOAN is working.”
I let out a frustrated groan, my only acknowledgement that Daisy is right.
Out of a stream of messages, there’s one from an unknown number that stops me cold.
Unknown Number
Icarus
My heart rate spikes. No one knows about my private comparison to Icarus except…
What the hell? Would Syd tell someone? Was someone listening?
“Oh, and I thought you should look at this.” Daisy pulls out her phone and flips it to show satellite imagery of the Russian embassy—imagery available in ARGUS’s classified feeds.
I scan the time stamp and see it’s yesterday. The resolution is sharp enough to identify faces, though I don’t recognize the pedestrians. “What am I supposed to see here?”
“Wait for it,” she says, a hint of anticipation in her voice.
A black Mercedes pulls up outside the embassy. My security team’s car. I check the time again. Five p.m. That would’ve been after my meeting, when I was back at the hotel with Sydney.
The door opens, and a figure emerges—unmistakably my partner, Miles. He walks directly into the embassy without being checked at the gate.
“What the hell?” The words barely escape my throat.
Miles and I don’t always see eye to eye, but we’ve founded two companies together.
With ARGUS, we see eye to eye on everything, except nonprofit status.
Lately though, it’s been two against one.
More and more he’s been siding with Alex…
Hell, I’m on vacation partly because the executive team meetings have become unbearable—Alex presenting spreadsheet after spreadsheet showing what we’re “leaving on the table” by staying private, and Miles nodding along like a bobblehead.
He wants to keep Alex on, because ultimately, he agrees with Alex about the need to go public.
Meanwhile, his going behind my back to Russia would only undermine his IPO argument and solidify my point—an entity as powerful as ARGUS cannot ethically be driven by profit.
Daisy’s face is grim. “Exactly. I’m clueless. And don’t forget…” She swipes to another image. “Just yesterday...”
The image shows Sydney in the bar, speaking with the man who identified himself as FBI.
“Everyone around you is playing an angle, Rhodes,” Daisy mumbles. “Everyone.”
The Icarus text flashes on my screen again. Someone knows I’m flying too close to the sun. And they’re warning me about the fall.