Chapter 3
CON
The return trip to Blackmoor had been mercifully quiet.
After the tension in Glasgow, I was grateful for the uninterrupted time to absorb what we’d learned from Nightingale.
As we landed, the afternoon shadows stretched across the grounds, the winter sun already beginning its early descent in the Highland sky.
Lex followed me from the helipad with determined strides, her focus evident in the set of her shoulders. Neither of us spoke much since Typhon’s reprimand about our professional behavior, and I found myself oddly concerned with maintaining the fragile truce we’d established.
“We should get started immediately,” she said as we entered the castle through the east entrance. “The information from Nightingale won’t stay current for long. The players will rapidly change tactics once they suspect exposure.”
“Roger that.” I gestured to Bastion as we came inside. “And every hour that passes gives the Labyrinth consortium more time to advance their project.”
Rather than take her to my ops hub, I led Lex back to my study. The fire had been lit in anticipation of our return, casting a warm glow across the room’s Persian rugs. Modern technology blended seamlessly with the centuries-old architecture—much like my own life, straddling two worlds.
“Still keeping me from your actual ops room, I see,” Lex commented.
“For now.” I moved to the sideboard where Mrs. Thorne, my head housekeeper, had left a tea service. “Would you prefer Earl Grey or something stronger?”
“The blend is fine, thank you. I need a clear head.”
I poured us both a cup, watching as she explored the space, running her fingers along the spines of leather-bound books that had belonged to my father and his father before him.
“So,” she said, accepting the drink I offered. “Let’s establish our approach. I suggest we start by cross-referencing the evidence from Nightingale with MI6’s database on known weapons developers who specialize in AI integration.”
“My network might prove more efficient,” I countered, taking a seat at the table where I typically worked while in here. “There are sources who won’t speak to official agencies under any circumstances.”
She arched a brow. “Your ‘network’ being the contacts from your shadier business interests?”
“I prefer ‘alternative enterprises,’” I replied, maintaining a neutral tone despite her sarcasm. “Sources cultivated over years.”
“Without accountability or any way to validate what they’re saying. We need confirmed information, not whispers from profiteers who’d sell you whatever you want to hear.”
“They have proved reliable in circumstances where conventional methods failed.”
“And when they aren’t reliable?” She set down her cup with more force than necessary. “Project Labyrinth isn’t one of your business ventures, Infidel. The stakes here affect global stability.”
I stood and returned to the sideboard where, rather than tea, I poured myself two fingers of scotch. “I take exception to your tone, Dr. Sterling. I’m well aware of the gravity of the situation. Perhaps to a greater extent than you are.”
Her gaze landed on my glass, and she scoffed. “Then, I would think you’d understand why we need multiple ways to cross-check any information we gather.”
“This conversation is not only growing tiresome…” Before I finished the thought, my secure mobile vibrated with an encrypted message. I glanced down, immediately recognizing the identifier—Kestrel, one of my less savory but consistently reliable sources.
Need to talk. Have intel on recent AI components moving through nonstandard channels. Available at 22:00 your time. Same encryption method as last time.
After raising a brow at the serendipity of the message’s arrival, I texted back a quick confirmation.
“Something important?” Dr. Sterling asked, watching my face too closely for comfort.
“Just a schedule update,” I replied, slipping the mobile into my pocket. “Nothing urgent.”
Her expression told me she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press the issue.
A knock at the door saved me from further interrogation. Bastion appeared with his usual aptitude.
“My lord, the Earl of Glenshadow has arrived and asks if you’re available.”
“Show him in, please.”
Moments later, Tag strode through the door, his imposing frame filling the entrance. Despite his aristocratic title, there was nothing soft about Niall MacTaggert. Before his eyes landed on Lex, he swept the room with the instinctive awareness of the assassin he was.
“Dr. Sterling. Didn’t expect you to still be here.”
She raised her chin. “We hardly have time to waste.”
“Copy that.” He turned to me. “Any progress?”
“We’re currently establishing parameters,” I responded.
“I’ve got updates from Glasgow,” Tag said, accepting the glass of scotch I offered. “Rather than wait until tomorrow, Nightingale’s debrief concluded after you left. Typhon had her moved to a secure location.”
“Was that necessary?” Lex asked.
“It was. Her cover was thoroughly blown, which meant there was already chatter about a price on her head.”
“Good God,” I exclaimed. “That didn’t take long.”
“It doesn’t usually,” Tag replied. “Anyway, Typhon wants us to proceed as if her intel is compromised.”
“Which brings us back to our approach,” Lex said, glancing from Tag to me. “We need to pursue multiple avenues simultaneously.”
“Let’s divide our resources,” said Tag. “I’m heading to Glenshadow now, but will be available tomorrow. Which, by the way, is New Year’s Eve.”
“So it is,” I said under my breath, remembering several that he, I, and our two closest friends—Ash and Gus—had spent together, starting when we were wee lads.
Once we reached adulthood, the celebrations became fewer and farther between, given the four of us had pursued careers in espionage that took us through hell together more times than I could count.
We each brought something unique to our tightly knit unit—Tag’s lethal instincts, Ash’s unparalleled sniper capabilities, Gus’s unwavering loyalty and technical skill.
They accepted my less conventional methods without judgment, even when I kept certain aspects of my operations compartmentalized.
That thought made me glance at Lex, who was listening intently to Tag’s reminiscences of previous years’ celebrations, told much to my dismay.
There was something about her that unsettled me—not just her impressive intellect or her directness, but the way she seemed to see through the crafted layers of my persona.
“Earth to Carnegie,” Tag said, breaking into my thoughts.
“Sorry, just thinking.”
“I said I need to head out. Early start tomorrow.” He downed the last of his scotch and stood. “Good luck with your collaboration. You’ll need it.” The last bit was said with a wry smile that made me want to punch him.
After Tag departed, Lex turned to me, arms crossed. “So, are you going to tell me about the message you received earlier? The one you deliberately hid from me?”
“I wasn’t hiding anything,” I lied automatically.
“Transparency works both ways, Lord Blackmoor.” Her use of my title was intentionally formal. “You asked for it from me this morning, yet you’re deliberately lying as well as concealing communications.”
Her accuracy struck a nerve, and I raised a brow.
She leaned forward. “Your body language speaks volumes, Con. The way you angled the screen. The tension in your jaw when you dismissed it as nothing important.”
I had two choices—continue the charade or admit she was right. I chose the latter, if only because lying would prove her point even more effectively than the truth.
“I received a message from one of my contacts. He claims to have information about AIWS movement. We’re scheduled to videoconference at twenty-two hundred hours.”
She appeared satisfied, yet her words proved I was wrong. “Here? Meaning in your secondary workspace?”
I stood, making a decision I hoped wouldn’t come back to haunt me. “Come with me.”
I led her through the castle to the east wing, then down to the underground level where military-grade defense systems became more evident with each step.
After passing through three layers of biometric authentication, we entered a space that bore little resemblance to the historical castle above it.
“Welcome to my operations hub,” I said, watching her reaction as she took in the array of cutting-edge technology.
Multiple monitors covered one wall, displaying everything from global news feeds to encrypted communication channels.
“This is impressive,” Lex admitted, taking in the space with obvious appreciation. “Though I am curious as to why several of your systems are running outdated protection software.”
“Deliberate vulnerability,” I explained. “Honeypot to track intrusion attempts.”
She appeared to understand and approve. “Smart. And the air-gapped systems?”
“For the most sensitive inquiries. Nothing connected to any network.”
We settled into work, each leveraging our respective expertise. She navigated MI6’s classified repositories while I activated my contacts across Europe and Asia. The functional rhythm we established surprised me—an unspoken understanding forming between two specialists with complementary skills.
At precisely twenty-two hundred hours, my secure communication system alerted me to an incoming connection. Lex raised her head when I accepted the call.
A heavily encrypted video feed appeared on the main screen, showing a person whose features were deliberately obscured.
“Infidel,” the digitally altered voice greeted me. “I see you have company.”
“She’s cleared,” I replied tersely. “What do you have for me, Kestrel?”
“Shipments of specialized neural processors through Hamburg, destined for a shell company in the Cayman Islands but diverted to St. Petersburg. Three such shipments in the past week.”
“Quantities?”
“Enough to build a dozen prototype systems, based on what I understand of the technology.”
“Any names associated with the receiving end?”