Chapter 11 Con
CON
Consciousness arrived like a gentle tide rather than by a jarring alarm that typically yanked me from sleep. I opened my eyes to find Lex curled against me, her dark hair spilling across my chest. The weight of her head resting over my heart created an unfamiliar sensation of…contentment.
I’d slept through the night. No nightmares about Fallon’s betrayal, no waking in a cold sweat with fragments of failure echoing in my mind. Just uninterrupted rest with Lex in my arms.
My fingers traced the curve of her shoulder, marveling at the softness of her skin. Her brilliance had first captivated me, but this vulnerability—the trust required in our profession to sleep beside someone—moved me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
She stirred, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before opening. The moment of confusion in her eyes cleared, replaced by recognition and something warmer.
“Good morning,” she said, voice husky with sleep.
“It is, indeed.” I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re quite beautiful when you’re saving the world in your dreams.”
She laughed, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Who says I was dreaming?”
“Fair point.” I shifted, pulling her closer. “I could grow accustomed to this.”
“To what?” Her eyes held mine, searching.
“Waking with you. Sleeping through the night.” I hesitated, then added, “Having someone who understands both sides of my life.”
Her expression softened as she traced the line of my jaw with her fingertips. “I’m glad I stayed.”
“As am I.” I kissed her, marveling at how natural it felt. “Though I suspect Mrs. Thorne will have questions about our breakfast preferences.”
She groaned, burying her face against my neck. “I hadn’t thought about that. Your staff—”
“Are the soul of discretion,” I assured her, though the thought of Bastion’s raised brow made me wince internally. “Perhaps we should face the day.”
In the shower, soap and water weren’t our only considerations as hands wandered and lips met. What began as routine cleansing evolved into something far more intimate, leaving us both breathless, then fulfilled.
When we finally made our way downstairs, Mrs. Thorne had indeed adjusted the breakfast service. Two places were set side by side rather than across from each other at the table, and my coffee was stronger than usual. I couldn’t speak for Lex’s tea, but I assumed it was steeped extra long.
“Sleep well, my lord?” Bastion asked a few minutes later, his expression indiscernible as he refilled my coffee.
“Exceedingly, thank you.” I caught Lex’s eye over my cup, noting the hint of color in her cheeks.
After Bastion withdrew, she leaned toward me. “Does anything escape his notice?”
“Not in twenty years of service.” I buttered a piece of toast. “Now, about today. We need to compile everything we have on Labyrinth’s potential locations.”
She reached for her tablet, professional focus returning. “The suspicious network traffic we identified yesterday should be our starting point.”
We were debating approaches when my secure mobile vibrated with an encrypted message. Kestrel’s identifier flashed on the screen as I opened it.
“Well, this is interesting.” I passed her the device.
She read aloud. “A Russian scientist matching Orlov’s description was seen working at a converted estate in Aberdeenshire.
Defense measures in place, including signal jamming and thermal detection grids.
Satellite imagery is attached.” She looked up, eyes bright with the thrill of a solid lead. “This could be it.”
I downloaded the attached files to review on a larger screen. “Aberdeenshire makes sense—remote enough for privacy but with port access.”
“And close enough to the North Sea for a quick evacuation if necessary.” She set down her cup. “We should examine those satellite images immediately.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in my ops hub, Kestrel’s images displayed across multiple screens.
The estate was centered around what appeared to be a small, centuries-old castle—not unlike Blackmoor but more compact—with several newer structures dotting the perimeter.
The original stonework stood in stark contrast to the modern additions.
“Look at this,” Lex noted, indicating a series of regular points along the property boundary. “Those aren’t standard cameras.”
“Thermal and motion detection,” I agreed. “Military grade, based on the spacing.”
She moved closer to the screen, analyzing the layout. “The north wing of the castle has nonstandard power lines. Either they’re running something that requires enormous energy—”
“Or they’re maintaining a completely independent power system. Either way, it suggests advanced technical infrastructure.”
“They wouldn’t need much space for AIWS,” she explained.
“The beauty of neural networks is their computational density. A facility the size of one wing in a small castle could house everything necessary for Labyrinth’s core systems.” Lex took a step back and tapped her cheek.
“We need to get eyes on this place, but drones would be detected immediately.”
“Ground views, then.” I pulled up topographical maps of the surrounding area. “There’s elevated terrain to the northwest that would provide decent sight lines to the main facility.”
As we developed our plan, I made a decision I’d never made before. Opening a secure terminal, I entered a series of commands, then turned to her.
“I’m giving you access to another network,” I said, entering the final authorization codes. “Complete access, not just the sanitized version Unit 23 sees.”
Her eyes widened. “Con, that’s—”
“Necessary,” I finished. “If we’re going to stop Labyrinth, we need to pool resources.”
She nodded, the significance of my gesture not lost on her. “Thank you. And in that spirit…” She retrieved her tablet and entered a complex sequence. “This is my research on neural-network architectures developed for military applications. It’s classified beyond what I’ve given to Unit 23.”
I scrolled through her data, impressed by both the technical depth and her willingness to share it.
“This will help identify Orlov’s fingerprints if we find any systems at the estate,” she added.
By midmorning, we had established a preliminary plan. I contacted Gus to run background checks on the estate and everyone connected to it. Before I did so, I asked about Nightingale. “Any update?”
“None whatsoever. To be honest, Con, I’m worried about Tag.”
As was I, particularly since his admission that he and the missing operative were far more than colleagues.
“I’ve got a hit,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “The property was purchased eleven months ago by Highlands Research Partners, which traces back to yet another shell company, Nova Perspectives.”
Lex gasped. “The private think tank specializing in AI applications?”
“That’s right,” Gus confirmed.
“We should prepare for at least three days of continuous observation,” I said after the call with him ended.
As we gathered the equipment, I showed Lex some of the modifications I’d made to the standard gear that reduced detection significantly.
“Is this a signal-masking device?” She held up a small black box I’d designed.
“It works on the principle that most systems look for disruptions, not absence,” I explained, pleased by her appreciation of the technical nuance. “When Fallon was at Blackmoor—”
Lex stilled, her eyes meeting mine, the mood shifting instantly.
“I apologize,” I said, tension tightening my shoulders. “I shouldn’t bring her up.”
“No, we need to be able to discuss her,” she replied. “She was central to Labyrinth’s development. Pretending otherwise compromises our investigation.”
The understanding in her voice helped ease the knot in my throat. “She used my expertise, asking all the right questions to extract information.”
“That’s what made her dangerous,” Lex said, eyes hardening. “Her ability to manipulate people without revealing her motives.”
Later, as we finalized our preparations, I found myself sharing more than just professional strategies. We moved from my operations hub to the library, where the fire had been lit against the growing evening chill.
“My father thought technology was beneath our family’s dignity,” I said, sipping the whiskey I’d poured us. “The Earl of Blackmoor should concern himself with land management and tradition, not coding and systems.”
“What about your mother?” Lex asked, tucked beside me on the sofa.
“She encouraged my interests, which only widened the gulf between them.” I stared into the amber liquid in my glass. “Their marriage ended during my first year at Cambridge. He blamed her for my career choice.”
“That’s absurd,” she said, indignation flaring in her voice.
“It was convenient. Their problems ran deeper.” I set my glass down. “What about your family? You mentioned your father wanted you to study literature.”
“He was an English professor. Believed computers would dehumanize education.” She smiled faintly. “He and my mother had my whole life planned—I’d teach at a women’s college, marry a colleague, and publish scholarly articles on Jane Austen.”
“Instead, you’re developing countermeasures for AI-weapons systems while bedding an earl with dubious business interests.” I raised an eyebrow. “I imagine Christmas dinners are interesting.”
Her expression changed. “Were. They both passed shortly after I graduated university.”
“I’m sorry, Lex,” I said, reaching for her hand.
“It’s why Dr. McLaren is so important to me.
It isn’t like she stepped into the role of my mother or father, but she did take me under her wing, so to speak, enough that I pursued the career I wanted and had her support in doing so.
” She shook her head and blinked away the tears I was sure she’d not want me to see.
“Change of subject?” she asked more than said.
“Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
I led her to a part of the castle few people ever saw—a small chamber off the main library, where the Carnegie family kept its most treasured historical items. Unlocking the heavy oak door with a key I kept hidden in a secret compartment, I ushered her inside.
“This is remarkable,” she breathed, taking in the glass cases containing everything from medieval weapons to delicate jewelry.
I opened a drawer in an antique cabinet and removed a worn leather journal. “My ancestor Robert Carnegie kept this during the Jacobite rising.”
Lex gasped. “This is extraordinary, Con.”
“There’s more.” I retrieved a small wooden box from another cabinet. Inside, nestled on faded velvet, lay a silver brooch set with Scottish river pearls. “This belonged to Elizabeth Carnegie, who hid Jacobite soldiers in Blackmoor Castle.”
When Lex looked from the brooch to me, I closed the distance between us, then brushed her lips with mine. The kiss began tenderly but deepened as my arms encircled her.
When we finally separated, breathless, she rested her forehead against mine. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“You’re the first person I have,” I admitted, holding her close in the room where generations of my ancestors had kept their most valuable possessions.
We remained there long into the evening, exploring the collection and each other. With each story shared, each artifact examined, the walls I’d built around myself after Fallon’s betrayal crumbled further.
Tomorrow, we’d travel to Aberdeenshire, hunting for concrete evidence of Labyrinth’s operations. But tonight, in this sanctuary of history and trust, we strengthened the bonds that would sustain us through whatever challenges awaited.
When we finally returned upstairs to the bed I already considered ours, I ravished her body in a way that I hoped conveyed my growing feelings for her. While I could’ve made love to her until dawn, her reminder of the day ahead of us convinced us both we needed rest.