Chapter 18 Lex
LEX
The clock on the bedside table read zero four hundred when my eyes opened.
Con’s side of the bed was empty, though I hadn’t heard him leave.
My mind immediately began cataloging the mounting complications—Bennett’s increasingly suspicious behavior, the impending demonstration of what could be the most dangerous weapons system in history, and my conflicted feelings about the man whose scent still lingered on the sheets beside me.
Con had become my ally, my lover, and potentially my greatest distraction at a time when focus was essential.
After showering and dressing, I made my way down the corridor, toward the stairs. Halfway there, I paused at the sound of a hushed voice coming from one of the rooms. The door stood slightly ajar, and through the gap, I saw Bennett pacing, mobile pressed to his ear.
“Chan eil e deiseil fhathast,” he seethed. “Feumaidh sinn ùine a bharrachd.”
While I couldn’t understand all the words, his tone conveyed urgency. He glanced toward the door, and I retreated quickly, continuing down the hallway as if I’d just emerged from my room.
The timing of Bennett’s secretive call—before anyone else was supposed to be awake—combined with his earlier behavior, heightened my unease.
I went downstairs, walking softly out of habit rather than necessity. When I reached the bottom, I heard Con’s voice from the sitting room—now our command center. He was speaking with Tag.
“The documents he produced last night contained details not even Unit 23 has access to,” Con said. “How would MI6 obtain that level of information without field observation?”
“They wouldn’t,” Tag replied. “Unless—”
I rounded the corner, and both men fell silent, looking up at me. Con’s expression softened immediately, his eyes warming.
“Morning,” he greeted, offering me a cup of tea from the tray beside him. “Sleep well?”
“As well as can be expected,” I replied. “Anything new?”
“Surveillance equipment is in place,” Tag responded. “Renegade and Archon installed perimeter monitoring overnight. We have eyes on all external access points.”
Con studied my face. “Something wrong?”
I debated sharing what I’d overheard, but decided to wait until we were alone. “Just thinking through everything from yesterday,” I said. “Where’s Dr. McLaren?”
“Already reviewing the data feeds,” Tag replied. “She’s been up for hours. Maybe never went to bed.”
An hour later, we gathered in the command center for a final briefing. Bennett appeared composed, no trace of his earlier agitation visible as he outlined our objectives for the day. His hands moved with confidence across the maps, highlighting the observation points and potential vulnerabilities.
“Initial monitoring only,” he emphasized, his gaze sweeping over all of us. “No contact or intervention without explicit authorization. If Orlov is there, I want visual confirmation, but absolutely no engagement.”
The authority in his voice made me wonder again about his history with the Russian scientist. The personal vendetta Bennett harbored seemed to run deep.
We broke into teams—Con and I would observe from a mobile position at the western approach, while Bennett and Tag would watch the facility’s main entrance. Dr. McLaren would coordinate from the safe house, with Renegade and Archon handling the perimeter security.
As we prepared our equipment, I found myself alone with Con in the gear room.
“I need to tell you something,” I said, lowering my voice. “Bennett was on a call this morning—speaking Gaelic. I couldn’t hear him well enough to understand what he was saying, but he was agitated, looking over his shoulder like he was afraid of discovery.”
Con’s brow furrowed. “That aligns with what Gus just sent me. Bennett has connections to this region that go beyond what he’s disclosed to MI6.
” He checked that the door was closed before continuing.
“His obsession with Orlov appears individualized—their paths crossed in Estonia during a mission that ended in disaster.”
“What kind of disaster?”
“Unclear. Records are heavily redacted, but whatever happened, it left lasting scars.” Con’s gaze locked with mine. “I suspect that’s what’s driving him now.”
I tucked the information away, wondering why Viper hadn’t briefed me on it. More, why Bennett was still an active agent. “We need to watch him closely.”
“Already on it.” Con brushed a strand of hair from my face, the brief touch lingering. “Be careful today.”
“I always am,” I replied, the corners of my mouth lifting.
“That’s debatable, given how you stormed into my castle and hacked my systems,” he said with a half smile.
“That wasn’t recklessness,” I countered. “That was a calculated risk.”
His smile widened. “And was I worth the risk, Dr. Sterling?”
The lightness in his tone did nothing to diminish the weight of the question. “The jury’s still deliberating,” I said, but couldn’t keep my own smile from emerging.
Dr. McLaren entered before Con could respond. “Vehicle is ready for your departure,” she announced, her sharp eyes moving between us. “The eastern approach has been cleared. Tag and Bennett are already in position.”
En route to our observation point, Con drove while I prepared our equipment.
The day was clear but cold, the Scottish landscape breathtaking even as we focused on what was ahead.
We parked the unmarked vehicle in a wooded area with clear sight lines to the western side of the facility, then set up our monitoring station.
“Range check,” I said into my comms.
“Clear,” came Dr. McLaren’s voice. “All channels operational.”
The facility looked unassuming from our vantage point—a series of industrial buildings surrounded by perimeter fencing with security checkpoints at each entrance. Nothing in its external appearance hinted at the neural weapons development we believed was occurring inside.
“Movement at the south gate,” Con observed, adjusting his binoculars. “Delivery vehicle approaching.”
I documented the arrival, noting the corporate markings on the side—another shell company, no doubt, providing components for Labyrinth.
Our surveillance revealed steady activity at the facility—deliveries, security patrols, staff rotations. Nothing beyond what we’d anticipated until midmorning, when I intercepted a transmission on one of the frequencies we were monitoring.
“I’ve got something,” I whispered, adjusting the parameters. The communication was encoded but with known Russian military protocols. I applied a decryption algorithm, and fragments of text appeared on my screen.
—Sterling’s expertise critical for neural interface refinement—
—acquisition rather than elimination—
—within 48 hours—
—ensure complete neural mapping before integration—
“They’re talking about you,” Con said, leaning closer to read the fragments. His shoulder pressed against mine. “They want you alive.”
I shivered despite the warmth in the vehicle. “For the neural interface.”
“The component Kestrel mentioned was failing.” Con’s expression hardened. “They think you can solve their problems.”
“These fragments of text mentioning me specifically have to come from high up. From Janus directly, perhaps,” I said.
While he didn’t speak, Con’s expression darkened.
I swallowed, trying to focus on the implications rather than the personal threat. “If they’re having integration issues, it means they’re even further along than we thought. Neural mapping suggests direct human-machine interface capability.”
“Which aligns with what we know about Orlov’s previous research,” Con agreed. “The question is how far they’ve progressed with autonomous decision-making.”
I relayed our findings to Dr. McLaren through secure channels, transcribing the intercepted fragments verbatim.
“Hold position,” came her response after a brief pause. “Continue monitoring but maintain cover at all costs. I’m running analysis on the transmission pattern.”
An hour later, Dr. McLaren contacted us directly, her voice tight with concern.
“I’ve identified unusual electromagnetic signatures around the facility perimeter,” she said. “They’ve implemented a detection grid that wouldn’t appear on standard scans. Your current monitoring approach would have triggered their systems within the next hour without adjustment.”
She transmitted the modified parameters that, when implemented, rendered our surveillance invisible to the facility’s defenses. Her expertise proved invaluable—we would have been compromised without her intervention.
“How did you spot that?” I asked, genuinely impressed.
“I developed countermeasures for similar systems at SIS,” she replied. “Orlov’s signature is distinctive—he layers defensive measures in patterns most people wouldn’t think to check for.”
Con looked at me, eyebrow raised. I nodded, acknowledging that Dr. McLaren had once again proven herself an essential ally.
As afternoon approached, I focused on the facility’s power systems, mapping the energy fluctuations through thermal imaging and electromagnetic detection.
“Look at this,” I said, highlighting anomalies in the data.
“The electromagnetic shielding extends far beyond the standard requirements for AI research.” I indicated specific readings on the display.
“And these power storage units…” I pointed to spikes in the information.
“They’re designed for massive energy accumulation and release, not just AI processing. ”
Con studied the screen, eyes narrowing. “What in the bloody hell are they building in there?”
I cross-referenced the patterns with known weapons systems in my mental catalog.
“This configuration suggests integration with broadcast technology.” I pulled up a schematic, sketching potential layouts.
“They’re not just processing information—they’re preparing to transmit something.
The component arrangement indicates a signal amplification and directional propagation. ”
“An amplified signal?”