Chapter 5 Tracking Social Media #2
Greg’s eyes shifted—and locked. Carry. Again.
But this time—it wasn’t a still. It was live rollout footage.
Clean cuts. Studio lighting. A controlled environment.
The camera angles were panning around her, as she held up the bottle of Vanilla Rose Veronique.
Headlines cycling beneath it. “Carry Mitchelson—The Face Returns.”“Veronique Relaunch Campaign Begins Nationwide.”
Brick let out a low breath. “That’s not local anymore.”
“No,” Greg said quietly. “It’s not.” He stepped closer. Didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. On screen—Carry turned slightly toward camera, poised, composed… trained already, or being trained fast. The hesitation he knew—Gone. Replaced. “That’s conditioning,” Greg said under his breath.
Keith glanced at him. “What?”
Greg didn’t answer immediately. His eyes tracked the sequence instead.
The cut timing. The messaging. “If you want to smell like a French Boutique, get your scent from Veronique!” The positioning of her legs, the bottle, the sign.
“They’re not just promoting her,” he said finally. “They’re reshaping her.”
Brick folded his arms. “Into what?”
Greg’s jaw tightened slightly. “…Something he won’t recognize,” Keith said.
The words hung there. Then Greg shifted—back to the reason he came. “Now show me Lance,” he said.
Keith nodded once and switched screens. Flight logs. Shipping lanes. Highlighted anomalies. “Multiple passports confirmed,” Keith said. “We’ve got movement through Asia—Tokyo, Hong Kong, Shanghai—then back through Vancouver like we saw.”
Greg leaned in slightly, eyes scanning. “Timing,” he said.
Keith paused. “What about it?”
Greg pointed. “These spikes,” he said. “When do they start?”
Keith pulled up the timeline overlay. Brick leaned in closer. “…Two weeks before the reception,” Brick said.
Greg nodded once. “And peak?” he asked.
Keith clicked again. “Right before the wedding,” he replied.
Greg’s eyes narrowed. “And now?” he asked.
Keith refreshed the feed. A new entry populated. Recent. Active.
Brick exhaled sharply. “He’s still moving.”
Greg didn’t react outwardly—but something locked in behind his eyes. “Of course he is,” he said quietly. He ran a hand through his hair. “This is too convenient.”
Keith studied him. “You think this ties into Veronica?”
Greg shook his head once. “No,” he said.
“I think it overlaps.” That got both of their attention.
Greg stepped back slightly, running it through.
“Veronica’s running a controlled narrative,” he said.
“Fast. Clean. Public.” He gestured toward the other screen—where Carry’s campaign continued to climb.
“But this?” he added, tapping the Lance data.
“This is movement that doesn’t care about attention. ”
Brick frowned. “So two separate plays?”
Greg shook his head again. “No,” he said. “Two fronts.”
Silence. Keith leaned back slightly. “You think someone’s using both?”
Greg didn’t answer right away. Instead—his eyes flicked back to the media screen one more time.
Carry. Smiling now. Confident. Becoming something else in front of the world.
Then back to the data. Hidden. Moving. Dangerous.
“…I think,” Greg said slowly, “someone benefits from both.” That landed heavier.
Brick crossed his arms tighter. “And we don’t know who that is!” he stated in frustration.
Greg’s gaze hardened. “Not yet.”
Keith nodded once. “So what’s the move?”
Greg didn’t hesitate this time. “We don’t touch the public side,” he said. “Not yet.” He pointed to the Lance data. “We dig here.” Then—after fifteen seconds—His eyes shifted back to Carry on the screen. “…And we watch her.”
Brick raised an eyebrow slightly. “You sure about that?”
Greg’s voice stayed level—but firm. “I’m not walking into that blind again.” A pause. Then quieter—“…Not with her. Not with any of this.”
Keith gave a slow nod. “Alright,” he said. “Then we go deeper. You think there’s more to what Lance Marsden is doing than just laundering and drug muling?”
Greg stepped back slightly, folding his arms now—not defensive…
resolved. “Yeah,” he said. “This just got bigger.” He placed both hands firmly on the desktop.
“We know Jenny Easthaus wanted Grace dead from the missive Jack Martin sent. Millard went dark, and nobody could find him until he turned up here. What if Carry isn’t safe?
What if she’s a target now?” Greg’s words hung in the air—heavy, immediate - “What if Carry isn’t safe?
What if she’s a target now?” Neither Keith nor Brick answered right away.
They didn’t dismiss it nor did they accept it either.
Keith scanned through a few documents on his desk that he’d received from Roddy recently.
He rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking.
Keith leaned back slowly, folding his arms—not defensive… analytical. “That’s a jump,” he said carefully. “A big one.”
Brick nodded once. “Yeah,” he added. “We’ve got Lance moving product. We’ve got the Enforcer – Millard Calput - showing up where he shouldn’t be. That’s bad—no question.” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “But targeting Carry? That’s a different level.”
Greg didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “Is it?” he asked quietly.
“You saw the birth certificate, and you dug up the evidence that she was a Pendergast heiress.” That made Keith look at him again—closer this time.
Greg pushed off the desk slightly, pacing once—not restless…
thinking. “Look at the timing,” he said.
“Everything spikes around the reception. Around the wedding.” He gestured toward the screen without turning.
“That’s when pressure on Carry peaks. Alice.
Cassie, Wendy and Katie all flocking around her, encouraging her to move over to Veronique.
Veronica going public. Everything stacking at once. ”
Brick frowned. “That could still be coincidence.”
Greg stopped. Turned back. “No,” he said. “It’s too clean. You said those girls are members of the Family.” Silence.
Keith’s eyes shifted—back to the data… then to the media feed still looping Carry’s campaign. “…Say it,” Keith said.
Greg held his gaze. “If you wanted to move something big,” Greg said slowly, “something that needed attention somewhere else—what would you do?”
Brick answered first. “Create noise.”
Keith nodded slightly. “Distraction.”
Greg pointed—first to the screen with Carry… then to the Lance data. “Public spectacle,” he said. “Private movement.”
That landed. Harder this time. Brick’s posture shifted slightly. “You’re saying she’s not just the target,” he said. “She’s also the cover.”
Greg didn’t answer immediately. Because that wasn’t quite it. “…I’m saying we don’t know which one she is yet,” he replied.
That made Keith sit forward again. “Target… or cover,” Keith said quietly.
Greg nodded once. “And until we know that,” he added, “we treat both as real.”
Then Keith reached for the keyboard again—faster now. “Alright,” he said. “Then we widen the scope.”
Brick looked between them. “How wide?”
Keith didn’t look up. “Everything tied to Lance,” he said. “Financials. Shells. Routes. Contacts. We have Andy start his own hacking campaign on the Marsdens.”
Greg added—firm, immediate: “And anything that intersects Veronique.”
That got a look from both of them. Brick raised an eyebrow. “You really want to go there?”
Greg didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Keith exhaled slowly. “That’s going to make waves. She’s a premier client, and you’ve been dating her.”
Greg’s jaw tightened slightly. “Then we stay quiet,” he said. “No flags. No alerts. We don’t tip anyone off.”
Brick nodded once. “Ghost it.”
“Exactly,” Greg replied. “I’ll keep dating Veronica publicly, trying to get any information I can that way.” Another pass of silence—focused now, not uncertain.
Then—Keith pulled up a new pane. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s start with proximity. Who’s been near both sides of this?” Names began populating. Connections. Fragments. Threads that didn’t mean anything yet—But would.
Greg stepped closer again, eyes scanning—not rushing this time. Building it. “…Find me overlap,” he said quietly. “Every time the opponents ran a screen play on the court, there was overlap in movement.”
Brick leaned in beside him. “And if we do find overlap?”
Greg’s gaze hardened—just slightly. “Then we stop guessing,” he said.
A pause. Then, lower—“And we start choosing where to hit.” The media screen shifted again being slightly behind them—another clip of Carry, brighter, sharper, louder.
Keith didn’t look at it this time. Neither did Brick.
But Greg did. Just for a second. Long enough to see what she was becoming—had become…
and what she might be standing in the middle of.
Then he turned back. “Let’s get to work.
We need to find these connections, overlaps, hidden figures and members and who’s really pulling the strings on this puppet show. ”