Chapter 7
ROGUE
I find Armen and Sting in the space behind the old management office, complete with a table, whiteboard, and ugly fluorescent lights. Not inspiring but it does the job.
Neither of them sits when I come in and neither do I. This isn't that kind of conversation.
"We've got a problem," I say.
Armen crosses his arms. Sting just looks at me.
I lay it out. Dex's report, the man in the east corridor, two hours of standing and watching and running his sweep pattern like he's done it before. The question the guy asked the hub worker. Fischer's name, not Tommy's, said out loud in the Rot by someone who knew who he was looking for.
"Clearly, he was sent here. Somebody outside knows Fischer is here and what he knows and they want that situation resolved, whatever resolved means. This guy is the first move."
"How long has he been in the building?" Armen asks.
"Since early morning we think. Dex has eyes on him, rotating his team so they're not noticed. As far as our visitor knows, he's still invisible."
"Fischer?"
"I talked to him and told him someone's here but no big surprise, he said nothing. He didn't confirm who sent them but then he didn't need to, his face did it for him. He's scared, which means he knows he’s pretty much fucked."
Sting says nothing. He's running the implications in that orderly way of his, considering all angles and finding the weak points. Armen is doing the same thing but louder.
"This changes things," Armen says.
"Yes."
"We move faster."
"Yes."
"One more thing." Sting's voice is even, which with Sting means he's already annoyed. "How the hell did he get in?"
There it is. The question I've been sitting with since Dex first found me.
"Best guess? The south loading dock. There's a maintenance access point back there that hasn't been on the active watch rotation since we rerouted supply deliveries last month. Someone with the right contacts in this building found out about it."
"Someone did their homework," Armen says. “And we also have a big fucking breach.”
"Yup. Someone's been planning this for a while," I say. "It’s not a reaction to what happened last night with Fischer, though. It must have already been in motion. Interesting, huh?”
The three of us sit with this.
"Let’s start with sealing the south dock," Armen says. "Tonight."
"Already on it," I say.
Sting finally speaks again. "What aren't you telling us?"
Of course he'd ask that. He's Sting.
I look at him. The man has an ability to decipher when someone is hiding something, which is inconvenient when I'm the one hiding something.
"Nothing solid," I say. "Just a feeling."
"About?"
"The man. The way he moves. It's familiar, somehow, and that's bugging me."
Sting holds my gaze, deciding whether to push. He decides not to, which I appreciate because I'm not sure what else I could say.
Armen’s already thought things through. "We keep him under watch, we don't move on him yet. I want to know who he reports to before we do anything that tips our hand."
"Agreed."
"And Vi—"
"She knows someone's in the building," I say. "Mara told the room."
Armen looks at me.
"I know," I say.
"She's going to want—"
"I know," I say again.
Armen looks at me a moment too long. Then the corner of his mouth moves, barely. "Get some sleep," he says. "Tomorrow, we figure out who sent him."
I leave them to it and walk back to my room, still trying to figure out what’s bugging me about our uninvited guest. I’m waiting for my brain to surface whatever it is that’s milling around, distracting me, because I’ve got other things to fucking do.