Chapter 21
“I’ve seen a lot of great fake identities, and this guy’s is better than any of them.”
Ren Solace was the hardest man to impress that Cole had ever met, so the fact that he was impressed with Eric’s fake identity was really saying something. He sighed. “So, what, you think I was wrong about the guy? You think he’s not our sleeper agent?”
“No, you’re definitely right. I’m just saying his fake identity is top tier. Almost as good as yours.”
“If it’s so good, how do you know it’s fake?”
There was a loaded pause on Ren’s end before he said, “Are you new here?”
Cole pinched the bridge of his nose. Jesus. He really didn’t have the patience for this. “Let me rephrase. What the hell did you find, Ren?”
“I found records and online traces that were unusually thin for someone his age. Claimed home addresses that don’t match IP geolocation. Email at throwaway domains. Nothing but generic comments on social media and friends with fake profiles. Inconsistent—”
“For Christ’s sake, Ren,” Cole interrupted. “I get it. You’re the best at what you do. Can you just give me the bullet so I can go to bed?”
Faking being neighborly had taken every last bit of strength he had. He did not have the spoons to listen to Ren brag about his superior tech skills.
Ren sighed. “Fine. You’re boring. Whatever.
Here’s the bullet: Eric didn’t exist until five years ago.
I can’t tell you where he’s really from.
But there’s only one hacker I’ve ever seen who can create an identity this good—other than me—and she’s Russian.
So, my best guess is that Eric is either current or former KGB. ”
While it was great to have the validation, being right in this instance did fuck all for him. Because being right didn’t equal proof of anything, and he doubted Franklin was going to take his word for it in this case. “What about the wife?”
“Clean. Nothing in her history to indicate she’s government affiliated in any way. She is 100% genuine and their marriage is one of the only things in his history that is completely legit.”
Interesting. “The rest of the neighborhood?”
“I ran everyone in the neighborhood. The guy who lives on the corner is embezzling from his boss, but he’s not a sleeper agent, just a low-level scumbag with a gambling problem.”
“Well…fuck.”
“Yeah,” Ren agreed. “I’m no spy, but I’d say your next step is searching their house. Maybe planting a bug…although if this guy is as good as you seem to think he is, he probably sweeps for bugs all the time.”
There were ways around that, of course. Laser mics or optical bugs aimed at the windows.
“Sleeping” bugs that stay off most of the time and only record in short bursts.
Then, of course, there were simple acoustic tools that could be placed in the walls or on the pipes and could be used only when needed.
Getting some kind of recording wouldn’t be a problem.
Planting devices and searching the home of a spy, though…that was another story entirely. Especially when the spy in question was already sure you were also a spy.
“You said Hadley invited them over for dinner tomorrow, right?” Ren asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’d be the perfect time to search their place.”
“It would, except I’m guessing he’d get suspicious if I excused myself for an hour during dinner. Don’t suppose you’d be willing to search the place while we kept the guy busy, would you?”
Ren snorted because he realized Cole was joking. Ren was a giant. The idea of him sneaking into, well, anywhere, unnoticed was laughable. But then, he said, “I wouldn’t. But I have a friend who can.”
Ren had friends? That was news to Cole. “Someone you actually trust?”
“I trust her with my life,” he said solemnly.
Well, hell, someone who’d earned the trust of the least trusting man in the world was worth meeting. “Can you set it up?”
“I’ll call her now. Just one word of advice for when you meet her, man.”
“What’s that?”
“Hide your wallet.”