Page 5 of Code Name: Tank (K19 Sentinel Cyber #4)

DRAGON

T he transaction records from Apex Aerospace’s systems on my portable monitor made my stomach drop. The patterns weren’t exactly the same as what we’d found at Titan—they had evolved.

“Tank,” I called across the production floor where he was reviewing account records with Dr. Sarah Rainier, the facility’s operations director, near the main assembly line. “Can you take a look at this when you have a moment?”

He crossed the concrete floor, past the skeleton crew managing the remaining operations. The reduced activity in what should have been a bustling manufacturing environment was unsettling—a direct result of the funding shortfalls that had forced Apex to cut shifts and delay production schedules.

“What did you find?” he asked, positioning himself where he could see my screen without Dr. Rainier overhearing our conversation.

“The theft methods are similar to Titan, but more sophisticated,” I replied, aware that facility personnel moved in and out of the area regularly.

“The timing is more exact, the amounts better calculated. I’ll need more time to complete my review, but this is definitely the same thieves—they’ve just gotten better. ”

Tank looked at the screen, his expression guarded despite what I knew he was seeing. “Understood. How much more time do you need?”

“A few hours for thorough documentation.”

Dr. Rainier approached with her tablet. “I have those transaction records you requested, Mr. Abrams. Though I should mention we’ve discovered some troubling accounting irregularities in the past forty-eight hours that our accounting department flagged.”

“What kind of irregularities?” Tank asked.

“The transfers are happening in real time now,” Dr. Rainier said, showing us her screen. “We discovered three more unauthorized transactions just this morning. Whoever’s doing this isn’t waiting weeks between thefts anymore—they’re hitting us daily.”

Tank and I exchanged concerned glances. “Daily?” I asked.

“The pattern has accelerated dramatically in the past seventy-two hours,” she continued. “It’s like they’re rushing to extract as much as possible before we catch on.”

My mind raced with the implications. “Could you provide us with those transaction records and authorization logs?” I asked.

“We’d appreciate reviewing the timeline of this escalation,” Tank added smoothly.

“Of course. I’ll have everything ready within the hour.”

After Dr. Rainier left, Tank moved closer. “They’re not just getting bolder...”

“They’re operating under a deadline,” I said grimly. “Something’s forcing them to accelerate their timeline.”

I glanced around to ensure we weren’t being observed. “Tank, if they’re rushing to extract maximum funds before moving to the next phase...”

“Then, we might be looking at the final stage of whatever they’re planning.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of interviews and document reviews.

I spent the next three hours examining what I’d found, keeping my work discrete, and speaking in generalities when facility personnel were present.

Tank moved between departments with equal caution, gathering personnel records and conducting interviews without revealing the true scope of our concerns.

The oppressive Texas heat made every moment outside the air-conditioned facility uncomfortable.

Sweat gathered at my hairline within minutes of stepping onto the tarmac, and I was looking forward to the cool autumn air of the Adirondacks.

The thought of Kane Mountain’s crisp September evenings felt like a promise of relief.

By eighteen hundred hours, we’d wrapped up our work and were alone in the rental car heading back to the hotel.

“Okay,” Tank said as soon as we’d cleared the facility parking lot. “What did you really find?”

“The theft methods are more advanced than what we found at Titan. Same perpetrators, but they’ve refined their approach since the first theft.”

“Meaning?”

“The timing shows careful planning.” I pulled up my notes on my tablet. “Tank, they hit Titan first to test their methods. This theft at Apex is the improved version.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “They’re learning from each deployment.”

“Refining their approach with each target.”

“How long have unauthorized transfers been affecting Apex’s accounts?”

“Based on the transaction patterns, at least three months.”

Tank was quiet for a moment. “The unauthorized transfers Dr. Rainier mentioned?”

“Almost certainly how they’re accessing our funds. Someone with high-level authorization codes.”

“Sophisticated financial fraud confirmed.”

“Has to be.” I closed my tablet as we pulled into the hotel parking lot.

“Tank,” I said as we sat in the parked car. “There’s something else. The thieves are getting more confident. The theft methods at Apex show they’re taking bigger risks than they did at Titan.”

His brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“They’re confident now. They tested their methods at Titan, refined them, and hit Apex harder. That suggests they’re planning more thefts.”

“I need to compile the evidence and coordinate with Admiral for tomorrow’s briefing,” he said without looking at me when he arrived at his door—which, coincidentally, was next to mine again. “I’ll probably order room service and work late.”

“Of course. Another early flight tomorrow,” I replied, trying to sound unaffected. “Get some rest when you can, right?”

“Yep. Night, Dragon.”

“Good night.”

I closed my door and stood just inside the empty room, aware of how quiet it was. After hours of constant coordination and conversation, the isolation felt jarring.

Was I imagining his aloofness? Yesterday, he’d suggested dinner together, and I’d been looking forward to it more than I should have. Tonight, he’d made it clear he wanted to work alone. Maybe I was being paranoid, but the shift in his demeanor felt deliberate.

I settled at the desk with my laptop, attempting to organize my notes into coherent briefing materials. But concentration proved elusive as Tank’s voice filtered through the shared wall during what was most likely a call with Admiral.

By twenty-one hundred hours, the confined space had become stifling. I changed into jeans and a casual sweater, grabbed my key card, and headed downstairs. If Tank wanted distance, fine. I’d eat alone and give myself space to think.

The hotel bar was dimly lit, with only a few other patrons scattered throughout—business travelers nursing drinks while working on laptops and a couple having a quiet conversation near the windows. I chose a table in the corner, where I could review my notes without interruption.

I’d just pulled out my tablet when a familiar voice made me look up.

“Dragon?”

Tank stood near the entrance, holding a tumbler of what looked like bourbon. He’d changed into jeans like I had and carried his tablet at his side.

“Tank, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider retreating. His attention shifted between me and the exit, and I could see him weighing his options.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, approaching my table. “Unless you prefer eating alone.”

The request surprised me, but I motioned to the open chair. “Please, sit.”

He settled across from me. “No work to do?” he asked.

“Too much on my mind to concentrate. I thought a change of scenery might help me settle my thoughts.”

“I know what you mean.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“Finished sooner than expected.” He didn’t seem relieved about it.

The server appeared, but I hadn’t even taken a look at the menu. I scanned it quickly, found something passable, then waited while Tank did the same.

After she left, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Earlier today, you seemed more comfortable with me.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “But I got the impression it unsettled you.”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, raising his glass in my direction.

I took a sip of my wine, considering whether honesty or deflection would be the best approach. “Experience has taught me that mixing work and personal feelings can complicate investigations.”

“Personal feelings?”

“There’s obviously something between us, Tank,” I said carefully. “At first, I thought avoiding it was the best approach.”

His eyes scrunched. “And now?”

“Now, I’m wondering if pretending it doesn’t exist is more disruptive than acknowledging it.”

“How so?”

“Because of the amount of energy I’m expending avoiding getting too close. It’s counterproductive.”

Tank leaned back, studying me. “Close?”

Rather than a sip, I gulped the rest of my wine, then motioned to the server for another glass. “Come on, Tank. Are you really going to put this all on me?”

“I’ll admit I’m having some trouble following along.”

“You ask good questions without making me feel like I need to prove myself.” The admission was more honest than I’d intended. “It’s refreshing.”

Tank’s grin transformed his entire face. “High praise.”

I searched for the right words. “I try to anticipate potential problems and then avoid them.”

He raised a brow. “Problems?”

“Yes.”

“And how’s that working out?”

The gentle teasing in Tank’s voice made me smile despite myself. “Apparently not as well as I thought.”

Our food arrived—thankfully. Like the night before, Tank had ordered steak while I stuck with the lighter catch of the day.

“So what do we do about it?” he asked before taking a bite.

“About what?”

“The situation. The ‘something.’ The fact that we’re obviously attracted to each other and trying to pretend we’re not.”

The direct statement made my pulse quicken.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m still figuring that out.”

“Take your time. But, Dragon?” Tank’s stare held mine across the table. “You said yourself that pretending there’s nothing between us is more difficult than just acknowledging it.”

“You think so too?”

“I know so. Because I’m doing the same thing, and it’s exhausting.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Honesty. About what’s happening, about what we want, about what we can handle”—Tank took another sip of bourbon—“and maybe stop avoiding each other.”

“Fine. I’ve been avoiding you.” The admission felt both embarrassing and liberating. “But in my defense, you’re…”

“I’m what?”

I stared, taking him in. “Distracting.”

Tank’s smile was genuine and warm. “You’re pretty distracting yourself.”

“So where does that leave us?” I asked.

“Seeing what happens when we stop making everything so complicated.”

The conversation shifted into more personal territory as we ate.

Tank told me about his family’s Sunday dinners—how his mother insisted everyone be there by two o’clock sharp, how his father told the same terrible puns week after week that somehow never stopped being funny, how his sister brought her kids who turned every meal into controlled chaos.

“My mom makes this apple pie,” Tank said, his eyes lighting up with the memory. “She’s been perfecting the recipe for thirty years. Says the secret is using three different types of apples and a pinch of cardamom, which nobody else knows about.”

I found myself smiling at the warmth in his voice. “That sounds wonderful.”

“What about you? Any family traditions?” he asked, then caught himself. “I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

The question hit an empty space I’d learned to navigate carefully.

“I don’t really have any. My father died when I was a teenager, and my mother…

” I paused, surprised by how easily the words came.

“She remarried, and I’m not that big of a fan of her new husband.

Honestly, she wasn’t the Sunday-dinner type even before that. ”

Tank’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. Losing your dad must have been difficult.”

“Thank you.” I took another sip of wine, deflecting from the sympathy I could see in his eyes. “I never really knew what I was missing until I started working with people who had big families while I was in training at the agency.”

“CIA training?” he asked.

“Yes. Operational psychology courses, mainly.”

Tank didn’t push for more classified details. Instead, he said, “My family would adopt you in about five minutes if they met you.”

The casual comment sent an unexpected warmth through my chest. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely. My mom’s weakness is competent women who don’t take any nonsense. She’d probably try to feed you until you couldn’t move, then start planning Christmas presents.”

The image he painted was both appealing and terrifying. “I wouldn’t know how to fit into something like that.”

“You wouldn’t have to fit in. You’d just be you.”

The conversation continued as we finished our meals, but eventually, the evening wound down. By the time we headed upstairs, the shift from earlier was a distant memory and the walls I built so carefully had developed cracks.

“Thank you,” I said when we stopped outside our rooms. “For dinner, for the conversation.”

“Thank you for not leaving when you saw me in the bar.”

“I don’t leave when I see you.”

He raised a brow and grinned.

“Okay. Maybe I strategically relocate. I’ll work on it.”

“Only if you want to. No pressure.”

His stare held mine for a moment that I didn’t want to end. This close, I could see the flecks of gold in his gaze, the stubble along his jawline, and the way he seemed to be weighing whether to say more.

I felt myself leaning closer, wishing he would do the same and maybe even kiss me.

Instead, he took a step away. “Good night, Dragon.”

“Good night, Tank.”

When my door closed behind me, I leaned against it. The combination of alcohol, too much food, and too much honesty left me dizzy. Tomorrow, we’d return to Canada Lake to brief Admiral and Alice on what we’d found.

But tonight, I found myself thinking less about the investigation and more about the moment outside my door—and what might have happened if neither of us had stepped back.