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Chapter Thirty-Five

Taz

The FBI Cyber Operations Center was a controlled chaos of voices, screens, and relentless keystrokes. Rows of analysts sat at their stations in front of multiple monitors that reflected scrolling data streams, live intelligence feeds, and government databases. Every few seconds, yet another alert would pop up as new media coverage dropped, more official responses from government agencies were released, or new movement on CIA accounts got flagged. The air reeked of burnt coffee and stress sweat. Somewhere in the background, a vending machine gave a metallic banshee shriek of protest. And for some stupid reason, someone who claimed to have a brain decided Taz should be in charge of it all. They were evidently a fucking moron.

Taz’ station had six monitors stacked in an arc around him. His fingers flew over the closest keyboard as he routed an encrypted data packet through multiple firewalls. The overwhelming flood of information streamed over the screens without pause. The headset he wore was slightly askew, mostly because he couldn't stop tugging at it. Irritation spiked every single time it slipped. He hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten. He didn't give a flying fuck. There was work to do and the only thing that mattered was not fucking this up. No pressure, right?

Forcing himself to focus, Taz shifted between windows as he tracked the internal response from the CIA in real-time. They were running scared and he took a certain amount of sick pleasure from it. The panic had their systems scrambling and their internal comms locked. Fraying, really. Elias’ press conference had hit with the force of a sledgehammer, shattering the carefully constructed walls of their secret fuckery. Now, it was the Bureau’s job to fully mobilize. He had people cross-referencing names, verifying evidence, setting up task forces to bring in the traitors before they could scatter like cockroaches after the light switched on.

“Somebody needs to pull their head out of their ass long enough to talk to me! Where are we on the warrants?” Taz’ voice was sharper than he intended but he was beyond the point of finding a single fuck to give about their feelings.

Agent Ramirez, one of the more senior analysts, shot him a dirty look. “We’re working on it, but the DOJ is dragging their feet. They’re getting pressure from above.”

“I care about this much.” Taz held up a hand with his index finger and thumb squished together. He ruffled his already messy hair and once again straightened his headset. “Tell them to grow a pair of balls! We have enough probable cause to drown the entire DA’s office. Half the country just watched Elias drop the mother of all truth bombs. If we wait too long, every rat on that list will vanish.”

“We’re prioritizing confirmed assets first, Agent Wilkes. Cross-referencing locations, tracking financial movements, checking for anyone trying to flee the country.” The agent had a name. Taz just didn't care what it was. He was already twitchy over being called Agent Wilkes.

“AKA doing your job. Good. Great. Did you want a gold star, ‘cause I'm fresh out. Talk to me when a name pings at an airport security checkpoint. I want agents there to intercept.” Taz clicked through a few more windows as he called over the bedlam. The data was overwhelming, even for him, but he couldn't afford to hesitate. His stomach twisted with a hollow, gnawing sensation. He didn't deserve to be here. He didn't deserve this seat at the head of the table. Todd’s dying declarations of his ineptitude taunted his thoughts, even as he actively worked to drown them out. He wasn't a real agent. Not like Luke or any of the other agents out in the field. Hell, he wasn't even a real agent like the rest of the men and women sitting here in their temperature-controlled office with the hum of computers and fluorescent lights buzzing all around them.

Luke was out there, in danger, probably crawling around in some dirty back alley to track down a traitor who had nothing left to lose. The thought made his skin itch and his hands shake as he typed. He was useless out there, and he was useless in here. You're a PTSD-ridden waste of a position—

No. No, he had a job to do. He swallowed down the rising bile with a sharp huff, shoving the fear back down where it belonged as he turned his attention back to another flagged alert.

Internal CIA Network Compromised – Attempted Data Purge Detected.

“Son of a sick fucking bitch!” Taz’ pulse kicked up another notch as his hands darted over the keyboard. “Rise and shine, people! They're trying to erase their tracks!”

Collins, a younger analyst seated two desks to his right, grew pale as she scanned her screen. “I'm seeing mass deletions on CIA mainframes. They're wiping entire servers!”

“Yeah, no. Not on my fucking watch.” Taz cracked his neck, yet again straightened his headset, and began running countermeasures. He activated the mirror backups they had installed as a precaution against this very thing. The fuckers at the CIA clearly realized how deep the shit they had stepped in went and were now scrambling like maggots to cover their asses. Too late.

“Ramirez, get Cyber Forensics on the line!” Taz snapped his fingers for good measure. “I want full restoration on everything they delete and I want names of whoever authorized this purge. Gimme their spouses names, children's names, get me the names of the poor unfortunate souls who make these people their coffee. I want it all and I want it five fucking minutes ago!”

Ramirez scowled and snorted. “Already on it.”

Taz’ teeth ground as he watched the attempted purge in real time, slamming a hack-job firewall bypass into place to isolate the damage. It wasn't a pretty patch. Theo would laugh his ass off about the shit scripting. But it was an effective patch. Taz had grown up cutting his teeth on the ones and zeros of this world. He saw the patterns instantly. His patch might not be the prettiest, but their attempts to erase their digital footprints were outright laughable for how goddamn sloppy they were. He would have laughed if his gut weren't so twisted with fear. They knew they were caught, and that made them dangerous. Desperate and deadly.

His phone buzzed on the desk. As if reading his paranoid thoughts, Luke had sent a message.

Daddy: Still in one piece. Stop worrying.

Taz clenched his jaw and snatched the phone to hammer out a reply.

Taz: Asshole. Like that’s supposed to make me feel better. Get to work.

He paused for a moment, taking a second to breathe, before typing out a second message.

Taz: Be careful. I love you.

He tossed the phone aside as another analyst called out. “Taz, we’ve got an active ping on one of our priority suspects! Isaac Roberts, CIA Counterintelligence. He just requested a flight clearance to Argentina. Private jet, wheels up in two hours!”

Taz snorted under his breath. Fucking amateur hour, requesting flight clearance. “Flag it and get Homeland Security on the line. I want someone on this man’s ass before he even sets eyes on the airport!”

“We don't have a warrant yet—”

“I do not give a single flying fuck how you stall him, but that man is not getting on that plane! Call Metro if you have to! Tell them to pull him over for a bum taillight. Tell them to smash the fucking taillights and then pull him over for a fix-it ticket! Someone here has a brain. Fucking share it if you have to, but stop that fucker before he hits the tarmac!”

There was a very awkward beat of silence before a brave agent murmured, “On it.”

Taz inhaled and tried to call the restless, writhing, seething anxiety in his chest. This was working. It had to work. They were stopping the rot in real time, but it didn't feel like enough. He didn't feel like enough. He slammed his palms against the desk and shot to his feet, his voice bellowing across the room.

“Listen up, fucknuts! We’ve got one shot at this. If we miss even one of these bastards, they’ll slip into the shadows and we will not get a second chance. No mistakes. No hesitation. If you get a lead, you fucking act on it! No hand holding, no bureaucratic bullshit, no hemming and hawing. You act, understand?”

A faint chorus of affirmatives trickled around the room before Taz exhaled and dropped back into his chair. His fingers hovered over the keyboard but his mind wasn't on the screen. It was out there, with Luke. For just a moment, his thoughts drifted to the real fight. To the men and women with their boots on the ground and their guns in their hands. He had to do everything he could to keep them safe, even as he grappled with doubt over whether or not he was the right man for the job. He couldn't let the doubt win. Not when it would result in even more blood on his hands. He lowered his trembling fingertips to the keys on the keyboard and dove back into the shadowy world of the web. There, at least, he could do something.