Page 52 of Only the Wicked

It’s the same question I asked Caroline. But there are questions I haven’t asked of her. Did anyone hire us to investigate ARGUS? Could there be ulterior motives? I know why I signed on. Given my experience, I was the ideal recruit for this project.

KOAN investigates those deemed potentially above the law due to connections. But someone is setting priorities. Did a private party hire KOAN to secretly investigate ARGUS? Is there someone out there who benefits if an investigation is opened into ARGUS?

ARGUS parses volumes of surveillance data. Five years ago the management team had a semi-public debate over whether or not the firm should be nonprofit. Rhodes MacMillan weighed in at an AI conference stating all AI firms should be nonprofit, and then he got mocked in the trades when ARGUS registered as a for-profit company. The company is private, so their financials aren’t public, but I found threads ruminating on a potential upcoming funding round.

The questions that have been nagging at me all day crystallize: Did a venture capital firm hire KOAN for due diligence on ARGUS? Does someone out there see them as a competitor? Or a potential acquisition target? I’ve been assuming we’re the good guys investigating the bad guy. My friend hired me after all. But what if we’re just corporate spies in patriotic clothing?

Back at the hotel, Rhodes and I face each other awkwardly near the valet stand. Conversation on the return hike flowed freely, punctuated with relaxed lulls, especially as we sped down the decline with me sometimes several feet in front of him. In the car, his rental, he shared his Spotify playlist and before long, zipping through the curvy roads lined with trees, I relaxed into holiday mode, thinking about nothing but the music. He beat the steering wheel like a drum, his demeanor aloof, the sky blue, the day perfect.

We went from sex to casual conversation to listening to music, lost in our own thoughts. He never reached for my hand to hold it.

Outside the vehicle, I concede that going for it back at the swimming hole may have been a strategic error. I acted impulsively, doing what I wanted, and now, I’m not sure what he’s thinking. But even as I worry about the implications, part of me realizes I acted impulsively because...I wanted to. Not because it served any operational purpose. Is that so bad? When was the last time I did something just because I wanted to?

And now, what will the repercussions be? Is he going to say, “Thank you for a great time and see ya”? I’ve done it to men in my past when I didn’t see a reason to invest time.

“I’ve been thinking about Asheville.”

Here it comes.

“Why don’t we stay here? It’s a gorgeous day, and I don’t really want to be cooped up in the car. We can hang by the pool. Tomorrow it’s supposed to be rainy, so it won’t be a great day to explore Asheville. I’ll book us some spa appointments. Maybe a couple’s massage? Or separate. Whatever you prefer.”

I blink, processing his words. I didn’t screw things up. We’re still a go.

“I’ll never turn down a massage,” I hear myself saying as I register the balled-up anxiety dissipating as relief courses through my sore limbs.

“We can come back to Asheville another time.” Then, as if he’s realizing what he’s saying, moves one shoulder forward in a weird shrug. “Or meet up there next time.”

“Sounds good to me.” I bounce on my heels, aiming to reassure him I like his plan, but the move is too energetic and cocked. “I mean, you know…”

What the fuck am I saying?

“Cool. Ah, I need to check in with the office. Want to meet up later…maybe you can swing by my villa. If the thunderstorms hit, we can Netflix and chill. They have Netflix… I can connect to my account. We can watch pretty much anything.”

Does he know what Netflix and chill is a euphemism for? I doubt it. He doesn’t come across as a pop culture kind of guy. His playlist was straight from the nineties and early two thousands.

“Sounds good. I’m gonna make some calls too, then.”

I spin past him into the lobby and he heads off to the side of the inn and the path that leads to the back of the property with the villas.

In my room, I unzip my backpack and pull out my phone, immediately smiling upon seeing his text.

* * *

Rhodes from the Highlands

Give me an hour, then swing by whenever you can.

* * *

Perfect.

Although, no, perfect would be an invitation to hang in his villa while he conducted business. But, if I go with him to D.C., that’s going to happen, right? Quinn trashed the idea of installing a program on his laptop or attempting to catch him with a phishing attempt—said his system would catch it. She’s probably right. He’s an elite programmer.

She’s doing what she can with access to his phone. Hopefully she’s been able to monitor his texts and calls remotely. The CIA has programs that can do that with only a number, but we’re not the CIA. With luck, thanks to her gizmo, she can monitor him undetected.

* * *

Rhodes from the Highlands