Page 20

REN

Beaufort, South Carolina

R en and Nathan sat at the small conference table in Nathan’s office, on hold for Angela Pickney. Twitch and Steady refilled their coffee mugs and joined them as Tox and his wife, Calliope, walked into the room.

“Gentlemen.” The CIA’s Deputy Director of Covert Operations appeared on the screen, looking pleasant and composed. “Let’s get right to it, shall we?”

Ren let Nathan do the talking despite the urge to blurt out his list of questions.

Nathan laced his fingers on the table. “Sofria Kirk.”

“I wondered when you would call about that.”

“Ren was being surveilled,” Nathan said flatly.

“Not by us.” Angela mirrored Nathan’s pose.

“This will be a short conversation, Nathan, mainly because I have very little intel to share. Sofria Kirk was put in place by POTUS. Her handler, unsurprisingly named ‘Mr. Brown,’ met with me three years ago with instructions. When she left Washington, her file and any information pertaining to Sofria Kirk were almost completely redacted.”

Ren drummed his fingers on his thigh. Sofria Kirk was an identity—that cover may be gone, but the woman was still alive. Every realization produced more questions.

“Mr. Brown only had White House credentials, but I suspect this is the work of a different group.”

“Understood. Thank you, Angela.”

The screen went dark. Steady tossed a peanut and caught it in his mouth. “Well, that was helpful.”

Nathan turned to Ren. “It’s not completely useless. The fact that the Director can’t divulge anything speaks volumes. I have a high-security clearance. If she can’t share Sofria’s status with me—”

Ren finished the sentence. “Then, she’s much more than an analyst.”

Finn walked in and sat beside Twitch. “Just got off the phone with a buddy in Amman. Sofria Kirk is not in Jordan.”

Twitch turned to Ren. “If this has nothing to do with Bishop Security, why was she targeting you?”

Nathan put two and two together. “Your drone project.”

Ren agreed, “That’s the logical assumption, but the CIA doesn’t operate on U.S. soil. What the hell is going on?”

“I think Sofria Kirk, or whoever she really is, belongs to a top-secret security agency.” Nathan laced his fingers on the table. “Are you familiar with Hyperion?”

“Not before last night.”

Ren explained the encounter he had with the pierced man. “For all I knew, he was some whacked-out conspiracy theorist.”

Calliope asked, “Did you get a name?”

“Pincushion?” Steady offered. “The guy had more metal in his face than a cyborg.”

Tox chimed in, “Oh, come on. Hyperion is an internet rumor.”

Tox’s wife, Calliope Buchanan, worked for the State Department and Interpol before joining the Bishop Security team. Leaning forward, she said, “I don’t think so. My old handler talked about Hyperion like it was real.”

Steady looked at Finn. “Anything you’d care to share?”

Finn had been a non-official cover officer with the CIA for five years.

He worked undercover, dismantling drug cartels in South America and Eastern Europe.

He gripped his scarred jaw and nodded. “It exists.” Finn glanced at Nathan, who signaled for him to continue.

“Hyperion is an autonomous group within the government. Their sole purpose is to anticipate catastrophic danger.”

Steady asked, “What does that even mean?”

Nathan stood. “Whatever they think it means. The group is top secret and independent. They might remove a powerful religious leader or eliminate a potentially dangerous political candidate.”

Tox said, “You mean in a foreign country.”

Nathan leveled him with a deadly serious look. “Anywhere.”

Twitch squeezed Finn’s hand. “That seems reckless.”

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. “From what I understand, they have added checks and balances. For one thing, the heads of all the security agencies are members.”

Ren absorbed the information in turbulent silence. He cracked his knuckles, then his neck. “Hyperion was surveilling me.”

Steady looked at Tox and mouthed, “Uh oh.”

Ren slowly stood. “Sofria Kirk, or whoever the hell that woman is, was spying on me? Recording me?”

Nathan responded calmly. “Ren, we knew nothing about this. The CIA dangled Sofria Kirk as an analyst liaison, and we took the bait.”

Ren continued, “When in reality, she was a Hyperion operator assigned to spy on me and my research for Project Bloodhound.”

Nathan agreed. “That is my assessment, yes. I don’t know if Hyperion has identified an information leak or is simply running an ongoing vetting op with the scientists involved. Still, I’m guessing all of the researchers are being monitored.”

“Excuse me a minute. I need some air.” Ren left the room.

Out on the side lawn, Ren took slow breaths and processed the information. He was an unflappable voice of reason in academic circles, social situations, and even in the SEALs.

Not this time.

He may not have been in love with Sofria Kirk, but he liked her, and, more importantly, he trusted her. Ren knew his past was triggering his rage, but he didn’t care. She had committed the ultimate betrayal. Sofria Kirk had lied, violated his privacy, shattered his trust.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna kill her.” Steady’s soothing drawl had Ren smiling despite the situation.

“I’m not going to kill her.” But Ren definitely considered it.

Steady came beside him. “Well, that’s a relief.”

Ren was too preoccupied envisioning different ways of punishing Sofria Kirk to respond.

“Buddy? Do I want to know what you’re thinking?”

Ren slapped Steady on the back, then headed for his car. “Probably not.”

Ren may be slow to anger, but now that he had arrived at that destination, all bets were off.

He knew his messed-up childhood was triggering him.

He knew his relationship with Sofria Kirk was a bust. What Ren couldn’t understand was why he couldn’t let this go.

She was gone. Good riddance. That’s what he should be thinking.

Instead, Ren found himself indulging the primal urge to hunt.

He was going to find Sofria Kirk, and he was going to teach her a lesson.