Page 39

Stella

Siren Song, Maine

B ack at Cliffside House, Ren went to work on the utilities.

Stella enjoyed the competency porn as he changed the fuses and got the hot water working.

Ren performed each job with the intelligence of a scientist and the agility of an athlete—she was hypnotized.

When the groceries were unpacked and put away, Ren and Stella sat in the dining room.

Newton spun in a circle and settled at Ren’s feet.

Ren laced his fingers on the table. “We need to do a threat assessment.”

Stella stood and circled the room. “I’ve worked for Hyperion since I was a teenager.”

“I know the rumors. Define the organization.”

“There’s a governing body of eleven people. I don’t know who they are except for my immediate superior.”

When Ren looked at her expectantly, Stella said, “I can’t tell you his name.”

“Stella, you’re a target. All bets are off.”

Stella returned to her seat. “Fine. My handler’s name is Theo Stritch.

A few months ago, I was in a briefing at the White House.

The meeting was an information share with other security agencies.

Hyperion’s role is in the shadows—gathering information, identifying an issue, or removing a threat in service to the NSA, Homeland, and other groups. ”

“That way, Hyperion can remain secret,” Ren said.

“Yes, it also gives us access to unlimited resources because the other agencies know they will get the credit for our work. The White House briefing was ten or so people, all in high-level government positions.”

“All right.”

“I was called in to give an update on my surveillance of the scientists involved in Project Bloodhound. Someone is accessing the research and selling it to the highest bidder. Your well-intentioned idea has a lot of less-than-humanitarian uses than search and rescue.”

Ren agreed. “The initial breakthrough opened a Pandora’s Box. If we can remotely identify a human with DNA capture, bad actors could find assassination targets; extremist groups could catalog enemies and even discover undercover infiltrators.”

“Exactly. We’ve been operating on the theory that the mole is a researcher. Very few of the scientists working on the project are financially independent. Any one of them might betray their country for a hefty sum.”

“Something changed your thinking.”

“I altered the parameters on the algorithm tracking access to the research.”

“How so?”

“I had the model include tracking printers as well as machines. I discovered that on at least one occasion when someone had legitimately accessed and printed documents related to Project Bloodhound, a second job was sent to a different printer.”

Ren nodded his understanding. “So our spy was piggybacking on scientists with legitimate access, then ordering a duplicate print job.”

“A security scan would miss it. People hit Command P multiple times frequently. Easy enough to chalk up to user error,” Stella added. “So I floated the theory that the mole was someone in National Security.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s mainly a hunch, but little things don’t sit right about the research thefts—timelines, locations of live drops.

There’s even the fact that all transfers of stolen data have been no-tech—all person-to-person handoffs.

It’s more dangerous in terms of logistics, but it eliminates electronic footprints. ”

Ren nodded. “Pretty sophisticated for a sheltered scientist.”

“Exactly.” Stella agreed. “We’ve come full circle; we’re back to meeting on park benches and passing off physical copies.”

“How did the briefing room react to your theory?”

“Nothing overtly suspicious. The NSA representative asked if I had proof, which I don’t. No one dismissed it outright, but everyone agreed I should finish surveilling the people directly involved with Project Bloodhound before we change direction.”

“You said nothing overtly suspicious. Anything covertly suspicious.”

“Besides the fact that someone’s trying to kill me?”

“I can think of any number of reasons someone might be trying to kill you. I imagine it’s in your job description.”

Stella deflated a little at the callousness of Ren’s comment. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Sorry. That was over the line.”

Stella shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

Ren leaned closer. “But you think the spy could be someone in that briefing.”

“I think whatever or whoever was in that video Casper Capelli took, combined with my suspicions about an inside man, have made me a target.”

“I agree.”

“But it’s all speculation,” she said.

“Not entirely. Milton is dead.”

“And Casper Capelli, too.”

Ren leaned back and crossed an ankle over his knee. “You mentioned Capelli’s murder in Vegas. Who was he?”

“He was a big deal back in his day. Did a lot of work for NASA and then in the administration in the eighties and nineties.” At Ren’s blank expression, she added, “He was a friend of Milton Abernathy.”

Ren stood and paced. “So your working theory is that this Casper guy stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to see.”

“Yes. I’m guessing a live drop in a public place. He recognized someone.”

“The Ostrich.”

“Tell me about that again?” she asked.

“The text Milton sent me by mistake mentions something about an ostrich.”

“What did it say, exactly?”

Ren scrolled to the thread and showed Stella the text.

Milton: Casper, I just got the flash drive you sent. So sorry. It was delivered to the wrong address. That looks like The ostrich in the video. Can you call to explain? I’d love to catch up—it’s been ages.

“Know anyone who goes by ‘The Ostrich?’” he asked.

Stella stared at Dr. Abernathy’s words, a pit forming in her stomach. Her special gift was spotting patterns and breaking codes. Milton hadn’t meant to text “The ostrich.” He had mistyped, and autocorrect had changed it. A name had been altered to “The ostrich.”

Theo Stritch.

Stella kept silent despite the logic of the words.

It couldn’t be Theo. The man had been like a father to her, and she wasn’t going to implicate him based on a possible typo.

It was a heavy accusation to make without proof.

Stella decided to go back through her notes and check specifically for printer duplications that corresponded to Theo’s whereabouts.

She’d never accuse him without seeing Casper’s video or coming up with corroborating evidence.

She answered Ren’s question truthfully. “No.” She didn’t know anyone with that nickname.

“ Milton called me—well, he called Sofria Kirk—and said he wanted to show me a video he received concerning Project Bloodhound,” Stella stood and retrieved a bottled water from the fridge.

Leaning against the entry between the two rooms, she added, “Casper Capelli was killed in a staged mugging shortly after sharing that information with Abernathy.”

“Then Milton dies from a heart attack.”

Stella returned to her seat. “One coincidence is too many. At first glance, the two deaths are unrelated and most likely committed by two different killers. Capelli’s was a professional hit. One expert stab wound with a military knife.”

“Milton was poisoned and a sloppy job at that.”

Stella agreed, “You noticed the freshly washed second coffee cup?”

“Yes, and, in fifteen years, I have never known Milton to go into his living room alone. He knew his killer and invited them in for coffee.”

Ren drummed the tips of his fingers together. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You floated the idea that the research theft on Project Bloodhound was an inside job. The only people who knew your suspicions were in that White House briefing?”

“Correct.”

“Then you openly investigated Capelli’s and Abernathy’s deaths.”

Stella cut him off. “And you were in contact with Abernathy, poked your nose into Hyperion, and unapologetically blew my cover.”

“Also correct.” He smirked.

“We’re both on a burn list, Ren. We have to split up. We’re making their job easy by staying together.”

“I disagree. Together, we can watch each other’s backs. Together, we can outsmart an opponent.”

Stella shook her head and sat across the table. “Those aren’t good enough reasons.”

Ren stood, walked over to where Stella sat, and caged her with his hands on the chair armrests. “Are you familiar with Newtonian physics?”

At the mention of his name, the dog popped his head up.

Ren was so close she could feel his breath on her lips. Stella swallowed and shook her head. “You know I’m not.”

Ren continued, “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” He bent his head to her ear and bit the lobe, hard. Shivers ran down her spine. “You run. I chase.”

He stood to his full height, forcing Stella to tip her head back to see his face. With a feather-light touch, he ran his fingers along her jawline. “How’s that for a reason?”

Then he walked out of the room, leaving Stella in stunned silence.