Page 24

She frowned and flicked through additional pages, running her finger along the report as she scanned it.

Her lips parted and she turned back to the satellite image, before turning back to another page.

She leaned forward and placed her glass on the side table before spreading the pages out across the coffee table.

He straightened, watching as her eyes darted from one page to another. She worried her bottom lip, sliding her finger over several pages. Finally, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“What is it?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing on her face.

She held up her index finger. The sound of the phone ringing, then a sleepy voice answering sent a wave of impatience through him. She glanced up at him.

“Hey, Kev. This is Juliette Natnel. I need to pick your brain,” she said.

“Juliette? Hey. What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Kev mumbled.

“Yes, everything is fine. I’m sorry to wake you. Where are you?”

Kev grunted. “What? No, it’s okay. I’m in England for a few days for some meetings. What do you need?”

“Oh, sorry. I wouldn’t have bothered you if I had known. I just had a question that I thought you might know the answer to off the top of your head considering it’s your field of specialty,” she said.

“It’s all good. I needed to get up, anyway. I like to go for a run before the streets get too crowded. What’s your question?” Kev responded.

“I heard through the grapevine Dutchcorp was in trouble, then suddenly they aren’t. Is that true?” she asked.

Kev muttered an oath, and she could hear him sitting up. He must have covered the speaker because his voice was muffled as he spoke to someone. A second later, he spoke.

“Hold on a sec.”

She waited while it sounded like he shuffled into another room. It was obvious he had found some distraction to help relieve the boredom of his meeting. The click of a door came through the phone before what sounded like the lid of the loo being lowered.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice hushed.

“Who’s backing them?” she asked.

“Jeez, Juliette. How do you find this shit out? I don’t know what is worse, that you know or the fact that you want information on it. No one is supposed to know,” Kev muttered.

“Never mind how I know or why, Kev. Who is financing them?”

Kev signed. “This shit could get me killed if it gets out,” he warned.

“I know. I hate to put you in this spot, but it’s a matter of life or death,” she replied.

“I don’t want to know any more. The less you tell me, the safer it is for both of us—I hope.

Fortunately for you, I haven’t been given orders—yet—not to disclose what I’m about to tell you.

About a year ago, Aaron Ball, the founder and CEO of Dutchcorp, was caught doing some illegal shit to support his spaceflight hobby.

It didn’t help having a couple of major rocket explosions and getting caught with his pants down with someone other than his wife.

It looked like he was about to go under when suddenly, Dutchcorp gets this new influx of money and some sweet contracts from multiple governments to send some satellites up into space. ”

She sighed in frustration. “I know about all that. I want to know who is funding him.”

Kev released a sardonic chuckle and huffed out a breath.

“You and a few governments around the world. You see, the governments who signed the sweet contracts aren’t ones that normally send up satellites, especially advanced military and surveillance grade ones that came with technology from top secret USNA technology sites. ”

“I need a name, Kev,” she said.

There was a pause before he answered, “I came across one today. I’m not sure who he is or if he’s involved.

I’m still investigating, but if anyone can find out more information it is you.

Take a look at a shifter named Eric Singleton.

He was a General—ex. It could be a dead end, but it might be worth doing a little digging. ”

“Thank you.”

“Listen, Juliette, I’m just scratching the surface of this shit, but this guy is scary as hell. I don’t know what you are looking for, but be careful.”

“I will. I’ll share what I can. Be careful, bro,” she murmured.

“Love you, sis,” Kev said.

Juliette hung up and looked up at him. Talon lifted an eyebrow. He had caught a little of the conversation.

“Does the name General Eric Singleton mean anything to you?” she asked.

Talon frowned and nodded. “Yes. What makes you think that he is involved?”

She tapped three pages. “The specs for the satellite are almost identical to the SBSI one. The differences are in the report code here.” She pointed to a series of numbers below the satellite image.

“The middle digits identify it as a Dutchcorp satellite, and this—” She pointed to two other pages.

There was a series of code on them. “Find a coder named BMC82 and we’ll know where they got their source code. ”

He walked over and sat down beside her, then picked up the paper. The answer had been staring him in the face the entire time. BMC82… Byron Michael Crayman, best shifter in the national football league. His jersey number was 82. His eyes flickered to his list.

“You’re brilliant, Juliette,” he murmured.