Office of Terrorism and Financial Intelligence.
“I’m going to grab a shower.” He went over to the galley kitchen and set the bag from Franklin’s on the counter. “I brought back barbecue for dinner tonight. It’s a lot, so help yourself.”
“I was told if I do not show up to dinner tonight that I shouldn’t bother showing up at all,” Quentin said as he closed his laptop and slipped it into a leather messenger bag. “Which means I’m having dinner with my wife. But thanks for the offer.” He gathered the papers that were scattered around the sofa, stuffed them in with the computer, and stood. “I’ll see you on Wednesday at the earliest. Good luck getting into that database at Trendsetters.”
Daniel nodded toward him. “You too. Whatever’s going down in San Antonio, be sure to watch your back.”
“I always do.” Quentin gave him a casual salute, hoisting the bag strap onto his shoulder as he left the apartment. He had his own key, even though he used the space here only sparingly as he worked on the Department of Homeland Security’s aspect of the case.
Daniel stepped into the apartment’s compact bathroom for a quick shower. He pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and a Phillies T-shirt, then twisted open a bottled water and took it into the second bedroom—Quentin’s room, if, on the off-chance, anyone asked. Unlikely, since the only people who’d ever stepped foot inside this apartment were himself, Quentin, and a Grubhub driver who had gone the extra mile by delivering the Thai he’d ordered a few nights ago to the little two-person table shoved against the wall in the living room.
The second bedroom served as command central. They’d managed to squeeze two L-shaped desks into the eight-by-ten-foot space, along with a separate folding table, a filing cabinet, and a portable air-conditioning unit that ran twenty-four/seven to cool the computer equipment. Four twenty-seven-inch monitors rimmed the rear periphery of the desks. A fifth stood off to the side, its connection perpetually linked with a monitor fifteen hundred miles away, in a large room in a nondescript building in Vienna, Virginia.
Daniel sat and rolled his chair to the third monitor. He logged into his encrypted email—the one he wasn’t allowed to check on his cell phone, even though that was encrypted too. Some things were too sensitive to take chances with.
When it came to the US government’s handling of nefarious activity, people typically thought of the FBI and CIA. Few knew the US Treasury Department was the only government agency with its own in-house intelligence division. The extremely capable men and women out of Quantico and Langley were damn good at what they did, but when it came to financial crimes—especially those related to terrorist activity—there was no farming it out.
Daniel had just completed his second full year with the Office of Terrorism and Financial Intelligence’s Financial Crimes Enforcement Network—FinCEN to those who worked there. With a vote of confidence he’d damn well earned from his superior, Lowell Dwyer, he’d been assigned to work on a joint task force with DHS in Austin.
Agents within FinCEN’s Intelligence and Enforcement divisions had detected activity that led them to believe a hotel chain based out of San Antonio, with properties across the Caribbean and Central America, was using software developed by Trendsetters IT Solutions to launder money. After further digging and bringing in Homeland Security, the two agencies determined that Hughes Hospitality wouldn’t be able to execute that level of concealment on their own. There had to be someone inside Trendsetters helping them out. Daniel was tasked with uncovering the connection between his new tech employer and the hotel conglomerate.
He’d thought the hardest part would be getting hired on by the firm. Their turnover and attrition rates were practically nil due to the attractive salaries and outrageous perks Trendsetters offered their employees. Once he’d jumped over that hurdle, Daniel had assumed the complexity of the assignment would be on par with the others he’d completed since joining FinCEN.
It wasn’t.
The tech company had a security outfit unlike any he’d seen, and in this first week he hadn’t gotten close to infiltrating it. He’d barely figured out where the damn security team was located, let alone gained access to their system.
“But I will,” Daniel murmured as he read over the emails that had come to his inbox since he last checked it. He made several notes and shot off a half-dozen replies. There seemed to be more activity than usual for this late