“That wasn’t part of the question,” she reminded him tensely. “I answered you honestly.”
“But not fully.” He shrugged. “I don’t want half-truths.” His attention went back to the television show.
“The information was on the first Leo,” she answered. “He’s been searching for him for decades and still has no clue where to look. The information he lost out on, to an unknown source, was supposed to be that location. Now will you please change the f**king channel?” she yelled back at him.
The channel flipped. CNN blazed back at her with glorious color. Monday, September 5, 2023, and it was ten a.m. A time, a date. A quick calculation told her she had been there four days. She moved back into her chair, her attention focused on the television and the world events she’d been missing out on.
She was a CNN junkie; she couldn’t help it. She could watch the world news and sometimes predict what her father would put into place.
“Father will send a team into Colombia,” she murmured as the reporter announced a story concerning terrorist activity in Bogotá. “He likes the South American factions the best. They’re easier to control than those in the Middle East.”
Tanner sat up slowly.
“What makes you think that?”
“The name of the group the reporter gave,” she replied. “The leader of that group has been in contact with Cyrus several times. Each time they make the news, Cyrus sends a team down with cash and training support. The leader kisses his ass and makes him feel like a father figure. He likes that.”
“Who would he send?”
Scheme’s lips twitched. “He would have sent Chaz. Now that he’s dead, I would guess he’ll send Dog. Dog is his top Coyote Breed. Very cold-blooded, with an excellent record of success in his missions.”
“Dog has failed every mission against the Breeds,” Tanner growled.
“Did he?” Scheme asked archly. “Or did he gather information the Council needed concerning Sanctuary’s defenses and their teams’ security protocols? You would do well to begin creating shifts in how you defend the base as well as how your teams call in for support or to report in. It won’t be long before the Council programmers crack your security codes if you keep using the same ones. The spy he has within Sanctuary has already managed to help crack several key points to the code.”
He leaned back in the couch and watched her as she continued to track the news.
“And you’re telling me this why?” he asked.
“Because I want another half hour.” She watched the next report intently. “Take that senator, for example.” She nodded to the screen. “Father has been courting him for years; he’s certain to have enough information against him soon to begin blackmailing him in any vote concerning the Breeds that comes up in the Senate. That particular senator has a daughter who isn’t always as careful as she could be. Father will have what he needs within the year, I expect.”
“That information has already come through the Bureau,” Tanner informed her.
She shot him what she hoped was a surprised look.
“Someone is on the ball then.”
“So it would appear,” he muttered thoughtfully.
Scheme ignored him. As the news stories flashed across the screen, she settled back and watched intently. She knew of several missions her father was putting together to go into the Middle East and help heat up yet another conflict there. The more politicians were concerned with the terrorists reaching out from the desert states, the less focus they put on racial issues flaring up at home. Specifically, the Breed issues.
As world news shifted from overseas to the States, the story of the general’s missing daughter flashed across the screen.
Scheme tensed as her father’s expression, lined with supposed grief, filled the screen.
“Whatever Scheme has done, she doesn’t deserve to die,” he was saying in response to the reporter’s claim that she might have been kidnapped in retaliation for the attack against the Breed base, Sanctuary, several months before. “If she’s used my contacts and my resources to inflict more pain on the Breeds, then it should be dealt with through the proper channels. Justice will not be served by hurting her or, God forbid, killing her.”
Her lip curled as the screen blackened.
Her gaze swung to Tanner and the remote he was lowering to the couch beside him.
“Turn it back on,” she snapped. “I want to hear it.”
“Your half hour is over. Actually, it turned into close to forty minutes. You owe me for the extra time.”
“Like hell. Turn it back on.”
The lying bastard. She knew her father was a monster; she had known it for years, for most of her life, but she had never realized what a consummate actor he truly was.