deciphered the code, and inadvertently activated a self-destruct sequence, which started a data wipe.
I cringe through this part because she’s incapable of jumping to the end, where the important stuff waits. We have to endure a lengthy monologue on technical stuff I barely follow. Scratch that. It’s all Greek to me.
Forest seems to have no problem keeping up, but he’s a goddam genius. Sam, CJ, and Max mostly follow, but I see confusion knitting their brows here and there during Mitzy’s long spiel. I wade through her briefing and follow as best I can.
“It’s not much, but we have a lead.” Mitzy’s eyes brighten, and I swear she gives a little bounce. “I found their main server before the data wipe destroyed everything on the phone.”
“How does that help?” I’m the first to jump in with a question.
“It helps us…” Forest kicks off from the wall and moves to the front of the room. “It helps because we can insert a buyer.”
“A buyer?”
“Two actually. One to draw their fire and the other to infiltrate their ranks.”
“How the hell do you do that?”
“I know a guy.”
A guy? Of course, Forest knows a guy. Some random person whom he can insert into a billion-dollar industry that trades in human lives.
“You said two.”
Max drums his fingers on the table. “He wants to send a Guardian.”
“One of us?” Can’t help it, my jaw drops. “Who?”
Max lifts his hand, and with a flourish, spins his finger until it points back at him.
“You?”
“Evidently.” Max doesn’t sound happy about his role.
“As the mole or the target?”
Max cants his head and gives CJ a long, hard look. “As the fucking target.”
“How’s that going to work?” I can’t help it. This sounds like a shit plan. “Don’t you think they’ll see you coming a mile away?”
“We have to assume they do,” Sam speaks for the first time. “We’re drafting a backstory for Max right now.”
“A back story? Like how does a Guardian jump fence to buy his own sex slave? That’s a pretty big leap. How the hell are you going to pull it off?”
“That’s why we’re here today,” Max says with a grumble. “Trying to figure out how, or why, I’d give all this up.”
“It’s a shit plan.”
“Why’s that?” Sam leans in and fixes me with a heavy stare.
“Because Max has good guy written all over him. No way will they believe he isn’t a plant.”
“That would be the me-being-the-target bit of it.” Max swivels in his chair. He interlaces his fingers and places them behind his head. Leaning way back, Max stares at the ceiling. From the expression on his face, he’s thinking through the problem.
“Look, I get the concept, but it has to have some shred of believability. And with that crowd…” I shift my attention to Max. “Are you prepared to do what might be asked of you to prove yourself?”
His lips press together and he averts his gaze. I totally get it. Chances are pretty damn high he’ll be forced to cross a line none of us would ever cross.
“Does this seem like the best time to be setting up an undercover infiltration?” I ask.
“Why?” CJ turns his attention to me.
“Bravo team is down two men. Alpha team is down one with me out. Charlie and Delta are good. If you take Max out of the picture, Alpha is down two. That’s half your teams not at full strength.” I glance around the table, but they’re all aware of the facts. I’m not presenting anything new.
“We’re aware of the issues.” Sam leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. “Griff’s got a point. To do this right, we need a lead of at least eight weeks; longer would be better. What are the projections on Bravo team? Do we have an idea when they’ll be functional?”
“Several months,” CJ replies.
“Doesn’t it make more sense to pull one of them?” Max is one tough son-of-a-bitch, but I know him. He won’t be able to cross that line. We need someone else.
“That’s what we’re trying to sort out now.” CJ taps the face of his watch, no doubt sending a text.
“There’s always the other option,” Mitzy chimes in.
The temperature in the room drops with her comment. I glance around, not knowing what that option might be, but acutely aware of the reactions around me.
Sam doesn’t like it. His spine went ramrod straight, and his lips pull apart, baring his teeth as he grimaces.
CJ’s less dramatic. He draws a circle on the table, too intent on pushing