All Due Respect (13 page)

“Together is fine.”

Realizing he had forgotten to breathe, Seth hung up the phone. At least in this, he hadn’t been made a suspect.

JULIA sat in the same seat she had occupied the last time she had been in the OSI conference room. Seth sat at her left. Agent 12, across the table from them.

Seth briefed the agent on the hacker’s attempt.

Julia interceded, sweeping her hair back behind her ear. “During the search for breaches, Cracker noted that Seth had duplicated the sensor codes. He reported it immediately.”

Agent 12 tapped the end of his pen onto a blank yellow legal pad. “If Cracker duplicated the codes, he would report it to focus suspicion away from himself. If he failed to note the duplication, then he would lose his status as resident computer genius.” Agent 12 shrugged. “Means nothing.”

“Cracker couldn’t have copied the codes,” Julia said. “I ran a time check. He had no opportunity to get the codes out of the lab and pull the name badge double switch.”

Agent 12’s eyes widened. “Who did have opportunity?”

“Dempsey Morse and Marcus,” Julia said, resisting a sigh. Agent 12 knew all of this already. Seth hadn’t told her, but of course he had shared Colonel Mason’s list with the OSI. Agent 12 was pulling a credibility check on her.

“Either of them sharp on computers?”

“They both are,” Seth put in. “But Morse has full access

already. If guilty, why would he raise a red flag?”

“Same rationale as for Cracker,” Agent 12 said. “Maybe Morse wouldn’t do it, but maybe he’s attempting to divert attention or to elevate himself above suspicion.”

Again, either of them. “I don’t suppose Morse’s reaction proves anything, either,” Julia said. “But it still bothers me.”

“What did he do?” Seth adjusted his watch.

“Nothing.” Irritated with herself for speaking out, Julia frowned. “I just sensed he wasn’t surprised by the attempt or relieved it had failed. He said the right words, they just didn’t come across as sincere.”

“We can’t hang a man on that.” Agent 12 dropped his pen and rubbed his forehead from temple to temple, leaving white streaks that quickly turned red.

“No, but we can watch him.” Seth leaned forward, focusing on Agent 12. “Look, a lot of what we do in the lab comes down to gut instinct and intuition. Because that’s the way we work so much of the time, our instincts are honed. We might not consciously recognize significance, but that doesn’t mean we should dismiss instinctive urges.”

“I haven’t suggested we dismiss anything.” Agent 12 lifted a hand. “We rely heavily on instinct, too. All I’m saying is, what we’ve got isn’t enough.”

Julia hated it, but she had to agree. Cases could be built for time-delay devices being incorporated, for high-tech transmissions that circumvented the security system. Factoring in those things, most of the staff looked guilty. Dempsey Morse’s insincere concern. Marcus’s loner attitude and frosty disposition fit the profile of one capable of treason. Linda seemed preoccupied with her husband’s absence and with trying to keep her kids in line, but that could be a cover, and Greta seemed immersed in her work and lost in another world, which could also be a false facade. Yet whenever something like a hacker attempt occurred, everyone knew it meant tighter security and more intense scrutiny. No one welcomed with open arms living in a 3-D fishbowl.

Agent 12 cleared his throat. “Considering this project has been up and running such a short time and we’ve already had two attempts to breach—one, we consider successful—I need to brief you two on a delicate complication. It’s classified, of course.” Matthew straightened in his chair. “For your own protection, we had hoped to keep you out of the need-to-know loop, but I think the gains on that have ceased to outweigh the losses.”

“If it pertains to this project, we should know it.” Julia spoke softly, but her tone smacked of resolve and reprimand.

“I happen to agree, Dr. Warner. Unfortunately, higher headquarters only just arrived at that same conclusion.” He stood up. “Let me grab a file,” he said, then left the room.

Julia and Seth waited in silence. Her watch ticked like the timer on a bomb, though that was impossible. It was quartz; noiseless. Yet, she could hear it.

You’re weary. Raw-nerved. That’s all.

She was. She’d put in grueling days at Grayton and had had nothing but miserable nights. Waiting for Jeff to call back. He never did. Waiting for the new phone number and Karl’s threats to stop. The new number was operational, but the threats persisted. Prison guards were just more “brothers in blue,” glad to turn a blind eye to Karl’s calls. They considered him a cop wrongfully imprisoned by his corrupt wife’s slick lawyer. Simply put, he’d conned them. Even the warden. So she was waiting for nightmares of the attack to stop waking her in the middle of the night drenched in a cold sweat. Those hadn’t stopped, either. And now Seth was a victim in them, too.

Seth saw Jeff and, of course, assured her he was all right. But she wanted—needed—to hear his voice, to know for herself, for sure.

Finally, this morning, she had given in and phoned the substitute, Olivia Hawthorne. A general inquiry had netted a positive but general response. Jeff appeared fine and clearly missed Julia. He mentioned her a dozen times a day. Waffling on sending him a message to call, Julia had de

cided against it. Ms. Hawthorne would consider that unusual enough to report, and Julia didn’t dare to risk doing anything that could result in questions being asked that she couldn’t afford to answer. Or in doing anything to arouse the wrath of Camden that would be unleashed on Jeff.

“Julia?” Seth asked from beside her. “Where do you go when you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Blank out.”

“I didn’t.” Uncomfortable because she had done exactly that and he had read her so easily, she squirmed on her seat. “I was thinking about Jeff.”

Seth reached over and patted her hand. “He’s fine, honey.”

Honey. Nice. Really nice. “I know. I’m just concerned.” As much as she hated to admit it, Seth’s show of support and empathy felt good. It was nice to have someone share your worries. Scary to want someone to share your worries, but…

“Got it.” Agent 12 came back into the briefing room and shut the door behind him.

As if caught stealing, Seth snatched back his hand. His tanned skin flushed, and heat flooded Julia’s face. They both had to look as guilty as sin.

Agent 12 stopped dead in his tracks. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Okay.” He let it slide and returned to his seat, dropping the inch-thick file on the table before him. “From all indications, we’re going to be in close contact for a while. ‘Agent 12’ is getting cumbersome, Julia. Privately, just call me ‘Matthew.’ “

He’d omitted directing Seth, addressed only her.

They already knew each other on a first-name basis. Stood to reason. Otherwise, her vouching for Seth never would have been enough to get Matthew to leave Seth’s clearances intact. Rusty skills. Otherwise, she would have

recalled that by guilty-until-proven-innocent policy, Matthew should have pulled the clearances.

A silver of resentment spiked up her spine. More games. She didn’t know which was worse. Men in general, or the military in particular. Both had proven to be ace game players.

But not pulling Seth’s clearance proved something else, too. Something important. Julia glanced at Seth and tugged her right earlobe. He tugged back.

The message received had been understood. In Matthew’s book, they were both in the clear. Ultimately responsible, yes. But not guilty of crimes.

Matthew opened the file tagged “Benedetto, A. 2 West Freedom Coalition” and passed a photo. “Intel reports have heightened our concerns about this specific-sweep attempt on the vault’s computer system.”

Julia took the picture. The man in it looked sophisticated. Mid-forties, traditional black suit and red tie, and strong facial features. A thin scar slashed across his right cheekbone. One like a child. might get going over the handlebars on his bike, trying to learn to ride “no hands,” though her instincts suggested its jagged origin had been a knife slash.

“Who is he?” Seth asked.

“Anthony Benedetto.” Matthew’s tone turned bitter. “Remember his face. I’m afraid you’re going to see a lot of him. Not literally. Just his handiwork.”

“Why?” Julia asked, committing the photo to memory.

“He’s the head of the suspected terrorist group, Two West Freedom Coalition.”

“Suspected?” Seth asked for clarification.

“Only officially,” Matthew said. “The group exists, though a lot of people, including me, would sleep better at night if it didn’t. Two West is a large organization based on a thousand-acre estate in rural Alabama. Property’s been in the Benedetto family for four generations. Locals call the mansion ‘the Palace.’ We think somewhere around two thousand members are based nearby. Maybe more. Defi

nitely more of them scattered throughout the country, and some outside it. And lots of money.”

“Drugs?” Julia speculated.

Matthew gave her a negative nod. “Benedetto made a fortune in technologies and inherited another one from his father, Philip. Philip was a political activist and the alleged previous leader of Two West. He played dirty, but he was as slick as glass. It took a lot of resources to pin anything on him that would stand up in court.”

Failing to make the connection between the Benedettos and Project Home Base, Julia asked, “Why is this terrorist group significant to us?”

Matthew’s expression turned from solemn to grim. “Because we have reason to suspect Anthony Benedetto has a mole assigned to your project.”

Seth spoke first. “Do you know who?”

“Not yet.” Matthew took back the photo from Seth. “But project specifics have been referenced inside Benedetto’s organization.”

Julia grasped her chair arm and squeezed. So someone from Intel, the CIA, or some other intelligence-gathering agency considered the threat against the United States serious enough to risk ordering an operative to infiltrate Benedetto’s organization. This was definitely bad news.

“That concerns us,” Matthew went on. “But what worries us more is that we suspect Benedetto recently gained access to the Rogue.”

“Oh, God.” It slipped out before Julia could stop herself.

Seth paled. A white line circled his mouth. “How strong are these suspicions?”

“Damn strong, but not conclusive. We haven’t confirmed with a visual, and it hasn’t been formally announced to the coalition’s council, but Rogue access is common knowledge inside Two West.”

“What the hell does he plan to do with a Rogue?”

“That, Dr. Warner,” Matthew said, “we don’t know. Which is why we’re so nervous.”

“Nervous?” Seth dragged a hand through his hair. “You should be damn terrified.”

Matthew didn’t respond, just turned his gaze to Seth and waited for him to expound.

“If Benedetto has the Rogue and Home Base’s sensor codes, he has the capability to create more havoc than you can imagine—even in your worst nightmare.”

“I can imagine it, Seth.” Matthew stared, owl-eyed. “I know the Rogue’s capability. What I don’t know is the man’s.”

“Has Intel run a personality profile on him?” Julia asked the question, not at all certain Matthew would answer. He knew the answer, but he might choose not to reveal it, or he might be under orders not to reveal it.

“He’s been profiled,” Matthew said. “He’s stable. Respected both in and outside his organization, and he has powerful friends. Unfriendly-to-the-U.S. powerful friends. Philip was street-smart. Anthony Benedetto is educated, clever, attuned, street-smart, and a little paranoid about security. In his business, I consider that paranoia a healthy asset. He’s also judiciously ruthless. So far, we’ve never known him to act violently out of anger, only out of what he deems ‘necessity paramount to the protection of my coalition.’ No one crosses his lines and lives, though his personal conduct remains above reproach, which is why we’ve failed to nail his ass to the wall.”

Tapping a finger against the tabletop, Seth grimaced. “Henchmen do his dirty work.”

Matthew nodded confirmation. “Loyalists. And he has two thousand of them who are known to us—and only God knows how many who aren’t. Every one of them stand ready, willing, and able to execute his orders without question.” Matthew hiked his brows. “His people trust him implicitly.”

Julia frowned, and spoke from experience. “That kind of trust can get you killed.”

“Sometimes it does,” Matthew agreed. “But that doesn’t slow down the other loyalists. They go to him with every

thing from domestic disputes to financing college educations and home and business loans. He treats them all equitably.”

“Superior leadership skills.” Seth grunted. “Sounds like he should run for President.”

Matthew raked his forehead with his fingertips. “I wouldn’t rule that out.”

“You’re joking.” Julia blurted out.

“Unfortunately, I’m not.” Matthew grimaced as if he had bitten into something sour. “He’s got major political connections.”

That revelation put a bitter taste in Julia’s mouth. She swallowed hard. “Anything else?”

“Two things,” Matthew said. “First, Benedetto operates under a strict code of ethics. No organizational wars ever affect the loyalists’ family members. Wives and children are revered. Untouchable.”

“A terrorist with ethics.” Julia rolled her gaze.

“Definitely,” Matthew agreed, missing her sarcasm, or choosing to ignore it. “Two West loyalists have the strongest code of honor I’ve ever seen in any group, and that includes our own military forces. They don’t fall victim to typical vices—like drugs or alcohol—they’re educated and dedicated, protect their families and each other, and they never leave the coalition.”

“A financial mafia and members for life.” Seth rubbed at his chin, assimilating. “Like a damn cult.”

“Similar,” Matthew said. “Most are born, live, and die in the coalition. But it’s more like a huge family combining assets in multiple, strategic business alliances.”

The protective-family aspect of their code, Julia appreciated, though the terrorist activities negated any genuine admiration. Instead, she feared this Anthony Benedetto. Him and his coalition. Its loyalists would fight to preserve their way of life. The protect-the-coalition organizational threads ran deep, and only death severed them. “What happens if someone breaks the honor code?”