"Awesome." Banks patted him on the shoulder. "Do you need our help to finish here?"
He shook his head. "No, we should be able to handle this. Besides, it's nice of you guys to leave some of the monsters for us to kill."
"Anytime. Let's get out of this fucking place. I need to chat to Speare about this."
Reardon gave her a thumbs-up and waited until all three were gone before he took control of the building's security when Banks transferred it to him electronically.
"I guess they did a good job," one of his men noted as they assembled around the entrance of the isolation unit. "Do you think they'll try to phase us out?"
"Nah.” He shook his head firmly and prepared to open the door again while he positioned himself and his team at a safe distance. “They only want to be able to handle emergency situations when they come up. We'll still be the point of the…fist? Or is it spear?"
"I think it's spear," one of them suggested.
"How would you be the point of a fist anyway?" another added.
"Never fucking mind. Let's kill these bastards and be done with it."
* * *
She knew things wouldn’t always go smoothly. Setting up a business had taught her that there were too many variables for something to not go wrong eventually.
But once, only once, Sophia wished there would be something that went wrong and didn't need her attention. The island was a massive project with dozens of people in positions of authority who could handle these issues. But no, everything needed to go across her desk first like they waited for her to hold their hand and help them with every fucking detail.
At least this one didn't require her to travel halfway across the goddamn world to handle in person.
"Dr. Rogers, is that correct?"
"Yes, Ms. Chavez, and may I say it's a pleasure to speak to you again."
"Yeah, save it." She took a sip of her coffee and let him feel the sting of her retort for a few long seconds. "What's the situation on the island, Doctor? And don't try to honey-coat it for me."
"It's…I think the term is sugarcoat…" He stopped talking immediately when she glared at him. "Or…it could be honey-coat too. I've heard it both ways. The point is… Well, the situation is that our security team picked up three outside operatives who had infiltrated our hiring process. They were identified as working for different governments and not together, so we turned them over to the experimental team as you stipulated."
"I already know that, obviously."
"Well, yes, of course…I mean… Well, the new update is that we now have two other researchers missing, and after searching their personal effects and examining their communications, we discovered they were secretly sharing information with a server off of the island. Security has determined that they were outside operatives as well and their disappearance means they likely found out what happened to the others and legged it."
"Legged it?"
"Ran away."
"Ah. Well, in that case, we'll have to step our plans up. Enhance the security measures and block any communication that isn't overseen directly by the security team. We're bringing the plant in from the Zoo and nothing can go wrong from this point forward. Do you understand me, Dr. Rogers?"
"Of course, ma'am."
"Oh, and make sure to keep our live specimens away from the Zoo area. We can't afford to have the organic materials mixing outside of pristine conditions."
"Understood, Ms. Chavez. Will there be anything else?"
"No, that will be all. Keep me apprised of any new developments."
She closed the connection and rubbed her temples gently. People disappearing and people spying on her made her feel like she was in a Robert Ludlum novel, and not in a good way.
Chapter Nineteen
Taylor narrowed his eyes as he fidgeted with the slice of pizza on his plate. "So what are you guys saying?"
His staff all exchanged looks that seemed a little guilty at first but immediately shifted to uneasy surprise like they had thought they would never be found out. He guessed that any regret was only because he had found out.
Vickie was the first one to speak. "Well, Desk contacted me first to tell me about the odds and ask me if I wanted to put money on you."
He nodded. "So…did you all bet on the fight, then?"
Bobby nodded. "I knew what you would do to those saps. I put you down for a second-round victory."
Elisa frowned. "I didn't know you could do that. Anyway, I simply put you down to win."
"I only had you on the win too," Tanya added. "Honestly, the odds on that were good enough that I didn't want to risk losing money because you decided you wanted to have more fun with the fuckers—or if you were done and wanted to end it early."
The other man nodded. "It was probably a good call, but I made an accurate guess as to how long Taylor would decide to give them leeway for. More importantly, I had a good idea of what the odds would say about him winning in the second round. No one bets on a win in the second round. It's usually the first or the last, but that's not the point."
Taylor nodded again and took a bite of his pizza. "So how much money did you guys win off me?"
Vickie looked around the room and served herself another couple of slices. "I…we all did well—right, guys? We all went all-in on you taking the fuckers down. Or I did, at least."
He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm glad you guys didn't tell me any of this before the fight.” It seemed prudent to not mention Desk telling him about Vickie’s bid. “Adding to the pressure right then and there would have been a terrible, terrible idea."
"Didn't you put money down on you winning too?" Tanya asked. "Isn't that what Desk's call in the middle of the fight was about?"
"I did. Well, technically, Desk put the money down on my behalf. All I did was give her the access she needed to make the bets. So I guess this is a celebration? Is that what all the pizza is for?"
Vickie raised her glass of coke. "I'll take that shit. I have never been one to go out and celebrate at a French restaurant, unlike some I might mention."
"Shut it," he retorted. "Anyway, pizza seems like a good way to bring it all together. Everyone likes pizza."
Elisa raised her hand tentatively. "Uh…I'm not a huge fan of pizza."
The hacker gasped dramatically and covered her mouth. "And here I vouched for you at every turn and helped you in every way possible, and I never knew—would never know—that you're a fucking psychopath? How can you not like pizza?"
"I never said I didn't like it, see?" The woman demonstrated by taking a mouthful of the pepperoni and mushroom before she continued. "I like it fine. It's merely not my favorite food and not the kind I would choose if I was on my own."
Taylor focused on her, a little startled. "Okay, but…what food would you order on your own? Like comfort food for a celebration?"
She tilted her head as she thought about it. "It usually depends on what kind of mood I'm in. Something Greek or maybe Indian if I'm in a fancy mood. If not, my go-to is Chinese and a pint of ice cream."
"Huh. I guess I can respect that."
"I merely didn’t get whatever gene makes people love pizza so much."
"It's not about adoration," Vickie interjected. "It's the perfect comfort food. It has tons of cheese, which is necessary, meats or whatever toppings your little heart desires—"
"Not any topping," Bobby interjected. "I draw the line at pineapple or anything sweet."
"I don't mind pineapple on pizza," Tanya mentioned.
It was the mechanic’s turn for a double-take, which gave Vickie time to continue with her point.
"Anyway, you get whatever toppings you want, and it's all through a hand-friendly delivery system. And it’s the kind of food you don't even need a plate and utensils to eat."
Elisa nodded. "Okay, granted, those are very good points, but it still doesn't appeal to me as much as it seems to appeal to everyone else in the world."
The hacker threw her hands up. "Like
I said. Complete and utter psychopath."
Taylor grinned and even Elisa couldn't resist a laugh before they were cut off by the sound of his phone ringing.
"I thought we were supposed to have our phones off," Vickie commented as he pulled it out. "You know, getting into the celebration together without technology."
"It was off," he protested. "Which means there's only one person who could have turned it on to call me. Hey, Desk. How's it going?"
"Put me on speakerphone," the AI demanded. "I have everyone's winnings burning a hole in my virtual pocket."
Taylor put the call on speakerphone so everyone could listen. "Wait, so everyone used you to put their bets in?"
"Of course. They would have run unnecessary risks if they had tried to put money in directly. Chief among those worries would be the fact that Marino could have tracked their betting."
"So you're graduating from being a helpful AI into becoming a bookie?"
"The comparison is interesting but incorrect, overall. Bookmakers—or bookies as they are termed—would take a cut of whatever was bet regardless of the outcome. In my case, my job is to keep my team safe and this was a way to do so as you would all have put bets in anyway. I made sure everyone made the most money possible on the wagering, all while keeping it as anonymous as possible. In a similar manner, I managed to give the secretary Marino sent to collect information on you the details that would elevate the odds as much as possible."
"I…isn't that illegal?" Tanya asked.
"Yeah," Taylor answered.
Desk appeared to not have heard what they were talking about. "All in all, I would say my working to keep a primary operative instrumental to the security of the United States from being stabbed in the back was an absolute success."
"What about Niki and her team?" Taylor asked.
"Jansen and Maxwell placed bets according to my suggestions," she answered. "Niki refused my offer, however, and stated that it would be inappropriate for her to do so while in a romantic relationship with you, despite the fact that your involvement in an unsanctioned fight would have been considered equally inappropriate."
"How would it be inappropriate?"
"Her claim was that her desire to help you would be called into question if she had money riding on it. She wanted you to know when it came out that she was there for you as you, not you as her ticket out of working."
"Huh." He grunted and took another bite of his pizza. "How much did she lose out on winning?"
"I'm not really at liberty to say."
"Desk."
"It might have been somewhere in the region of—"
"Desk!"
"She would have made three point two million dollars."
His eyebrows raised and mirrored the surprise that filled the expressions of everyone else in the room. Even Elisa uttered a low whistle.
"I'm sorry, but she gave up on winning over three million dollars to show that she cared about you?" the ex-reporter asked and took a sip of her drink. "Don't get me wrong, Taylor, you're a piece of rock-hard man-candy, but I would have asked for forgiveness instead of permission in that particular case."
"That's not how Niki is," Vickie explained. "On top of being twenty pounds of crazy badass in a five-pound bag, she's also all about making the statement and fuck the consequences. Even so… Damn, Tay-Tay, don't you think you and her could have started dating a couple of weeks later?"
He shrugged. "If she'd asked me, I would have told her to take the money. I didn't ask her to do that. Desk, would there be any way for me to cover those winnings with my own?"
"Yes."
"Then make it happen. I don't want her to look back and feel any kind of regret for any of the impulsive decisions she made for my sake."
Vickie rolled her eyes and gagged. "I can feel the love tonight, and it makes me want to puke."
"Well, you should be able to pay to have that condition treated now, Vickie," Desk explained. "You are quite a wealthy woman in your own right."
"I am?"
"All of you are. Even the one who bid the least could live in a nice place in a foreign country for fifteen years before you need to give up a cabana boy stipend."
Taylor served himself more of the meat lover's pizza. "Well, I think that means a woman made that bet."
"It sure as fuck wasn't me." Bobby chuckled. "I felt those punches when you pulled them."
"Everyone did well," Desk continued. "Even Jennie got in on the action when I asked her and made a fucking mint."
Startled, Taylor remained silent for a moment, unsure of what to do with that information, and decided to change the subject. "Well, I guess that means McFadden's Mechs doesn't have any more employees? Is everyone up and out on their own now? Starting their own businesses and shit?"
A pall of silence fell over the room as those gathered exchanged looks that told him the thought hadn't crossed their minds.
"Huh," Vickie said finally. "I hadn't even thought of that. I guess between the betting and the money from the heist, I don't need to do anything I don't want to do, at least if I invest my money well enough."
"No, you don't." He looked around the table. "None of you do anymore from the looks of things. You're all free and clear. Let me know if any of you want to leave. There won't be any hard feelings or any attempts on my part to keep you from doing anything you'd like to do with your lives if you're ready to move on. It’s food for thought."
He piled a couple more slices of pizza on his plate and retrieved one of the bottles of soda. It seemed like it was his cue to leave since he didn't want any of them to feel uncomfortable when discussing their options which they would be if he was around. None of them said a word as he retreated to his room and left them the opportunity to talk about anything they wanted to.
* * *
She wasn't the kind of person to eavesdrop on people having random conversations. Niki did like to people watch, but it was never an excuse to listen in on what was happening in other people's lives.
But stuck in a small coffee shop in DC while she waited for Speare to make time to meet her, there was little else to do. She didn't want to obsess over all the work she had been doing or the different thoughts going through her mind. Right now, she needed a moment of personal silence and these people intruded on it. Instead of getting pissed over it, she simply listened in.
Two young women—successful from the looks of their expensive clothes—were having coffee, probably a pre-arranged date between friends who wanted to talk about their lives without needing to worry about anything else. She could relate.
"I don't know what he's trying to do," the brunette with short hair said. "But I need to know if he's serious. I need to know if he'll be there for me when I need him. Is that so fucking crazy?"
"It's not crazy at all," her companion with long, curly blonde hair bound in a loose ponytail said. "You need to think about what you want too."
Niki couldn't help but agree that it was at least important to not forget one's own needs in a relationship.
"When it comes down to it, he knows me and the work I've put into our relationship. If he'll simply drop everything and move to London when he knows my life, my job, and all my friends are here, I feel we need to have a very serious talk about what kind of future he sees for us."
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
"And in the end, there are a hundred other guys who can give me what he can't, so why should I wait for something I know has no future? There's a fast-track up the ladder if you know what I mean, and it's not in fucking London."
"Right?" The blonde took a moment to sip her coffee before she continued. "I've been going out with Randall for the past…I think three months now, and he's one of those dude-bros, you know? The kind who likes spending his weekends at a…I don't know, a pizza joint, or one of those places that serve all-you-can-eat hot wings and show sports on fifty different screens. But I pulled him in by the ear and I told him that if he wants to get with this”—she pointed to herself—�
�he has to know that I won’t come easy. He needs to show that he's worth it and since then, we've gone to nice places every week and sometimes twice a week, and he's arrived and given me flowers. I know I shouldn't know this, but he's even bought jewelry for our four-month anniversary celebration."
"I think it's only an anniversary once every year."
"Who cares?"
Niki tuned the conversation out as they began to discuss whether or not it was acceptable to call anything other than a yearly celebration an anniversary. She didn't need to hear more. Taylor was something like the dude-bros, and he had never tried to hide who or what he was from her. And she had no intention to try to get him to change who he was simply because it made her feel better. He had his flaws—and she did too—but it wasn’t appropriate to demand something else that way.
It made her feel a little sick. She wouldn't have stood for any man demanding that from her, so why would she try to get it from someone else? It didn't feel right. She wouldn’t fall for some romantic sap wearing a McFadden suit, after all.
Her phone buzzed and Niki pushed quickly to her feet and left cash to pay for her bill as well as a generous tip before she headed outside.
Her bodyguards were there and had both ordered coffees—Maxwell had requested a sandwich besides—and they enjoyed the cooler air of the capital while they looked at their phones once their coffees and food were finished.
"It's time to have a chat with Mr. Speare," she announced and they stood as well and followed her to the SUV.
Chapter Twenty
As much as she liked working for the DOD, there were a few elements of it she never looked forward to. One of those was the sheer amount of security checks she had come to expect every time she had to step into the Pentagon. It didn't happen often enough for it to be a real problem, but it was the kind of nuisance she dreaded every time she needed to enter the building to report to her direct superior.
Monster In Me: Cryptid Assassin™ Book Eight Page 16
