Where was Hla Meh? A hand pressed Thet Ye toward the jungle. Teacher Rocha. He obeyed. He’d have to find his friend once the whole class was safe.
Once they were clear of the smoke, deep in the trees, the troop stopped, breathing hard and coughing. Black smudges masked every face, streaked with sweat and tears. The jungle muted all sound, so that the crackle of the fire and the shouts from the camp seemed miles away.
“Hla Meh?” Thet Ye spoke her name instead of shouting, hoping she was close by. She didn’t answer, and he didn’t get a second chance to call.
The rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun broke the quiet. Soldiers stepped from the surrounding trees. Pastor Nakor lurched toward the nearest of them and received a crack to the forehead with the butt of a weapon. Thet Ye recognized the attacker—the nice soldier from the day he and Hla Meh had run off into the jungle. He did not seem so nice now. Many of the children cried.
The soldier planted his boot in the small of the pastor’s back. “Quiet down.” He fired his weapon in the air. “Quiet! I want you to hear me. This hour—this second—is the start of your new lives. I am Soe Htun. And from now on, you all belong to me.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
WOLF MANOR
WOLF TRAP, VIRGINIA
EDDIE DIDN’T SHOW UP ON FRIDAY NIGHT. That upset Talia. She had needed a good cry, and Eddie was her go-to shoulder. But she awoke on Saturday to the sound of him arguing downstairs in the great room, in between sniffles and sneezes. Talia thought she recognized the other voice, although she hoped she was wrong.
A trip downstairs proved she wasn’t.
“You called me for help, mano. Don’t you think you should listen?” Franklin Perez, chief of Tech Ops and known in the Directorate as the Goblin King, raised his wheelchair to bring himself nose to nose with Eddie. “The fiber optic output goes behind the photon emitter.”
“But that will cause EM field interference.”
Franklin slapped a screwdriver down on a wood table beside a glossy black apparatus, a circle about a half meter in diameter. “Exactly.”
Both men adjusted their glasses at the same time and stared each other down.
Mac, Finn, and Darcy lounged on dark leather couches and chairs while Conrad moved among them, pushing a cart of hot drinks and braided pastries. They looked like spectators at a ping-pong match.
“Eddie,” Talia said upon reaching the inner rim of this peanut gallery, “what is Franklin doing here?”
Tyler appeared at her shoulder, a steaming mug hovering at his lips. “I know, right? An Agency tech officer, here on a Saturday, mixed in with our merry band of thieves? I feel like someone got peanut butter on my chocolate.” He took a sip and swallowed, showing his teeth. “Or vice versa.”
“I mean he works with Jordan. He could have led her here.”
“Nah. You and Franklin aren’t close.”
Talia walked away from him.
“Hey, chica.” Franklin ditched Eddie and rolled across the room’s giant Persian rug to greet her. “Nice place you got here, but there’s a big problem. The front door ain’t wheelchair accessible. I had to come in through the kitchen.” He lowered his voice, cupping a hand to his mouth. “The servant’s entrance. I could sue.”
Tyler sipped his coffee, several feet away. “That is not a servant’s entrance, Franklin.”
“Oh, I think it is, jefe. It’s not like you called me here to watch football.”
Eddie glanced up from his work on the black device. “No one ever invites you anywhere to watch football. You hate football.”
Conrad had rolled his cart alongside Talia to cut her a slice of pastry. Franklin gave him a chin lift. “This guy knows what I mean, don’t you?”
“Not in the slightest.” The pleasant smile never left Conrad’s face, but as he handed Talia her breakfast, she saw the knife turn and rest against his forearm, blade out.
She pressed the control pad of the high-tech wheelchair and steered Franklin back to Eddie and the device. A panel lay on the table beside it, with a spaghetti mess of wires sticking out. “What have you brought us?”
“New display system. Eddie convinced your boy Tyler to buy one, and now he can’t set it up without me.”
“I can too.” Eddie pushed a pair of wires together. They sparked. He yelped and sucked on his finger.
“Sure. So, why’d you call me out on a Saturday, then? You wanted to see what a legless Marine looks like in short pants?”
The argument continued. Talia took a seat with the others to watch, suddenly grasping the appeal.
Finn claimed the seat next to her. “This is like the nerd version of Real World.”
“That’s not a thing anymore.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It shouldn’t be. And they’re geeks, not nerds. One is a social group. The other is an insult. I keep telling you.”
“And I keep ignoring you.”
Talia finished her last bite of maple butter twist and set the plate aside. “Well, the term is geeks.”
As if to drive her point home, Eddie raised his hands and shouted, “Eureka!”
He and Franklin stuffed the wires back in and secured the panel to the black circle. The air above it shimmered like the air above a hot stretch of desert road.
“What is it?” Finn left the couch to get a closer look.
“New holographic briefing display.” Eddie picked up a tablet computer and toyed with the screen. A 3D image of the earth and roving satellites appeared in the shimmering air.
The others gasped.
Eddie sniffled, either from his cold or raw emotion. “Better than Star Wars.”
Darcy clapped her hands. “That is my Eddie. He is incredible, yes?”
“Yeah. He’s amazing.” Franklin backed his wheelchair away from the table. “I guess my work here is done.”
Eddie took the screwdriver from his hand. “Okay. I admit, I couldn’t have done it without you.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve and offered a hand to shake.
“Ew, mano. No way. Keep your nasty virus-infested mitts to yourself. And while we’re on the subject, don’t bring that junk to work on Monday. I’ll tell the Directorate you’re out sick.” He said his goodbyes and made his way to the butler’s pantry, spinning the wheelchair for a final wink at Talia. “See ya, chica.” He held a pretend phone to his ear, mouthing Call me.
A carving knife embedded itself in the walnut an inch from his shoulder. Talia traced its path back to Conrad. The cook offered Franklin a congenial smile. “Drop that in the sink on your way out, will you? Good lad.”
Franklin wrenched the knife from the wall and drove away. “You people got issues.”
ONCE THE TECH OPS GURU WAS GONE, Mac folded his arms. “How’s that contraption work, Wee Man?”
Finn wiggled his fingers at the Scotsman. “It’s magic.”
“It’s science,” Eddie said, “the true heart of all magic. Ultrasonic vibrations disturb the air in a two-meter-diameter half-sphere. Nano-projectors build the image within the disturbance. This baby will help me show you what I’ve learned about Boyd’s network. The field is interactive.” As if he’d been using it as a prop the whole time, Eddie set the tablet on the table and rubbed his hands, pumping his eyebrows. With magician-like flare, he reached into the hologram field and expanded the globe until it burst into mist.
What remained was a busy city street. A hustler weaved cards in and out of each other on a folding stand. A delivery boy rode past on a bicycle, ringing his bell. A taxi honked. And glowing purple lines rose from each, joining into a network of data balloons.
“Welcome”—Eddie turned to face the team—“to the world’s first crowdsourced crime syndicate.”
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
WOLF MANOR
WOLF TRAP, VIRGINIA
TALIA WATCHED as Eddie’s briefing hit full steam, but she didn’t take part. She kept herself at a distance, curled up and silent on the couch. This was not
her mission.
Boyd. Archangel. They were Tyler’s targets. Not hers. After the previous night’s phone call from Jordan, he’d pressed her to join the hunt. But Talia refused. “I told you. I’m not going down that road again. I’ll stay on the sidelines and let you and the team do your thing.”
“Your choice. But ‘on the sidelines’ means you stay in the house with Conrad until this is over. Are you good with that?”
She was, except for one small engagement. “I promised Jenni I wouldn’t cancel again.”
“Your baptism? Talia, God understands. He’ll wait.”
But Talia had put her foot down, letting a touch of growl seep into her tone. “I am going to be baptized tomorrow, Tyler. No rogue spy and no hovering, helicopter-parent, wannabe-guardian-angel thief is going to stop me.”
At the center of the great room, Eddie reached into his holographic briefing display and zoomed out to a view of Europe. The network of purple lines joined city to city. “You’ve all heard of GoFundMe and Kickstarter? Now meet their dark cousin.”
The geek walked before the image like a celebrity doing a TED talk. “The old business models are fading. Crowdfunding will pay for anything from a smart-bot startup to a high schooler’s dream vacation. With competition crowdsourcing, a software conglomerate can buy expensive code for the price of a hundred-dollar gift card. This is the future, and our friend Livingston Boyd is already there, acting anonymously by his nom de guerre, the White Lion.”
Tyler tapped a finger on his knee. “You’re saying Boyd is outsourcing crime?”
“Crowdsourcing. As in simultaneously engaging multiple, unrelated participants from diverse sources to achieve a cumulative or a singular result. He’s using crowdfunding as well. Members pay their own way plus pay him a percentage of their earnings. Boyd calls his syndicate the Jungle. It is global, anonymous, and brilliant.” Eddie snapped his fingers within the field and an organizational chart appeared. “He’s a big gamer—openly references online massive-multiplayer gaming strategies in his business talks—so it’s no surprise the Jungle’s members are called players. Each player has their own invite code used for back-alley and Dark-Web recruiting. New players start as field mice and work their way up.”
In the 3D organizational chart, animal names lit up as Eddie referenced each level. “Field mice, jackrabbits, hawks, cobras, and panthers—players level-up by increasing their take. A pickpocket might stay a field mouse forever. A dirty hedge-fund manager might be a panther within hours.”
“What’s the draw, eh?” Mac crossed the room to retrieve another pastry from Conrad’s cart. “What do his players get fer their troubles?”
“The lower echelons get crowdfunding opportunities and contact with higher-order criminals. In return, the higher echelons get a crowdsourcing reach previously undreamed of.”
Finn steepled his fingers to point at the chart. “And Boyd gets a percentage of every deal?”
“Not just Boyd. There are five top-tier animal positions. Each is an increasingly rare predatory species—Hyena, Snow Leopard, Clouded Leopard, Maltese Tiger, and White Lion.”
Tyler got up from his chair and joined Eddie at the display. “Taking Boyd and his Jungle down comes back to Eddie’s work on the network—that’s our source for hard evidence—but we’re a long way from cracking the whole thing.” He gave Eddie a look that said, Correct?
“Exactly. I’ve got bits and pieces, rumors. To get more, we’ll have to kick it old school.”
“You mean infiltrate,” Finn said. “That’ll be dangerous, and time consuming. A lot of rungs on this particular ladder, by the look of Eddie’s brief.”
Tyler nodded. “I agree. So, we send in Val—go right after a top-tier mark and con him out of an invitation code. That way, Val enters as a jackrabbit or hawk with a high-level sponsor. She’ll make a big splash at the Jungle watering hole, big enough to merit a face-to-face with Boyd.”
The Aussie glanced from Eddie to Tyler and back again. “You said Boyd operates in the shadows as the White Lion. How is Val supposed to get a meeting?”
“Thanks. I almost forgot.” Eddie snapped his fingers in the field. The image changed to a pair of twisted skyscrapers joined by five aerial walkways. “Remember, Boyd is a big gamer, and every game must have a boss level. The Jungle is no different.” He paused, as if this was explanation enough.
“So . . . ,” Tyler said, inclining his head toward the others, and prompted Eddie for more.
“So . . . each year, the Jungle’s top players take their shot at the big boss, the White Lion. Dark Web rumors call it the Frenzy. Eight players, including the White Lion, make as many high-profit deals as they can in twenty-four hours, competing for the top five slots.”
A time-lapse advanced the hologram from day to night. Thousands of windows within the twin towers glowed fluorescent blue. “Enter Bangkok’s ultra-high Twin Tigers—Boyd’s latest real-estate investment. My indicators predict the Frenzy will go down here, next week.”
Mac snorted, waving his pastry. “Next week? Lots ta do. Little time. When do we leave? Tonight?”
“Monday.” Tyler glanced Talia’s way. “Our Sunday is spoken for.”
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
THE MISSION CHURCH
THE HEIGHTS, OXON HILL, MARYLAND
“YOU’RE ENDANGERING THE MISSION. You shouldn’t have come.” Eddie maintained his poker face from the back seat of Tyler’s Jag, and Talia could tell it took all his control.
She blinked. “How long have you been waiting to use that one?”
“Ever since you started coming here.” He grinned. “The Mission. Great name for a church.”
She climbed out and pulled the seat forward for him. “Don’t joke. A top CIA spy is trying to kill me. I really am endangering this church with my presence.”
“You’re really not. The cell I cloned for you constantly spoofs all trace attempts. Digital Talia is halfway down the Virginia coast, heading to Newport News.”
“Why Newport News?”
“Unlike the Real Talia, Digital Talia knows how to relax.” He set off across the parking lot. “I’m going in to find Darcy. She came early for recon.”
Tyler stood from the driver’s seat and leaned his elbows on the roof. “We’re going to keep you safe, and your church family. But you can still wave off, do this another day.”
“Not on your life.”
“I thought you’d say that.” She caught a hint of a smile in his eyes. Tyler closed the driver’s door and the locks automatically clicked. “Think of it this way. The desire to protect you has brought a band of thieves into a church to meet Jesus. God is at work.”
“I’m also bringing them in to meet my poor foster mother.” Talia shot him a frown. “That’s on you.”
Finn and Mac arrived in a rumbling Audi R8, drawing the wary eyes of parishioners arriving at the little satellite church in the Heights, an industrial district across the river from the wealthy suburbs of Arlington. Finn was dressed for the occasion in a blazer and jeans. Mac had done his best. Over his usual black muscle shirt, he wore a black leather jacket that might have used up the whole cow.
Talia smacked Finn in the arm as the two men caught up to her and Tyler on the way to the front doors. “Did you leave Matilda at home like I asked?”
“Against my better judgment, yes.”
“Good. Nice car. Very low profile. Right now, half the church is wondering if you’re a pair of drug dealers.”
“What happened to ‘Judge not’?”
Tyler chuckled at them both. “Easy to preach. Harder to execute.”
Those three laughed. Mac didn’t. The big Scotsman looked like an elephant about to enter a den of mice. “I’ll watch the outside if ya don’ mind. Churches make me nervous. I feel as if I’ll be struck by lightnin’ the moment I walk through the door.”
“Interesting.” Tyler checked the sky.
Mac looked up as well. “What? What is it?”
&nb
sp; “I guess you didn’t know. All God’s creation is his church. Indoors, outdoors—doesn’t matter. To be frank, I’m surprised you haven’t been struck already.”
The others walked on, leaving Mac standing in place and squinting at the gathering clouds.
Talia elbowed Tyler in the ribs. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Oh yes it was.”
In the foyer, Finn jogged ahead to Eddie and Darcy, who were studying a bulletin board filled with pictures of the church’s families. He tapped one of the photos. “Check out the earrings on this lady. Think those are real diamonds?”
“Hey.” Tyler snapped his fingers.
The cat burglar withdrew the hand and shoved it in his pocket. “Sorry.”
Before Tyler could say anything else, Talia pulled him aside and nodded at Mac, out in the parking lot. “You left our Scottish friend outside in Volgograd as well. I’m sensing a trend.”
“His bulk and quickness makes him a good goal keep.” Tyler cracked a smile. “What? Were you thinking I separated him from the team because of his history . . . because he almost sold us out to Ivanov a few months ago?”
“Why not? His loyalty was questionable then. Can we be certain of him now?”
“Absolutely.”
“How?”
“Faith.” Tyler guided Talia over to the coatracks. “The day will come,” he said, helping her with her coat, “when that great big Highlander will no longer fear the front doors of a church—or the side doors, or the back entrance, or the cellar window. On that day, it will be all you can do to keep him from dragging strangers into God’s kingdom by the scruffs of their necks.”
She watched him hang up the coat, so totally at peace with the insanity coming out of his mouth. “Faith?”
“Correct. Now let’s go make a declaration of yours.”
The trip from the foyer to the pews was a gauntlet of family and acquaintances. Finn went straight to Jenni. “Finn. Michael Finn.”
“Um . . .” Jenni leaned out to see Talia from the other side of the burglar, long blonde hair flopping to one side. “Who are your friends, Talia?”
Chasing the White Lion Page 7
