“It was related to my wife. Are you screening my calls?”
“Not the actual calls, but we verify the numbers you used.”
“Make a note that I’ll call the treatment center to check on her daily.”
“I wouldn’t expect less of you.”
He won’t deny me this, but I can’t call my family? This makes no sense. “That’s a strange statement.”
“You seem to love your wife. It’s a predictable pattern.”
I chuckle. “If I didn’t know better, I would wonder if you’re human.”
“You’re not the first person to say something like that.”
It surprises me that he’s not upset. Feelings seem genuinely foreign to Finnegan Gil. Once this is over, I plan on confronting him and getting to the bottom of what made him such a fucking asshole.
“Ready to start?”
I crack my knuckles and nod. “Data and blueprints are my friends.”
“You have weird friendships.”
I grin. “You have no idea.”
My strained eyes are about to give up as I study the printouts spread across the conference table and taped on the walls. The eight screens have printouts of the town’s layout and the property we’ll infiltrate tomorrow.
“How many men do we have for this?”
“As many as you need.”
“Do you go to Mercenaries ‘R’ Us to get your pick?”
He laughs. “You say mercenary as if it’s a bad word. They’re soldiers, warriors. You don’t have to be a part of some fancy company to do what’s right.”
I had never put much thought into that. Then again, when we deal with greedy assholes who charge an arm and a leg to provide protection, they’re protecting the wrong people. Since the keyboard is near, I access my personal cloud and open some files I have from prior missions.
Finnegan might have a point, but I also have proof of why I don’t like to hire people just from some internet site.
We go through the pictures of the men who almost killed my brother-in-law. The devastation they left behind because people like Ricardo Zamudio have the money to hire experts who can wipe a town.
He’s staring at the images and nodding as I switch them one by one, like a slideshow. “Would you hire them to work on this, knowing that they might ask for more money from Zamudio to fuck us?”
“I outsource because, unlike you, I don’t have big contracts with governments to keep my men busy.”
“They don’t pay well.”
He claps his hands. “Sure, but you keep them busy. I don’t have the same workload. I’d rather have a database with their profile and background check. They know I’m watching them. If they fuck up, they’re off the list.”
“Why did you create this… what is this? A company?”
“My adoptive father is an archeologist,” he explains. “He’s had his share of encounters with non-desirable people. We created this to protect villages, towns, and cities that might be oppressed, but the governments of that country or others won’t interfere. I also get a few contracts from the private sector that pay well.”
I have many questions, but now I need to focus on work. This is not the time to discuss his personal life.
“The Organization can help us.”
“No, they fucked up when they let the Z’s live.”
“It was me.”
“Save your stories.”
“If I fucked up, why do you have me here?”
His gray eyes turn slightly green. “Maybe I want you to pay for your mistakes.”
“Or… you trust me.”
“You know how to handle yourself under pressure. The time at the mall, I was hoping you’d know it was a trap. You reacted as I expected.”
“Imagine a group of well-trained men who’ll do the same.”
He points at the red folder. The one with all the information about the place where Ricardo hides. “If things continue to work well, we’ll reach out to them.”
I try not to smile, but it’s gratifying that I made progress. Maybe by the end of this clusterfuck, I will bring home more than the assurance that the Z’s are gone.
Chapter Eleven
To: Phillis
From: SI Brad
Subject: Are you settling in?
My apologies for not texting you today as planned so I could check on you. Since I don’t know if you’re in bed, it seemed best if I emailed. However, if you see this early and you can text me, I’ll be waiting for you.
Love,
Seth
To: SI Brad
From: Phillis
Subject: Phillis? WTF
Why do I have a new email address? [email protected].
Let’s begin with, I don’t use my middle name. Phillipa is… I don’t really have anything against my name. It just pisses me off that my parents were ready with two very male names to receive son number seven.
If I had been a boy, I’d be Theodore Phillip St. James. It sounds so pretentious. My mother complains about Lang’s mother, but she’s not that different from her sister. Well, that’s a lie. Mom might be a bit clueless, but she has never been cruel to any of us.
My parents were okay while growing up, but once I turned eighteen, they digressed. Who dates people younger than their own children? Mom’s new boyfriend just graduated from college. Is he even good in bed?
Okay, I shuddered after that question. I shouldn’t think about my parents and their sex partners. Ew.
Did I tell you I saw Dad before coming to the center?
It wasn’t what I expected from Donovan St. James. He was… well, the same man who I adored when I was a child. The man who thought Teddy was the best thing that had happened to the St. James family. Not the daughter who refused to continue his legacy.
Don’t repeat this to anyone, but he cried. My father was crying. He said something about changing, or was it… I can’t remember well. He promised to come and visit me. The little girl inside me hopes he doesn’t break his promise. I miss my family. I always hoped that we’d be like the Deckers, traveling together and having fun vacations.
Well, as much fun as my parents would allow. We already established they’re out of touch with reality. Do you think we can make them change their perspective of the world?
Talk to you soon,
Teddy
To: Phillis
From: SI Brad
Subject: yougotmail…
I’m guessing you’re able to sleep since you didn’t text me. That’s a good start.
@yougotmail? It’s a server dedicated just for you.
I got the idea from my parents and of course, the movie. If I were home, I would program it on your phone so that whenever you receive an email from me, it’ll announce it with the AOL voice.
My parents communicated a lot via email since Dad was always traveling.
Dad has an actual server dedicated to the emails he’s been exchanging with Mom since HIB was created. They’re encrypted. I swear the security around that server is better than the one he uses for everything else.
For a geek like him, that’s true love.
Maybe it’ll be worth saving our correspondence. We’ll start now since we don’t have anything from before. I’ll probably have to get a new phone since Nathan wiped everything from mine. How much information did he save from yours? I hope you didn’t lose any pictures.