Page 71 of Rescuing Rebel
“If you push too hard, she might do exactly what we can’t afford and tell Kaufman who we really are. My opinion, not that anyone’s asking, is to let Rebel do her thing while we do ours. Don’t poke the bear. It never turns out well.”
The room fills with my team’s uneasy breaths. They exchange worried glances, uncertainty in their eyes. They trust and follow me but can’t understand the depth of my connection with Rebel and my desperation to save her.
“I agree with Stitch.” Walt’s steady baritone flows like smooth whiskey, calming the churn of my gut. “You’ll figure out her secrets soon enough.” He leans against the cool concrete wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, a tower of composed strength.
Jeb swivels his chair around, the worn leather creaking beneath him. His fingers twitch with anticipation, like a conductor before the first note. “On a separate note, we’re making progress. Stitch created a worm, and it’s tunneling through their encryption layers as we speak.” His eyes glitter with excitement and obsession, a hunter zeroing in on his prey. “Mitzy sends an attack every now and again for us to discover and close down. That way, we can show Kaufman we’re really working, and he’s getting his money’s worth hiring us. Basically, we’re just wasting time and dragging our feet.
“We’re using those breaches to funnel data to Mitzy.” Stitch’s voice is soft amongst the deeper voices of my men. “Kaufman’s men are wholly inept and have no clue what’s really happening. At least I look good when he comes around—the misogynistic bastard.”
Like Mitzy, she doesn’t look up from her rapid typing. The constant clatter creates a rhythmic undercurrent to our conversation. Strands of black hair fall across her pale face, shadowing her intense concentration.
I pivot to Gabe and refocus my efforts. I’m Charlie team leader, not some love-struck idiot who’s forgotten why I’m here. “What about physical security?” My voice is low and controlled. Gabe’s stern face, etched with lines of wisdom and warfare, gives nothing away. “Notice any weaknesses we can exploit?”
Gabe slowly shakes his head. His arms cross over a chest that’s seen its share of battles. “Armed guards everywhere, patrols covering every inch. They’re always watching. We’d need a damn army for any kind of frontal assault on this place.” His voice is flat, unyielding, like a wall you’d never dare to scale. “But we’re mapping out their patrol routes and when they change shifts. It’s slow going but coming together nicely.
Hank grunts in agreement. “These bastards are paranoid, but we knew that going in.” His voice rumbles, a storm contained. “We’ll find a way.”
Infiltrating Haven is merely the first step of a multi-phased attack. The ultimate goal is to tear it down, but certain things must come first, which is why we have Stitch on loan from Mitzy.
No need to lead a full-frontal assault when you can sneak in through the back doors. Stitch’s computer worm will give us that access.
“Good.” My voice cuts through the room. “Keep at it. The rest of us will keep walking the halls, learning the patterns of their security personnel.”
That’s the true reason behind cataloging security devices. We’re using that excuse to map out the halls and determine the guards’ rotation schedules, looking for gaps in their physical security measures and technical security protocols.
“Rebel can do her thing. We’ll do ours.” I meet each man’s gaze in turn, setting the tone from this point out. Not that they need to hear it. They’re not the ones obsessed with Rebel. Those words are solely meant for me.
No more obsessing over Rebel.
TWENTY-SIX
Ethan
The suffocatinglabyrinth of Haven’s concrete hallways twists around me as I venture deeper into the complex. This place hides a network of dark corridors laden with secrets and corruption, and a damp chill clings to the air, echoing the pain of previous victims.
For days, I’ve been lost in this warren, cataloging surveillance gear, validating server locations, and looking for hidden access points, hunting for the weakness we’ve been hired to discover and eliminate.
A weakness we created in the first place, thanks to a bit of Mitzy Magic.
Kaufman’s restricting our access, although I can’t prove it. His paranoia is evident in every guarded glance, every camera watching from shadowed corners.
His security is nearly impenetrable, a maze of encrypted channels and well-placed sentinels. Even as I pretend to bolster the walls of this hellhole, I can’t help but be amazed by how impenetrable Haven is.
We’re looking for cracks, chinks in Haven’s defenses, where Mitzy’s phenomenal technical team can destroy this place from the inside out, and that’s proving to be exceptionally difficult.
The depressing atmosphere clings to me, oppressive and chilling, as if the very walls watch me, waiting for me to slip up, but my job is all for show. With the exception of Stitch and Jeb, the rest of the team must appear as if we’re working to find the mole in Kaufman’s organization.
All the while, Stitch and Jeb are at it nonstop, inserting layer upon layer of Trojan horses into the very base code of this hellacious place. While the rest of us might seem superfluous in this operation, we’re nearly finished tracking the movement of guards through this place.
That kind of intel can only be obtained with boots on the ground.
It still leaves me feeling like I’m walking in circles, wandering the halls, pretending to be hard at work.
A soft scuffle of movement breaks through my thoughts. I pause as a slight figure emerges ahead of me in the dim hallway.
One of the Angels wandering unaccompanied?
She freezes at the sight of me, eyes wide and frightened. She’s like a deer caught in headlights, stunned and unmoving.