Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) by Fiona Quinn (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📗

And while Striker was driving, I’d time to regroup.

What did I know going into this meeting?

Spyder had called. And hung up.

That meant that Spyder was in the field and took an opportunity to reach out.

That phone call was information.

I have worked with Special Agent Steve Finley on cases where he was up to his chin in the sewage of his poor choices on a mission. I had supported Finley when he was in desperate straits. He has given me a nod or a silent pause to convey information that I desperately needed to understand a situation. And that had made all the difference.

I really do respect Finley and his work. If he had called me this morning and asked for a meeting, I would have said yes even without Spyder’s directive.

One - This FBI case is of interest to Spyder.

Two - Spyder wants me involved in this case.

Three - This case has to do with a cult or cult-like entity.

Four - Spyder used to be partnered with my dad. My dad had been in the CIA. Spyder has not clarified if he had as well. I assumed not. But that didn’t mean that Dad and Spyder weren’t working toward the same ends.

Five - Spyder’s main juice in life, and I was speculating here because Spyder was nothing if not close-lipped about his…everything. I didn’t even know what country he was born in, how he came to have the Scottish-sounding last name of McGraw when he looked as far from Scottish with his blue-black skin, high angular cheek bones, and soft East Asian accent as one could. But from what I had worked on with him and the seed I could glean, Spyder had always been interested in taking down the Assembly. Had my dad worked on that same mission? Am I following in Dad’s footsteps? It was interesting. I have met several soldiers who were born while their dads were fighting in the Middle East. Now, as adults, they were barreling down the dusty roads of Iraq and Afghanistan, standing behind their big guns precisely where their dads had. Nothing had changed. Just another generation of fighters stepped up to do their duty.

Six - The Assembly met all the criteria for secret societies. It was an invitation-only group. White. Male. Elite. Once you were invited into the Assembly and were given the pin, you had it made.

This had to be about the Assembly.

It had to.

“Seven?” Striker glanced my way.

“What?” I asked.

“You were counting. You got to six and stopped.”

“Yeah, that’s where I’m stuck for the moment. I was thinking about the FBI meeting.”

“Something you can brief me about?”

“You know as much as I do. I was wondering how involved this FBI case is going to be.”

“Gator and Christen’s wedding is next week.” Striker budged up to the window, handing over the money to cover our order.

“Yeah.” I accepted the bag, which Striker handed to me to distribute.

“No ‘weeee!’ No jazz hands? That wasn’t a very enthusiastic, ‘yeah.’” He rolled up his window and drove on.

“Oh, about Gator and Christin, I’m a thousand percent enthusiastic.” I unwrapped his sandwich and rewrapped it so he could eat and drive, then handed it over. “It’s having to go to the party Thursday that’s got my system tied in knots.” I pulled out the straws, unwrapped them, and inserted them into our drinks.

Striker reached for a fry. “Gator stopped by for a chat about that.”

“Oh?”

“Of course, we were invited to that pre-nuptial celebration because we’re in the wedding party.”

“Mmmm.” I picked up my soda for a sip. “They gave me the wrong thing. I don’t recognize this flavor. It’s like cherries.”

“Try mine.” He pointed to his cup. “Christen and Gator thought when they decided on a tiny wedding with the nuclear family and a handful of friends that they’d be able to manage to keep her family from posturing. Keep the Assembly away from them.”

“It’s complicated. I get that.” I set his drink down. “Yours is wrong, too.”

“After last fall, when her dad had brain surgery…even if Christen disapproves of who Davidson is as a human being, it’s also her dad.”

I nodded.

My dad had been so admired. Had led such a wholesome life. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to grow up in the swamp of an Assemblyman’s family.

I didn't know how Christen managed to walk away from both nature and nurture as an intact human being and an amazingly accomplished pilot. A good and ethical person, she was a testament to a strong inner core of values. I had to assume she learned those values from her biological mom.

“Gator and Christen want us to know we have no obligation to go to the celebration that her stepmom is organizing Thursday.”

“We’re in their wedding party.” I started in on my burger. “Don’t you think that would seem strange if we weren’t there?”

“Does it matter what people think?”

“True story, I couldn’t give a flying flip about the guests. But I do care about Christen and Gator. They asked us to be in their wedding party to support them as they started their new life together. It would kind of suck if we said we can’t sit in the same room with people in a group that we detest. Especially knowing Gator and Christen detest them too. Support means support in sickness and in health. For better or for worse.”

“Exactly. That’s what I told Gator. He seemed relieved.”

“I’m thinking about London and William Davidson. Can you imagine the level of…what’s the word I want? Not selfishness. Not entitlement.”

“Narcissism?”

“That’s closer. The level of narcissism to say: Hey, you’re getting married, and you want it to be a small intimate circle of people who know and love you, but I don’t care.