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

“Me? No. I’m at the office and plan to stay here at least through this evening. So you got the warning call to expect me?”

“FBI in general. I’m glad it’s you in the specific. I like working with people with whom I’ve already built a rapport. It saves time.”

“And our time is very compressed. Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

“Just coffee.”

“We’d like for you to come to FBI Headquarters to be read into the program and talk to our specialist this afternoon. Does that work for you?”

“I’m headed to Langley at eleven. Let me give them a two-hour window and an hour to get from Point A to Point B. Would fourteen hundred hours work?”

“I believe so. I’d like you to do me a favor, though. I’m going to text you the address of a diner. If it works in today’s schedule, we’d like for you to go there for breakfast and put your eyes on a young server named Modesty Turlington.”

“Modesty? As in shy?”

“Yes, well, I don’t know about synonyms, but her parents named her Modesty on her birth certificate.”

I curled my fingers and looked at the hang nail I’d been worrying. I lifted it to my mouth and nibbled it off, leaving a raw red spot. “I knew a couple once that called their son ‘Brave.’”

“And was he?” Finley asked.

“Hard to tell. I never saw him in a situation where he needed to be particularly courageous. He’s four years old, though. I guess time will tell.”

“A name with big shoes to fill.” I could hear the smile in Finley’s voice. “Out of curiosity, did he have any siblings?”

“His sister Pam.”

“Those names seem on either end of a naming spectrum.”

“Their last name was Lamb. So it’s Pam Lamb and Brave Lamb. I’m sure they had their reasons.”

“Surely…”

There was a long pause that I filled by taking a sip of coffee.

“About Modesty,” Finley continued. “I’d like you to get a feel for her before you get any other information about the situation. So we’re hoping you can go by her work and get eyes on.”

“Okay, if I do that, she’s going to see my face, so I should dress for my role.”

“Here’s the deal, Modesty was raised in ongoing difficulties, and like many children who were in survival mode—”

“She developed intuitive skills,” I filled in.

“Exactly. She has an advanced BS meter. We need someone in this role who is authentic. Someone with a background story that sounds like it parallels hers. And we need someone her age.”

“How old?”

“She’s eighteen. Dressed properly, you could pass as a teenager.”

Striker had crossed his arms over his chest as he listened to my end of the conversation. I could tell from his eyes that he was absorbing, processing, and assessing the situation the FBI was thrusting me into.

“What about my background parallels hers?” I spun my mug around as I concentrated on not only Finley’s word choices but his tone. There was determination laced into his words.

“Seeming parallels. The jigsaw pieces are the same, but the final pictures are different. Some aspects that you share—raised by a community of people. The elders in that community taught you instead of your going to school. You were taught specific skills that are esoteric—meditation practices amongst them. You have a wide perspective but can’t really relate to the norms of what school kids experienced.”

“I can rebuild an engine but have no idea about which dinosaurs died in the Mesolithic, or even if there were dinosaurs in the Mesolithic?”

“Yeah, like that. Your knowledge and experience are quite different than most. Same with Modesty, but to be sure, she doesn’t have your skills. She was taught things more in line with agriculture and making hammocks.”

“She’s escaped a commune?”

Striker moved around uncomfortably.

“More later,” Finley said.

“Okay.” I pulled a noisy breath in through my nostrils. “So if I escaped a commune, I’d have little… My job this morning is to get my eyes on this target and get a read. I can do that.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” There was a long pause. “Spyder told you to expect my call. You know two things about me, I’m domestic terror, but I work for the Joint Task Force, which has an international scope. In this assignment, you’ll be trying to lace these ideas together.”

“Yup.” I glanced over at Striker; our gazes caught. Held.

“While this is a big deal to the FBI—millions of dollars in fraud—this case has bigger ramifications. We’ve been working with Spyder since he brought us in on his findings. The implications stretch to a case that the two of you have been working on. So he asked us to bring you on board. We’re happy to have you.”

Wow. That right there was a HUGE piece of information.

“Happy to be had.” The air had caught in my chest.

Spyder and I had been working to bring down the group Spyder had named “Hydra,” a criminal network that had been run by a mad man, now deceased. He had created a monster by using established entities to engage in a crime network, enriching everyone in their group through a parade of illegal activity. Omega, Iniquus’s rival, did the security aspects. Sylanos had been a software pirate back when such a thing was prevalent. He’d acted as the money bags. And here in the United States, the group called “The Assembly,” which was made up of our highest-ranking politicians, judges, police, and other power jobs, closed the circles to protect the bad guys should they be caught.

It was sort of like back in the Civil War, the Mason’s gave their members a Free Mason card to carry with them. Should the soldier ever be captured, they were to present the card to the enemy. The enemy would then