Saturday October 27th
Breece packed up hurriedly. He rolled Hiroshi’s body in a piece of carpet, hauled him out to the trunk of his car, then came back for the electronics, the Nexus vials, and the guns. He had no idea how much the hacker had gotten from Hiroshi’s mind before he’d pulled the trigger…
Hiroshi’s head, blood and brains blasted from it, sliding down the wall of the garage as his body crumpled into a heap.
…but he had to assume that the intruder had gotten enough.
He saturated the garage with enzyme bombs, then made his exit, locking the door behind him.
Then he put in the calls to Ava and the Nigerian.
They met four hours later, in a dive bar in Moscow, Texas, two hours from Houston.
They took a booth, crammed in close, talked softly under the cover of the raucous trash-rock. They were all raw, grieving, shocked by Hiroshi’s death.
The questions cycled endlessly. Who was the hacker? How much did he learn? What did it mean for them? For their mission?
Very little made sense. If the hacker had been law enforcement, why not lead DHS or FBI to the site?
Could it have been Zara? But Zara had been surprised by the bombings in DC and Chicago, and the hacker had interceded in both of those events.
And so far, there was no movement at the safe house or the garage, no sign that either location had been found.
They tossed it back and forth for a while, and finally, it was Breece’s decision.
“We’ll wait and see,” he said. “Stay ready to evac if we’ve been made.”
“And if they don’t come?” Ava asked. “If there’s never a sign that we’ve been made?”
Breece nodded. “Then the mission’s a go.”