Mai grinned at me as we took our original seats. “It’s become a HEAT tradition at this point. Don’t try to fight it. It’s best just to gut it out.”
Pasco came from the lounge, where all the alcohol was kept, ceremoniously carrying a tray full of champagne flutes. He stopped beside me, and I took one of the flutes. It was nearly full to the brim with something that looked unappetizingly like liquified mud. I glanced at Bloom and Wheeler.
Bloom grinned. “We had suggestions on how to make it reflective of your experience today.”
“You assholes are too kind.” I sniffed the drink. At least it didn’t smell like I had when I’d stepped into the shower. There was a hint of cocoa, but mostly it smelled like pure ethanol.
When everyone had a glass, Kat stood and turned towardme. “I’ll keep this short and sweet so we don’t have too much longer to dread drinking whatever this is. Hayes, you did what no one in the history of HEAT has ever done. You passed your written and physical exams and qualified for service in one week.”
The group clapped and wolf whistled. Mai beamed at me with sisterly pride. Like a good sport, I smiled and thanked them, but my body ached, and a low-level drumbeat was starting in my head, and I still hadn’t touched Savannah yet today. While Kat finished a short speech, I caught Sav’s gaze. Staring into her golden-brown eyes eased some of the pain. The minute I could politely bolt, I would do so, and I prayed Savannah would follow me.
“To Hayes!” Kat finished.
“To Hayes!” the rest of them echoed.
We all took tentative sips of Pasco’s offering. There was a lot of grimacing and groaning around the table, and Savannah set down her glass and pushed it away from her. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but I didn’t think it was half bad. I finished my glass. Probably not the best idea in my current state, given that my bones slowly melted into my chair, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to haul myself off to bed when the time came.
“Hey, has anyone told Hayes?” Pasco said, drawing me out of my exhaustion-fueled lethargy.
“Told me what?” I sat up straight and instinctively glanced at Savannah.
She smiled, which set me at ease.
“We’ve had a busy day,” Savannah jumped in. “We know the name of the cult. Wealth Craft Institute. WCI. And the leader whose name I could not remember is Howard Anson.”
“Let’s call it a high-control organization.” Kat looked exhausted as she said it. “If they hold themselves out as a religious organization, we’re going to have to tread verycarefully here, even in how we refer to them in our HEAT reports.”
We all said various versions of “understood.”
“So, what do we know about Anson?” I asked.
Pasco picked up the story. “Comes from money, then made more of his own. He made a killing on Wall Street in the 90s, just as it was bouncing back from the 80s crash.”
Great, a “self-made” master of the universe who’d been born on third base and handed everything. No wonder he’d started a cult. Or high-control group.
“And we also learned some information about my business,” Savannah said. Her expression was unreadable, so I waited for her to tell me whether it was good or bad news.
“It has to do with their computer and networking systems,” Pasco said. “Without going into too much detail—”
“Thank you,” at least three people said in unison.
“Ha ha.” Pasco scowled but continued. “There’s too much electronic activity coming from that office for a nine-person team, with most of them working remotely.”
“More people than expected are working there?” I glanced at Savannah, who frowned and shrugged her shoulders. More unclear news. No wonder she didn’t know how to feel.
“Possibly,” Pasco answered. “Also, more computers, servers, even a second network.”
“Which has pissed him off royally because he hasn’t been able to hack it remotely,” Bloom said.
Pasco shook his head. “Hack is a strong word, since I have permission from one of the company owners.”
I furrowed my brow and directed my question to Savannah. “Is that the facility on the outskirts of downtown Annapolis? The one you started when…?”
“It is,” she confirmed.
“And you don’t know anything about what’s going on? Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m just thinking, if Devlin is up to something there, with an entireteam that was hired by and answers to Savannah… That’s pretty ballsy. Or desperate.”
“Or both,” Kat said. “Our directive is to find out the ‘what’ and the ‘why’ of what Masters has been doing. When we see the kind of money moving in and out that Savannah discovered, it’s usually tied to highly illegal activity, which will open up our options for investigating.”
