“Well ... here’s what we can confirm. Someone’s doing a hell of a job removing every trace that Blackstone ever existed. I mean, they disconnected domains, erased registry data, and the analysts are telling me that the effort is still ongoing.”
“But you found something,” Caspian said.
“The NSA did, yes,” Ranger said. “They were able to trace the revenue stream. It seems that every field operation Blackstone mountedover the last five years was funded by Hearts United or one of its known entities. Blackstone Security had no other clients.”
Caspian scanned the document quickly. The pattern Blackstone and Hearts United had established was clear. It was a closed loop. A single command structure behind the facade of two separate organizations.
He looked up from the document and asked, “Do you think it’s time to bring in the FBI?”
“I talked about it with Director Maples, and he doesn’t think we’re there yet,” Ranger replied. “In fact, he fears the FBI and the attorney general wouldn’t even get past a grand jury.”
“So, the only thing we’d accomplish by working with the FBI is to tip our hand,” Caspian said.
“Seems like it. And it gets more interesting,” she added, handing him a second document.
“SSU analysts retrieved this,” she continued. “Hearts United partnered with Doctors Without Borders in Kenya. The public narrative focused on mobile clinics, vaccination drives, and basic surgical access. To be fair, all of that happened.”
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming,” Caspian said, reading through the single sheet of paper.
“But around those medical operations, something else occurred.”
Ranger unfolded a satellite-overlay map across her desk. Several swaths of countryside were circled in red.
“What am I looking at?” he asked, very much aware that his brother, as the medical director of Doctors Without Borders in Kenya, was actively involved in some of these regions.
“Entire villages were relocated. At first, we thought it was driven by health concerns, you know? To get people closer to the care they need. But when we cross-referenced the GPS coordinates of the vacated sites, we found this.”
She tapped the red zones.
“These areas sit directly on top of rare earth minerals deposits. Niobium, nickel, lithium, you name it.”
Caspian nodded slowly. “These are the kinds of strategic metals that help to power everything from smartphones to missiles,” he said.
“Correct. And we estimate that the value of the minerals in the ground in the zones colored in red at over twenty-five billion dollars.”
“Right,” Caspian said. “But this isn’t news. The public and the Kenyan government knew these deposits were there.”
“They did,” Ranger admitted. “But what the public didn’t know was that two months after the relocations, mining licenses were quietly issued to firms with financial ties to Hearts United.”
Caspian sank deeper into his chair. The weight of what Ranger had just shared with him settled over him like concrete. “They used aid to clear the land,” he said. “And somehow, Nelson’s involved.”
“They used trust, humanitarian trust, Caspian,” Ranger said. “Hearts United and Doctors Without Borders presented the relocations as a health initiative, not as a resource grab. But the outcome is the same. Mining companies are now in full operation, and with the full blessing of the government.”
“Shit,” Caspian muttered. “Nelson is right in the middle of this.”
“He is,” Ranger said. “But we don’t think he did any of this in a malicious way. He supported the relocation efforts, and he played an important role in coordinating the whole thing with tribal leaders, but from everything we’ve seen, he acted in good faith.”
Caspian sighed. He stared at the sheet of paper in his hand. A photo in the top right corner showed Nelson in a field vest, smiling, flanked by several Kenyan health workers.
“Knowing my brother, he was focused on the medical metrics. Saving lives, you know?”
“To be clear,” Ranger said, “I think your brother was misled. At this stage, he’s not under investigation.”
“So, what’s the next step?” he asked.
“We keep going,” Ranger said. “We peel this back, layer by layer, but we need to hurry.”
“Why’s that? This seems to me like the kind of op we need to be very careful about how we move forward, no? You said so yourself, Samantha. Everett Westcott is a powerful figure who wields a lot of influence. Poking too hard might blow up in our faces.”
