Most of the names meant nothing. Regional money. A shipping concern out of Savannah. A defense subcontractor. The usual client list for a firm like Meridian. But there were three names, spread across two pages, that twisted his gut into a knot.
Devlin Pace. Tallie James. Khalid Nazari.
He set down the pages on the desk, smoothed them flat with his palm, and picked up the marker.
The names by themselves mean nothing. But when all three of them hired the same security firm, Sterling had to wonder why. It could be something. And it could be nothing.
He wrote the names on the whiteboard under Meridian Tactical.
"Who the hell are those guys?" Cullen asked.
"Devlin Pace." Sterling capped the marker and tapped it against the board. "He owns a tech company. He spent a year in front of lawyers over how his company ate its competitors." Sterling moved to the next name. "Tallie James. Smart woman. She moved a fortune that wasn't hers and somehow ended up cleared of all potential charges, and no one really knows how she did it."
Sterling shifted his gaze between Cullen and Dove. Neither one said a word, so he kept talking. "Khalid Nazari. A foreign national who was charged with funneling money, but two weeks after his arrest, the case was dropped and never really spoken of again."
To most, these were three people who had nothing to do with each other. Different worlds. Different money. Different sins. There was no reason to draw a line between them.
"Interesting cluster, but why are you pointing them out over others on that list?" Dove asked. "Were they all hired for the same reasons? At the same time?"
"No." Sterling reached for the paper. "Pace hired Meridian to run a digital threat assessment on a quarterly basis. James has them on retainer for bodyguard assignments during public appearances. And Nazari uses them for the same when he comes to the US."
"Spit it out," Dove said. "Because you're making me want to shove my boot up your ass."
A long time ago, Sterling had promised that he'd never speak of this unless something came across his desk that forced his hand. And then, only to those he trusted with his life.
Both criteria were met.
"What I'm about to tell you must remain between us, and Buddy." He tossed the papers back on his desk and pulled out his chair, planting his butt in it. "I know I don't need to say it, but we've always had that unwritten rule."
"You have my word," Dove said.
Cullen came forward off the back legs of his chair. "And mine."
"You both remember my buddy, Nick Colter," Sterling said.
"I've met him once or twice," Cullen said. "He's a good man."
"Saved my ass more times than I can count." Sterling pulled out his cell and placed it on the desk. "Nick and a few others—myself included, have been conducting a rogue investigation on an organization, if you can even call it that, on the Shrike Collective."
"Never heard of it," Dove said.
"Not many have." Sterling tapped the page. "A buddy of Nick's stumbled across it, years ago while working on a joint task force. It was presented to the government but considered a low-level threat because it was barely a whisper of a name."
"You're being unusually vague," Cullen said. "Is it a terrorist group? A homegrown agency of some kind? What?"
"That's just it. We don't know." Sterling rubbed the back of his neck. For years, Nick's buddies have been digging into the Shrike Collective and coming up empty. "It's been like playing whack-a-mole. Something pops up, and you think you've nailed it, but nope, disappears only to pop up somewhere else."
"What exactly does this org do?" Dove asked.
"Anything. Everything," Sterling said. "Buy foreign government missions for the US. Sell our missions and secrets. Move drugs, arms, people. You name it, this collective seems to do it."
"So, it's about money and not power," Cullen said.
"No idea." Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose. "But what makes me nervous now is I've never been associated with Shrike, outside of the fact that I've worked with Nick. But now, Doyle, who we've both worked with, is employed by a company who has been retained by three people who have been flagged as having a possible Shrike connection."
"You're suggesting that Shrike wants you and your mind and are using Doyle to get it," Cullen said. "What about Rutgers?"
"Low profile, good reputation, runs a tight ship." Dove flipped a page. "But worth a second look, though. From what Mia pulled from his cell, it appears he's having an affair. Some woman down in Savannah."
