Sterling wished that information wasn't stored up there either. He wished he could forget a lot of things. And he knew this wasn't all about corridor operations or which person he'd come across during his time in the southern hemisphere had been willing to take a bribe, look the other way, or who was aggressively corrupt.
This was about images. About maps. About things only Sterling had seen in a way only he's seen them. About what places looked like on the inside. How to get in, get out, and never be seen.
It was about ultimate power. And right now, these people thought Sterling held the key. Maybe he did, but whatever he had, they’d have to kill him first.
"I'm hurt." Charlie had gone to West Point and served four years after that. He got his time in, and then he went to the Department of Defense where he pushed pencils and people. He was the kind of guy that believed he was important, but really, was only a gofer. He was kept around because he was willing to do what his keepers wanted him to do.
That made him dangerous in the sense that he was willing to go to any lengths. But it also made him an idiot, and idiots could be bought and sold.
Rutgers, who Sterling only knew from pictures, hovered near a laptop. Sterling knew very little about this guy, except that he currently mistrusted the man, considering the situation.
And Doyle stood by a stack of old pallets with his arms crossed and a frown that reminded Sterling of the last time he'd done an op with Doyle. Sterling remembered it vividly because it was the only time Sterling had ever seen Doyle get upset over his ideas not being taken seriously. Normally, Doyle got pissy for five minutes, then let it roll off his back and focused on the mission.
The man was a little left of normal, but he didn't have a death wish.
But that day, Sterling had agreed with Doyle one hundred percent. He liked the plan so much that Sterling had implemented it in the field. Too bad Doyle hadn't been on that mission. He'd been taken off for insubordination. One of the few times Doyle had pushed hard to be heard.
"Comfortable?" Pike asked.
"Five-star accommodations," Nick said.
"You were always a wise ass." Pike inched closer, lowering himself to glare at Sterling. "If you had just taken the job, we wouldn't be here." Pike made a tsk tsk noise.
"Somehow, I don't believe that," Sterling said.
Charlie snorted. "You've been hanging out with that asshole over there too long."
"I'm offended," Nick said.
One of the big doors screeched across the floor.
Harlan Koda stepped inside wearing a pair of pressed dark dress pants and a pale shirt button down shirt. His shoes were black patent leather, and he strolled into the space with his hands in his pockets. Even his swagger had swagger. Two men followed him in, both armed, and neither looked familiar.
"We meet again," Koda said.
"I don't think I’ve ever met you." Nick shifted, groaning in the process.
"I wasn’t talking to you." Koda snagged a chair, dragged it to the center of the room and sat down. "You're an unfortunate complication."
"I get told that a lot."
Koda waved his hand, as if to dismiss Nick. "So, how's the legendary Librarian doing?"
Sterling leaned back against the post. "If you want something, I'll need to see your library card."
"I've always enjoyed your dry sense of humor."
"You don't know shit about me," Sterling said.
"Maybe. I want to know what's in that brain of yours." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Doyle thought he had this great plan. He said it would take time. And we had to be patient. But that we'd get all the information we wanted if we played the long game. But you backed out of the job."
"I could've gotten him to change his mind," Doyle said. "You're not going to get what you want this way."
Sterling glanced at Doyle who had shifted his posture, slightly. He leaned against one of the pallets, but he wasn't relaxed. His arms were still crossed, and his face was bunched up so tight he looked constipated.
"I've been thinking about that job," Sterling said. "The information, the names that you want from corridor that are still around. They’re small potatoes. That can't be all you want."
"Maybe not," Koda said. "But if they aren't big pieces on the board, why not just give them to me now?" He waved a hand and smiled. "You give me that, and I'll get you some water."
