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As quickly as they arrived, they’re gone, leaving me only with a picture. One I can’t help but keep glancing down at.
“Can you really get my unsaved game back?” Dad asks. I try to glare at him, but he’s smiling, making it impossible for me to hold the expression.
“I’ll make dinner.” It’s Tuesday. On Tuesday nights, I eat tacos.
I place the picture down on my desk, forgetting about dinner. My fascination is already piqued.
Who are you, Owen?
2
OWEN
Power sparks back to life in my compound as I finish the repair on the solar panel array. As soon as everything is running, I close the panel and sit up. That’s when I hear my servers begin to hum and run through all their fail-safe programming in the event of a power outage.
Pulling out my list from my back pocket, I add a squirrel trap to it. The little jerks run the forest around my place. Not content with all the feed I put out for them, they’ve decided to move on to chewing through electrical wire.
I sigh and stand, stretching as I walk out of the shed and onto the courtyard by the pool.
My garden is already coming along for the spring, the hydroponics towers pumping out winter lettuce and other greens while the weather slowly warms.
The main house is glowing in the early evening light, and the outbuildings shine at intervals. The stables are the brightest, my spoiled horses getting heat lamps even when the temperatures are high enough for them to be more than comfortable.
Something bumps against my leg, and I lean down to pet Alfie. He gives me a sweet meow, his tail twitching as he winds between my ankles.
“You’re not much for catching pests. These squirrels are running circles around you.” I scratch behind his ears as he gives me a look as if to sayIt’s 50 acres. I’m just one handsome tomcat. I can’t get them all.
I suppose he’s right. That’s why I’ll pick up a trap next time I’m in town. I can catch them and take them off to some other woods where they can terrorize someone else.
It’s a hazard of living off the grid. Dealing with random squirrels and a spoiled cat—all in a day’s work.
“Let’s get inside. Supper’s almost done.” I stride into the house, closing the door behind us. “It’s almost time to get back to work. That little power blip didn’t hurt us any, but it could’ve left us open to prying eyes, if only for a millisecond. Then again, maybe it’s time.” It’s not part of my plan, but it’s not a bad development. I’ll just have to see who capitalizes on it. I smirk, because I know damn well just who that’s going to be.
After a quiet dinner of roast chicken and veggies, Alfie and I head to our office. He takes his perch in the window, his hammock swaying gently as he settles in.
“Let’s see if this was the bait we needed.” I crack my knuckles and power on my screens.
Data filters through several different windows, all of it monitoring my targets. Nothing seems amiss so far. It’s been a quiet day for the contract killers and the mercenaries of the world. Just a few contracts going out to Brotherhood operatives for foreign warlords and a low-level US politician. Nothing of interest.
A red arrow appears—one of my security alerts. I click it and chuckle. “Duffy, you couldn’t find me with a flashlight at high noon.” I swipe through the screens and follow the FBI’s clown tracks as they bumbled around my weakest firewall and failed to make headway. “Alfie, you’d be a better operative than whoever she’s got on her payroll over there.”
He yawns and stretches, his claws coming out and clinging to the edge of the hammock.
I swipe their attempts from my servers and get back to work. More data piles in. Someone else is sniffing around my security measures. A tingle goes down my spine.
Sitting back, I smile up at Alfie. “Looks like I’ll be headed into town sooner than I thought. In fact, I think I’m in the mood for some coffee tomorrow morning.”
He blinks slowly, deviousness and affection in the movement. I blink right back. “Same, buddy. Same.”
3
MAGGIE
Owen Caddel doesn't exist. At least not in the same way the rest of us do with our normal forms of identification like passports and Social Security cards. Oh, I have a few others with different names for emergencies, but I’ve never had to use them before. I do, however, know how to make them. I’m sure Owen has a handful of other names he uses as well. Owen Caddel is the one he’s sticking with at the moment.
It had been a major pain in the ass to sort through the data. There are way too many Owens in the world. The last name helped some. When I tracked down his information, it turned out to be all bullshit. It was all so clean. Too clean. I couldn’t find any trace of his documents being fake. I thought maybe Duffy was messing with me. I had no choice but to hack the WITSEC system. That was easy enough. I might have left myself a wormhole to get back in before I handed it back over.
I left it to see if Parks would catch it. He hadn’t. I mean, it’s possible they know about it and are leaving it be. No way to know for sure. Damn it. I hate how the government plays with your head. My father is right. You can never trust them. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Owen Caddel wasn’t on their list. Leaving me right back where I started.
