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“I agree,” I added. “Have you spoken with Z?”
Nem shook her head. “I asked Cayman to handle it. It makes more sense if he determines how many we need from SIS in total. What about you and K19? Never mind. It’s zero one hundred in California, isn’t it?”
“I also put Tank on it.”
“Which means we can get started,” said Grace. “Lead the way.”
29
NEMESIS
The following day, Ares, Mayhem, Hanadarko, and I had reviewed the list of victims from all ten containers liberated in Felixstowe and sorted them by a variety of categories. Men and women, age, where they were from, and primary language spoken. Nothing jumped out at us in terms of patterns.
“What about education? Finances?” asked Hanadarko. “How much data do you think we can collect?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Ares said, sending a message to Razor Sharp.
While she was making use of the whiteboards she seemed to prefer, I was sorting photos of the victims on the room’s roll-down screen.
“What are we missing?” I mumbled when Ares sat beside me. “These are the victims found in the container where Mithras’ name was scrawled in the dirt.”
“Can you pull up some of the others?” Hanadarko asked. “Sorted by container?”
“Certainly.”
She stood and studied the images.
“What are you thinking?” Mayhem asked.
“Nothing yet,” Hanadarko muttered. “It’s all so fucking random. I mean, is it that simple? No one was targeted? No one stands out as being different? Was it just a matter of a geographic grab and go?” She turned and looked at me. “Can you sort by container, then by where each of the victims was from?”
“Of course.”
“You’re seeing the value of moving into the digital age, darling,” said Mayhem.
Hanadarko tapped her cheek with one hand and flipped him off with the other. “Who the fuck is Mithras?” she muttered before turning to me again. “You have reason to believe he’s Egyptian, right?”
“Affirmative.”
“Why’s an Egyptian guy’s name scrawled in the dirt of a container coming from Mexico?”
I pulled out my phone, swiped the screen, and sent a text message. I looked up at Ares when I finished. “The worst Oleander can do is either ignore my question and not respond or put me off again.”
“Oleander? There’s another cool code name. Fuck, Mayhem, you couldn’t come up with anything better than Hanadarko?”
“You love it and you know it.”
She smiled. “You’re right. I do.”
My phone vibrated a few minutes later. I picked it up and swiped the screen.
“Oleander?” Ares asked.
I nodded. “She sent a one-word response.Auction.”
“How did you phrase your question?” Hanadarko asked.
“Verbatim to yours. ‘Why’s an Egyptian guy’s name scrawled in the dirt of a container coming from Mexico?’”
