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After a day filled with lectures, assignments, and an enigma, the setting sun was casting long shadows over the campus. Jenna was already home, her fingers flying over her laptop keyboard as she worked on an essay.

"Hey, Court," she greeted without looking up, "How was your day?"

"Pretty good," I replied, "And yours?"

"The usual," she shrugged, "You know, studying, more studying, and I had lunch with Dylan." She trailed off, giggling. "He's so funny, Courtney," she went on, her voice filled with laughter. "He tried to flirt with the cafeteria lady today to score some extra fries. It was a hilarious disaster."

I laughed along with her. The image of a desperate Dylan making a fool of himself made me grin. Dylan's antics were a constant source of amusement, adding humor to our chats.

Plopping down on my bed, I saw the box was still there, just as I left it this morning. Picking it up, I turned it around in my hands.

"Is that the package you were talking about?" Jenna asked, finally looking up from her work.

"Yep," I replied, a grin spreading across my face. My fingers found the edge of the tape and began to peel it back. "Ready to see what's inside?"

Jenna's eyes lit up, and with a few swift keystrokes, she saved her work and shut her laptop. She joined me on the bed, her excitement matching mine. The anticipation hung heavy in the air as I finally opened the box.

A smaller, unmarked envelope was inside, nestled amongst crumpled packaging. The intrigue of it all made me giggle as Jenna watched, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"What do you think it is?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I have no idea, maybe makeup or something…." I replied honestly. My fingers plucked out the envelope, and I tore it open. Inside were several photographs and a note.

I pulled them out, my breath hitching as I looked at the first one. It was a picture of a man taken from a distance. He was standing outside City Deli, located not far from the Rosedale office. His back was to the camera. The next few photographs were similar; the man was always present and in the same place. The last photograph was different, though. He was holding a can of ginger lemon Olipop, turned slightly, giving a partial view of his face.

Suddenly, a jolt of recognition seized me, hitting me as intensely as a lightning bolt. My heart pounded fiercely, struggling to keep pace with the whirlwind of thoughts. I gasped, the photographs slipping from my grasp like melting ice. I felt the color drain from my face, replaced by a pallor that echoed my fear and confusion.

"Courtney?" Jenna's voice trembled with concern, "You look like you've seen a ghost. Who is this guy?"

Summoning a ragged breath, I barely managed to whisper the words that chilled the room, "Oh, God. He... He has to be linked to the Rosedale case!"

Chapter Four

Brad

It was a rare gloomy day in San Diego, which is usually a sunny city. From the Rosedale headquarters, we watched sheets of rain hit the tall glass building, making it hard to see the city outside. It was a stark contrast to the sleek modern architecture of our meeting space, a room equipped with state-of-the-art technology and sweeping views of the city.

We were gathered outside the conference room, waiting. Daniel, Ryder, Guy, Mitch, and I stood in a loose cluster, exchanging low murmurs of conversation as the tension in the air thrummed like a plucked guitar string. Our collective gaze was fixed on the room's closed door, the physical barrier separating us from the man working within.

Giuseppe assigned Bob to conduct a thorough security sweep in the conference room, given the high-stakes nature of our situation. Bob was meticulously searching for any surveillance devices or bugs that could compromise the confidentiality of our communications.

But in our case, the threat was part of our strategy. We were not merely potential victims of a breach—we were active participants in our own subterfuge. A breach was not just a security failure but a calculated opportunity. We intended to feed the enemy exactly what we wanted them to know. It was a dance on the knife’s edge, a game of smoke and mirrors, where every move counted.

Bob's task was double-edged. His job was to identify the bugs, not just for the purpose of removal, but for us to manipulate their presence to our advantage. Each listening device was a potential mouthpiece, a channel through which we could control the narrative, shape the enemy's perception, and steer the course of this clandestine war.

The tension in the room was palpable as we waited for Bob to complete his sweep. The anticipation was not laced with fear but rather a sense of tactical excitement. We were not just passive players reacting to an external threat; we were strategists, turning the tables on our adversaries.

The door to the meeting space creaked open, revealing Bob, our able-bodied security professional. A grin replaced his usual serious expression as he announced, "I've located three bugs. They're hidden within the conference room."

A ripple of excitement passed through us, and knowing smiles appeared on our faces. "Get in touch with Giuseppe," I instructed Bob, "and inform him about what we've found. Also, remind him about our upcoming video conference with Joe Vandenburg, the lead attorney on the Golden Key Project patent case."

Mitch added, "Giuseppe met Vandenburg at my wedding. He'll appreciate the connection."

Bob nodded, leaving the bugs in place as planned. His face was a mask of professionalism, belying the thrill of the game we were all playing. Our trap was set, and now it was time to bait our unsuspecting prey.

He relayed the information to Giuseppe as we all huddled under the awning of the front porch. The rain in San Diego was a rare spectacle, droplets pattering against the roof and the pavement in a rhythmic pattern. We were all outside, not to watch the rare occurrence of a storm but to make sure Bob's conversation with Giuseppe was not picked up by the bugs still in the conference room.

His voice was a soft baritone, almost lost amidst the rain, yet we managed to catch the crucial bits. "Yes, Giuseppe... three of them... yes, still in place... Video conference with Vandenburg, yes."

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