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“Then we have nothing more to worry about.” Trevor shrugged.
She scowled. “Except staying alive when the Bratva decide on revenge.”
“It’s always possible, but they’ve taken enough hits here. I think they’ll cut their losses and not risk further exposure.” Trevor shrugged, less sanguine than he tried to appear. He’d have an official reason to stay if she was still under threat, but he’d rather she was safe. He was staying, even if it meant resigning.
“Except they lost face, big time.” She tilted her head to one side and raised her brows. “They might come after me, regardless.”
She had a point. “I know you’ll hate this idea, but we could do the same thing we did with Deb. We make you the new face of the campaign so there’s too much downside to taking you out.” And he’d stay close to make sure she didn’t simply disappear, because that would be the Bratva’s next move. They’d wait for the initial publicity to die down, swoop in, and grab her, then ship her off to Russia, or someplace worse, like a Middle Eastern country. That way, not only would they get revenge, but they’d make big money from Sam’s classic beauty.
And his life would be short because he’d spend it trying to rescue her, and the odds wouldn’t be in his favor. Especially in a foreign country that hated Americans. But he’d do it because his life wasn’t worth living without her.
“I definitely hate it.” She grimaced. “But if I have to, I will. Preferably something that shows the work I’ve done for the community.”
“It won’t take much of a shift. You set up the recovery effort for Deb’s and all that other stuff, so we’ll ask Kim to highlight you more.” Trevor wrote a note, so he wouldn’t forget to discuss it with Aviss.
“Sure.” She stared out the window.
“Maybe you should go for a walk. Get some fresh air. I’ve got to set up the satellite internet station, anyway. Don’t go too far, so I can keep an eye on you.” Sam had to leave the past behind and concentrate on the future.
She shook her head. “I think I’ll soak in the tub. I need to process all”—she shrugged—“this.”
“Good, that will give me time to set up the internet.”
With Sam inside, Trevor left the cabin and retrieved the satellite internet equipment from the vehicle. The instructions were clear and easy. After setting it up in the front yard, he left the antenna searching for the best view. He surveyed their surroundings, dismayed by the sheer expanse of the ranch. Grabbing binoculars from the SUV, he circled the house every five minutes, avoiding the fenced area. He’d minimize any invasion of Sam’s privacy.
Water ran twice, then the glug of a tub emptying alerted him she’d finished. Trevor rose, crossed the lawn, and returned inside, opening his laptop. He connected the satellite internet device and set it up, then changed the password, writing it on a piece of paper for Sam.
The bedroom doorknob rattled, and Sam entered the room, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with bare feet. She picked up the paper on her laptop. “Thanks for this.” Opening the laptop, she tapped and typed, ignoring him.
At least she hadn’t argued. “Let me know if you want a walk or a run.”
“Not today.” She didn’t raise her gaze from the laptop screen.
That meant no running for him, either. Too bad, because he had energy to burn. He’d have to sink that into his work instead. He logged into the ranch’s security system and set alerts. Then he returned to the spreadsheets he’d been working on. All the numbers added up and the product descriptions were so vague that they could refer to almost anything. He closed that spreadsheet and opened an older one that had, from the title, been archived. The main spreadsheet was just as unenlightening. He clicked to a tab from three years prior and scanned. Almost all the entries on the sheet had little red corners indicating comments. Clicking on one brought up a notation to a separate sheet and cell.
Clicking along the tabs on the bottom, he couldn’t find the specific sheet. He entered the notation into the search bar and selected the sheet, but a password field popped up. The spreadsheet owner had hidden the sheet and password protected it. He doubted “password1234” would work but tried it anyway, along with other common passwords. None of them worked. But when he entered “password” into the search bar, he was rewarded with another hidden sheet full of passwords, and it wasn’t protected. Some annotations were cryptic, but he found the one for the protected spreadsheet and entered it.
The hidden sheet contained screen shots of hand-written inventories and receipts. Each document listed product quantities with dollar amounts. Some also contained short coded descriptions, but just a glance made it clear that there were drugs, weapons, and, most horrifyingly, people. More importantly, each receipt had a location for the pickup and notes concerning the condition of the “goods,” which in the case of the trafficked individuals, was extremely disturbing.
Trevor returned to the primary sheet. The comment notations were a dead giveaway—maybe the original accountant had hidden those too, and a software update revealed them? Switching between the files, clearly, different people had worked on the account. The previous accountant must have been removed—probably killed—but the next accountant had left the information intact, which seemed odd. Perhaps they hadn’t looked at it, not caring about the past. Or the entire spreadsheet had been archived before the new accountant started working. “By the seven suns of Saga! There actually is a smoking gun. Someone wanted some insurance in an easy-access location.”
“Huh?” Sam looked up from her laptop.
“I’ve got to call Aviss. I found something really important. It might be enough to intercept their next shipment.” Trevor’s heart pounded and his mouth dried. The file was old, but there might be enough information to save some people.
“Really?” Sam’s eyebrows rose.
“Really.” Trevor copied the previously hidden sheets into a new spreadsheet with notes and emailed it to Aviss. Grabbing his phone, he selected Aviss’s number. A call exposed them, but it was necessary. If only they knew how high the corruption went in the Bureau. Or maybe it wasn’t high, but wide, infiltrating their tech department. That would explain how they’d tracked him and other agents when they shouldn’t be able to.
“Aviss. Go ahead.”
“Just sent you a butler with a knife. It’s not recent, but it should give you some pointers for product interception.” He hoped his reference was vague, but enough to tip Aviss off.
“Hold on.” A click, then tapping. “Excellent work. You ready to move?”
“Yes.” Trevor looked around, making sure he wasn’t lying. His bag was packed, his other prosthetic strapped to it. They’d abandon the food and the satellite internet; Aviss could retrieve it later. He had to get Sam ready, too.
“Good. We’ve got eyes on you and will let you know if we see any indications, but we were counting on twenty-four hours. Next place isn’t as secure. Sending you the address if you have to go. Map out routes now.”
