Page 101 of The Atlas Maneuver

She and Kelly Austin were headed south, away from Marrakesh, on the RN7, a main highway that eventually led to Agadir on the coast. The car had been waiting when they deplaned. The pilot had informed them just before landing where they were setting down and Austin had not been surprised.

“I’m not an idiot. I know about the event in Morocco. It’s a big deal. And I assumed Katie would move ahead, telling no one about what I did.”

“And what was it you did?” Kyra had asked, trying to learn more.

But Austin had only smiled. “I’ll trade you.”

Clever. But not possible.

So she’d let it go, though she wanted to know what was going on. Gledhill was usually the picture of cool. Nothing got to her. But the older woman had seemed agitated and anxious today.

Both surprising.

A lack of a passport for Austin had not been an issue as no one had met the plane, nor demanded to see any documents, at the airport. Kyra assumed that was more of Gledhill’s influence.

Money truly did talk.

They were rising in altitude, the terrain stretching away in undulations of the sallow, sunburned grass that belonged to high-up places. She’d never visited Morocco before, though she’d heard tales and stories. Lots of men with money, but not the type who routinely used services like hers. And, if they did, they surely kept those in-house.

“There it is,” Austin said.

Perched on a mount. High in the shelter of the mountains. Akasbah. A grand fortified house built by the rich, made of compacted red mud. Its castle-like shape came from four turrets, one at each corner, once used by other similar buildings to keep a lookout or to fire down at enemies or bandits. Its windows were intentionally small both to keep weather out and to make the target difficult to acquire. More buildings stretched out around it, but the kasbah remained the tallest. High walls washed in pink tones encircled the compound. Great old cypress and palm trees stood close to the outer walls softening the monolithic effect. The sun’s last rays fought to stave off the coming evening chill that would accompany long shadows.

“Banking pays well,” Austin said.

That it did.

“This land was once owned by the king,” Austin said. “It was given to Katie’s father long ago.”

“No telling what favors were being repaid.”

“Her father built the house, and she has maintained it.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Several times.”

“You know a lot about her.”

“More than anyone else, I imagine.”

The car motored to a gate arm that blocked the road. Kyra didnot at first see the guards until they stepped from the shadows. Two men. Both armed with assault rifles. They spoke to the driver in Arabic, which she did not understand. But they were quickly waved ahead, the barrier lifted, and the car headed farther up the mount toward the main gate in the high walls. Security was everywhere. Men with rifles outside the walls, more atop, all of them patrolling. She wondered what was happening here.

I know about the event in Morocco.That’s what Austin had said.

“What’s going on here tonight?” she asked.

“Changing the world.”

Which told her nothing.

She wondered if the time would come when she’d have to kill Kelly Austin. Definitely, she’d do it. Only rarely had she ever regretted doing her job. But she might here. Austin seemed like a decent person. And the whole thing with her daughter, given up at birth. Tough break. But she still wanted to know what was happening.

She asked, “Does this involve bitcoin?”

The car stopped at two huge wooden gates. Both closed. Other men with rifles waited. More discussions with the driver. Then the gates slowly swung open.

“Do you own bitcoin?” Austin asked.

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