Page 128 of Blind Prophet

Interesting.

“Do you know how?” I ask.

“By plane.”

“Private?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because he knew I’d left Colorado. I wasn’t sure how he knew, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he flew out of the same location I did. He probably spoke to someone who told him I left.”

“Right.” Caroline’s friend holds the door for us and closes it behind us as soon as we step inside. “Dorian Moore, I’m Sophia Fisher.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

She gives a curt nod and makes no move to offer her hand, so I lower the one I’ve extended.

Four other men sit at a long conference table. I recognize only one of them—the jackass who picked Caroline up earlier this morning.

Interestingly, he averts his gaze, focusing on the laptop in front of him.

“Do you mind, Dorian? We need to confer with Caroline privately.”

“Not at all. Do you have an office I can use?”

“Do you need a computer?”

“No, I have my laptop.” I pat the shoulder strap of the bag I’m carrying.

“He can use my cubicle,” Caroline offers.

“I’d prefer more privacy, if you have it.” The issue with cubicles is that anyone can see what’s on your screen. An outfit like this, it’s quite possible they have temporary staff doing recon.

“He can use my office,” the man at the end of the conference table says.

Based on Sophia’s reaction, she doesn’t like that idea at all. “It’s secure,” he says to Sophia. To me, he adds, “I’m Ryan Wolfgang, CEO of Arrow Tactical.”

“Ah, you work with Jack Sullivan.”

“Do you know Jack?”

“I know of him. We’ve attended some of the same conferences over the years. Friends in common with his brother, Liam, as well. They both hold an interest in satellites.” Satellite surveillance, actually, but I sense Ryan is informed.

With a polite nod, I follow Sophia out of the conference room and into an adjacent corner office. Through the glass, beyond the buildings and the street, a sliver of the Pacific Ocean shows.

“If you need anything, just knock on the conference room door.”

The door closes before I can respond. I scan the ceiling. There’s no visible camera, but I assume anything I do or say will be recorded. Still, I prefer the dignity of an office over a cubicle surrounded by strangers.

I power up my laptop and dial Nick. The desk is clean. Void of all items, save ports to plug chargers and connections. There’s not even a pen holder. Three monitors but no laptop. I suppose this is what he meant by his office being secure.

The setup is bare but efficient—exactly what you’d expect from someone who understands digital security. I connect through my own quantum-encrypted VPN. I’m taking no chances with data security.

Nick answers on the fourth ring.

“Where are you?”

“Santa Barbara. Arrow Tactical offices.”

---