Page 132 of Blind Prophet

About half of the cubicles now sit empty.

“Is the blackout over?” I ask, pulling out my phone for updates.

“No, but we believe it’s under control. Our part’s done for the moment. We’ve been working nonstop for weeks. We’re sending folks home to rest up and be with their families. It is Saturday, after all.”

“And if the blackout extends here?—”

“Stock up on water,” Ryan says. “Actually, if you need anything, you come here. We take care of our own. We’re prepped. But we’re not expecting the blackout to spread. Government agencies, the Pentagon, they’re all over this. Let’s take the break while we can.”

Through Ryan’s office door, I see Dorian with a phone held out in front of his mouth, his back to me, as he takes in the view from Ryan’s corner office.

Luke steps up. “Do you have a minute?” he asks, glancing between me and Ryan. “I thought we could clear the air.”

Clear the air? He had to choose those words? I thought we cleared the air on the ride from the airport, but I have no choice but to agree, given we’re standing in front of our boss.

“Certainly. Do you want some tea?” I ask, slightly thirsty.

“What do you say we take a step outside?” Luke counters. “I’ve been cooped up indoors too long.”

Dorian appears to be in an intense conversation, one I’m certain an Arrow team member is listening to, and I’m just as certain Dorian knows this and has determined his conversation doesn’t require privacy.

“Yeah. Let’s step across the street.” I’ll bring back something for Dorian, and then I’ll take Ryan up on his offer to call it a day. I’m tired. I woke up in an earlier time zone.

Luke asks one of the guys I don’t know if he wants anything and ends up jotting down a couple of drink orders, which feels unnecessary, since most of us have been told to call it a day. But, a lot of the Arrow guys are former military, and while we may not be active participants in the mission at this juncture, I understand the desire to get the updates and stay, just in case.

We step through the reception area. The desk sits empty.

Something feels off. The empty reception desk breaks standard security protocol, the building too quiet for an active crisis situation, even if some have been sent home. Perhaps it’s no longer an active crisis situation.

“What—”

A blunt, hard metal object presses into my ribs. Based on the pressure point and angle, likely a Glock 19, standard issue for private security.

“Keep walking. You fight me, and we go to Plan B.”

“Luke.” I draw his name out, buying time to catch up.

“Plan B involves you, dead. And a remote detonator blowing the Arrow Tactical building sky high.”

CHAPTER32

DORIAN

I wrap up my calls and exit Ryan Wolfgang’s office. There’s no doubt his team listened to my business calls. I hope they were suitably bored.

The conference room is ajar, and I rap my knuckles against the frame, pushing it slightly, scanning the room for Caroline.

A couple of men sit around a laptop.

I nod my apology for interrupting, but their attention quickly returns to the screen.

Sophia Sullivan Fisher, Caroline’s friend and a woman I’ve loosely monitored ever since I received a photograph of the two of them at a DC restaurant, spots me across the office.

As Sophia approaches, I recall the file I have on her. After we split, Caroline lived with her parents for several months. When she moved out, I waited for the press to do their job. The absence of news troubled me. I envisioned her having a torrid affair with one of my more reclusive friends and hired a PI.

The PI sent a slew of photographs but pulled herself from the assignment about a week into it. Said she’d been spotted. But in that one week, I learned enough.

Sophia might be the daughter of a billionaire and a member of a highly respected Texas family, but from what I can tell, she’s a dedicated public servant. Given our current situation in a privately held office partially owned by her father, it seems the CIA officer takes on side projects, too.

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