Page 74 of Broken Trust
A light blinked. It was a go.
Then they slipped into the office.
“Liam,” Elin breathed his name.
He gestured for her to remain silent while he scanned for bugs, moving swiftly around the small office, sweeping the bookcase, filing cabinet and around the government-issue desk as well as a few framed commendations on the walls. A half-empty coffee mug sat beside a monitor that was switched off, which he scanned too.
Behind him, he heard a soft rustle as Elin moved to the desk. She slipped on a pair of gloves and started connecting her cables.
The room filled with the faint hum of systems waking up.
Mason moved to the far side of the room, crouching near the filing cabinet. He ran a fingertip along the side, then checked the air vent too. Nothing.
But something about the room nagged at him, and it wasn’t the scent of stale coffee.
He straightened and turned toward the shelf near the door. A framed photo sat there—Kent shaking hands with a man in a suit.
Mason’s focus narrowed as he lifted it.
And his gut went cold.
A small pinhole glinted in the top corner of the frame. A camera lens.
“Shit.”
Elin glanced up. “What?”
He flipped the frame facedown, adrenaline flooding his chest. “We’ve been made.”
Her gloved hands paused on the keyboard. “How long?”
He was already mentally scanning the blueprint of the Pentagon and the tunnels below that he’d committed to memory. “We have to go.”
“The upload’s halfway done. I need thirty seconds.”
“Thirty seconds is too long.” He crossed to her.
“I need time.” She worked faster, fingers almost frantic as she copied files.
He took position at the door, rifle ready, his heartbeat syncing with the ticking clock in his head.
Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight.
Without a second to spare, she yanked the cables and stuffed the drive back into her pocket. “Got it. Onto the next phase.”
The next phase was for Elin to meet Kent. In person. Not alone—never alone. Mason wouldn’t be far away.
But even a foot away felt too damn far.
* * * * *
Liam wasn’t leaving the office.
Why wasn’t he leaving?
He stood frozen, head cocked as if he could hear something her untrained ears missed.
He’d gone still. Every muscle locked, his posture screaming danger.
