Page 88 of Code Name: Atticus
Tex pulled up Redpoint’s government contracts on another screen. “They handle federal grant management systems. Nothing classified, but valuable. They can see which projects get funding, which contractors win bids, which technologies the government is investing in.”
“Industrial intelligence,” I muttered. “Does this prove Trevor’s been the one selling insider information?”
“Yes. It was small stuff at first,” Alice confirmed, building a timeline. “Which contracts were likely to be renewed, which departments had budget increases. Nothing illegal enough to trigger alerts, but worth millions to someone like Morrison who could front-run investments.”
Dragon added communication metadata to her display. “Encrypted messages between Trevor and unknown parties started six months ago.”
“Can you crack it?”
Alice smiled. “Already did. Well, partially. They made one critical mistake. They reused an encryption key across multiple operations. Once I cracked one message, I could decrypt them all.”
“How long for the complete dataset?”
“I’ve got seven parallel instances running on our quantum cores. Two more hours for everything.”
While Alice’s systems worked, I dug deeper into Trevor’s background with Dragon. Stanford ROTC, graduated same year as Luke and I did from the Air Force Academy. They’d met atRayodyne Defense Systems before starting Redpoint. On paper, clean as fresh snow.
But Dragon found the cracks. “Mindy Collins’ spending patterns.” She threw receipts onto a screen like dealing cards. “Louis Vuitton, Hermès, Cartier. New Tesla Model S Plaid last month. Hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar renovation on their Palo Alto house.”
“Luke mentioned it,” I remembered. “At dinner Wednesday, he said something about Mindy wanting a thirty-thousand-dollar purse.”
“She bought three. Last month alone.”
“Jesus. What’s Trevor supposedly earning from Redpoint?”
“Three hundred thousand. Comfortable, but not this comfortable.”
“Family money?”
“Mindy’s family is middle class from Ohio. Trevor’s father is career Army, mother’s a teacher. No trust funds, no inheritance.”
Admiral studied the patterns. “So where’s the money coming from?”
“Morrison,” Alice said. “I’ve traced twelve of the seventeen shell companies so far. They all link back to his investment funds through various cutouts.”
An hour into the decryption process, patterns emerged. Messages between Trevor and someone designated “M1”—obviously Morrison.
The early ones were innocuous. Investment opportunities, potential partnerships, standard Silicon Valley networking. But six months ago, the tone shifted.
Interested in discussing alternative revenue streams?
Depends on the nature, Trevor had responded.
Information has value. Your position provides unique insights.
I’m listening.
What followed was a gradual seduction. Small requests at first—which grants were likely to be approved, budget allocations for various departments. Nothing classified, nothing obviously illegal. Just insider information worth millions to someone who could position investments accordingly.
“Luke had no idea,” I said, reading through the exchanges. “His partner was selling their company’s data behind his back.”
“There’s more,” Alice said. “Look at Friday night—the Rosewood mixer.”
Morrison’s tone changed immediately after that.
New players at tonight’s event require investigation, came from M1.
Someone called L1, most likely Liu, responded.Running protocols. Maintain distance.
