The Unknown Threat Coming into View
The "War Room" at Blue-Trace Security was a hive of controlled aggression. Today was intense because all their top people were working on the same thing. They had to understand a threat—not just understand the nature of it but also understand how to terminate it.
Hackers that had been watched by the US government all their lives now worked for an up-and-coming tech security agency. Behavioralists hired to optimize guest experience were now delving into the Iceland files for a murder and looking into other crimes and news from the other locations pinged in the trace of Sebastian's wiretap.
All proverbial hands were on deck.
Vane was no longer just managing the monitoring of pings; he was watching the Blue-Trace crew perform a digital autopsy on the entire resort's infrastructure. Miller was not just digging into files to track someone down; he was digging to understand motivations and reveal the perp's next move.
"He didn't just tap the cameras, Miller," Vane said, his tracking across a specialized screen as the techs worked. They were bypassing the standard firewalls and Vane was seeing all they saw in real time. "He's embedded a sub-routine in the environmental controls. HVAC, smart-locks, even the irrigation system. He's been using the resort's own power grid to mask his data transmissions."
Miller sat at a desk not too far away. A cup of untouched black coffee was at his side and case files were neatly stacked in four categories. "So when we searched for external signals, we didn't find anything because he was making the house look like it was just... breathing."
"Exactly," Vane muttered. "And here's the kicker. They've found a mirrored terminal. It's been active for weeks. It wasn't just watching the common areas; it had a dedicated feed to Villa 4. Our 'wealthy guest' has been watching himself be watched."
Miller felt a cold prickle at the base of his neck. "If he knew we were watching him in Villa 4, he's already moved. He's two steps ahead of the sweep." He paused. "Let's not jump the gun. This guy has been too slippery to just give himself away so easily. We need to run a check on Villa 4 and determine if he's our guy."
"But if we go in too soft we can have casualties or even allow him to get away."
"If he has been watching the entire time then he has already gotten away. What do you know about this guest?"
The two men looked around to see Virginia Lance standing at the screens, scrutinizing the data with narrowed eyes. Her large luxury handbag seemed heavy as she held it against her body. She looked to them with a smile and raised the handbag. "I brought you a few toys to play with—on loan from the US government."
While the digital hunt intensified, the physical world continued its mundane rotations at the new Trace-Progressive Corporate Headquarters. The newly procured building was suddenly a hub of media tech personnel, tech equipment reviewers, and construction personnel. The building was a hodgepodge of experts and activities.
On the administrative floor, Elena, Dan's new lead administrative assistant, was entering an elevator to leave the building. She quickly got into her company car and drove to a nearby postal center.
Elena shielded her eyes from the midday sun as she stepped out of the car. The atmosphere in the city had been suffocating since the news of Calvin's attack broke, but life had to go on and she had to go for the "PO Box Run," as per usual, to ensure their area was not too overloaded.
She opened the large box—Box 98023-5578—and began pulling out the usual mountain of tech journals, legal notices, endorsement requests, and other Trace-Progressive business correspondence. There were several package slips, and she went to the larger area allotted to them to find the rest. She sighed as she saw the mountain of packages and went to work loading them into her cart to take them back to the company SUV.
Elena tried to stay organized and placed larger, heavier packages on the bottom and built the stack upwards. She never noticed the palm-sized, heavy package wrapped in expensive, matte-black paper, because she had already shuffled so many by the time she got to it.
There was no return address, just a label with calligraphy so perfect it looked like it had been engraved by a machine.
To: Mrs. Amber Ann Lance c/o Trace-Progressive.
Elena carted the entire load to the SUV and neatly organized everything in the back. The expensive paper of Sebastian's package ripped slightly as it slid across a sharp corner. Elena didn't notice. She was already closing the back of the vehicle and pulling out her phone.
Her phone clicked as the line connected. "Mary, there is more than you could ever imagine. I think we will need Edward's help this time."
"Really? Oh jeez. Well, we better order lunch in today. You want the usual?"
"Yes, but get me a water and an iced macchiato. I think I am going to need a boost."
Elena disconnected the call and began the ride back to the office.
Inside the ebony box, nestled in emerald green satin, the "Microscopium" brooch sat in the dark, the polished emerald—subdued by delicate sculpted leaves—waiting for the light of Amber's office to bring it to life. Sebastian's "love" had officially arrived into the depths of the Lance-Trace empires. It was bypassing every security guard and moving directly to Amber Ann, just where Sebastian wanted it to be.