Mark Del Franco - Face Off

“The Archives incident would be precisely the kind of thing this group fights against, wouldn’t it?” asked Sinclair. “If Blume’s in this group, then he’s been telling the truth that he had no idea Triad was involved at the Archives.”

Laura rocked her head from side to side. “It could be a blind to cover his activities. Or he could have staged the event to drum up support for Legacy.”

Sinclair snorted. “Wow. That’s pretty cynical.”

Terryn didn’t change his expression as he reviewed the documents in front of him. “At InterSec, we examine every angle. We don’t have the luxury of trust.”

Sinclair frowned. “So people are guilty until proved innocent?”

Terryn did not look up. “Circumstances are evaluated for all contingencies. InterSec discards them as it discredits them, Agent Sinclair. If you can’t be thorough, I can find you a desk job.”

Sinclair rocked back on his chair. “Hey, we’re buds. Call me Jono. Maybe later we can go hang out and have a few beers.”

Laura didn’t look up as she felt the flash of anger from Terryn. She was going to have to talk Sinclair. Terryn was the wrong person to taunt. “I think what Terryn’s saying is that we try to be as objective and analytical as possible.”

Terryn shifted more documents onto the screen. “I think Terryn said exactly what he meant.”

Startled, Laura did look then. Terryn maintained his focus on the information in front of him. He was never short with her. In fact, it was so out of character, it took her a moment to realize her jaw had dropped in reaction—an emotional display that was out of character for her. She closed her mouth and glanced at Sinclair. He shifted his eyes away before they made contact. Embarrassed, Laura cleared her throat. “Of course.”

Terryn wasn’t known for his sense of humor. His expression was subtle, but his message was clear. Laura’s decision to bring Sinclair into the agency did not sit well with him. He tapped his screen. “We’re getting some chatter that Legacy may be connected to the recent attacks on fey businesses. There are also indications that they are going to target Draigen for some type of political action when she arrives. I want inside information.”

Laura sensed the emotion beneath the way he said her name. Terryn was heir to the rule of the Inverni clan. Because of political intricacies she didn’t fully understand, he had refused the underKing title to spite High Queen Maeve and appointed his sister Draigen as regent. Her arrival in Washington had to be causing all kinds of conflicts for him, both personal and professional.

She assessed the workup in front of her. “Draigen’s going to be here soon. We’ve got Jono in with Legacy’s weapons people, but that’s not the part of the hierarchy responsible for strategic planning. We should have done an infiltration higher up in the organization sooner than this.”

Terryn seemed distracted as he reviewed the files. “We need to go in now. With the connections between Legacy and the fey attacks, I’m concerned Draigen might be in their sights. We’re going to go with a hard insertion.”

Sinclair arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean, but it sounds fun.”

Laura bit back a smile while Terryn shot him an annoyed look. A woman’s picture popped onto their screens. “This is Allison Forth. She’s in the U.S. illegally, using Fallon Moor as an assumed name. She is wanted in Ireland for participating in a Dublin bombing. As Fallon Moor, she has a nebulous administrative title at Legacy.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a hard insertion?” Sinclair asked.

Laura examined the image. Moor was a brownie, a race of fey that usually allied with the Seelie Court. Brownies tended to prefer lives of orderliness and cooperation. When something happened to disrupt their plans, they transformed into boggarts, the maniacal version of their normal selves that could be dangerous. The transformation was a mania in which their rationality slipped away until they could restore balance in their lives again. Moor’s pleasant face belied the list of crimes that scrolled up next to it. Laura was already thinking of ways to create a persona template of the woman. “We bring Moor in, get her to cooperate, and I take her place at Legacy.”

“Sounds like that could go bad very easily,” he said.

“That’s why we call it hard,” she said.

Sinclair leaned back in his chair again and crossed his arms. “What’s our authorization for all this?”

“I’m authorizing it,” said Terryn.

Sinclair tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. “Look, I’m undercover on your word only, macCullen. Some of this stuff sounds against the law. I don’t know how you did things in Ireland, but people have rights here, including to their political opinions.”

Without a word, Terryn pulled up more documents—police reports, individual criminal records, Web site snapshots. Sinclair became quiet. “Not if they cross the line into subversion. When that happens, it falls within InterSec’s jurisdiction. I believe, Agent Sinclair, you will note the connections between Legacy rank and file and the recent attacks on fey businesses.”

Sinclair grunted in reluctant acknowledgment. Terryn lifted his gaze and settled his deep green eyes on Sinclair. Terryn was an Old One and could turn his deep gaze into a formidable weapon of intimidation. Facing someone who had seen centuries pass, kingdoms rise and fall, and deaths uncounted was a humbling experience.

Laura’s second surprise of the meeting was watching Sinclair meet that look without flinching. For a moment, she thought Sinclair was going to argue with him, but instead he wrinkled his brow and returned to the screen in front of him.

“The documents are on your email, Agent Sinclair. Feel free to review them and see if they meet your legal concerns. We can discuss any questions you have later. You’re dismissed,” Terryn said.

Sinclair stood, not quite smirking, and muttered as he left the room. “Maybe in your mind.”

His parting glance at Laura told her there was probably going to be more than one discussion later. Laura stared down at the table, gloom settling over her.

“He’s going to be a problem,” Terryn said.

She didn’t look up. “It’s all new to him, Terryn. I’ll talk to him.”

“If he can’t get on board with the job, we’ll have to find another solution,” he said.

She didn’t want to think about another solution. Despite Terryn’s initial threats of incarceration, there were worse situations than a cell. InterSec had outposts in some of the most desolate places in the world. “I know. Give me some time.”

Terryn gathered his folders. “Things are moving quickly, Laura. Time isn’t something we have.”

He left. Perplexed at his uncharacteristic abruptness, Laura slowly spun her chair around and stared down the empty hallway.

A BALL OFpaper flew across the room as Laura entered Sinclair’s office. It hit the wall next to her head and landed beside the wastebasket. Sinclair crumpled another piece of paper and tossed it. And missed. Laura watched as he balled up more paper. Neither spoke as she leaned against the doorjamb, and he continued throwing and missing. Laura poked her foot at the growing pile of paper. “Have you never done this before, or do you just stink at it?”

He glowered at her and missed another shot.

She blinked her eyes at him, affecting an overly enthusiastic attitude. “Maybe your aim will improve if you picture the wastebasket as Terryn’s head.”

He paused, then threw a paper ball at her head. She batted it away, and it landed in the wastebasket. “See what you can accomplish with teamwork?” she asked.