Mark Del Franco - Face Off

Definitely meaning the package would have broader impact, Laura thought.

“I still don’t like the package being on hand like this. The longer we have it before we are ready to execute, the higher risk for exposure.”

DeWinter rested his hands on the table. “I am considering accelerating the timetable. We have a very timely event that might provide greater success than our original plan.”

Lentner made a dismissive sound. “You always press like this, DeWinter. You’re getting too rash. We need to be fully prepared.”

“No names here,” he said.

That made her angry. “This isn’t a game, DeWinter. We all know each other.”

“Security. If you cannot refrain from being careful with your speech, you will have a hard time in front of a Senate hearing,” he said.

As Lentner and DeWinter challenged each other with stares, the overweight man turned his attention to Laura. “Your absence from Monday’s meeting has caused concern.”

Moor hadn’t mentioned any Monday meetings, and Laura had no idea who the man was. “I had a more pressing matter to attend to,” she said.

His eyebrows arched. “More pressing? What could have possibly had more importance than”—he glanced at DeWinter—“replacement for the lost supplies?”

Laura didn’t want to continue the conversation. Unknown territory was dangerous territory. “Are you questioning me?”

The man seemed to gather some courage. “Yes, in fact, I am.”

Laura boosted some essence into her ruby and accessed part of her template. She let her hand twitch against the table surface, let the fingers lengthen and her nails shift to claws. She took a calculated risk. “I don’t answer to you.”

All eyes in the room went to her hand. The threat of going boggart intimidated many people, and having most of the people in the room afraid of the fey in the first place only added to it.

“I have already discussed that with her and approved of her decision,” said DeWinter. He smiled at the man, but Laura knew the look was for Moor.

She sensed the lie, but she didn’t need that ability to know they hadn’t discussed anything. They hadn’t. This sort of situation was the reason personal relationships in an operation were bad. They created competing priorities and loyalties. It was one of the reasons she worried about getting involved with Sinclair. Still, he had made a good case for ignoring that worry, and she was letting him convince her.

“What is this meeting about?” she snapped.

People shifted in their seats, sending furtive looks at DeWinter. He had called the meeting. His level of authority was evident. “To announce the shorter schedule of operation. I will have the precise date in a day or two. In the meantime, it is imperative we use the next few hours to protect our assets. I suggest we all initiate the market-management plans we’ve discussed.”

The overweight man frowned at Laura. “That is precisely one of the items discussed at the meeting you missed.”

Laura had nothing to work with to defend herself. She didn’t know the plans or the players. DeWinter’s answer to her question rang true in her senses. The intent of the meeting was more to inform others that he was speeding up his schedule than anything substantive. The situation had reached the point where the risk of exposing her lack of understanding of what was going on outweighed whatever additional information she gained. She stood, sending her chair skittering back. “You heard what you need to know. We have the funds, the opportunity, and the schedule. Get moving. I don’t have time for this.”

She stalked out of the room, leaving behind a ring of stunned faces. She had not been in her office more than ten minutes before DeWinter arrived. “That wasn’t very diplomatic, love,” he said.

With a practiced air of guilt, she smiled. “I’m not much into coddling, Adam.”

He chuckled. “True, but some of our relationships are fragile. We need to make them feel part of the process.”

She strolled around her desk and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. “You call the shots, Adam. They needed to be reminded.”

He gathered her hand in his and kissed it. “You’ve been on edge lately the last few days. Not yourself.”

She lowered her head against his shoulder. “I know. I have a lot to keep track of. I promise I’ll be my normal self again soon.”

He held her and kissed her on the forehead. “I love when you allow me to see you like this.”

Keeping her head down, she rubbed her hand on his chest. “You make it easy to be myself.”

He kissed her again. “I have to go. Some of them want to talk privately.”

She broke their embrace. “Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with the new schedule.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” he said.

Laura breathed a sigh of relief as he left. DeWinter knew how to run a secret operation—no written evidence, no names, coded phrasings. She gathered her things, not wanting to risk getting cornered by any of the other meeting attendees.

She had some good leads. DeWinter’s accelerated schedule worried her. Less time to find answers meant the possibility of failure. She refused to accept that as an option.

THROUGHOUT THE FOLLOWINGday, dozens of Inverni staff had paraded through the Guildhouse conference room, their faces stoic or apprehensive or annoyed. Laura had forgotten how large entourages could be. At the start of the interviews, she had been cordial and conversational, but that soon fell away in the monotony of reciting the same questions over and over.

Terryn surprised her by walking in with the last person on the list, a male brownie attached to the Inverni administrative staff. She had tried to coordinate a meeting with him throughout the previous day, but he had remained behind closed doors with Draigen and her staff.

The brownie sat with poise, unflustered by the presence of Terryn, whom he had to recognize. Laura picked up the one-sheet survey she had had all the visiting Inverni fill out. “You’re Davvi Norrin?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re on Draigen’s staff?”

The man did not move at all. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You wrote down ‘assistant.’ What do you do?”

Davvi tilted his head. “I assist, ma’am.”

Laura didn’t sense any sarcasm or guile. “In what respect?”

He lowered his gaze as if trying to read what was in front of Laura. “Schedules, ma’am.”

She glanced at him. “For?”

He leaned away, resuming his stiff posture. “The Lady Regent, ma’am.”

“Can you be more specific?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said.

Caught off guard, Laura chuckled. “Why not?”

He frowned, his thin, pale eyebrows pulling together in sincere puzzlement. “I work for the Lady Regent, ma’am.”

Laura pursed her lips. “We’ve covered that already.”

Davvi nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Laura stared at him, trying not to let her frustration build. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention. “What do you schedule for the Lady Regent?”

“Her business, ma’am.”

“Can you be more specific on that?”

“No, ma’am.”

Laura closed her eyes. She had been at it for hours and had no idea what was going on with the man. She didn’t need to continue with the interview anyway. He was a brownie, and the signature she was looking for was fairy. His silence intrigued and annoyed her, as if he had something to hide. “You seem reluctant to answer my questions, Davvi.”

He looked surprised. “No, ma’am.”

“This agent has my trust, Davvi. You may answer her as you would me,” Terryn said.