Page 1 of In the Shadows
Prologue
The room didn't exist.
That was the first thing you learned when you worked for people like this—some places weren't on any map, weren't in any database, weren't acknowledged by anyone who valued their career or their freedom. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a flat, institutional glow. No windows. Recycled air that tasted like it had passed through a thousand other lungs before reaching his.
Ronan Cross had been in rooms like this before. Too many times to count.
He sat at a metal table, a cup of coffee going cold in front of him, and studied the satellite photographs spread across the surface. A small town. Harbor. Tree-lined streets. The kind of place that showed up in tourism brochures with words like charming and historic and escape the ordinary.
Blossom Springs, Florida.
Population: twelve thousand. Founded in 1875. Primary industries: tourism, fishing, artisanal everything. The sort of town where people went to retire, or to hide, or to pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.
"Seventeen flags in six months."
The voice came from across the table. David Mein—no, not Mein, Ronan reminded himself. The man had given a name when they'd first met, years ago, but Ronan had long since stopped believing it was real. Everyone in this world wears masks. Some were just better fitting than others.
"That's a lot for a town this size," Ronan said.
"That's why you're looking at it." David slid another photograph across the table. An aerial view of the harbor, boats dotting the water like toys in a bathtub. "Maritime traffic patterns that don't match registered vessels. Gaps in tracking—forty-seven minutes, regular intervals, always the same window."
"Could be equipment malfunction."
"Could be. Except the equipment checks out fine, and the gaps started eighteen months ago. Right around the time this happened." Another photograph. A property survey, dense with technical notations. "Land permits. Sixteen of them in the past two years, all with irregularities that got flagged during a routine federal audit."
Ronan picked up the survey, scanning the details. Boundary lines that didn't quite match county records. Easement modifications that had bypassed normal approval processes. Small changes, the kind that would slip past anyone who wasn't looking closely.
"Someone's moving property lines."
"Someone's been moving them for years. The audit only caught the recent ones. When we dug deeper—" David spread his hands. "The pattern goes back at least fifteen years. Maybe longer."
"To what end?"
"Coastal access. Every modified property is connected to the water in some way. Private coves. Unmarked access points. Places where a boat could come and go without anyone noticing."
Ronan set down the survey. Picked up his coffee, found it cold, drank it anyway. "You think they're running something through the harbor."
"I think the harbor is part of it. But there's more." David pulled out a tablet, swiped through several screens, and turned it to face Ronan. "Emergency response times. Look at the variance."
The data showed what looked like random fluctuation—some nights, ambulances reached their destinations in eight minutes; other nights, the same routes took twice as long. But Ronan had been doing this long enough to know that random was rarely random.
"They're manipulating dispatch."
"That's our theory. The question is why." David leaned back in his chair. "And that's where you come in."
"Embed and investigate."
"The town's planning a centennial celebration. Big event, lots of outside contractors. Perfect cover for a security consultant who wants to ask questions without raising suspicion." David slid a folder across the table. "Your legend. The company's called Sentinel Security. We've built you a history—Charleston, Savannah, and a few other coastal events. References will check out."
Ronan opened the folder. Scanned the documents inside. Driver's license, business cards, a résumé that described a career he'd never had.
"Timeline?"
"Three weeks until the celebration. We want you on the ground before that, getting a feel for the town. The players. The patterns." David paused. "There's a woman. Works in the permits office."
He slid one more photograph across the table.
Ronan looked at it.
