Page 32 of Dark Angel
“That’s a lot of eggs,” Gabriel said.
“Teddy’s in the house,” Stoni replied, then her playful expression fell away. “Gabriel, how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.” Gabriel studied her for an extra beat. “What are you guys doing here and how did you get in?”
“Teddy let us in,” Stoni replied.
“I thought this was a secure site,” Gabriel said.
Stoni forked in some eggs. After swallowing them down, she said, “It is. We’re cleared to be here, and we wanted to check on you.”
“I thought you wrote fiction,” Gabriel said.
“Z and I worked together at the Bureau,” Stoni explained. “I left to write. After Z retired, he started recruiting me forspecialprojects.”
“If there’s anything I know,” Kathrine said, “No oneeversays no to Z.”
“Pushy little man,” Stoni said, and the women laughed. “But we love him.”
“He keeps our lives interesting,” Kathrine said.
“And way too busy,” Stoni added.
“What’s with the blackouts?” Gabriel asked before sipping the coffee.
Kathrine and Stoni exchanged glances.
“It’s nothing,” Kathrine said.
“Out with it,” Gabriel said, waving them in.
“There’s been chatter that we’ve been following at NSA,” Kathrine said. “There’s a vulnerability with the electrical grid.”
“In the US or around the world?” Gabriel asked.
“Pretty much everywhere,” Stoni replied. “That’s exactly what the Chinese, the Russians, and the bad actors in the Middle East are focusing on. You take down the grids?—”
“You create mass chaos,” Teddy said.
“So these blackouts… were they suspicious?” Gabriel asked.
“They gave my team pause,” Kathrine said. “Seven cities, full-blown blackouts for twenty-two minutes each, all at the same time.”
“Not a coincidence,” Gabriel murmured.
“That’s what’s got Z worried,” Stoni said.
“And half of NSA,” Kathrine added.
“And the FBI,” Stoni said. “It’s jumped to high-tier priority at all of the three-letter agencies.”
Just then, Z and Sin entered the kitchen.
Sinclair Develin—known as The Fixer—was a DC power player who co-ran Develin and Associates with his wife, Evangeline. Towering over most at six-three, Sin touted a muscular build, bright blue eyes, and short brown hair held in place with hair product. Always dressing for success, he wore a dark suit, crisp white shirt, no tie. The power Sin wielded put him in a category of his own. If he liked you, you were golden. If he didn’t… you were screwed. Big time.
“We’ve got a problem,” Z said, pulling up a chair.
Sin poured himself coffee, but instead of joining the group, he leaned his backside against the counter.
