Matthias felt an almost crushing sensation the minute he walked from the fresh, open air and into the cramped, equipment-stuffed narrow corridors of Sentry Systems.

So much for the vacation.

Although there had been promises of an easy assignment, he knew better than to believe it. He knew it was best to expect the worst.

He’d been in contact with Jackson yesterday, the DARC Op’s leader’s voice buzzing in his ear about the latest case as he took a long ride. May as well enjoy the bike while he could. It was like listening to an audiobook, Jackson telling the story about the Atlanta-based cybersecurity company named Sentry Systems. Currently, they had two major clients. The Atlanta Investment and Development Agency, who wanted a more robust encryption for their communications server, and H&L Houston, a defense outfitter for the FBI. H&L Houston had been working on a means for the FBI to track the vehicles of their agents on the road as a security precaution. And they needed Sentry’s solutions to keep that means out of the hands of hackers, criminals, and terrorists.

And now, Sentry needed DARC Ops.

He’d have to dig up that old professionalism he’d use for dealing with clients, the personality that was part salesman, part detective. They couldn’t know about his occasional shaky hands, his jumpiness at an old backfiring car. He’d have to be that cool and collected cyber-tactician. A counter-intelligence expert. And a badass biker.

The last mandate had seemed the easiest when he pulled through the gate and into the Sentry Systems parking lot. The gurgling roar of his Harley echoed against the cinderblock wall of a building that looked more like a munitions bunker than a boutique tech firm. Wrapped around it, outside the gate, was a row of barbed-wire fencing. No armed-guard towers, but security cameras. One every twenty feet around the top of the building, creating an atmosphere similar to the DARC Ops headquarters. Only it wasn’t part of a fancy skyscraper nestled deep in the heart of the nation’s capitol, but a three-story bunker stretched out amidst the bleak light-industrial countryside near the airport. A place so isolated it could have been a prison.

Inside, past another security guard’s inspection, Matthias was shown directly inside the CEO’s top-floor office. There, he met the big man himself, Mr. Geffen, a 6’4” musclehead who looked more the part of a football player—or even former marine—than he did tech consultant.

“Nice ride,” he said. “I heard you coming a half mile away, and through these walls, that says a lot.”

“Try riding it,” Matthias said, wincing as he rubbed his ear.

“Yeah, right, I’d love to. That’s a Night Rod, right?”

Matthias nodded. Night Rod sounded fittingly badass.

“I thought so,” Mr. Geffen said. “I had to check the window when you pulled in.” He patted at his pant pockets for something. “Anyway, take a seat here and I’ll give you the short of it. I know you’re a busy guy.”

“Well, I rode all the way from D.C. So, I’ve got time to hear the whole thing.” Matthias took a seat in one of the plush leather armchairs facing Geffen’s desk.

“There’s really not much to it,” said Geffen. “H&L Houston delivered a product to the FBI that we helped them on. The FBI found some cracks in it, avenues that could potentially be exploited by hackers or terrorists, or both. And with H&L denying that it was any of their fault, the finger quite naturally gets pointed back to us.”

“Naturally.”

“The real problem is that H&L wants to prove that it was us. And they’ll probably do anything in their power to make it look that way.” He started walking back around his table, to his chair. “And the problem with that . . .” he raised his hands, making a big exasperated shrug.

Matthias finished Geffen’s thought for him, saying, “The problem is that H&L is twice the size as you guys, and with three times the resources.”

“Yeah.” But Geffen didn’t seem impressed, his face almost forming a frown. “I see you were already briefed.”

“Correct. So we can actually cut right down to it.”

“Okay.”

“Do you trust your employees?”

He laughed, sitting in his chair. “I do.”

“You trust them one hundred percent?”

He laughed again, this time his face looking a little more uncomfortable.

“That laugh,” said Matthias. “That’s not the sound of one hundred percent. Maybe more like , , , eighty, eighty-five.”

“Something like that.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Mr. Geffen’s eyes checked over Matthias’ shoulders, and then back down to his hands, folded and wringing on top of his desk. Suddenly, that bravado had disappeared. The false front, stripped away. In its place was the look of a sad, worried little big man.

“Where are you from, originally?” Matthias asked.

“Why? The northern accent?”

“Minnesota?”

He laughed. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Great Lakes?”

“Michigan. You?”

“Cincy.”

“Ah,” said Geffen. “Guys like us kinda stick out down here.”

“Yankees.”

“That’s right.”

“So tell me about this tracking system,” Matthias said.

“The Feds wanted a way to keep track of their personnel vehicles. But they wanted to make sure that they were the only ones with that capability.”

“H&L couldn’t guarantee that?”

“No. But we can. Theoretically, a hacker would be able to monitor, and perhaps even take control of the car’s systems through some open backdoor stuff on the H&L side. The Feds wanted a stronger encryption, and for that, they’d turned to Sentry Systems.”

“So H&L does the hardware.”

“That’s right,” said Geffen. “And Sentry handles the firmware. We were pretty excited about the partnership at first.”

“Is this your biggest contract?”

“No. That would be AIDA. Atlanta Investment and—”

“Development Agency.”

“Nice homework.” Geffen cleared his throat. “You seem to know a lot about us. Care to let me know who the leak is?”

“Leak?” asked Matthias.

Geffen nodded.

“Well, probably someone in your twenty-five percentile.”

“Right.”

“You really think it’s someone on your end?”

“I actually don’t,” said Mr. Geffen. “To be honest, a big reason why you’re here is just for legal reasons.”

“Legal?”

“Just to show due diligence on our part. To cover our asses, with all due respect.”

Matthias began to wonder if Jackson had indeed been accurate about his assessment of the mission. It was unusual. He’d never been requested for such a legal triviality. And unusual, also, because it seemed so easy.

“So how hard do you actually want me to look?” Matthias asked.

“Um . . .” Geffen laughed. “I’m not gonna tell you to half-ass this. But hey, don’t break your neck over it.”

Good. Matthias definitely wasn’t planning on that. He’d already broken enough.

“If there’s an obvious leak,” said Geffen. “A conspirator, a mole, whatever, then of course we’d like to know about it. But I really don’t think there is. I trust my staff.”

“You mentioned before about, some names? Some employees you might have questions about?”

“Did I?” He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment, and then smiled. “No, I didn’t.”

“Almost got you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Matthias chuckled. “Okay, maybe not. But could you tell me now?”

Mr. Geffen sighed. “I suppose there might be one person that you could pay closer attention to.”