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“Are you crazy?” he said practically shoving me aside. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
I shoved him out of the way and got back to work. “Not likely. I’m too good.”
“Not CIA good.”
I snorted at that. “Better. They tried to recruit me.”
“They did?” he asked in surprise.
I split my focus, talking to him as I continued my hack. “It was a long time ago. They couldn’t afford me.”
“I didn’t know you were in it for the money.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant. It was never about the money. It was about the cause. And I didn’t feel they were working toward the same goals as me.”
“Right, taking down corrupt foreign agencies and bad guys. Definitely not the same line of work as we’re in now.”
“The point is I didn’t trust any of them. And neither should you.” I was almost in, just a few more steps and… “Got it!”
I quickly put in the search parameters. I had maybe thirty seconds before I was detected and my location was given up.
Dash was over by me in a flash, studying the screen as I continued to search for what I needed. “Holy shit. I can’t believe you got in.”
“I’m that good.”
It didn’t take long to get the information I needed. I didn’t bother to study the files. I downloaded them, then scrubbed all traces of my presence on the site.
Spinning around in my chair, I grinned at FNG. “So, should we open the files and see who you were with?”
“Yes,” Dash said at the same time FNG shook his head.
He slapped his hand over mine, staring at me intently. “Rae, I’m asking you not to do this.”
“And I’m politely declining your request. No more secrets.”
He sighed, knowing I wasn’t about to give in. As he stepped back, he shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”
“I’ll believe that when the men in black show up to arrest me.”
I spun back around and opened the files. The first wasn’t our guy, not even by a long shot. He fit all the parameters except one. He was too old. “It’s not him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because this man is eighty years old, and you said you chased him through the market. There’s no way he would have outrun you.”
“Maybe he was a spritely eighty-year-old man,” FNG grumbled.
“And this guy,” I said, pulling up a second image, “is clearly not our guy.”
“Because he’s a little portly?” FNG asked.
Dash smacked him upside the head. “Any fool could figure it out. Not only is he portly, but he would look terrible in a white suit. It’s not his color. Besides, look how pale he is. He’d burn in the sun, and in a place like Morocco, he would stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Except sore thumbs don’t stand out,” FNG replied. “They’re just thumbs.”
I ignored him and continued. “Which leaves us with option number three. Ralph Miller,clearlya fake name. His real name is Rupert Hughes. He fits all the criteria, including the fact that he’s wanted in almost every country for conspiracy, fraud, and murder. He’s also on the terrorist watchlist.”
“Are you sure about that?” Dash asked. “He doesn’t look like he would lift a finger if it meant he would get his suit dirty.”
