Chapter 72: New Assignment
Time moved the way it moved in December — faster than expected, the calendar compressing toward the holidays with the particular momentum of a year that had decided to finish.
Twelve days until Christmas. After Christmas, spring semester.
Simon was spraying down a display case with glass cleaner when Lester found him.
"Not clean enough," Lester said, arriving with the energy of a man who had recently been given authority and was still exploring its dimensions. "I expect every surface spotless by end of shift. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," Simon said.
"Good." Lester clapped him on the shoulder — the clap of someone who had watched management do that in movies — and walked away.
Simon set down the spray bottle and looked at Lester's retreating back.
"He's getting worse," he said, when Chuck appeared beside him.
"He's adjusting to authority," Chuck said. "Give him time."
"He's drunk on a title that doesn't come with actual power. It's a specific kind of person who thrives in that gap."
Chuck considered this. "That's a very precise observation."
"I've met a few of them."
Simon glanced toward the home theater showroom, where a group of college-aged men in sports team gear had been occupying the sectional sofa for four hours. Empty food containers were accumulating. Someone appeared to be sleeping.
"Those guys need to go," Simon said.
"Later," Casey said, from directly behind him, which Simon had noticed but filed until Casey chose to announce himself. "Lunch. Yogurt place."
"Again?" Chuck said. "Can we do actual food? There's a decent sandwich place—"
"Yogurt place," Casey said.
Simon looked at Chuck. "There's a mission."
Chuck's expression shifted from mild complaint to mild dread. "Oh. Right."
Casey was already walking.
The briefing room beneath the frozen yogurt shop had the temperature of a space that ran its HVAC independently of the building above it, and the particular quality of attention that settled over a room when Beckman's face appeared on the screen.
Sarah came down from the shop as they settled in.
Chuck looked at her. "Did you know Bryce was coming? Is he here?"
Sarah glanced at Casey. Casey glanced at Simon. Neither of them said anything.
"Now's not the time," Sarah said.
"Anyone care to share?" Beckman said from the screen.
"Nothing to share, General," Chuck said immediately. "Apologies."
"Good. Here's the situation." Beckman pulled up a file. "Fulcrum's operational footprint is larger than our previous assessment indicated. We've confirmed that one of their embedded operatives has stolen an encrypted chip from the Office of the Director of National Intelligence. The chip contains classified material — intelligence data intended for an Intersect system update."
"Will it expose us?" Sarah asked.
"With one exception — yes." Beckman's expression tightened slightly. "Everyone in this room except Simon is identified in that data."
The room processed this.
"Bryce Larkin has confirmed that Fulcrum has retained a software specialist named Von Hayes to decrypt the chip. Hayes is one of the better cryptographic minds currently working outside government sanction. Once he breaks the encryption, the data goes to Fulcrum."
"Timeline?" Casey said.
"Tonight. Hayes is hosting a private event at his Bel Air estate. The decryption is almost certainly planned to happen either during or immediately after."
"A party," Chuck said. "Food, music, presumably excellent catering."
"Your job is to get the chip before Hayes uses it." Beckman paused. "Bryce will pose as Sarah's husband. Chuck, you're on site as wait staff — watch for Fulcrum contacts and flag them. Casey and Simon provide exterior support."
"General." Simon raised a hand. "You said Bel Air estate. Which one?"
"The Von Hayes property. Why?"
"Because Meg and I were invited to that party," Simon said. "She received an invitation two weeks ago. I was going to decline, but—"
The room looked at him.
Simon shrugged. "Meg enjoys these events. I said yes."
Beckman was quiet for a moment. Then: "Then you attend normally. No operational profile — you're a guest, not a field operative. Support Bryce and Sarah from the inside without exposing your connection to this team."
"Understood, General."
Beckman ended the call.
Casey and Simon returned to the Buy More while the others handled the remaining briefing details.
The sports team was still in the home theater showroom.
Lester was at the Nerd Herd desk explaining something to Morgan in a voice that communicated disappointment with each syllable. Morgan looked like a man enduring rainfall.
Simon watched this for approximately five seconds.
"Lester," he said.
Lester turned. His expression brightened with the specific hope of someone who sees a solution approaching. "Simon. Those people in the showroom — they've been in there for four hours. They're eating in there, they have drinks, someone is definitely asleep, and I cannot get them to leave. If they damage the equipment—"
"One paid day off," Simon said.
"Excuse me?"
"Give me one paid day off, and I'll have them out in five minutes."
Lester's expression cycled through several objections in rapid succession. Then he looked back at the showroom.
"Fine," he said. "One day."
Simon handed his name badge to Chuck, rolled his neck twice, and walked into the showroom.
He found the light controls by the door and closed the motorized blinds — all of them, dropping the room from ambient light to near-dark.
In the sudden dimness, the group on the sectional sofa looked up from their phones and gaming controllers with the blinking confusion of people whose comfortable bubble had just changed.
Simon walked to the center of the room, picked a soda bottle off the table, and poured it slowly over the head of the man who appeared to be leading the group.
The man went very still.
Then he stood up.
He was large — the kind of large that came from spending significant time in weight rooms — and he looked down at Simon with the calm fury of someone who had decided the response to this was going to be extremely direct.
"You have two options," Simon said. "Pack your things and leave, or—"
"Don't bother with the second one," the man said, and swung.
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