The Lies of Spies: (Kyle Achilles, Book 2) by Tim Tigner

Author:Tim Tigner [Tigner, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-11-03T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 65

Purple Flowers

Seattle, Washington

ESPIONAGE was hardly routine work, but it routinely involved repetitive work. Mind-numbing jobs as far from the glamor of James Bond as suburban Seattle was from MI6. Jobs the campus recruiters never mentioned when they came calling.

Max was in the midst of one of those grinds now. To get to the excitement of intercepting Vulcan Fisher’s shipment to Boeing, he first had to find out who was doing the shipping, and then when. Thus the mind-numbing task of watching trucks come and go.

He had installed a video camera on the light pole directly across the street from Vulcan Fisher’s main entrance drive. It was a bit distant, but the only electrified alternative, atop the Vulcan Fisher bus stop, was too risky. The guard hut was just a hundred feet away, and bored public transit riders were constantly milling about. Someone would surely spot his camera, and either steal or confiscate it.

After a few minutes of watching the live feed, Max decided to watch the recording instead — at a much faster speed. 10X proved to be too fast. He might miss a truck if his mind wandered or his eyes averted for more than a single second. But 5X was tolerable. His schedule evolved from that. Every five hours, he’d set aside his other work, grab a large coffee, and sit for sixty minutes with his eyes glued to the screen. Still a shit-sandwich of a job, but cut into bite-size pieces.

In between surveillance sessions, he divided his time between investigating the companies whose trucks he’d seen coming and going, and working out the plan’s other details. He found sources for trucks and uniforms. He identified warehouse spaces available to lease and made appointments to see them. He ordered Vulcan Fisher signage. Pulling off an illusion required a lot of attention to detail.

As his second day of reconnaissance drew to a close, Max figured he was in decent shape. He’d identified twelve potential shippers, and had winnowed the dozen down to just three by excluding those that weren’t a match due to cargo type or weight or destination. Wang’s guy was already at work hacking into those three while Max continued the grind. He’d force himself to keep at it until they identified the one shipper delivering autopilot systems to Boeing.

Max had just finished the last sip of his latest coffee when he slapped the pause button and stared at the screen. He was looking at a contradiction. Something he couldn’t mistake, and yet something that couldn’t be true.

He zoomed in on the bottom right side of his screen. The Vulcan Fisher bus stop was a typical city structure, with a roof, back, and single sidewall. This one had a not-so-subtle billboard advertising Callie’s Club.

Max had learned to ignore that quadrant of the screen during his surveillance sessions. He was afraid of getting so mesmerized by people-watching that he’d fail to notice the arriving and departing trucks. But his eye had been drawn by a purple dress. It was an instinctive reaction to a flash of color, like a honeybee to a flower.

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