Unlike the traditional architecture of Headquarters, the command center was a modern architectural beauty. The designers had mixed traditional red brick with native white granite and thousands of square feet of glass. The 66th Theater Aviation Command (TAC) Readiness Center was the largest and newest command center for the Washington Army National Guard, according to their website. Piper had seen the pictures before, but the building itself was undeniably gorgeous—three stories of soaring glass and steel that let in tons of natural light. She had no doubt her father strutted through the doors like a peacock every morning. But the building was large enough—and she was early enough—that the chances of crossing paths with him should be infinitesimally small.
She hoped.
Two guards with semiautomatic M-16 rifles stood at the entrance, but they were primarily an honor guard, and their brusque looks didn’t concern her. Either her ID would pass, or it wouldn’t. She swiped it past the detector, the light came up green, and she cruised inside. The two-story entrance had more of the white stone flooring, which was tinged a pale rose by the early-morning sun.
She strode confidently past the reception desk toward the offices on the main floor.
Piper had a lot of experience acting like she knew exactly what she was doing even when she had absolutely no clue. Pretending she was precisely where she belonged was an art. With the right amount of confidence and charm, she’d proven time and again that she could convince almost anyone of anything. It was a kind of game, this mask she put on for the world, not so much a deception—at least for the good guys. The bad guys, she was happy to screw all day long. Not in the literal sense. The only men she allowed in her bed were the ones who had some decency. It was often a fine line, especially in the field, but she had a well-tuned antenna. Knowing the difference between the good guys and the bad could mean walking away or ending up in pieces. That wasn’t an exaggeration, even for a rapid-healing shifter like her. And the genuinely good guys were rare, so when she found one, her antenna pinged hard.
Like with Jace River. She pushed that unwelcome thought aside. She’d blown her chance with him by bailing and coming here… and she didn’t plan to stick around Seattle long enough to have another.
As she wound through the cubicle-land of the command center analysts, Piper held her head high, met the curious stares with a smile, and occasionally gave someone a friendly wave. Anyone at their desk at 6 AM was either working the early morning shift or had been there all night. As civilian counterintelligence for the Army, her time in Washington was usually spent in Olympia at the capitol building, consulting with Senator Krepky’s staff for the Senate defense subcommittee. Her clearance, her experience, and the fact that she was a shifter, all made her a resource the Army liked to exploit to keep the political types on their side.
It was a great job, actually, and one she had no desire to lose. Not to mention that her travels conveniently kept her far from this precise building where her father, Lt. Colonel Astor Wilding held court. Ever since she had turned eighteen and stormed out of the house, staying out of her father’s orbit had been priority number one. This little mission was trespassing on her father’s territory, something she had long ago vowed never to do. But Noah deserved better than to disappear into a black hole and have no one even try to find him.
Once she had made a circuit through the first floor, she subtly tried the access to a stairwell with her key card. Locked. She didn’t want to trigger any alarms with a repeat attempt, so she made her way to the coffee room and poured herself a brimming, steaming cup. With any luck, the command center would be high enough on the food chain to have decent coffee. Which she certainly needed after being up most of the night. She took a few sips—not bad—then casually strolled back down the hall and ducked into an empty cubicle.
The analyst who owned this ten-by-ten space had either not come in yet or stepped away. In case they’d only made a quick trip to the bathroom, Piper hung out, sipping her coffee and looking like she was just on break. After about three minutes, she set down her cup, eased into the chair, and tapped awake the computer screen.
Her background didn’t include a specialization in computer hacking, but she was familiar with military security protocols, and she hopefully had the right ID. It wasn’t so much a matter of hacking, as just having the right access to begin with. The computer was locked down, as per protocol, but anyone with standard level access should be able to open it up again. Which she managed with a simple swipe of her key card. The prompt for the central database would be the trick. She’d already constructed a new user and password for her ID—she tapped those in, said a silent prayer, and pressed the enter key.