“Don’t be smart,” said Bloch. “You’re wearing out the goodwill you earned from this already. Now off to work you two.” They nodded and turned to go. As they did, Bloch said, “And Shepard, O’Neal? Good job.”
The two bowed out and went back down the stairs, talking boisterously to each other. Bloch fell back in her chair, relieved and praying to nothing in particular that this would pan out. Shepard and O’Neal could get carried away sometimes, but she had to hand it to them: they knew their stuff.
She picked up her phone and dialed.
“Morgan. We need you. Drop whatever you’re doing and come in right now. I think we might be on to something.”
Morgan arrived at Zeta headquarters to find Bloch pacing in her office, speaking on her phone, all noise blocked from the war room, where Shepard and O’Neal sat across from each other, each thoroughly immersed in their laptops. O’Neal chewed on a pen, holding it lazily with her fingers, showing off the black nail polish on her nails. Shepard, his hair falling over his eyes, more disheveled than usual, had his mouth glued to a straw through which he sucked on an energy drink. He shook his leg constantly as he worked.
“Hey, Cobra,” he said, not looking up from his monitor. O’Neal offered him just a noncommittal grunt as a greeting. “Take a seat,” said Shepard, pulling out the chair next to him without looking up.
“Bloch said you had something,” said Morgan as he sat down. By now he was used to Shepard’s lack of social graces.
“We have many somethings,” said O’Neal. She explained to him what they had found.
“Except there’s a problem,” said Shepard.
At that moment, the door to Bloch’s office opened and she began to make her way down the gently curving metal stairs to the war room. “Any news, Shepard?”
“I was just telling Cobra here that I don’t have electronic access to those records,” said Shepard. “If there are, in fact, records. The investments were made through dummy corporations, most of them in Belize, but also in a couple other places in the Caribbean. From there, all the money will be transferred out, probably into other dummy corporations. There’s no way of telling ”
Bloch stood with her hand resting on a chair across from Morgan. “So how do we get this information?” she asked, worry lines forming on her face.
“We’d have to send someone to Belize,” said O’Neal, looking at Morgan as she said this, “in order to see what records they have. But . . .”
“But what?” Bloch asked impatiently.
“Supposing we did get access to those records,” O’Neal continued, “they would only lead us to the next layer, the next dummy corporation. And once whoever is behind this finds out that the operation has been compromised, it won’t take long for him to cover his tracks.”
“Which would leave us right back where we started—without a lead,” said Bloch. There was a long moment of silence, as Bloch, Morgan, and O’Neal looked at each other. Shepard continued to stare intently at his screen, typing in short spurts. Finally, Morgan spoke.
“Well, it’s all we have, isn’t it? This is the lead. All we can do is follow it, or else it’s as good as having no lead at all.”
“It’s useless,” said O’Neal. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”
“Well, what else do we have to go on?” asked Morgan. “Should we stay here and sit on our asses while this creep plots another attack?”
“If we play our hand too soon, we’ll lose everything we have,” said O’Neal.
“And what do we gain by not playing it?” said Morgan.
“Another shot at it. At a better time.”
“After another attack?” said Morgan sardonically.
“Maybe,” said O’Neal. “It would be better than blowing our only lead out of impatience.”
“I think O’Neal is right about this,” said Bloch. “It would be too risky to act on this as it is.”
“Risky?” asked Morgan, incredulously. “What about the people who are going to die in the next attack? I bet they wouldn’t consider it too risky to act now.”
“If we lose this thread,” said Bloch, “we might lose even more.”
“Hold on,” said Shepard.
“Unbelievable!” said Morgan. “You’re seriously considering not acting on this?”
“Do you think I don’t know the cost?” said Bloch, raising her voice, her eyes narrowing with anger. “Every decision I make here costs lives. I just have to choose the one that costs the fewest.”