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people here that I didn’t recognize. “Espionage case.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was watching tapes to help pinpoint the spy.”

“Okay.”

“I saw a woman with a very distinct tattoo on her left wrist. She wore a bunch of different disguises, and in each, a watch or bracelet or long sleeve obfuscated the tattoo, but I would catch glimpses.”

“The Rex Deus? Another player?”

I reached out and gripped Prescott’s forearm. “Caution. I didn’t see the whole of the tattoo. The video was often low resolution. But yeah, I think we found another member of that cell. Casper didn’t share any of the details of that case with me. This was a visual puzzle they handed me. So I don’t know the circumstances. But. Yeah. I’d give him a call and see if he’d share. I’m pretty clear that he doesn’t have a clue what he’s dealing with. At no time did he mention anything about our DARPA scientists or about terrorism. I’m handing this information off to you. Iniquus won’t be pursuing that connection. I’m happily no longer part of that case. No need to loop me in.”

“I’ll reach out to him in the morning. Now go back, is there something I can do to help with the Angel situation?”

“I saw John Black at Langley. He ran from me and ordered a guard to keep me away.”

“But why?”

I ran my tongue along my teeth and shrugged.

“Okay.” He looked down at his shoes as he thought. “Color code hasn’t followed up after eight months. It could be that they need Angel to sign the legal forms, and he’s off doing something mission-wise. Perhaps he’s off-grid, and they can’t pull him out to sign court papers.”

“You know, that would be the obvious answer. But I hadn’t thought of that.” I blinked. “That might be the reason. But that reason sure does suck. He could be deep under cover for years. I was supposed to get married in June. I abandoned all the plans. Told my family to cancel their flights. And I couldn’t tell anyone why. They think things are strained between Striker and me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’d like to know if your theory is correct. Or if there’s another reason. If they’d just tell me, I might not be seething over this.”

“I can’t imagine. Well, I can…but still, it sucks. I’m sorry. And I guess what you want to know is if I have any contacts to talk to Angel’s handler John Grey.”

“That would be awesome.”

“Let me put my head together with Finley. You know his girlfriend Anna’s in the field right now, but she may have someone’s cell number.”

Finley walked over. “Is everything okay?”

“Lynx is making connections for us. I’ll talk to you about it later. Is Gupta set?”

“Yes.” Finley held out an open palm to indicate a seat at the table. “Are you ready, Lynx?”

I sure hope so.

Chapter Eighteen

“Hello.” Dr. Gupta stood about five foot three, parting his thick black hair just above his right ear, making a cascade that rounded over his sizable pate. Everything about his head was overlarge, his eyes with their thyroid bulge, his lips and nose all looked like they had been suddenly downsized from a much larger face.

His demeanor, though, was incredibly kind and intelligent.

I felt an immediate affinity for this man.

Dr. Gupta and Spyder had much the same essence—the strength of a quiet soul. A state that I aspired to.

And as I thought that, I adjusted the time I needed to wake up tomorrow morning so I’d have time to follow my meditation practice.

“Hi, I’m Lynx.”

He gave me a slight bow—weirdly, this was the third bow I’ve received today. Since my parents started to hover, there had been a lot of bowing. Coincidence? Could others sense their presence on a subtle body level and be acknowledging their elevated state?

I’d never know.

I bowed back, namaste.

Not quite sure what was going on, I wanted to know first and foremost how Spyder fit into this picture.

But that’s not what I was going to get. I’d have to wait.

“Lynx,” Finley said. “Dr. Gupta is a tenured sociology professor at Georgetown, where he focuses his research on secret societies. We asked him to offer a primmer as we follow a lead brought in by our mutual acquaintance.” He referred to Spyder.

I nodded.

“We’re just waiting for Kennedy, then we’ll get started.”

Rowan Kennedy was FBI connected to Eastern Europe. Organized crime families were his emphasis. In particular, where the crime families used propaganda as a weapon. That these three people were involved in this meeting was more information.

International in scope, for sure.

As I thought that, Kennedy pushed through the door. He scanned the room and gave each man a dip of his head. And yup, when he focused on me, he offered that odd little bow.

So strange.

“Dr. Gupta, we’re all here if you’d like to begin,” Finley said.

Dr. Gupta stood at the front of the room. “Very well. I was invited here today to give you background on secret societies in general and then to give you an overview of The Grove in particular; for whatever reason this has become interesting to you.” When he said that last bit, he held up both hands like he was signaling stop and rubbed them through the air. It was as if he were warding off anyone’s attempt to fill him in; he didn’t want to know.

I did, though. The Grove?

“Since we’re here at FBI Headquarters, let's start with secret governmental societies. We are, aren’t we? Bureaucratic secret societies. Here we have two efforts underway. We seek out secrets. But we also guard our own. Often, there is selective recruitment. No matter how you enter into the ranks, there are oaths of loyalty and silence. Is it spiritual in nature?” He shrugged. “Spy work has a

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