Reznick smiled. “Damn straight.”
Trevelle got out first.
Then Reznick jumped down from the cab and slammed the door shut. He slung his backpack over his shoulder. They picked up keys from the motel reception desk, Trevelle having already checked in online and paid using Dash cryptocurrency. He and the kid were shown to a dingy double room. Damp stains on the wall. The smell of nicotine hung heavy. Cigarette burns on the beige carpet.
Reznick tipped the guy ten bucks but was careful to lock the door behind them. He looked around. “This is interesting.”
“What a dump.”
“It’s out of sight. Quit whining.”
Trevelle looked around, his face screwed up as if he was revolted by the place.
“It’s not the Plaza, I’ll give you that,” Reznick said.
“The Plaza? Gimme a break. This place gives me the creeps.”
“It’s just temporary.”
Trevelle shook his head. He hung his backpack over a chair and began to pace the room.
“Chill out, son.”
“How can I chill out? This is batshit crazy, what’s happening.”
“Don’t flip out on me, not now.”
Trevelle kept pacing. “Flip out on you? I’m seriously out of my comfort zone right now.”
Reznick let the kid get it off his chest. He could see there was no point trying to reason with him. He needed to vent.
“I feel like I’m in the middle of a nightmare. Except I’m not waking up. I feel sick. I want my life to go back to the way it was.”
Reznick said nothing.
“Do you understand me?”
“I understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m fucking scared.”
“And that’s why you need to focus.”
“Focus?” Trevelle rubbed his hands over his face, as if trying to wake up from a bad dream. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Maybe it’s not worth it, trying to warn this woman. What do I care if she gets killed?”
“Let me make the call to the FBI.”
“And they’ll squirrel me away to some fucking secure unit. Claim I’ve been spying for Russia or some bullshit.”
“But you’re not.”
“I know that. You know that. But the Feds will only see me as a national security risk.”
“Well, you are, aren’t you?”
Trevelle closed his eyes tight. “That’s not really helping.”
“Martha Meyerstein is smart. She’ll figure something out.”
“What are you going to say to her?”
“I’ll tell it to her straight. She’ll want to know what we know. Show me the memo again. The one you showed me on the High Line.”
Trevelle took out his laptop and tapped some keys, then turned the screen toward Reznick.
Reznick nodded as he scanned the document again. “It’s written in the language of compartmentalized, highly classified intelligence. The use of the phrase VRK. Very restricted knowledge. It is above top-secret intelligence. It means these contractors working for Geostrategy Solutions probably have a military or intelligence background, perhaps at a senior level.”
“David told me the company has links to the Pentagon and the CIA.”
It made sense. “The FBI can pull some strings, find out which government agency hired them. Get them to realize you’re no threat to their operation and back off.”
“But what about this poor woman? Rosalind Dyer. I’m assuming she doesn’t know she’s at risk. Aren’t we going to warn her?”
“Why do you care so much about a woman you’ve never met that you’re willing to put your life on the line? Why don’t you just walk away? Disappear until this is all resolved?”
Trevelle looked thoughtful for a few moments. “I was a nervous kid. Never liked confrontation—because of my father.” Reznick nodded. “But other kids could tell I was weak, so I was bullied at most of the schools I attended. And I was always too scared to stand up for myself. Or for anyone else. If I saw someone getting beaten up, I usually just walked away.”
“Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of. Happens to us all, trust me.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes there comes a point when you need to face your fears, come what may. Does that make sense?”
Reznick leaned over and patted Trevelle on the back. “You’re alright, kid. I was just playing devil’s advocate.”
“Thanks. But, so, Rosalind Dyer, what’re we gonna do?”
“You’re damn right we’re going to warn her. Whoever contracted Geostrategy Solutions is unlikely to back off from the decision to neutralize her now. Why she’s such a threat to them, though, we don’t know.” Reznick began to consider the options. It wasn’t just Rosalind Dyer he was thinking about. He had to think about how the Feds were going to read his actions. He didn’t want to hand over the kid, even if it was for Trevelle’s own safekeeping and well-being. He understood the kid’s deep-rooted concerns. But would Meyerstein be able to get past how the kid had gotten the information about a government-sponsored operation to kill an American citizen? Would she be willing to focus on establishing if Rosalind Dyer was at genuine risk, and if so, from whom? Or would that be secondary to throwing the book at Trevelle?
By agreeing to help Trevelle, he’d made an implicit promise to protect him till the end of this. But his number one concern was to find Rosalind Dyer and warn her of the imminent risk she faced. Perhaps get her to a place of safety.
Reznick scanned the memo one more time. The document referred to foreign associates who were going to carry out the threat. The language was hardly subtle. But because the memo had been encrypted, whoever had written it must have assumed that they could use such language. It was careless in the extreme. Arrogant, even.
“Help me out here,” he said to Trevelle. “I’m assuming the European hackers uncovered this memo after targeting Geostrategy Solutions, knowing they had links to the Pentagon and the CIA, right?”
“No question about it. Leftist and libertarian and free speech activist hackers—whichever way the Euro group leans—are ideologically opposed to what they see as deep-state actors. This file would have been like hitting the jackpot for them. They probably sent it to David expecting that if it were anything juicy, he’d share it with WikiLeaks. That would embarrass and humiliate the deep staters and globalists, call them what you will.”
“So why not just release the files now?”
“It’s possible. But in the circumstances, the people behind this might just get desperate.”
“You mean make her disappear, that kind of thing?”
“Exactly. It might make them panic. The best way is for us to use our heads. So caution is key.”
The more Reznick thought about it, the more he feared he and the kid were about to get dragged deeper into a giant mess. A random European hacker group claiming they had this information wouldn’t carry a lot of credibility. But WikiLeaks would. Hanging Trevelle’s friend David was a convenient way to eliminate that threat and send a message to anyone else who might contemplate releasing the file.
Reznick realized he needed to get the kid working. Keep him busy. For both their sakes. He handed the laptop back to Trevelle. “I’d like to know where Rosalind Dyer is. Location. At this moment. Can you do that?”