DEVTEK wasn’t dealing with a domestic adversary. Devin had guessed as much when the woman had instantly switched from honey-trap to kidnap mode. The two thugs in the stairwell had sealed the deal. A competitive company with similar resources would have hired a firm on par with MINERVA.
A truly professional crew, playing the long game for their client, would have let Chase break off the honey trap. Nothing lost. Nothing gained. On top of that, they would have stood down the moment they detected the inbound direct-action team, promptly deescalating the situation. Companies spied on other companies all the time. It was pretty much expected. They wouldn’t have resisted. They would have taken pictures and video of the team breaking into the room, threatening to press charges—and MINERVA’s DA team would have immediately walked away.
Instead, the thugs in four thirty-four, like the two goons in the stairwell, chose to fight. They showed little restraint, which suggested either an unsophisticated or arrogantly indifferent adversary. Given the complexity of the cyberattacks and effort put into the honey trap, it was hard to make the argument that they were unsophisticated. The fact that they were sitting in Dulles International Airport at five in the morning, waiting to hop on the next flight out of the United States, rang as a damning indictment.
“We should have taken Devin’s lead and sent them all to the hospital,” said Chris Murphy, the direct-action team leader. “Then we’d have all the time we need.”
The entire team laughed, breathing life into the group slumped at the obnoxiously massive dining room table. Devin nodded stiffly, still unsure where his actions tonight landed on the spectrum of tolerability within the organization. He wouldn’t be entirely shocked later if Brendan Shea pulled him aside to praise him for his quick thinking in the hotel, and just as quickly dismissed him from MINERVA, citing exposure issues or something equally nebulous. He’d single-handedly hospitalized three people within the span of a few minutes. All the yelling, zapping, and screaming in room four thirty-four had yielded nothing more serious than a few black eyes and a broken rib or two—on both sides.
“On a related note,” said Shea, pausing to focus on the tablet. “And you’re all going to love this. I’ve just been informed that everyone involved in the hotel side of the operation is on paid leave, effective immediately.”
The room broke into a low-grade chorus of expletives.
“Don’t get all worked up. This isn’t a punishment,” interrupted Shea.
“Kind of sounds like one,” someone muttered, reigniting the grumbles.
“Given the proximity of our operation to the White House, you can bet your ass the Secret Service will investigate. Stuff like this makes them nervous. All we’re asking is that you take a little impromptu vacation and get out of the Beltway. You don’t want to be home when the Secret Service comes knocking with questions. And they will come knocking. They’ll run every surveillance camera feed in the hotel and on the surrounding streets through their facial-recognition system—which will tag a good number of us. Let MINERVA’s lawyers and executives deal with their questions. It’s far less painful for everyone that way.”
“How long do you think we’ll need to stay away?” asked one of the surveillance techs.
“Two weeks. Plan on two weeks. You’ll all get a one-time, tier-four performance bonus to help pay for the unexpected vacation,” said Shea. “That comes straight from the top.”
Devin turned to the DA operative seated next to him.
“Is that good?” whispered Devin.
“That’s more than good,” he said. “Ten percent of base pay, after taxes.”
“Damn. They must really want us to leave town,” said Devin.
Shea pointed at Devin. “Did everyone hear what Mr. Gray just said?”
When everyone quieted, he continued. “He very astutely said, ‘They must really want us to leave town.’ Any questions about what you’ll be doing for the next two weeks?”
“Vacation. Far away,” said Chris Murphy.
“Exactly. Starting today. Drop off your issued gear back in the office and head straight home to start packing. Preferably, you’ll call the family on the way home, and they’ll have a bag packed for you when you arrive,” said Shea. “Anything else before we cut loose?”
Silence. Mercifully.
“All righty then. Let’s load up and get back to the office. That should get you on the road and headed home before rush hour traffic gets crazy. Don’t want to hold up any of your vacations,” said Shea, to a round of grunts and groans. “Quit your bitching. It’s a paid vacation.”