Sparks folded her arms over her chest. “Allow me to impart some truth to you boys and your very naïve view of privacy. We’re creatures hardwired for connection, now made ever easier by the internet and social media. This privacy you seem to think we all have, it doesn’t exist. You leave a digital trail every time you turn on your computer, use a bank card, or even start your pretty orange car. Every aspect of our lives is out there, ready to be harvested with a few clicks of a mouse or strokes at a keyboard. It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen. But what about when lives are at risk? What then? Do we sit back and wait for criminals and murderers to slip up? Do we allow law enforcement agencies to set up task forces and undercover operations that could stretch on for years with no results while citizens lose their lives?”
Dex opened his mouth to reply, but Sparks held up a hand.
“You do realize you’ve joined a covert intelligence agency. Most of our ops are undisclosed to even the President.”
“Okay, I get it. But we’re not talking about infiltrating a terrorist cell here. We’re talking about my neighbors.”
“Beck Hogan was someone’s neighbor. Isaac Pearce was someone’s neighbor.”
Sloane couldn’t help but flinch at the mention of Isaac Pearce. He should probably feel remorse for Pearce’s death, but he didn’t. The son of a bitch had killed Gabe and had planned on killing Dex. Sloane hoped he was rotting away in hell like he deserved.
Sparks let out a sigh, and Sloane was surprised when her gaze turned sympathetic. “I know this is all difficult for you to come to grips with, and I don’t expect you to flip a switch and suddenly see things the way we do. You need to ask yourself, how far are you willing to go to protect people? How far is too far? We’re the ones who get our hands dirty so no one else has to. When you look around you, all you see is your quiet neighborhood filled with Humans and Therians going about their daily lives, but what you don’t see are the operatives who risk their lives every day to make sure that’s possible.” Sparks pointed to the house three doors down from theirs. “You know Mr. Jonas, correct?”
Dex nodded. “Yeah, he’s a sweet old guy. A Pre-First Gen who fought in Vietnam.”
“His wife makes us cookies all the time,” Sloane added.
“Did you know Mr. Jonas has been losing the battle against his illness?”
Dex cursed under his breath. “I knew he wasn’t well, but he doesn’t like to talk about it, and when I asked Mrs. Jonas once, she burst into tears, so I didn’t ask again.”
“Mr. Jonas shares the same illness as several other Pre-First Gens we were monitoring who were dying at an alarming rate. They were all on the same prescription drug. Our operatives traced the drug to a large American pharmaceutical corporation located abroad. We quickly learned the drug should never have made it past the trial stage. Four out of the ten clinical trial subjects died after eight months of taking it. While the CEOs made billions, Therians were dying.”
“How come we never heard about it at the THIRDS?” Dex asked.
“Cause of death for each patient was determined to be complications brought about by the illness. Not only were the drugs not helping the patients, but they were slowly killing them. Our intel led us to Mr. Jonas, and our surveillance led us to the corporation responsible for killing hundreds. Had TIN not become involved, how many more Therians would have died before the truth was revealed? I’m certain you believe alternative, lawful means could have reached the same conclusion, but what if we made it personal? We managed to do in weeks what could have taken other law enforcement agencies years.”
“But you don’t know that,” Dex argued.
“True. Would the timeline matter if I were to say the same medication was prescribed to Thomas Hobbs four months ago?”
Sloane swallowed hard. Fuck. “Was it?”
Sparks nodded. “Mr. Hobbs’s physician was convinced this new drug would alleviate Mr. Hobbs’s pain for a period longer than his previous medication. We made certain to collect every prescription out there, including the one sitting on the shelf at the pharmacy waiting for Sebastian Hobbs to pick up.”
“Does Seb know?” Dex asked, his voice quiet.
“Yes. As you can imagine, this particular operation was of great interest to Seb. How do you feel about our involvement now? It shouldn’t matter, should it? But it does because you care. You care what happens to these people. The world isn’t black and white. You need to be prepared for the worst, and be willing to do something about it.”
Sloane hated to admit it, but Sparks was right. They kept telling each other and everyone else that they were ready, but were they really? They’d spent most of their adult lives following their moral compasses and the laws their country was governed by. There was no telling where their operations would take them or what would be asked of them. In the end, they had to trust in their own judgment and hope they were making the right choices for the right reasons.
Rather than answering Sparks, Dex motioned to the street. “So, what are we doing here?”
“You’ve just received intel that a very dangerous enemy agent is inside one of the homes on your block. You need to fin
d them, detain them, and bring them in for questioning before their extraction team arrives.”
Dex peered at her. “Which is in how long?”
“One hour.”
“An hour? Do you know how many apartments there are on this block?”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’re sitting in the restaurant on the corner.” Sparks turned back toward the door they’d come from. “If you blow your cover, the operation is aborted and you’ve failed.”
“Got it. Equipment?”
Sparks’s grin was wicked. “You’re wearing it.”