The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [9]
It was an enormous file, in alphabetical order. And it had been added to considerably since Libby had first joined SI. By the time Libby had waded through the Acamarians to the Gorn, she felt she’d rather face an old-fashioned firing squad, a cigarette clenched between her teeth and a blindfold over her eyes, than keep reading.
The sentence she was reading turned to utter gibberish. For a moment, she thought that she was simply so exhausted that the words just weren’t making sense anymore. She rubbed her eyes, willing herself to stay awake.
Then she realized that the rest of the document was encrypted. Suddenly wide-awake, Libby used her limited skills and after a grueling few hours was able to decipher a few words.
[26] “Oh my God,” Libby breathed. She glanced at the chronometer to see that she had worked clear through the night. Six thirteen was early, but not too early for something of this magnitude. She was just about to contact Covington when her computer chirped. Her nerves frayed, she jumped and squeaked. Recovering, she touched the button.
Brenna Covington’s face appeared on the screen. Perfect timing, Libby thought.
“Good morning, Agent Webber. I know it’s a bit early, but as I recall you tend to be an early riser.”
Libby made a wry face. “Usually,” she said.
“I’ll get right to the point. Why did you meet with Trevor Blake last night?”
Libby blinked, surprised. She had no idea Covington watched her people that closely. “I heard Admiral Montgomery mention Trevor’s name in your conversation and I thought I’d see if he knew anything that could help us ID Montgomery as the mole.” She took a breath and was about to tell Covington what she’d found buried inside the Royal Protocol document, but Covington spoke first.
“He’s a dead end. Anything he knows about Montgomery is at least four years old. Don’t contact him again, it’s a waste of your time. I’m sending over some more documentation on Montgomery that will be much more helpful in your search, I trust.”
Libby’s stomach clenched. Of course. She’d been so tired, her brain had been too sluggish to put the pieces together. Trevor Blake didn’t have the drive to have done his ... research ... on his own. He was a man who acted on orders.
[27] And he was on orders from Brenna Covington.
“Agent Webber?”
Libby licked lips suddenly gone dry and reached for the skills that had saved her life before. She laughed easily.
“You don’t have to tell me twice, ma’am. Trevor Blake is a nice enough fellow, but let me put it this way—it was a long evening!”
Almost imperceptibly, Covington’s face relaxed, further confirming Libby’s fears. “I thought as much,” she said, and chuckled. They smiled at one another as if they were two girlfriends sharing boy talk. It almost made Libby sick.
“You look a little tired, Agent Webber.”
“I am,” she said. “I’ve been up all night reading reports.”
“Take a break before you start on the next batch,” said Covington. “Better to be sharp.”
“Understood. Is there anything else?”
“Just keep up the good work. Covington out.” Her image disappeared and Libby sagged in her chair.
Never in her life had she felt more alone or lost, not even when Voyager was reported missing. She had just uncovered some terrifying information and discovered that her boss was up to her neck in it. Someone had to know about this, try to stop it. But who could she trust?
Chapter 3
CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD looked as startled as Admiral Kathryn Janeway had ever seen him.
“This is highly irregular, Admiral.”
“I realize that,” said Janeway, “and because it’s so irregular, I insist you call me Kathryn.”
A flicker of mirth briefly curved Picard’s lips. “Usually requests of this sort come through the proper channels of Starfleet Command. May I ask why you chose not to pursue that venue?”
“Because Starfleet Command would want to know why, and if I told them, they’d say no.” She shrugged. “Simple as that.”
Picard chuckled. “Despite your protestations, I’d say your time in the Delta Quadrant has given you a touch of the renegade. Can you tell me why?