They stopped at a small grocery store and picked up some essentials, then drove to Max’s property. The house didn’t look like much, but it was quaint. A dated two-bedroom ranch underneath a low-hanging weeping willow. More sand than grass in the yard. A few leaning palm trees.
Max said, “The view in back gets better.”
It certainly did. While the house was old and beat up out front, the backyard was a narrow sandy passage right down to the beach. Rows of perfect tube waves rolled into the shore. It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was a deep blue. After throwing their bags in separate bedrooms, they went outside and sat on two wooden beach chairs, facing the water.
Max cracked open two beers and handed one to Renee. He stared off towards the Georgia shore, a few hundred yards away, a cool sea breeze rustling the trees in the yard.
“I got this place a few years ago,” Max said. “I was home for a month, visiting my father, and I wanted somewhere I could go to get away from it all.”
“Do you buy a lot of property on a whim?”
“It’s relaxing here. The neighbors are far enough away that we don’t see each other. The beach is relatively undiscovered. And most of the year, the weather is warm.”
“It’s very nice.” Renee opened her laptop and began typing. Without looking up, she said, “Why did you start down that path?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father being who he was, you could have had any life you wanted. But you chose to be in the intelligence world. Why?”
“Honestly? Probably because it sounded exciting. Like an adventure.”
“And was it?”
“I think the hope of an adventure is what attracts a lot of us at first. But you find out pretty quick that it’s not like they portray it in the movies.”
“What is it like?”
“You have to pretend a lot. Some might call it acting. And you have to document and pass on everything. In a world where so much is accessible by computer, the intelligence agencies are more reliant on human sources than ever.”
“That seems counterintuitive. Why?”
“Because cyber data is too easily tracked. A lot of the best spies and terrorists stay off phones and Internet. So the best way to track them ends up being old-fashioned tradecraft.”
“Did you like the work?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”
“So why did you stay on?”
“Because people need protecting. It’s a noble cause. You did work for the CSE. And you work in cybersecurity now. You must know as well as I do that there are evil men in this world. I don’t know how they got that way, and I’ve given up trying to find out. But I saw it enough to want to fight them.”
“So you joined for an adventure, and stayed on to protect us from bad guys?” She was smiling.
“And probably 9/11, if I think about it. September eleventh changed everyone, I think. I was in New York City when it happened. I had actually skipped class to go visit my father. I never did anything like that — skip class, I mean. But I hadn’t seen him in a while, and it was early in the semester. I planned to make it back for football practice. My father and I ended up watching the smoke from the first building when the second airplane hit. That was the moment — when the second aircraft struck. People were still trying to figure out what was going on when it was just one smoking tower. But the second aircraft hitting — that was when the world changed.”
Renee looked up from her computer as Max spoke.
“I remember seeing the people who jumped off the burning towers. Their bodies falling through the air. Their choice was to stay and burn to death, or jump off. Maybe it wasn’t a choice. That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed. When you see something like that, and you know that there are these men out there who intended for it to occur — men who celebrated when it happened — it makes you realize that there is good and evil in this world. And I guess I just wanted to fight for good.”
“Sometimes I think it takes a truly shocking event to wake us all up out of our slumber.” Renee paused. “So, you see yourself as… what exactly? A knight?”
He smiled. “I guess. Something like that.”
“So why the act? Why do you pretend to be the spoiled rich boy, if that’s not who you really are? Does the DIA tell you to pretend to be that character?”
Max shrugged.
“Come on, Max, give me an answer.”
“Are you psychoanalyzing me now? Should I lie down?”
“If it would help.” The wind blew a few strands of her dark hair across her face. She stroked it out of the way with her fingers.
“Because if people think I’m the cliché of a rich billionaire’s son, they’re expecting to see certain things,” Max said. “I give them what they expect. It’s a convenient mask. And then they don’t see anything else I might do.”
“It allows you to be anonymous?”
“It allows me to be sneaky.”
“And the act didn’t get too distasteful for you?”
“No. I’m good at pretending. I feel like all my life, I’ve pretended. When you get good at it, the act requires less effort. And if they think you wake up at dawn, you can sleep till noon. Or in my case… if they think you’re sleeping till noon, no one knows that you might be sending intelligence to your handler at dawn.”
She touched his arm. “So if you were satisfied being a spy, then why did you decide to get out?”
“I didn’t decide to get out. They forced me out.” He started to say something else and then bit his lip. “We can talk more about that later. Right now I need you to find out as much as you can before our call with the MI-6 agent.”
“Sure. That’s fine.” Renee began typing. She shot him a curious glance as he got up and walked away.
11
The Fend Aerospace business center was a tall metal-and-glass structure that rose up just west of the St. John’s River. It housed a sizable chunk of the managers in the company. Those involved in finance, purchasing, marketing, and sales. Charles Fend and the c-suite executives had their offices there, along with a select group of project managers and R&D scientists.
The view was excellent. From the eighteenth floor, one could see the St. John’s River winding through the city. The football stadium stood to the north, and Naval Air Station Jacksonville was to the south. Multiple bridges cut across the shimmering river.
Special Agent Flynn sat across the glossy conference table from the senior Fend 100 program manager. She looked nervous, which was understandable considering that she was talking to the FBI. Most people Flynn spoke with were nervous.
Flynn looked at his notes. Maria Blount.
Charles Fend had personally hired her away from a London-based competitor. Maria had gotten to know Max Fend informally in the two years that she’d been with his father’s company. Red hair. A nice smile. And very smart. Aerospace engineering smart. Not that Flynn was a dummy, but these people were all brainiacs. She’d graduated near the top of her class at Cambridge and had turned down a job at NASA to work on this project, for God’s sake. Flynn would have to bring his A game.
“I appreciate you guys blocking off your afternoon for me.”
“Of course.”
“Tell me about Max Fend,” he began.
Maria blinked. “Max? Well, I’ve known him for a number of years through his father. He’s a good soul, Max. A little bit of a comedian, I think, but sharp, and eager to learn. He’ll fit right in.”
“Do you have any reason to believe that Max Fend would be angry with his father?”
She was taken aback. “No. No, of course not. Why do you ask?”