Jigsaw (Black Raven Book 2) by Stella Barcelona Page B

elbow at her waist. “Samantha, I’m in charge of Zeus’s Denver-based analytical and data support for the duration of the job. If you need me, just ask for Ragno. Night or day.”
    “You’re agreeing with Samuel and Zeus?” Sam asked.
    “Yes,” Ragno answered.
    “Answer is the same for all three of you,” Sam said, holding the phone so that she spoke directly into it. “I. Am. Not. Resigning.”
    Impressive. She’s being triple-teamed and she isn’t flinching. That’s what I love—her rock-solid will. Unwavering determination. Courage to stand by her convictions. Gridlock focus on things most people wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about.
    Whoa. Wait. Love?
    Loved. Past tense. Remember? You blew it. Bad. In just about the worse way possible.
    “Ragno,” Zeus said, trying to keep his mind on task, “who else is at the hate party?”
    “The list is extensive. Right now I’m looking at a U.S. homegrown group called TRCR that so far has been flying under the radar. Intel indicates they’re experimenting with drones.” Sarcasm filtered into her voice. “Drones seem to be the next best thing to the pressure cooker bomb as foolproof methods of creating terror in urban situations.”
    “TRCR. An acronym for what?” Dixon asked.
    “Texas Rebels for Civil Rights. Intel has them in a compound in rural Texas, but we’re not certain if that’s their headquarters. North of El Paso. Could be a terrorist training school. Satellite images aren’t revealing much, though. Intel suggests approximately one thousand loyalists and they’re importing AK variants from China, selling them in the U.S. and elsewhere. Typically, they’re quiet. Off the cyber grid. But recently they started recruiting on the dark net. They’re calling for the ITT to stop. Their logo combines the initials KKK, swastikas, a lone star, and barbwire. Seems like their view of civil rights doesn’t quite match what our forefathers had in mind when they drafted the U.S. Constitution.”
    “They’re new to me,” Dixon said.
    “Where is the intel coming from?” Zeus asked, though he knew at least part of how Ragno had gotten it—Jigsaw—which he knew she wouldn’t mention.
    “Department of Homeland Security. Tracking their source now. Unfortunately, DHS data on this is incomplete. I’m having to figure this out the old fashioned way—on the telephone, talking to the person who interviewed the source.”
    Great. More information for Jigsaw.
    Walking around the table to where Sam stood, he watched her place a stem of purple grapes on a plate without breaking one off. With her eyes leveled on him, he said, “It has become impossible to keep up with the faces of the threat. New groups appear every day. When they make an appearance, like the TRCR, they do so with a solid set of followers, a bankroll, an agenda, and an impressive cadre of weapons. Someone, somewhere, is bankrolling these groups. No one has figured out who, though everyone blames Maximov. Until the real culprit is identified, any attempt to stop these small cells—like the ITT proceedings—will be a minefield.”
    “Now tell me something I don’t know,” Sam said, holding the phone at chest level, shoulders square.
    “You shouldn’t be walking through it,” Zeus answered. “That’s what you obviously don’t know. Your presence here isn’t necessary.”
    “Like I said, not an option,” Sam retorted, shifting her attention to the plate. She pulled a few grapes off the stem with her left hand.
    Zeus watched her toy with the grapes. Was her hand trembling? Maybe. She didn’t eat them. Instead, she removed a few from the stem and pushed them to the side of the plate, making a neat pile.
    “Ragno, any link between the TRCR and Maximov?” Zeus used the shorthand name for Maximov-in-Exile, the group that for years had been the culprit behind terrorist acts around the world in retribution for the destruction of Praptan, Chalinda caused by the 1986 meltdown at the Chalinda