“When did this get so nerve wracking? They’ve done this lots of times before, why do I feel like I’m going to be sick?” I ask no one in particular as I pace the length of my office. I’m so tired of walking back forth and I think I may have worn a trail in my carpet. I throw myself into one of my chairs and glare at the smirk riding Jack’s face and the upturned eyebrow Sweets is giving me.
“Ang,” Jack’s voice is soft and teasing.
I stick my tongue out at him and fold my arms across my chest as my stomach does another somersault. Jack and I did it, we found what we hope is the last person involved with Gormogon. Three hours ago we managed to trace the signal on the bugs and tie it in to a masked IP address on the email.
A few minor violation of privacy law later and we had a name and an address, Chester Baxendale of Arlington Virginia. Such a ridiculously unoriginal name for someone who’s caused so much heartache.
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