“Let me finish my thought,” said Sunday smoothly. “Had you been better positioned when Kuga began trending on social media, you would have profited significantly more than you have. I’m not saying you didn’t get a nice bump in sales via the dark web. Of course you did. There are plenty of people prone to impulse purchases. And lots of small, angry groups with stolen funds burning holes in their pockets. However, have you really seen a sales jump commensurate with the grandeur of what you accomplished? No, gentlemen, I am willing to bet the whole farm that you haven’t.”

Santoro saw Kuga go pale and then slowly flush with anger and embarrassment.

“And I’m guessing that’s why you fellows called me in,” said a beaming Sunday. “Am I right, or am I right?”

CHAPTER 6

PHOENIX HOUSE

HEADQUARTERS OF ROGUE TEAM INTERNATIONAL

OMFORI ISLAND, GREECE

The TOC—the Tactical Operations Center—was fully staffed by the best and the brightest. Mr. Church did not hire second-string players.

Fifty-six people sat at computer workstations of varying complexity and function, each of them set in concentric half circles, arranged to face a wall of high-def screens. There was a massive central screen that ran from floor to ceiling and displayed images with astounding clarity and detail. Dozens of smaller screens ringed it, and pop-up windows appeared here and there. Data crawls ran across the bottom and top of the big screen. The sheer amount of information presented at any given moment was extraordinary, but each technician, specialist, and scientist in the TOC was able to process their part without confusion or overload.

Mr. Church stood apart from all the others. He was bigger than everyone else in the room; broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, giving him a blocky presence. His suit was a superbly cut Kiton two-piece with a light gray check over dark blue wool, and an Ermenegildo Zegna Quindici silk tie. Church’s hair was dark but streaked with gray, and he wore tinted glasses. He also wore very thin black silk gloves over hands that had been badly damaged on a case some years before.

As the team worked, compiling and sharing data, talking into mics or tapping away at keyboards, Church seemed to be a calm eye in the storm of activity. He stood with his hands clasped lightly behind his back, eyes hidden behind the glasses, features composed and unreadable.

On the screen, thermal imaging, video feeds from bird drones, and data from RFID chips composed a picture of Havoc Team in play. Belle in a tower, covering the front and side of the house with her rifle hidden in shadows. Andrea walking the perimeter, moving from one patch of darkness to another with deceptive ease. While inside four red dots indicated that Top and Bunny were in a hallway on the same floor as Joe Ledger and Ghost.