“I have a little bit more information about the girl,” he says. “And honestly I’m more concerned now than ever. Her real name is Delilah Ash. She’s twenty-six years old and lives in Atlanta. She was arrested at the age of seventeen for hacking a government website and served a few months in juvenile detention. After that, she went on to Georgia Tech, where she graduated in three years. The government recruited her right out of college and she’s been an employee of the ATF ever since.”

“Wait a minute!” I say. “She’s a hacker?”

“Was a hacker,” Flint replies. “She was involved with an older guy who taught her how to hack. Mostly it was minor stuff until they started hacking government websites and leaking secure information online. When they got caught, she took the fall for him because she was a juvenile. She served four months in juvie and he walked away scot-free. She hasn’t been in any trouble since then and according to her personnel file, she’s an outstanding employee for the ATF. Her specialty with them is surveillance...bugs, tapping cell phones, breaking into security systems. You name it, she can do it.”

“She’s here to plant surveillance devices, right?” Jesse asks. “So what would be her plan?”

“To get close to Sam,” Flint answers. “This would give her easy access to the tattoo shop, the clubhouse, and maybe even your house. If she was hanging around us, she would be able to find a way to monitor all of our cell phones and computers. If we hadn’t been warned, she could have easily pulled it off. It would have only taken a few casual dates with Sam to visit all these places and plant the bugs unnoticed.”

The room goes silent as everyone absorbs the seriousness of the situation.

“Okay then,” Jesse finally says. “If that is what she wants to do, we’ll make it easy for her. From this point forward, no one is to discuss club business unless you’re in this room or standing naked in the middle of a cornfield. Flint will give everyone new burner cell phones, and we’ll switch them out again in a few days. Under no circumstances can we call each other on our regular cell phones or landlines. We have to assume that she will be planting bugs everywhere. We can’t let the Old Ladies or Sweet Butts know what is going on, because they won’t be able to keep their mouths shut. You got it?”

Everyone nods in agreement.

Flint unlocks a file cabinet in the corner and takes out thirteen prepaid cell phones. He walks around the table and hands out the phones.

“I’ve already programmed them all with our new numbers to cut down on the confusion,” he says.