“How so?” he queried intently. Nice to know he was taking this seriously, at least.
“Six odd feet of slab muscle in designer jeans following after a bespectacled nerd in a Star Wars shirt, and you ask that?” Syler snorted. He’d been avoiding going to these things since he joined the CIA for a reason. Academia and all its trappings had only ever been a necessary evil, tolerated through grad school and then banished from his life joyously. “It doesn’t help that I know a good half of these presenters personally. The AI and robotics fields aren’t small by any means, but we get around. They’re going to ask.”
“Ah,” Arthur shrugged, relaxing. “Just tell anyone who does that your boyfriend didn’t want to be left home alone so soon after the holidays.” He reached his free hand over to brush against his. “I hear he’s needy.”
Syler chuckled. “That you are, Dufault.” He wrapped his hand around the other man’s all the same, squeezing lightly. He returned his attention to his tablet, pulling up the timeline of events. “There’s a meet and greet social this evening with several booths open for early perusal. Pyrona helpfully made it onto the list, though it isn’t listed as manned, just interactive.”
“That normal?”
“Not unusual, particularly if the point of the booth is to demonstrate something that should be user friendly to anyone with the expertise required to attend.”
“I really am escorting you on a field trip for nerds, aren’t I?”
“You have no idea and, frankly, I wouldn’t mind skipping out altogether.” He set down his tablet, as prepared as he was going to be before they had their system set up. “To be honest, a part of me wants to think that we’re more worried than we need to be. That this is just another egomaniac who wants to pick apart the brain of someone who beat them. That type is rife in engineering—dangerous online but an easy target for someone like you in reality.
“As nice as that would be if it were true, it’s conveniently forgetting that Oliveria turned up dead after the NSA breach.”
“Almost certainly a hired hit, not a personal execution.” Even to his own ears, the excuse sounded weak.
“Hired hit means willing to hire security. You beat the bastard at his own game. We’re far from safe, Syler. You especially.”
“Well there’s a reason I have you,” he replied, slumping back in his seat. He sighed and shook his head, hoping to dispel his nerves. His next words may as well have been a personal pep talk. “If I take the time to panic right now, we’re completely screwed. We need to ID this hacker, confiscate his tech, and bring him in so we can figure out what his endgame is. I’m just here to lure him out in the open and let you handle the rest.”
“Let me once again state for the record that I immensely disapprove of you being bait.”
Syler hummed sympathetically as he rubbed a thumb over Arthur’s knuckles. “Noted.”
---
They checked into their hotel room shortly after ten a.m., suitcases almost entirely packed with spare equipment. If all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be staying for the second day of the conference. It probably wouldn’t, Arthur sighed, lugging the last of the bags into the room. Under different circumstances, the single bed ensuite and weekend away with Syler would be something to look forward to.
Syler darted into the bathroom shortly after they arrived, swearing enough to inspire mild alarm before stumbling back out squinting, eyes watering spectacularly. “I, and I cannot emphasize this enough, fucking despise contact lenses.”
Arthur quirked a brow. “Thought you were meant to blend in with your fellow nerds.”
He huffed, digging out a small case from the field equipment bag he’d packed. He slipped on a pair of glasses, the full rims thicker than his usual rectangular half-frame pair, tapping firmly on the center bridge as he slid them up his nose. “Miranda, can you hear me? Oh good. We’ve just gotten to the hotel room. I’ll check in again when my network is up and running.” He tapped at the bridge again, spinning to face Arthur as he did. “Blending in is overrated. These come with a communicator, GPS tracking, and a camera, the last two wired directly to HQ and our phones.”
“Handy.”
“You’d destroy them in three minutes flat and they’re the Colonel’s baby. None for you.”
“They might help me fit in,” he muttered petulantly.
“Nothing would help you fit in here, Arthur. Now come help me with the heavy lifting.”
Three hours later, Syler’s laptop was hooked into a series of additional monitors, primary connection routing through his home server network and a secure hotspot, neatly set up to transmit recorded footage from the glasses direct to HQ in hopes of getting an ID on the hacker sooner rather than later. He sat back, glancing over to his escort, nerves surging back with a vengeance now that there was nothing left to prepare.
“Right, shall we head to the center?”
“Ground rules first, sweetheart,” Arthur murmured from his corner seat. He’d settled into it almost an hour ago, at loose ends while Syler went to work on the electronics. “Ear piece stays in place at all times. If you lose it at any point, turn on your secondary—”
“Yes,” he snarked, “because you’re historically so good at that.”
The blond fixed him with an impatient look. “You done?”
He dragged a hand down his face and exhaled deeply. “Sorry, nervous reflex. And I’m not used to you being the one in charge.”
“And I am in fact in charge
