Reed leaned against the marble counter of the hotel lobby, his fingers drumming a rhythm as he waited for the concierge’s attention. His mind was racing, going through the team’s assignments. PPI was watching their every move, waiting to pounce on any deviation from protocol.

  The clerk came over with a fake smile. “Can I help you?”

  Reed nodded, keeping his voice calm and professional. “Just looking for one of my team members. Has Marty Grimes checked in yet?”

  The clerk typed on the computer, eyes flicking over the screen. “Yes, sir. Mr. Grimes checked in this morning. Room 912.”

  Reed’s muscles tightened but his face remained expressionless. Grimes was already here. Either Barry was moving ahead of schedule or the team was behind. “Thanks,” Reed said with a practiced smile, stepping back from the counter. He adjusted his camera bag, the weight of it grounding him as he headed towards the revolving doors.

  Outside the humid air of Vienna hit him like a wall. The noise of tourists mixed with the clinking of glasses from the bar next door. Reed didn’t know who “Mike” was but everyone in the bar loved him. He caught snippets of conversation— “…another round for all my friends!”—followed by a loud “Miiiiiike!” The bar was loud and chaotic and perfect cover: a quiet patio where the noise and normalcy could hide a clandestine meeting. With PPI watching their every move, appearances had to be airtight. To the casual observer Kranch was tailing Reed and Carter was tailing Grimes. A public meetup like this could pass as coincidence so long as they followed PPI protocol.

  Reed slipped into the shadows of the side street and pulled out his phone. A quick text went out to Kranch and Carter:

  “Meet: next door. Outdoor seating. Cafe Merlot. Follow PPI protocol.”

  Reed knew the drill. He’d sit first, look casual, maybe order a drink. Kranch would show up a few minutes later, position himself near enough to hear but not at the same table. Carter would come last, blend in as a tourist or businessman grabbing a bite between errands. The goal was clear: coordination without exposure. The outdoor patio of Cafe Merlot was hopping—glasses clinking, laughter, waitstaff darting between tables. Reed sat in the corner, choosing a spot with a clear view of the entrance and the street. The noise around him was perfect cover for whispers.

  A waiter approached and Reed ordered a coffee and said, “My associate will be joining me, Mr. Grimes. Can you send him to my table when he arrives?” Playing his part to the hilt: just another photographer taking a break before a busy day. He pretended to scroll through his phone but his eyes were locked on the activity around him.

  Reed decided to take a chance and send a Private Message on Pro4uM to Marty Grimes. “Mission critical, meet me at Café Merlot immediately. Mention my name and the waiter will direct you.” Reed’s thumb hovered over the send button for a second before he tapped it. The risk was high—Pro4uM was PPI’s domain and every message was logged and analyzed. But without Grimes the puzzle would remain incomplete.

  A few minutes later, right on cue, Kranch showed up. True to form he didn’t acknowledge Reed, instead he chose a table a few seats away. His posture was casual but Reed caught the flick of his eyes scanning the patio for threats. Kranch ordered a soda and leaned back in his chair as if he were on a break from tailing his “target.”

  Carter was next, slipping into a seat near the far end of the patio, closer to the street. He was dressed in a blazer and holding a tablet and blended in with the lunch crowd. His eyes met Reed’s for a second and a subtle nod passed between them.

  Reed waited until the waiter walked away before speaking in a low voice, loud enough for Kranch to hear. “Grimes is here. Checked in this morning.”

  Kranch didn’t look up from his drink, his lips barely moving. “Room?”

  “Nine twelve,” Reed replied, pretending to sip his coffee.

  Grimes was not subtle. Reed watched him closely, noting the conversation with the waiter. Heads nodded, a few awkward laughs were exchanged and then a quick gesture in Reed’s direction. Together they started walking towards him. Marty Grimes trailed behind the waiter, his movements hesitant, shifting his weight with every step as if unsure of each step. He was a small man in his late 40s with the kind of face that blended into a crowd. Thinning hair was combed neatly but his glasses sat slightly askew on his nose giving him a frazzled look. Grimes was dressed in a slightly rumpled blazer over a button-up shirt and jeans–the kind of outfit that could pass for either casual professionalism or someone barely holding it together.

  But it wasn’t his clothes that caught Reed’s attention – it was his eyes. Wide and darting like a cornered animal they scanned the patio with nervous precision, pausing briefly on each patron before landing on Reed. A flicker of recognition crossed his face followed by a brief hesitation. He looked like a man who knew he was walking into a trap but had no choice but to see it through.

  “Mr. Grimes?” the waiter asked with a nod towards Reed’s table, his voice cutting through the buzz of the bar and the street. A few heads turned sensing a shift in the atmosphere.

  Grimes nodded quickly – too quickly – his hand fussing with his glasses in a vain attempt to compose himself. “That’s me,” he said his voice tight and strained. He followed the waiter towards Reed’s table his movements a mix of reluctance and determination.

  Reed stood up his expression calm and professional though his mind was racing. “Mr. Grimes” he said warmly extending a hand as if this were just another meeting. “Glad you could join me.”

  Grimes shook his hand his grip damp and shaky. “Mr. Sawyer” he said his voice faltering as he glanced over his shoulder clearly uneasy. “I got your message. I’m here. Now what?”

  Reed gestured for him to sit his smile unwavering. “Let’s talk” he said his tone measured and deliberate. “You have more eyes on you than you think – and if we don’t act fast, you’re going to take the fall for something you didn’t start.”

  Reed leaned in his tone sharp but low. “We don’t have much time so I’m going to skip the small talk. What’s your role with PPI?” Grimes winced his eyes narrowing. “You know I can’t answer that. Protocol—”

  Reed waved his hand dismissively. “I know the protocol, Grimes. No talking, no questions, no breaking the chain. But if you want to get through this in one piece, you’re going to break it right now. Things aren’t always what they seem, Marty. Sometimes the picture isn’t as clear as you think.”

  Grimes opened his mouth to protest but Reed cut him off. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table between them and tapped the screen to bring up the message he’d found. The file labeled “Directive: Grimes Liability.” glowed brightly in the dim light: He opened it, "If operation fails assign full liability to M. Grimes. Sawyer classified expendable. Kessler marked as acceptable collateral. Authorized: B. Cox."

  Grimes froze his breath catching audibly. He stared at the screen his face going white as the message sank in. “What… what is this?” he whispered.

  “It’s your future” Reed said bluntly. “That’s what Barry has lined up for you. When everything goes sideways – and it will – you’re the one they’re going to hang out to dry.”

  Grimes’s hands trembled as he reached for the phone his fingers hovering over the screen as if he needed to feel it was real. “This can’t be right” he muttered. “I’ve followed every order done everything by the book…””

  “That’s exactly why you’re the perfect scapegoat” Reed said leaning back slightly. “Barry is counting on you to follow orders blindly. And when the dust settles, he’ll have the perfect fall guy to keep his hands clean.”

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  Grimes’s gaze snapped up to Reed’s his eyes wild. “Why are you showing me this? What do you want from me?”

  “Trust” Reed said simply sliding the phone back into his pocket. “I don’t need you to explain yourself and I don’t have time to spell this out. You’re in grave danger Grimes. Your only way out is to trust me – and to help me take Barry down.” Grimes hesitated his shoulders sagging under the weight of what he’d just seen. His voice was shaking but had a hint of hope. “What do I do?”

  Reed leaned in again his voice urgent. “First you listen. Then you follow me. If we’re going to get through this we need to work together – and we need to move fast.”

  Reed’s tone softened just enough to sound less aggressive. “So, can we at least start with why you’re here? Just the highlights.”

  Marty hesitated his gaze darting around the crowded restaurant before settling back on Reed. He shrugged trying to play it cool. “It’s nothing big. Routine stuff. I’m supposed to shadow Secretary Kessler’s team during the shoot – make sure all the optics are in line. Barry said the press would be watching and it’s critical we get everything looking polished.”

  Reed raised an eyebrow for Marty to continue.

  “I mean it’s babysitting work” Marty added quickly. “Smile adjustments, positioning the Secretary just right – you know the little things that make the big picture work. They’ve got me double-checking the media angles and making sure no one says anything they shouldn’t. It’s nothing glamorous and definitely nothing worth raising eyebrows over.”

  Reed nodded slowly his face neutral. “Nothing glamorous. Right.”

  Marty leaned back in his chair suddenly defensive. “That’s it. I swear. If it were something more I wouldn’t be the one doing it. Barry’s got people way higher up for that kind of thing.”

  Reed smiled faintly but his eyes stayed sharp. “Right, the little things. Funny how it’s always the little things that end up mattering most.”

  Marty shifted uncomfortably but Reed didn’t press further. The trap was already set.

  Reed gestured to the far side of the tables where Kranch and Carter sat silently their eyes fixed on Marty. “Marty” Reed said calmly “meet the team.” He nodded towards them. “This is Kranch and Carter. They’re already up to speed.”

  Marty nodded at them cautiously his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the chair. Kranch nodded curtly his jaw tight while Carter leaned back in his chair his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “For now, Marty” Reed said “you just do your job. Nothing more, nothing less. Carter here will be sticking close to you. So don’t get nervous when you see him around every corner.”

  Marty looked at Carter his eyebrows raising slightly. “I won’t be nervous when I see him at every corner. I’ll know it’s normal.”

  “Carter is your contact to the team. If you have questions or notice anything off you go to him. Not me, not Kranch. Him. Understood?”

  Marty nodded slowly. “Understood.”

  Reed leaned in speaking low so the conversation wouldn’t carry. “We have a plan in place but it’s critical that PPI feels everything is tracking normally. No surprises, no slip-ups. You follow Carter’s lead and we’ll get through this.”

  Marty exhaled looking slightly relieved but the tension in his shoulders remained. “Alright. Got it.”

  Reed straightened up. “Now about your convention. SYNC, right?”

  Marty’s expression shifted slightly the tension replaced by mild confusion. “Yeah, what about it?”

  “Will Barry be a speaker?” Reed asked pointedly.

  Marty shook his head quickly. “No, he doesn’t usually show up to these things. Too high-profile, I guess. But I know he loves the photography world’s spotlight.”

  Reed nodded thoughtfully then leaned in again his tone decisive. “But if he needs to be it can be arranged, right?”

  Marty hesitated. “I mean… yeah, probably. If I pitch it right. Why?”

  “Because we need him to be the keynote speaker” Reed said firmly holding Marty’s gaze. “And not just any speaker—we need him front and center with the entire attendance watching.”

  Marty blinked his jaw dropping slightly. “You’re serious?”

  “Dead serious” Reed said. “Call Barry make it casual and tell him like it’s something you forgot to mention until now. ‘Oh, by the way Barry you will be the keynote speaker.’ That kind of casual. Can you make that happen?”

  Marty ran a hand over his face exhaled slowly. “It won’t be easy but yeah… I think I can make it happen. The current Keynote speaker will not be happy but I think I can make him happy.” “Good” Reed said leaning back with a small smile. “Because that’s how we’ll set the stage. Literally.”

  The meeting was short—as planned. As Reed stood to leave, he thought to himself So many moving parts. I’ve got to get Kessler on our side and then we can really begin.

  Back at the hotel Reed’s mind was calm but alert. Grimes was on board now. The pieces were starting to fall into place.

  Reed checked his watch: six hours to showtime. Time was ticking and every second counted. He slipped into the hotel’s business center and looked around to confirm what he already knew—he was alone. Perfect. The sterile hum of the computer stations and the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights made the room feel almost peaceful. For now, it was his command center.

  He sat down at a corner workstation and booted up the computer. Glancing around to make sure he was still alone he logged into Pro4uM.com. With a few keystrokes lines of code and hidden memos scrolled across the screen each one a piece of a much larger puzzle. Reed’s focus sharpened as patterns began to emerge. Phrases like “Strategic alignment confirmed” and “Asset integration underway” indicated a level of planning. And then there it was—Kessler’s name. Not just once but again and again his name tied to keywords: “Fulcrum”, “Keystone”, “Architect’s Directive”.

  He leaned back and exhaled slowly. This wasn’t speculation anymore. Kessler wasn’t a target of opportunity—he was the target. PPI’s plans revolved around him using his influence to legitimize a global agenda that Reed was only starting to understand. He pulled out the Lyt Meeter and ran a cross-check against the data on Pro4uM.com. The device hummed faintly processing the input before confirming what Reed dreaded most. This wasn’t coincidence. It was fact. Reed went back to the screen and dug deeper. Cross-referencing Pro4uM’s encrypted chat with the files from the Box Gallery revealed even more. PPI wasn’t just manipulating Kessler—it was controlling entire countries. Each new discovery exposed another layer of Barry Cox’s shadow empire: coups disguised as democratic transitions, economic crashes masquerading as market corrections, and puppet leaders installed through supposedly free and fair elections. Behind every major global upheaval Reed found PPI’s fingerprints, hidden in innocent photography assignments and equipment purchases.

  The pattern was both brilliant and sick. Every real photography event was a cover for something darker and Barry’s influence was missing from the official records. Kessler wasn’t just another target—he was the unwitting centerpiece of an operation that spanned the globe. Reed’s hand hovered over the keyboard the weight of this reality settling on his shoulders. It was worse than he had thought.

  Time was running out. Reed closed the files and shutdown the computer. As the screen went dark Reed hesitated. His finger hovered over the power button. Something nagged at him—a feeling there was more he hadn’t found. He leaned forward and tapped the keyboard and the screen flickered back to life.

  Reed typed in a new query and focused on PPI’s operations in New York. His fingers moved with precision skimming through encrypted chat and internal memos until he found a glaring vulnerability. PPI’s servers thought to be impenetrable could be compromised by a physically implanted device—this will be useful later Reed thought. It was a crack in their armor hidden in plain sight.

  Reed’s lips curled into a cold smile. This was their weakness.

  The photo shoot wasn’t just about protecting Kessler—it was about trapping Barry. Get him talking. The Secretary wasn’t just a target—he was an ally in taking down Barry Cox.

  The covert recording devices Reed had planted earlier now meant even more. They would capture every word, every interaction—irrefutable proof Reed and his team could use to take down Barry Cox. But one thing was clear: without Kessler’s trust none of it would matter. The computer went dark and its hum died away. Reed sat back and ran his hand through his hair. He knew convincing Secretary Kessler wasn’t just about showing him evidence like cryptic codes on a fake website and a silly gadget—it was about changing his perspective on this situation. The Secretary had to see how Barry had manipulated him used his influence and positioned him as the unwitting cornerstone of PPI’s operations. Without Kessler’s complete understanding and cooperation, the whole thing would fall apart before it even started. The recording devices weren’t enough Reed needed concrete proof that even a seasoned politician couldn’t deny.

  Reed sent a text to Carter and Kranch laying out the grim reality of what he’d found. He kept it short concise and encrypted—every word chosen carefully to avoid detection. He thought about bringing Grimes in but the risk was too great. For now, Grimes needed to keep doing what he was doing. The less he knew the safer he’d be.

  Reed went back to his room and sat on the bed his mind racing. Anxious but resolute. Dismantle Barry and PPI falls like a house of cards. The thought of killing him flickered briefly—a dark impulse born of desperation. He dismissed it immediately. This wasn’t a spy novel and he wasn’t James Bond. You only kill people in stories like those. In the real world the truth was the weapon that brought men like Barry to their knees.

  He looked at his watch. Five hours to showtime. The shoot would be the tipping point—the moment of no return. No second chances.

  Reed’s thoughts turned to the scope of what he’d found. The scale of Barry’s corruption and PPI’s manipulation was global. He couldn’t just expose a piece of it; he needed the whole picture. It was the only way to make sure the lies weren’t just revealed but destroyed.

  Everything was in place and the photo shoot was hours away.