The Father_Part 2

CHAPTER 1

THE OFFER

The coffee shop in downtown Washington was exactly what Lisa expected from a meeting with someone in Morrison's line of work—unremarkable. Worn wooden tables, a faded mural of the Potomac, the smell of burnt espresso. The kind of place where conversations were lost in the ambient noise.

Maggie Morrison sat in the corner, dressed like a retired professor. Gray cardigan, reading glasses, a biography of Churchill on the table. If Lisa didn't know better, she'd have walked right past her.

"You came," Morrison said, not looking up from her book.

"You said you had information about Helena Xu."

Morrison finally raised her eyes. They were sharp, alert, nothing like the tired academic she was pretending to be.

"Sit. Let's talk."

Lisa slid into the booth. A waitress appeared, and Lisa ordered coffee she didn't want. Morrison closed her book.

"You took down Varela," Morrison said. "That was impressive. A group of college students dismantling an organization that intelligence agencies have been trying to crack for twenty years."

"Word travels fast."

"Money travels faster. Your father's friends have been talking. The retired community is very gossipy."

Lisa wrapped her hands around the warm cup. "What do you want from me?"

Morrison leaned back. "I run a network. Former intelligence operatives, field agents, analysts. People who saw too much, knew too much, couldn't go back to normal life."

"You mentioned this before."

"I mentioned that I need someone with your particular skills. What I didn't mention is why."

The coffee arrived. Lisa drank it, buying time.

Morrison continued, her voice dropping. "Varela was a small piece of something much larger. A shadow network that spans continents. They've been operating for decades, selling weapons, trafficking people, destabilizing governments. Varela was their local distributor."

Lisa set down her cup. "How much larger?"

Morrison pulled a photograph from inside her book. It showed a group of men in business suits, seated around a conference table. European, American, Asian. All wearing expensive watches, all smiling at the camera.

"These are the people who funded Varela. The ones who provided his contacts, laundered his money, looked the other way when he operated on their turf."

Lisa studied the faces. Ordinary men. The kind you'd see on a subway or in a boardroom.

"Who are they?"

"That's what I need you to find out."

Lisa shook her head. "I'm one person. A college student with some unconventional training. I'm not a magical solution."

Morrison almost smiled. "I know what you are. Robert trained you exceptionally well. But you're not meant to work alone. Not anymore."

She slid a folder across the table. Inside were profiles. Maya Chen, Jordan Parker, Tyler Morrison, Kayla Williams.

"You've already assembled the framework. Your friends. They've proven themselves during the Varela situation. What I'm offering is structure. Resources. Access to information you can't get anywhere else."

Lisa flipped through the files. Detailed, comprehensive. Morrison had been watching for a while.

"You've been tracking us."

"I've been tracking your father for twenty years. You came with the package."

Lisa closed the folder. "What exactly are you proposing?"

"Training. For you and your team. I'll provide access to safe houses, equipment, intelligence. In exchange, you'll conduct reconnaissance missions against targets associated with the shadow network. Simple surveillance. Information gathering. No direct action."

"And when the information leads to something?"

Morrison's expression hardened. "Then we'll see what we're dealing with."

Lisa thought about Helena Xu. About the text message. About the threat hanging over her family.

"I need to discuss this with my team."

"Of course. But understand this, Lisa—Helena Xu isn't working alone. She's connected to something much bigger. If you want to protect your family, you need to understand what you're fighting."

She stood, leaving a twenty on the table.

"You have two days."

Morrison walked out, leaving Lisa alone with cold coffee and a choice that felt less like a choice and more like a door that had already been opened.