Codename: Jackal Bolt
Fernandez: “Go ahead.”
A voice on the other end spoke calmly, each word deliberate, but the tone carried an edge of steel.
Voice: “You’re behind schedule.”
Fernandez: “The port deal will close. My timetable is my own.”
Voice: “Your timetable is irrelevant. The others are moving. You were chosen for Cadonia because you promised efficiency. Don’t make me question the choice.”
Fernandez leaned back, staring out at Mayfield’s skyline.
Fernandez: “Cadonia isn’t a number on a spreadsheet. It’s a live game. You don’t just take the king, you have to make the pawns turn on him first. That takes finesse.”
Voice: “Finesse doesn’t buy loyalty. Control does.”
Fernandez: “And I’ll have control. But you should know, some… elements here are resisting harder than expected.”
Voice: “Then remove them.”
Fernandez smiled faintly, not the charming, public smile, but something colder.
Fernandez: “Already working on it.”
Voice: “Good. The signing must happen before the quarter ends. After that, the Cadonian government will be… restructured. You know your role.”
Fernandez’s gaze drifted toward the door Maria had just walked through, his expression unreadable.
Fernandez: “Yes. I know my role.”
Voice: “Then don’t fail it.”
The line went dead.
Fernandez set the handset down slowly, almost thoughtfully. His reflection in the window stared back at him, polished suit, perfect posture, and eyes that no longer carried any warmth at all.
Fernandez replaced the phone in its cradle and leaned back, the faint glow of Mayfield’s skyline reflected across his eyes. He allowed himself a slow, controlled exhale.
A notification popped up on one of his encrypted monitors. A small, innocuous message, but enough to make his smirk fade.
Subject: Intruder detected. Operative confirmed in country.
His eyes narrowed. The name wasn’t attached, but the intelligence left no doubt: the man sent to interfere with his plans had arrived.
Reynolds.