## Chapter 3: Mission Complications
Utah
1
Lyle's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Not from the cold—the hotel AC was cranked to sixty-five, as low as it would go. Not from the brutal Utah heat he'd fled into. From what he knew. What he and Peter had discovered buried in Markwell's autonomous systems code three days ago.
He positioned himself in front of the vent and closed his eyes, letting the cold air blast his face. It tasted faintly metallic but gloriously, blessedly cold. His heart rate wouldn't slow down. Every time his phone buzzed, he expected Markwell security. Expected to be caught.
The man in the lobby had stared at him too long.
Lyle kept telling himself it was nothing. Paranoia. The guy was probably just a tourist, same as everyone else in Park City. But something about the way he'd looked up from his newspaper when Lyle walked past, the way his eyes had tracked him all the way to the elevator...
Stop it. You're being ridiculous.
But was he? Three days ago, he and Peter had stumbled onto something buried in Markwell's code. A backdoor. Hidden authentication protocols that would let someone take control of military drones—not just monitor them, but actually pilot them, fire their weapons. Someone had built this deliberately, buried it deep enough that routine audits would never find it.
Someone at Markwell was planning something. Something bad.
And now Lyle was a thousand miles from home, alone in a hotel room, jumping at shadows.
He'd checked the room twice since arriving. Once when he first walked in, scanning for anything out of place. Again after his shower, looking for signs that someone had been through his bags while the water was running. Nothing. Everything exactly where he'd left it.
That didn't mean he wasn't being watched.
His cellphone started ringing, and Lyle nearly knocked over the bedside lamp lunging for it. His heart hammered as he checked the screen.
Peter. Personal phone, not the work one.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Lyle here," he said, answering it.
"Hey, how's Utah treating you?" Peter Karnegie's voice boomed through the speaker. Peter was one of Lyle's oldest friends and colleagues. He had also been his college roommate back at MIT. They'd bonded over late-night coding sessions and a shared appreciation for terrible sci-fi movies. Now they worked together at Markwell developing software applications for autonomous systems.
Ironic, given what they'd recently uncovered.
"It's hot," Lyle admitted flatly. "No one told me it would be this hot."
"Yes I did," Peter said. Lyle could practically hear the grin in his voice. Peter was a big guy, overweight with big-rimmed glasses and a fading hairline. He was pretty much always smiling and laughing, seeing the humor in everything. Which was what Lyle liked about him. "I asked why on earth you would go to Utah for vacation. I specifically said, and I quote, 'Dude, Utah in July? You'll melt.'"
"I thought you were being facetious."
"I wasn't. I was objecting to anyone going to Utah. Ever. For any reason."
"You should have objected more strongly," Lyle said. He moved to the window, peeking through the blinds at the parking lot below. A sedan sat in the far corner, engine idling. Had it been there when he checked in? He couldn't remember. "Listen, is everything okay there?"
Peter's pause lasted a beat too long. "Define okay."
Lyle's stomach dropped. "What happened?"
"Probably nothing. IT ran some kind of audit this morning. Said it was routine, checking for unauthorized access attempts on the development servers."
"Our servers?"
"Company-wide, supposedly. But Marcus from security stopped by my desk twice. Asked if I'd noticed anything unusual in the codebase lately."
Lyle gripped the phone tighter. "What did you tell him?"
"That I spend all day staring at code—everything looks unusual after a while." Peter's laugh sounded forced. "He seemed to buy it. But Lyle... I don't like it. The timing feels wrong."
Through the blinds, Lyle watched the sedan in the parking lot. Still idling. Still just sitting there.
"You think they know?" he asked quietly.
"I think if they knew, we'd already be in a conference room with lawyers and NDAs. This feels more like... fishing. Like someone noticed a ripple and they're looking for the source."
"We were careful."
"We were careful," Peter agreed. "But careful isn't invisible. I covered our tracks in the access logs, but if someone's actively looking..."
A knock at the door made Lyle's heart stop.
He froze, phone pressed to his ear, eyes fixed on the door. The knock came again. Three sharp raps.
"Lyle? You still there?"
"Someone's at my door," Lyle whispered.
"Room service?"
"I didn't order anything."
Silence on the line. Then Peter, his voice low and serious: "Don't open it."
"Housekeeping!" A woman's voice, muffled through the door. "Do you need fresh towels?"
Lyle exhaled slowly. Housekeeping. Just housekeeping.
"No thanks!" he called out. "I'm good!"
Footsteps retreated down the hallway. Lyle sagged against the wall, his legs weak.
"Jesus," Peter said. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"You? I'm the one who almost died." Lyle laughed shakily, running a hand through his hair. "God, we need to get a grip. We're jumping at cleaning staff now."
"Can you blame us? We stumbled onto something big, Lyle. Really big. If the wrong people find out we know..."
"I know." Lyle moved back to the window. The sedan was gone. Had it ever been there? Or was he losing his mind? "Look, I've got two more days here. When I get back, we need to figure this out. Decide what to do."
"You think we should report it?" Peter asked.
"No one who doesn't know already would believe us, and if they know already..."
"I mean report it to higher ups."
"Like the government?"
"I don't know, maybe."
"Blow the whistle?" Peter asked.
"They have protections for that kind of stuff, right? Laws that would keep us safe."
"Not very good ones," Peter said. "If we tell the right people, then best case scenario Markwell would get shut down and a lot of people would get in trouble. But, if we tell the wrong person…"
"Yeah," Lyle said. "I get it."
"I mean, I'm all for governmental oversight…"
"I get it," Lyle repeated. "We'll just sit on the information for now. They don't know we found the backdoor, so there's no rush. We can decide what to do when I get back."
"Okay," Peter said. "That seems like a good enough plan for now."
"And Peter? Be careful. If Marcus comes around again, play dumb. Don't give him anything."
"Way ahead of you." Peter's voice sobered. "You be careful too. If something feels wrong, trust your gut. Get out."
"It's Utah. Where would I even go?"
"Anywhere but there. Stay safe, Lyle."
"You too."
"And if anything changes or someone starts asking questions, let me know."
"Believe me, if something changes, you'll be the first person I call," Peter replied. "Later."
"Later," Lyle said.
They hung up. Lyle stood at the window for a long moment, watching the parking lot, watching the people coming and going. Everyone looked normal. Everyone looked innocent.
But someone at Markwell had built a backdoor into military drones. Someone was planning to use it. And if that someone knew Lyle had discovered their secret...
He pulled the curtains shut and checked that the deadbolt was engaged. Then, just to be safe, he wedged a chair under the door handle.
It would be a long two days.
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