Geass Contacts Novels & Stories

files, maps, phones I unlocked a drawer and pulled out a secret phone. I only use this phone to talk to dangerous people who do not exist on official records. Black Tide. That name was heavy in my mind. I had not dealt with them in years. They were patient, quiet, and very dangerous. They were ghosts who only attacked when they could make a profit. They were debt collectors and killers. If they took Gideon, they were using him to control the situation. I looked through my secret contacts. My thumb paused once. Then again. I selected a number.

Cassiel stared at it for a moment, then took it and pulled it on under his jacket. “Where’s the contact?” he asked. “Warehouse 17B. North Bay.” Cassiel got into the back of the black SUV, Enzo sliding into the driver’s seat. As they pulled out, Cassiel’s mind raced. Steel channel being used again. Mercenaries. Possible tie to Elder George… or worse—Samuel. He pulled out his phone and opened the surveillance app. Every inch of the channel was on record. Every passage had been mapped. There were no holes.

“Where do you want me to begin?” “Financial,” I said. “The same methodology Sienna used on the restructuring files. Whoever the contact is, they’ll be threaded into the Verizon accounts somewhere. The same hand that built the shell company structure built the rest of it.” I paused. “And Max — be careful. Whoever this is, they’ve been watching the access logs. They’ll notice if someone new starts pulling records.” “I’ll use the Gibraltar route.” “Good.” I ended the call. Sat at the kitchen table. The contact name that Noah had given me sitting in the back of my thinking like something that kept insisting on being examined.

I bit my lip, anxious whether Jean is okay right now. "Sir!" I hear one of my men say as he goes into the room, holding a bloody phone in his hand. "We managed to catch one of them. This is the best we could find. We believe he has direct contact with his boss. The passcode is 248320,"

he says and I groan and try calling her again, but no answer. “Gianni, contact Alessa and find out if Angel is with her. I don’t want her near this.” I say and Gianni rolls his eyes but takes out his phone anyway and dials Alessa. “Hey Alessa, it’s Gianni Moretti, oh ok. Yeah, sure. Hold on.” He removes the phone from his ear and looks at me. “Angel with her, they have someone on the inside awaiting instruction.” He says and I breathe a breath of relief.

Queens gleams hazy in the distance, Cass’s world flickering behind some of those windows. She pulls out her tablet and scans the contact page. **Crownline Heritage Group** Primary North American Liaison: Samuel Cross** Contact: scross@crownlinehg.com Phone: +1-212-555-… She frowns. “Cross,” she murmurs. Old crew names from Cass’s late-night info dumps drift through her mind. Cross. Kade. Moretti. Old blood in different fonts. She hits the intercom. “Cass?” she says.

The way I had driven off without looking back. A sharp beep broke into my thoughts. I glanced down. My phone screen had lit up with a new message. I ignored it at first. Probably another update from one of the guards. But the name Camila flashed again, and something about it made me pause. I reached for the phone and opened the message. There was only a photo. It loaded slowly, the signal in the meeting hall wasn’t the best but when it came through fully, I froze on my seat. It was Gia. She stood in front of a mirror, wearing the most delicate lavender lingerie I’d ever seen. Her hair was slightly messy, her arms crossed over her stomach like she was unsure of herself.

Randy's lips thinned. Those words were like ice sliding down George's spine. "Then who the fuck was downstairs?" He sat forward, on the very edge of his seat. "You let someone into the server room?" Eli was shouting now. He snatched up the desk phone, barking at security. "Who was this guy?" Randy demanded. "He-he said he worked for Ghost Consulting..." George swallowed. "We've never used Ghost Consulting." "You emailed me his contact information." George pointed at Randy. Randy wasn't looking at the screen anymore. The other five windows were muted, most of the present board on phones or typing away rapidly. No doubt moving all their assets to an off-shore account.

He’s right, Asheron and I are throwing off crazy jealous scent. “Let me see more then,” I demand, snatching the phone from his hand. As soon as I have it, Asheron takes it from me to be the one in control, of course. Asheron quickly swipes through the photos of Georgie in Paris with her assistant and friend, Jos. And that Gerard fuck. Then… Georgie in a bikini on the beach. It’s a modest bikini, but still, most of her body is exposed and she’s way too close to Gerard. And far too far from us. On a beach, without me.

Delia heard snippets again, more focused now. “…the burner phone was active just last night. Traced to a specific area code, surprisingly local… Yes, the usual channels, the ghost account setup… And the ‘contacts’? Right. Names are starting to emerge. Small-time, but connected to a larger network. They specialize in… discreet services. Good. Follow the money. Find the primary contractor. And the meeting point.”