Signal Stealing
The border collie, named appropriately for Thief, sat at Marcus's feet, watching the tennis ball with an intensity that made Ethan uncomfortable. They were at the dog park again—Wednesday, 5 PM, like clockwork. Their friendship had solidified in this exact spot over the past six months, built on throw conversation and the comfortable rhythm of routine.
"You ever notice," Marcus said, throwing the ball, "how dogs don't care about your past? They just want you to show up."
Ethan nodded, watching Thief sprint after the ball, his black and white coat blurring against the autumn sky. "Must be nice."
He didn't tell Marcus that his security clearance had come through that morning. That he'd spent three hours in a windowless conference room being shown footage of someone accessing proprietary files from his department. Someone who used Marcus's credentials. Someone who met with a competitor known for headhatching executives.
"Baseball tonight?" Marcus asked, as the dog returned, ball dripping. "Yankees versus Red Sox."
"Can't," Ethan said. "Working late."
"Always working." Marcus's smile was easy, unbothered. "You know, my ex-wife said I was married to my job too. That's why she left."
He'd never mentioned an ex-wife before.
"What happened?" Ethan asked, though he already knew from the background report in his briefcase.
"She couldn't trust me," Marcus said simply, scratching Thief behind the ears. "Found some things she couldn't explain. Text messages. Meetings. Nothing happened, but the damage was done. Once you start questioning someone's loyalty, you can never really stop."
The dog whined, nudging Marcus's hand with a wet nose.
"Ethan?" Marcus looked at him for the first time that afternoon, really looked at him. "You ever feel like you're being watched?"
Ethan's phone buzzed in his pocket. The secure line. "All the time," he said.
"Me too," Marcus said, and threw the ball again. In the dying light, Ethan watched his friend—his target—watch the dog, and wondered who was teaching whom to play dead.