Before calling CR, Ted McBride wanted confirmation that Lieutenant Mazibuko had delivered on his promise. In Ted�s experience, Mazibuko never failed�especially when it came to getting his hands on something as valuable as a laptop and an iPhone. Still, trust was a luxury in their line of work, and Ted preferred proof over blind faith.
He dialed Mazibuko�s number and listened to the steady buzz. No answer. He tried again. And again, by the third attempt, irritation had begun to edge into his patience. Something was wrong�Mazibuko wasn�t the type to let a call go unanswered.
With a thin exhale, Ted dropped the idea of chasing him and scrolled instead to the one contact that always picked up, the boss, CR. CR answered before the first ring had died.
�Any update�?� The voice on the other end was low and controlled the kind of tone that made small talk feel like a waste of oxygen.
�I�m afraid not, Sir,� Ted said, keeping his tone deliberately respectful. �I still can�t get hold of my contact.�
There was a pause�brief, but heavy�before CR�s voice lashed through the line.
�Damn it, Honorable, do you understand the gravity of this situation? We cannot rely on that idiot�s word that the information is safe. My patience is wearing thin.�
The calm, measured control from earlier had burned away, replaced by a rare edge of anger.
�I was comfortable when those items were still in the robbers� hands,� CR went on, each word clipped. �At least then, there was a chance they�d wipe the data before selling them off. But now� now we�re in limbo. We don�t know if the information has been erased or copied�or if it�s already in the wrong hands. That risk is unacceptable.�
CR was not a man who lingered on calls; his conversations were usually over in under a minute. But now, the seconds stretched, and his voice kept coming, heavy with urgency. Ted understood then�more than the words could say�just how high the stakes had risen.
�I need an update as of yesterday,� CR snapped, the words landing like a whip crack. Then the line went dead.