The next morning, Lonah sat at the breakfast table with her daughter, Lara. The large screen on the wall silently broadcasted the news, and the previous night's incident in Falworth still dominated the headlines.
Journalists and news crews had swarmed the motel, the story fanned by official government channels that seemed eager to direct the narrative.
Lonah knew, with a chilling certainty, that the agent's death was almost certainly linked to Noxon.
But it wasn't her immediate problem to solve, at least not at this level. She possessed a skill John Harlan particularly valued: the ability to turn a blind eye, to avoid sticking her nose where it wasn't needed, or even asking questions.
She maintained a strict professional conduct; some things were better left unexamined.
Despite the grim news, Lonah felt somewhat rejuvenated. Her meeting with John had provided valuable insights into several concerning matters.
"Why did you need to see Grandpa John?" Lara interrupted Lonah's thoughts, her brow furrowed. "Didn't you have a big board meeting the night before?"
Lara was a striking young woman, the spitting image of Lonah with her almost-dark brown hair and captivating, deep eyes. Her height, however, came from her father; at six feet tall, she towered over most women.
She'd often faced questions about pursuing fashion or modeling, but to the disappointment of those who asked, she had no interest. Like her mother, Lara was driven to build her own success, though her path differed. She was majoring in humanities and political science, a sharp contrast to Lonah's background in project management majoring in global leadership excellence program – a field that had honed the very abilities that now allowed her to lead Noxon.
Lonah sipped her coffee. "My meeting with John was more of a personal briefing, Lara, about current progress. The official board meeting had a different, broader agenda." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Noxon is a complex organization. You have a lot to learn before you could even think about joining."
She explained, as she had before, the nuances of Noxon's structure. The board members who attended meetings were carefully selected individuals, proxies who voiced the precise wishes and directives of the true shareholders, like John.
They weren't just figureheads; they were given clear goals and expected to implement them, though the how was often left to their discretion and Lonah's executive team. Lonah herself was an anomaly. Her direct line to John, and his trust in her skills, placed her in a unique position, almost above the formal board in certain operational aspects. John, in turn, would ensure other key shareholders were kept informed, preventing any perception of being left in the dark.
"So, the board meetings are important for official decisions and oversight," Lonah continued, "but for specific guidance on critical projects, or when I need direct input from the top, I go to John. That's the benefit of having your father-in-law as a primary shareholder. It streamlines things, and other key stakeholders accept it because they know they'll always be kept in the loop regarding overall progress."
Lara still looked a little unconvinced. She had always been eager to prove her skills, hoping to join Noxon one day. She'd even approached John directly for a chance, but he had laughed kindly and told her it was up to Lonah. Lonah, however, had consistently refused, stating Lara wasn't ready.
At twenty-two, Lara felt her mother was being overly cautious. Many of her peers were already being introduced to their family businesses. She sometimes felt like a laughingstock among her friends, even if their teasing was good-natured.
The truth was, Lara, unlike Lonah, harbored a quick temper and often reacted emotionally, usually with anger.
These were small seeds of discontent, but they were precisely why Lonah kept her at arm's length from Noxon. The company was navigating a delicate, high-stakes period; throwing an immature, emotionally volatile daughter into that mix would reflect poorly on Lonah's judgment. Whispers of dissent already existed among some staff – unwarranted, in Lonah's view – and she had no intention of giving them any ammunition. Lara, unfortunately, seemed to have inherited her father's lack of aptitude for the cutthroat corporate world.
Lonah had worked hard to temper Lara's wilder impulses, but she simply wasn't ready yet. Perhaps in a few more months, or a year or two, especially by the time Noxon had expanded and Project Aurora was successfully launched.
This caution didn't stop Lonah from indulging Lara with carefully selected insider knowledge. They shared a deep bond, and Lonah trusted Lara implicitly not to run her mouth. She had taught her daughter better than that.
Meanwhile, back in the capital city of Falworth, the atmosphere was anything but calm. Unlike the relative quiet of Masonvale in the south, undercurrents of unease surged through Falworth. The murdered agent had become the city's new obsession. Rumors and conspiracy theories flooded the internet: What had he found? Who was he really? His identity remained officially undisclosed, but that didn't stop online forums from buzzing. Some claimed he'd uncovered CIB secrets, suggesting the agency had killed him to ensure his silence, then blamed extremist groups or rival corporations.
The executive district, the seat of Kestova's government, felt particularly grim. The bright, sunny weather did nothing to lift the oppressive mood. Fewer cars than usual moved along the clean, wide streets. Overhead, security cameras were omnipresent, their lenses like unblinking eyes, fostering a disquieting sense of being constantly watched, stripped bare.
At the Department of Security (DOS) headquarters, a sprawling complex known as Vigil Hall, tension was palpable. The Kestovan flag flew high, alongside the DOS logo – a golden hive with bees forming a clenched fist, a symbol of unified, stinging power.
Inside the CIB wing of Vigil Hall, the atmosphere was electric. Phones rang incessantly. Staff moved with harried urgency, careful not to be seen idle. Meetings between senior CIB staff had been ongoing since early morning. A memo from the Chairman of the DOS had landed on every CIB desk, putting them all on edge: solve this murder, and solve it fast, or the case would be handed over to their arch-rivals, the Federal Security Agency (FSA).
The FSA typically dealt with domestic matters, a clear contrast to the CIB's foreign intelligence mandate, making the threat a particularly humiliating one. Political maneuvering had clearly begun, and the CIB leadership could not afford to lose control of this investigation. The top executives had been in intense, closed-door meetings all morning, the severity of the situation clear to everyone.
Agents and support staff knew they wouldn't be sleeping peacefully for a while. They needed concrete leads, and quickly. Field agents and CIB branches across the nation were already on high alert. This was no small matter.