He had monitored their progress for over an hour now and had decided that some one-on-one time was necessary. So he set-up the software that would change his voice and plucked a likely telephone number from the list he'd acquired. His voice was older than he was, but the software would make him sound even older and more raspy, like a burned-out DJ from the Sixties.
It was perfect.
Using a burn phone and a call card, both of which could be purchased from any convenience store - he'd bought them from two separate ones, because he'd seen too many spy thrillers - Alex dialed the number and talked his way through only two people before he was put through to someone that he was assured was in charge.
A voice said, "Hello?" and Alex smiled.
"Hello, there," he said, watching their trace patterns over three different screens. His Mom thought he was developing a video game. He was and had it ready to run in segments if she ever burst in on him. He'd developed it as a cover for his other work, though, and because he was really, really bored sometimes.