Darcy Devereux and the Security Service

Chapter 14

“Ambrose,” I whispered.

“I see it.”

“Is George and Alice home?”

“No. They’re at the cinema like every week. Wait here.”

“What? Ambrose!”

He unlocked the car and searched the glove compartment.

“What are you—”

Ambrose reemerged with a silver revolver.

“Oh.” I sucked in a breath.

Ambrose gestured for me to go behind him. “Stay with me, Fitz. Be calm.”

“I am calm.”

“Good.”

I rolled my eyes.

He checked every room, took his time. When we got upstairs, he came to the conclusion nothing had been taken and no one was in. The furniture was displaced, clothes strewn about, cushions askew.

“What were they looking for?”

“Maybe this.” Ambrose took out Maurice’s uplink from his pocket.

“What— You had that all this time, and—”

“Shh,” he mouthed.

Footsteps thudded downstairs.

“Who’s that?” I mouthed back.

“I don’t know.”

We slunk downstairs. My adrenaline rose as we checked the floor again, then the living room.

Ambrose crept near the threshold, safety on, though the intruder didn’t know that. He mouthed, “Three. Two. One.” He darted in with his gun pointing out. He jumped. “Oh—!” Ambrose lowered his gun. “God. You could’ve called.” He sighed. “Fitz, you may come in. It’s safe.” He beckoned.

I furrowed my brow and crept about the threshold.

There stood Harrow, tall, analyzing, and concerned, of course all while being smug. “Well, Ambrose, good to know you see how serious it is now. They’ve been here. In your home, the very place you sleep. They’re doing anything they can to get ahead of the game.”

“Yes, they seem to be getting desperate.”

“Do you still have the uplink with you?”

“Yes.”

“Wait a minute. Why are you here in the first place? Did you know this would happen? And who are ‘they’?” I interjected.

“Fitz.” Ambrose looked at me, gesturing for me to calm.

Harrow set his chin. “I’ve gotten here only a moment ago. The door seemed forced open, but your car was parked in front. I suspected something had happened. The reason I’ve come is because there’s been a lot of movement in the criminal underground, and I wanted to talk with the both of you.”

“About?”

“It’s getting increasingly clear that the more you get yourself involved, the more danger you place yourself in.”

“Nothing new, then.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Stevie and I talked later today. It might be worth considering leaving London and becoming more of a shadow.”

“Why?”

Ambrose furrowed his brow. He hadn’t been looped in. That was new.

“We analyzed the uplink more thoroughly and found a small encrypted file in a folder with different algorithm than the satellite encryption. The FBI couldn’t copy it onto theirs. We don’t know what it contains, but it was important enough to break into MI6 and your house.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You mean... That’s what the yesterday’s phone call was about?”

“You told him?” He looked to Ambrose.

“He heard me answer the phone. That’s all.”

“I see.” He nodded. “Before your flight touched down, someone broke into MI6 using one of our agents and tried to find the uplink and information about you.” That’s what had worried Ambrose.

Ambrose glanced between Harrow and me. It must’ve been big for them to tell me what Ambrose hadn’t even been cleared to tell me earlier.

“But they didn’t succeed?”

“Ambrose took the uplink for safe-keeping after it was analyzed, and our computer systems show no signs of access into your files. But they’re persistent.”

“They?”

“We don’t know exactly who.” Lie. “We’re still trying to figure that out. It could be Orbis. Their enemy. Who knows?” He knew who it was. Ambrose knew who it was. And yet I couldn’t ask him.

“So you came here to offer me an out?”

“After informing you of the current threats, we wondered if you agreed disappearing early would be better than waiting.”

“Sorry, threats? As in plural. Why I am I just now hearing about all of this?”

“It’s a delicate circumstance. We wanted to be sure.”

“Yes, but it’s my life. I have the right to know when you know.”

“You work with us, so you know when you need to.”

I huffed.

“For the past few weeks, we’ve suspected Kasim Marwood to be involved with your uncle’s business, but it wasn’t until today you confirmed it.”

“All... right? So?”

“You know he’s dangerous.”

“I met him twice. Maurice has otherwise acquainted me with him. He’s not someone you mess with. Unless you’re me.”

Harrow harrumphed. “There was an agent.”

“Harrow.” Ambrose shook his head.

“What?” I looked between them.

“He needs to know,” Harrow told Ambrose.

“Not this. The point is clear.”

“Ambrose.” I frowned.

“You said he’s serious. Then this should decide it.”

My brother crossed his arms and glanced aside, brow pensive, gloomy.

Harrow looked at me. “There was a student who took his classes back in the day. Bright girl. We had her in Home Office all this time. A while ago, we recruited her and trained her to reacquaint with him and follow him discreetly to see if there was anything else we could ascertain. She took the photos Ambrose showed you this morning.”

“Oh.” I blinked. It was odd, putting a name to the data I’d looked at.

“She was also investigating last night’s breach in security.”

“Was?” My expression blanked.

Ambrose shifted.

“We got a message from her when she found something, but she didn’t make it to the rendezvous with her handler.”

I glanced at Ambrose.

He subtly shook his head. It wasn’t him.

“Tonight, I had to pay a visit to her family.”

Ambrose paled, not meeting my eyes.

I rubbed my face and sat. “I see.” Another victim of my uncle’s clandestine criminal web. And her family hadn’t even gotten the truth, just a cover story. They’d never know the real reason. Perhaps not until the syndicate was destroyed. And if I backed out now, I’d be working in hiding for much longer than I wished. I should’ve been the last he affected, but that couldn’t be possible for a long time.

“I’m supposed to tell you if you want to disappear, you can. This might be your last chance at rescinding your involvement.”

“Thank you, but no.”

“Fitz—”

I looked at Ambrose earnestly. Everything in his gaze fought mine. He’d have taken any chance to get me out of this. But he knew if he did, he’d never hear the end of it from me. Not that it might’ve stopped him... And yet we’d had an agreement. I wouldn’t disappear unless it was time, and I would decide whether I was in or out. He couldn’t back down on that. His word was his bond. We had nothing between us if not that.

Ambrose nodded to Harrow.

“Very well. I’ll send someone to clean up here before your cousins come back. Darcy?”

“Hm?”

“This never happened. I was never here.r”

“Fine.”

Ambrose and Harrow shook hands.

I merely nodded in salute.

Then Ambrose locked the door behind him. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

A few minutes later, the cleaning crew came, and we occupied the kitchen while they restored order to the house. Ambrose plopped a bag of spearmint tea into two mugs. I took a mug, and so did he.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He blinked, surprised for a moment. Up till now, this question had been directed to me by him multiple times, and it was the other way around. I smiled to myself.

He shrugged and leaned back against the counter with up ankle crossed behind the other. “Exhausted. Stressed. Grateful.” The gun he’d entered the house with lay on the counter, unused. I too was grateful. “You?”

“Mildly shaken, but I’ll be fine.”

He nodded.

“Were you really going to use it?”

“Hm?” He glanced at the revolver. “No, it doesn’t have any bullets.”

I widened my eyes. “You were going to bluff.”

“Well, yes. Just because I have a gun, doesn’t mean I’m anxious to use it.”

“Hmm.”

“This is it, then.”

“Yep.” I sighed. “You’re worried though.”

“Nothing to do about now.”

“Regretting your decision?”

He shook his head and took the stool next to me. “No, just apprehensive. As soon as I agreed to liaison with the FBI and the CIA on catching him, I knew I would do anything to keep you from being involved. I even threatened Special Agent Grant if he’d ever you brought in. It’s why I almost didn’t let you consult with the FBI. I wanted to get you out of this... but I was naive to think it would be that simple.”

“I never even imagined.” I sighed. And to think in a few years, it would be even more impossible. That poor woman.

We worked through our tea. The vacuum blared for a while in the distance. When it turned off again, I drank the dregs of my tea.

Ambrose got up to rinse our mugs.

When he turned around again, I hugged him tight.

He squeezed me and rested his head on mine. “I know.”

While the cleaning crew wrapped up, we held on to the quiet. He ran his fingers through my curls. Soon enough we became the only residents of the townhouse once more. The house was restored, and the night older. George and Alice walked in, gushing to each other about the film they’d seen.

I drew back and wiped my face.

They acknowledged us before progressing upstairs. Time ticked at its regular pace again.

“We should sleep.”

I chuckled weakly.

Ambrose looked at me. “I can stay tonight.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’ll manage. Let’s go.”

Chapter 15

After Ambrose returned his revolver, we took the lift upstairs to our rooms.

I threw my clothes onto the floor and sat in the shower for a while. After scrubbing lackadaisically, I stayed in the warm water until I felt sleep close in. The quiet was numb as I stepped out and lazily dried and pulled on pajamas. My clothes had somehow made it into the hamper.

Ambrose was on the left side of the bed, texting Constance.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, we both know when you say ‘fine’, what you really mean is, ‘I don’t want to be nuisance, but yes, I need this.’”

I snorted and tried to say something, but my mouth remained open. “Wow. You’re too dangerous to be left alive now.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know the code. You’ve cracked the enigma that is me. I can’t risk you telling anyone else.”

“Oh, they know.”

“That’s it. I’m getting my harpoon.”

He laughed and tickled me. “You don’t have a bloody harpoon.”

I giggled. “I can get one.” I wriggled.

“Come here, you little rabbit.” He hugged me and kissed my hair.

I turned towards him curled in a ball to catch my breath. His laughter was such a warm and unrestrained sound of mirth. A little like Father’s. Happiness was something I’d missed for a long time. This sort of special joy was last felt in my early childhood years.

He sighed and rolled on his back with an arm around me. “Good night, Fizzy.”

My mind was a jumble of thoughts, both happy and melancholic. It entered my head about how much I’d miss this later. “Bon nuit, mon frère. Dors bien,” I slurred. Good night, my brother. Sleep well.

“Toi aussi,” he yawned. Likewise.

What a sudden turn to the night. Sharp turn. It had left us both spent. Ambrose snored before I did. Lucky. My mind floated for a while, thoughts pervading, mellowing on tonight. And then without notice, I slipped into a cloud of sleep.

It was easier to let go when I wasn’t alone when safety was a cocoon of warmth. It reminded me of when I was a child when nightmares were of simpler things, like the dark or monsters in the shadows. Ambrose hadn’t made fun of that, ever. We’d made pillow forts and fallen asleep reading Aesop’s Fables or the Secret Garden. He’d sometimes made pancakes. What an unsuspecting time that had been. Just... so different. Wistful and tranquil. Brimmed with adventures we’d made on life’s small happenings. The world had seemed bigger, and life easier to fill with joy. I wished my life had consisted of nothing but that.

Crack!

I bolted upright, breathless, as if the world had shaken. No memory of what I’d dreamt, only feelings coursed through me. Sweat had soaked into my clothes. Tears had dampened my face already. I shook with every breath I heaved. My eyes desperately searched the room.

“Fitz. Fizzy, you’re home. You’re with me.” Ambrose touched my shoulder. “It’s okay.”

I flinched and turned to him, throwing my arm out.

He ducked. “Woah, sorry.”

“No, ‘s okay. I’m sorry.” I balled up, head on my knees.

“I’m here. It’s all right.” He exaggerated his breathing.

I clasped my hands. Breathe in, breathe out.

“You’re okay. It’s over. We’re in London.”

I calmed surprisingly faster than before, and I looked up at him.

A stream of blood ran down from his nose.

“Ambrose...”

He touched his lips. “Oh.”

I swallowed thickly. “Oh, no.”

“Fitz.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Fizzy.”

“Oh, no, no, no, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hit you—”

“It was an accident.” Ambrose gently grasped my hand.

“I punched you, Ambrose!” My voice broke.

He pinched his nose with some tissues and leaned forward on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t mean to. I’m all right.”

“I—”

“Fitzwilliam, I am fine. Just a nose bleed. I need you to put a timer on your phone. Ten minutes.”

I palmed my Blackberry. My clammy hands tremored as I set the timer. “Done.”

“And now sit next to me.”

“All right.”

“And breathe with me.” His chest rose and fell.

“Okay.” I staggered a long inhale. Taking another breath as each left.

“I’m all right, Fizzy.” Ambrose hugged me. “It was an accident. It’s not your fault.”

I sighed unsteadily.

“I’m all right. I promise.”

“Okay.” I listened to his breathing to try to calm mine. And then, I didn’t mean to, but I laughed. I was shaken from the night terror and punching my brother in my sleep, and yet there was the phenomenon of laughing for no reason in stressful situations. God, what was it about fragile moods that made one laugh at inappropriate times?

“What?”

“Erm... I’m sorry. It’s... I don’t know why this is funny. I’m so tired.”

“Oh.”

I bit my lip because I knew if I laughed, he would laugh, and his nose was bleeding. But then again, neither one of us could stop ourselves.

He broke first, and then I cracked up. When the adrenaline faded, I passed out on Ambrose’s shoulder. A few more nightmares passed through, but nothing of note.

The next morning, I felt like a truck had run over me the next morning. I woke up to Ambrose sleeping deeply, bloodied tissue disposed of, nose perfectly fine. Not even swollen or bent out of shape. I breathed with ease. I didn’t know how I would’ve forgiven myself if I’d broken his nose.

Before, I’d spent the night alone, for many years. Whatever happened, I had no memory of and only remembered waking up on the floor or tangled in bed with the pillows thrown around. Now if Ambrose would always be there when I was trapped in torturous memories... I could never hurt him.

Ambrose stirred and slipped a glance at me before shutting his eyes again. “Morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Very well. But I see you haven’t forgotten last night.”

“I don’t think you should sleep over anymore.”

“Oh, come on, it was—”

“I’m serious. I can’t control them when they come or what I do. One time I twisted your arm when you found me in a flashback, and last night—”

“Was an accident. Both times were.”

“Well, I’d rather not have more ‘accidents’ when it’s not safe. I have no idea what I’d do in my sleep, and I can’t even imagine...”

Ambrose sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe, but I can’t control it.”

“Fitz. Trust me when I say I can defend myself, even if you act in your sleep. Being socked in the nose is one thing. If you grab my arm or whatever may happen, I know how to extricate myself without harming you. I choose to be here for you. Please let me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I keep waking you up?”

“Of course.”

“What if I punch you again?”

“It only happened because I was careless. I shouldn’t have touched you. Either way, I’m not leaving you alone.”

Scooting closer, I curled against him, with a brooding expression.

“It’s all right.” He hugged me, rubbing my arm.

The morning went on as it had before, except a little quieter. When his alarm rang I expected Ambrose to get up, but he merely turned it off, still holding me close.

“It’s six.”

“We can stay in longer.”

“Okay.” I yawned. I wasn’t about to complain. Sleeping in a little longer sounded good.

We started the morning slowly. He made omelets and coffee. Alice danced as usual. George was making more frozen yogurt. Then Ambrose took me with him to Trafalgar Square where we walked a while before we went into the club and down to the gym. It was full of people working out before going to their covert government jobs. A colleague of my brother’s was there too, and they sparred a little. Then Ambrose managed to convince me to train with him a little, and get back to where I used to be. Not that I did much, but I did my stretches and hit the punching bag for a bit while he spotted and made sure my form was all right. Then I cooled down and read from the driving manual Ambrose had left on my desk while he went off to the weights. It’d been a nice time in general. Having someone so supportive who made everything fun, I’d missed it.

An hour later, we headed back home. We were going to do some more work.

“One second. Damn.” Ambrose dropped his keys.

I sighed, clammy hands in my pocket.

And I heard the click of a gun’s safety being turned off. “Hands up. Turn around.”

I froze.

“I said turn around.”

Ambrose and I did so. A black unmarked van with no plates pulled up to the pavement. Two people in front, three in the back, not to mention one with a pistol aimed at me.

Ambrose’s hand slowly made it to his back pocket.

The man removed the safety. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“That’s irrelevant right now. My boss, however, wants to have a meeting with you.” He looked at me.

“No.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll bring him back. After a talk. Promise.” He gave a fake smile.

Ambrose looked at me, certain there would be more than a talk. I could’ve wrestled the gun off if it were closer, but it wasn’t, and any false move could instigate more conflict. The man was a professional, no doubt. The idiots would’ve been more cocky, shoved the gun in my face, or in grabbing distance. This one?

“I don’t know you, therefore your word means nothing, so no.”

“This is my word.” He nudged the gun. “And I wasn’t asking for permission.”

“You won’t kill him.”

“But I will shoot you.” He readied to pull the trigger.

“No, wait! I’ll come.”

“Fitz, no.”

“Shut up!” The man beckoned me.

My brother looked on warily.

The man pulled a bag over my head. “Follow us, and he gets hurt.” He guided me inside, and I felt my head throb. I used my watch to take pictures of several positions. With luck, I caught their faces. We drove around for what felt like ages. My nausea came and went. I knew throwing up on anyone wouldn’t help the situation, so I did my best to control it.

We stopped soon and they took me to what felt like an abandoned office building. The AC hummed, and the floor cushioned my shoes. Carpet.

A door clicked.

“Ah, Darcy. Finally, we meet again.”

“And you are?”

“You know who I am.”

Kasim had come once or twice to Chicago, though I barely remembered it. His voice was unmistakable. “Long time no sass. I see your penchant for melodramatics has only grown.”

He chuckled. “I could say the same. Please. There is a chair behind you.”

“I’d rather stand.” That wasn’t true. I was exhausted and dizzy. It had just sounded like what someone in my situation always said if it were a movie. Except, this was no film.

“Makes no difference to me.”

Forget it. This is stupid. I collapsed back into the chair with a wince. A part of me had expected the chair to not be there, so not falling backward onto the ground was a positive. “Why am I here?”

“Because you’re still Maurice’s nephew, and whether or not I like you, he’d prefer I give you another warning.”

“Maurice is dead. I shot him three times. Once in either leg and a third time in the hand. Then I watched him take a swim.”

“After you gave the FBI the key to his demise and lost him one of his best clients. Quite the betrayal to your own blood.”

“Maurice and I were never simpatico.”

“And now you’re set to ruin what’s he built out of revenge.” He clicked his tongue.

“More out of protection and a lot of spite.”

“You’re still a child. What makes you think you can take down an organization that rules the underground and manipulates governments in ways you can’t even detect?”

“According to Maurice, I know too much, so child or not, I either fight to live or wait to die.”

“Or join the enemy.”

I huffed. “A very enticing offer, I’m sure.”

“But one I know you can’t accept.”

“Yes, you should kill me and get it over with.”

He snickered. “Kill you? Why ever would I do that? No, no, no, rest assured, you will be dealt with, but killing you now wouldn’t be too fun, would it? A quick death for you would be anticlimactic and against Maurice’s wishes. And to be truthful, I could keep you, but then I’d have a couple dozen intelligence agencies breathing on my neck to get you back, and I’m not a fan of wasting resources. Killing you would also mean all the information you have ceases to be useful, so until I weasel my way into your life enough that you have no one watching your back... We’ll just have to keep meeting like this.”

I rolled my eyes. He’d never cared for Maurice. No one had. My uncle used intimidation and degradation with almost anyone unless they were a client. Kasim had wanted him dead for as long as I’d known. Though his resources were low. After the Chicago takedown, half the clients must’ve pulled out, not trusting Kasim as much as they had trusted my uncle. Orbis also appeared vulnerable now, especially with me around. No one wanted to take any chances.

“You see, you mess with the bull, and you get the horns. But we are not bulls, Darcy. We are cobras. If you don’t approach a cobra, it slithers on.” His voice grew nearer and further as if he were pacing around me. “But if you corner it, then it attacks, and if you push us, our venom will poison every corner of your life until it isn’t worth anything.” His breath hit my neck. “First, your reputation, then your passion, the friends you trust and hold dear, and then the person you care about the most in this whole world.”

I bit my tongue and set my jaw. The pain in my head grew. It was all I could do to keep it from showing. My stomach turned at his words.

“If you want to keep people from crossing the line, you don’t just eliminate your enemies. You make them wish they never crossed you. And then, no one will ever dare near the line. That is why you are here. This?” He neared my ear. “This is your official warning. And if you don’t stop, you’ll regret deigning to survive in this world.”

“Likewise.” I fisted my hand. “You know, I destroyed, Maurice. I can destroy you.” Fury and nausea bubbled at the same time, but a facade was everything. “Until then you have people follow me and my friends, break into MI6, and turn my house upside down to get back what is yours. You talk of ruining my life, but I think I’ve already begun to ruin yours.” I raised an eyebrow under the cloth.

He chortled again and walked further away.

I released a breath.

“Devereux, if I have my men watch you, they wouldn’t be so clumsy as to let you know. Whoever is doing that must be wanting your attention. And as for the break-ins, last night was a message, but with MI6 I have no business. A petty stick of plastic with encryption that would take a hundred years of computer hours to decode is of no use to us. We’d be stupid not to make copies of our own. And we already know you’re not done using whatever government help you can to dismantle Maurice’s good work.”

But... He didn’t seem surprised. And then again, he did want to use me, so there was something he was hoping to find out. Maurice’s admin uplink couldn’t be directly copied. It had special hidden features that his operatives’ uplink access lacked. With their main satellite off though, it wasn’t traceable.

“I know what you’re thinking. ‘Then who’s making all this trouble?’ Tch. Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps— I’m not the one you should be worried about at the moment.”

I furrowed my brow.

“Well, talk later, I suppose. Best not keep your brother waiting.”

A few seconds later, footsteps sounded from the doorway, and a pair of hands led me out again and into the car. My heart beat violently while I remained ice to the world. Twenty minutes went by in the hum of an engine, and then the door opened, and the pair of hands pushed me out. I didn’t remove the bag until I heard the car drive away, and I found myself at Queen Anne’s Gate once more.

I sunk against the door, exhausted from the adrenaline and the migraine. Many more questions whirled around my brain, but one thing remained clear. Orbis wasn’t the only party after me.

The front door opened, and I fell through like a bowling ball. “Fitz.” Ambrose pulled me up frantically and shut the door. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“I’m okay. It was just a talk.”

He wrapped his arms around me in an instant. “I’m sorry.” His breaths were shallow. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Ambrose hugged me tighter, a quivering hand in my hair. He must’ve been scared to death, and calling the police had been out of the question. Did Luke and Lucy know?

“I’m all right, Ambrose.”

“I’m not.”

My tongue pressed against my teeth. “Ambrose, I think you’re having an anxiety attack.”

“Yes, I know.”

“It’s all right. Really. You don’t have to protect me all the time. I’m fine.” I squeezed him and breathed deeply. “I’m okay.”

He managed another breath.

We stood like that for a few minutes at least, just breathing, holding on. With time he calmed and breathed easier. The warm presence seemed to have helped more than words. In times like these, I was useless with them, unlike Ambrose.

He wiped his face, all flushed, eyes wet, vision unfocused.

I shifted, not used to seeing him like that.

Ambrose took another tenuous breath. He looked at me for a moment and held my head as if to make sure I really was unharmed. “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—”

“And please don’t tell me you’re ‘fine.’”

I glanced away. He needed transparency, something. I didn’t want to worry him, but perhaps, knowing the truth lessened his concern. “My, er, back’s holding for dear life. A migraine’s been going on for a while. I’m drained. Nauseous. Very thirsty. I think there’s a tornado in my mind, and I’m a little shaken mentally. But I think I’m doing well, considering.”

“Let’s go into the kitchen, and we’ll talk downstairs in a bit.”

“Ambrose—”

“Is there anything imminent we need to discuss right now?”

I shrugged. “No.”

“Then it can wait a few minutes. Relax.”

“Where’s George?”

“Billiards club.”

Good thing too. It wouldn’t do to have questions asked.

I plopped onto a stool with a sigh. It was a unique indescribable calm, watching Ambrose move around and take care of things. I took my migraine medicine, and we both took aspirin.

Ambrose opened the fridge, closed it, and scoured the pantry. And then he plopped by me with a cup of yogurt, a banana, and saltine crackers for either of us.

“This okay?” he mumbled and glanced at me.

“Yeah, it’s good.”

Ambrose drew in a breath, rubbing his face. He seemed to be still recovering as well, and I couldn’t blame him.

I put my hand on his shoulder.

He squeezed it.

If I ate, he’d worry less. I knew that much. So I focused on eating, drank the yogurt in a span of gulps with the crackers, working in a bite of banana here and there. Despite my lack appetite, it did help with my nausea. Ambrose managed, trying not to seem too disinterested in eating. It was... An odd sight. I didn’t often see him this deflated, scattered, nervous, and quiet. Though whenever I did... Damn. I knew how he felt when I was... myself. I wished there was something I could do. It had seemed so easy. How he was there for me. How he knew what to do. I found myself learning from him.

When we’d finished, I tried to get up to rinse the dishes, but he insisted on me letting him take them. He usually kept occupied to cope. It distracted him, taking care of things, taking care of people he cared about.

Afterward, I hugged my brother again, hoping it would help. Then we went down to the lair, and Ambrose took my watch off to check the footage and pictures I took. He ran the faces through the database. His hands shook slightly.

“Ambrose.”

He turned around to look at me. “Hm?”

I licked my lips. “We can do this tomorrow if you want.”

“No, I... Best to get it over with it now.”

“Okay. I know it must be difficult.”

“It’s unsettling.” He huffed. “Kasim was all right as a professor. I respected him, appreciated his work. Now? I would very much like to wring his neck.”

I nodded to the side. “That’s Kasim.”

The system beeped. Results for the faces came in. He looked over the files for a while.

“Anything?”

“You could say that.”

Ambrose sat across me, elbows resting on his knees. “Something he said caught my attention. Kasim mentioned his people weren’t the ones you’ve been seeing or who broke into MI6 two days ago.”

“He implied it, which means either he’s lying or someone else did. Could be my mystery tail.”

“Hmm.”

“What if she works for Shadow?”

“Oh, no, not possible. Not her type. Listen, Kasim used one of his clients’ buildings, under a shell corporation, of course. Untraceable accounts. The men who work for him, however, are ex-Mossad and former Navy SEALs. One was from the Argentinean military. And even stranger, they’re—”

“They’re all presumed dead.”

He blinked.

“Maurice bragged about all his clever ideas. Couldn’t help it. A secret unidentifiable army of intelligence agents? It’s part of how they’ve stayed under the radar for so long. Recruiting people their governments think are dead to retain anonymity. Makes them untouchable. Ghosts. And of course, blackmail is his favorite method for infiltrating governments.”

“You think he had something on Casper?”

“Maybe not on him. But when I broke into the school offices before-hours with Luke and Lucy, we discovered Pollock had been collecting files on everyone in the school, and even people outside.”

“Either a side business or a side job Maurice gave him, spies to spy on his own people.”

“Blackmail is more lucrative than greasing hands. I see the appeal.”

Ambrose snorted. “Of course, you do.”

“You notice how Kasim didn’t react to me thinking Maurice was dead?”

“Why did you say that?”

“On a whim. I wondered if they’d admit it, and besides if they knew I knew that would be telling.”

“You wanted to test their reaction.”

“He didn’t seem surprised or even smug about it. Didn’t even flinch at it, no desire to prove me wrong. Either he knows and he laughs in the face of my foolishness, or he thinks Maurice is dead. He’d be pleased about it too. The old dog gets under everybody’s skin. And Maurice has been less trusting of him over the years, so not looping in Kasim wouldn’t be that devastating.”

“What if Maurice is dead?”

I took a careful breath and shrugged. “Then we need to take Kasim down and the rest of Orbis. Less complicated.”

“But?”

“Well, you’re right. He... He could be.”

“I’m not saying he is. Merely thinking out loud. You don’t feel easy about assuming either.”

I huffed softly, looking at my hands. They trembled a bit.

Ambrose held them, gently rubbing my fingers.

“He’s not unlike you, you know.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He’s clever, thinks ten moves ahead, in different frames of mind, hypotheticals. He has backup plans for his backups, and backups for those. I’ve seen many try to eliminate him. He always had a way of surprising everyone, turning the tables.”

“He didn’t predict you getting the jump on him.”

“Or did he?”

“Hmm. Well, either way, we’ll figure out what Kasim’s up to. Whether Maurice is alive or dead, we’ll deal with that too. Good job today. You handled it well.”

“You too.”

He shrugged.

“Trust me. You did your best.” I nudged his knee.

“Thank you.”

“Well. I’m going to shower. Maybe I can wash away the sense of dread.”

He quirked his lips. “Go ahead. I have some calls to make.”

I rose, shuffling to the stairs.

“Oh, and, Fizzy?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell them. Please.”

“Of course, not.” I pressed a thin smile of resignation. “It’s classified.”

Chapter 16

As soon as Fitz left the lair, Ambrose sent the necessary files along with his debrief and report. Then he called Stevie on a secure line. He paced as the phone rang out. Every limb hung low, exhausted.

“Ambrose, how is he?”

He rubbed his neck. “He’s okay. I think.”

“You think?”

“He’s Fitz. My brother eats threats for breakfast and plays mind chess with criminals like he brushes his teeth.”

“You’re surprised?”

“I shouldn’t be, but I suppose, it would’ve been naive of me to think all he’d come back with were a few scars and some anxiety. I didn’t expect the mindset of a military intelligence agent, though.”

“Ambrose, I know it’s odd to see him handling it so cooly, but in a way, he’s still the little tyke who stumbled into your room covered in mud because he thought the ants needed help.”

He breathed a fond laugh.

“It’s just not all he is now. He’s learned to adapt to the circumstances that have been pressed upon him. The world pushed him around, and he pushed back.”

“I know. I suppose I should be glad he’s dealing with this better than I thought. And yet I know he’s as rattled as I am.” He huffed. “I’m still a wreck if I’m being honest. A lot to process. I can’t help being concerned about him. For a while there I lost it. For once, I was more afraid than he was, or at least it appeared so.”

“It’s normal. He’s your brother, and you’ve lost him once already.”

“Did you get the files?”

“Yes, and from the looks of it, Kasim appears to think your brother has his uses.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I think he’s after Shadow.”

“But Darcy doesn’t know anything, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t. At least I think he doesn’t. I know his mind is full of secrets about Orbis no one else knows. Maurice was paranoid that way and at the same time, careless. The only problem is I don’t think Fitz wants to run even when it’s time. I don’t think I want it.”

“He should run while he can.”

He snorted. “Like hell he would.”

“I can’t imagine being away from you again is something he would take lightly.”

“In my brother’s own words, Fitz doesn’t take anything lightly unless it’s too much to handle.” He sighed. “It’s come to the point where I can’t protect him, not really. Granted trusting him grows to be the only recourse. It’s his game more than it is ours.”

“If he had to leave in an emergency, would he listen?”

“Perhaps, if it were the only solution. If I begged him... He told me himself at the hotel he’d rather die fighting than in hiding. I don’t think he means that to effect. But for now, we wait and go on.”

“Do you think Sabrina is aligned with Shadow?”

“I couldn’t imagine.”

“You said her husband was killed by Maurice’s own.”

“Military informant, former top computer expert, framed for war crimes, missing in action, and then used by Orbis to carry out missions and then eliminated when he ceased to be useful. She’s had enough working with shady organizations and anything to do with the government, much less Shadow.”

“Be that as it may, whatever move she makes could help.”

“Shadow does recruit anyone motivated against Maurice. He’s ruffled a lot of feathers in his lifetime. If Sabrina were a double agent, I wouldn’t be surprised either.”

“Where is he now?”

“My contact?”

“Your father.” Stevie’s tone softened.

Ambrose cleared his throat. “I don’t know. He’s been quiet for a long while. I think recent events have made him extra cautious. I sent him an update before calling you. He’ll resurface when he can. Of course, after five years of silence, I doubt it.”

“Very well. And Ambrose?”

“Yes?”

“Stay home, today. I’ll update Harrow. I think it’d be best to follow up on leads tomorrow.”

“Stevie—”

“You would tell Darcy the same thing.”

He sighed. “All right. Thank you, Stevie.”

“Of course. Take care, Ambrose.”

“You too, bye.” He hung up.

For a while, he sat in silence again, pondering. His eyes rested on the box of unused Russian surplus burner phones. Now, calling Lanyard would be hypocritical of him. After all, Fitz wasn’t allowed to mention anything to his friends. And yet... Damn it, he needed someone uninvolved to talk to. Someone distanced from all of this.

All right, he wouldn’t say anything classified. Nothing specific. But keeping Lanyard in the loop would be practical. He phoned his old friend next.

“Heey, Ambrose, what’s up?” Rock music played in the background, but it sounded like Lanyard turned it down a little. Of course, he was up at this hour Chicago time. He still kept his old routines.

“So much.”

He chuckled. “But you can’t say anything.”

“Ehh, well, when you were on a covert mission I sanctioned on behalf of MI6, I could spill like a sinner to a priest. But now that you’re retired...”

“I’m not involved. Yeah, and enjoying it. I am tuning up the Jag as we speak.”

Ambrose laughed. “You kept the bloody car?”

“She’s a little shot up, but still a beaut. If I can’t fix her up, I should find another hobby.”

“How’s everybody?”

“Doing great.”

“Hey, got the coffee— Oh. Is someone on the phone?”

“It’s just Ambrose.”

“Ohh, hey, what’s up?”

Ambrose smiled and shook his head. “Hello, Luke, not much.”

“He’s lying. But telling us American civilians would be treason.”

“Wow. I didn’t know I was an American civilian.”

“It just grows on you until you can’t go back, like a fungus.”

“What?”

“Okay, Ambrose, spill.”

“Nothing to spill. It’s only getting a little serious.”

“Ahem, a little serious? It’s been more than a little serious since Maurice blew up his place,” Luke said.

“He means politics and tomfoolery. Everybody’s getting involved now, and it’s harder to get done what you gotta do. It’s just the name of the game.”

“Well put. Fitz isn’t exactly making it easier.”

“He hates it, doesn’t he?” Lanyard huffed.

“With less tact than I do, and everything’s an adjustment. I don’t blame him. Although, my superiors don’t appreciate his lack of respect for senseless rules and protocols. I’m playing defense and offense at the same time, and he doesn’t even know the half of it. He can’t know. And honestly, it would only frustrate him more if he did, possibly even make him feel a little guilty, and it’s not even his fault.”

“He piss off any criminals yet?”

“A few. He claims to have self-preservation instincts, but if I had a quid for every time he recklessly threw caution to the wind, I would own a few Impressionist paintings.”

“And start a gallery,” Luke added.

“You know, Luke, you’re a mixed influence.”

“Blame my dad.”

Lanyard snorted. “Okay, I invaded a country and stole secrets to save the world. You stole a couple of rich kids’ wallets and then dumped them for fun.”

Ambrose quirked his lips. “You see, Luke, the only difference is that his actions were sanctioned and paid for by the government. If the CIA recruited you, you’d have made a killing.”

“Cool.”

“No, not cool. You’re not getting involved in any of that bull crap.”

“Yeah, I’ll just knock people out for fun.”

“Anesthesiologist?” Ambrose raised an eyebrow.

“Good pay, nice time off balance. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Hey, so you mentioned Darcy adjusting. How is he doing exactly?” Lanyard said.

“What does he tell you, Luke?”

“He has nightmares. Doesn’t mention it much. He’s bored, but it’s not so bad there. He likes your friends. Constance is amazing apparently.”

“He said that?”

“More or less.”

“And?”

“Being around Alice and George is fun. He just... He’s not cool with starting from scratch with the piano. It’s tough on him.”

“He has been a tad restless with his recovery. Yesterday he fainted because he was impatient and walked too much.”

“Wait, what? He didn’t say anything about that.”

“He was more careful when he had that concussion a month ago.” Lanyard clicked his tongue. The clicks of a wrench twisting filled the air. “Here, sand the bullet holes while I work on the engine.”

“Got it.”

“At any rate, I think the circumstances are more annoying now. He can’t take it easy when he wants to do anything but sit around. He barely eats during the day. Sleeping? He tries, but he wakes up every time if not a couple of times, and last night I had a nosebleed, which wasn’t too bad, but let’s just say sleep is a literal battle for him. He’s trying, but it’s exhausting.”

“Damn, sounds like Darcy,” Lanyard said.

“Let me guess, he tells you ‘I’m fine’ at least ten times a day.” Luke snorted.

“In different variations. But I know it’s his way of not talking about it.”

“Yeah.”

“He does like being there, though. London was a good idea, even though we’re not there.”

“I think so. I’m glad Constance and him get along.”

“Yeah, he likes her a lot.”

“What else did he say?”

“Well, he’s also a little awkward about it. You and her make a great couple, and he doesn’t want to mess with anything. He feels like he might be third-wheeling, and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen once you two tie the knot.”

“Ah. I see.”

“He didn’t mention this to you, did he?”

“We discussed something similar. About me proposing later to adjust to everything.”

“And?”

“We talked, but now I know what he didn’t feel comfortable asking me. Maybe I should’ve told him anyway.”

“I think it’s just a little too much change to deal with, even if it’s good change. He’s trying to stagger it out.” Lanyard clanged around some tools, and it sounded like he tore out a piece of metal.

“Yeah.” Ambrose rubbed his neck.

Luke chuckled. “Damn.”

“What?”

“I just realized we all collectively spend enough worrying about Darcy it’s kind of a regular group thing.”

“Okay, done with practice, and breakfast’s ready. How’s the car doing?” Lucy said.

“Sanded the doors. Dad’s tuning the engine. Gotta weld the holes with a patch and then repaint and smooth.”

“I get to polish.”

“I got dibs on the paint.”

“Oh, Ambrose is on the phone, say hi.”

“You three have been hanging out at you didn’t call me?”

Ambrose smiled. It was odd but nice to know that Luke and Lucy didn’t only talk to him because he was Fitz’s brother. After everything, they become a sort of family, which was comforting in a way.

“You were practicing and said not to talk to you. Anyways, basic Cliff notes: Darcy being Darcy and spy bureaucracy, also he faints. Welcome to the club where we worry about our mutual friend.”

“Wait, what, he fainted?”

“My brother overexerted himself yesterday. He’s fine, relatively.”

“Yeah, and you’re not stressed. Relatively.”

Ambrose chuckled.

“Also club? Seriously.”

“No. No club.”

“Then what is this?” Luke snorted.

“Family meeting? It’s been a very taxing morning.”

“Aww,” Lucy said.

“Which you can’t talk about.”

“Which I can’t talk about,” he monotoned.

“Well, if we do name our collective, we can call it the Pentagon,” Lucy quipped.

Lanyard laughed. “No,” he deadpanned.

“Rogue Eagle?”

“Better.”

“The Pentagon’s a sensitive subject.” Ambrose chuckled.

“Ah.”

“Even though I can’t talk about it, I will say it’s not exactly any easier than it was a few months ago trying to keep him out of trouble. My brother keeps certain things to himself, and there are things I can’t tell him. We’re at a stalemate of secrets. And whether he would admit it or not, he needs people who watch the line he scoffs at.”

“Yeahh, but you know, Ambrose, sometimes when you try to protect someone who doesn’t want to be protected, they’ll end up running off for air. He’s trying to keep off, but one day he’s going to break all the rules he didn’t agree with when they don’t agree with him.”

“What are you saying I should let him make poor decisions?”

“There are exceptions, but it’s better to be there when he makes them than to be somewhere else when he does.”

Ambrose sighed and rubbed his face.

“Scary, I know, but He doesn’t like being cornered, and with or without your support, he’ll find a way to break down the walls when they’re closing in.”

“Hmm... Well, anyway I suppose I should take the rest of the day to cool off. I’ll leave you three to get on with your morning.” Ambrose got up and made his way up the stairs.

“Talk to you later, Ambrose. I’ll send pics of the Jag when it’s done.”

“Looking forward.”

“Oh, and have fun not talking about whatever you can’t talk about,” Luke said. Ambrose could hear that smug grin in his tone.

“You may mock me, but I have contacts in the British talent pool of cybersecurity nerds. I can tear down your online social life with one text.”

“Ehh, but you’d never do that because I’m your brother’s best friend and that’s also illegal. Right?”

Ambrose smirked. “I need to go check on Fitz.”

“Right? Ambrose?”

Lanyard and Lucy laughed.

“Goodbye, Luke.”

Chapter 17

While I showered and changed into my pajamas and housecoat, Ambrose supposedly made his calls. I crashed on the couch, listening to the clock tick.

Ambrose walked over a little later. “Still hungry?”

I shrugged. “Not really.”

“I’ll shower and change, and then I’ll make tea. Put something on my laptop if you like.”

“When are you going to work?” I sat up.

“Tomorrow. Taking a sick day.”

“Wait, what— Ambrose, I’m fine—”

“Regardless, I need this.” He didn’t exactly look well himself, but a little better than before. For either reason, I was glad he wasn’t going to work.

“Okay.”

Ambrose kissed my hair. “I’d still stay home if I didn’t, though.”

I quirked a smile.

After he came back down, we watched The Princess Bride, then Police Academy. George cooked a butternut squash soup for lunch. When Lucy called later, Luke was passed out on the grass in a nap after a seizure. He was getting them less and less often, though. New medication. So some good news at least. Ambrose was in the midst of a nap too, but I’d already passed out during Princess Bride, so Lucy and I spent the time together. We talked about her artwork and styles of the masters, about school, and the little nothings we liked to share.

Then dinner came, and afterward, Ambrose awoke and stepped away to phone Constance before her show. I awoke in the night a few times, but we fought the night like before and slept in.

The next morning we stretched before taking a walk in the park. Yesterday was still on our minds. I needed space to think again, so Ambrose went on ahead of me, and fifteen minutes later, I gave in and plopped myself on a bench, resigned to occupying myself with reading the driving manual and sketching. And then fifteen more minutes passed until I spotted my tail again.

Mystique looked over at me directly. For once she was acknowledging my presence.

I returned to my sketches and kept her in my periphery. She knew about me, but she wasn’t Orbis. Was connected to this ally that had assisted the FBI in Chicago? When Maurice had called to threaten me, I told him I’d contact this mysterious ally, the enemy of my enemy, but I didn’t know how. Ambrose didn’t seem inclined to involve me. I was kept as much in the light as in the dark. A dim corner to be. I played the passive informer. Answering questions put to me, not asking my own.

It was curious though. When Lanyard told me about the time he’d crossed paths with my brother, he mentioned an incident in the Middle East where Ambrose’s agent betrayed him. A woman. In Ambrose’s position, there couldn’t be many enemies who were considered dangerous in a deadly sense. Perhaps, there weren’t many agents that have betrayed him either. I would ask Lanyard, but I knew he wouldn’t give me specific details about the work Ambrose did or did. I’d be putting either of them in a tough spot. Regardless, she had to be the agent. Everything fit together too well.

Ambrose had told me to stay away, and yet... My brother was on the other side of the park. I got up from the bench and strolled up casually.

“Enjoying the weather?”

“Not really. About time you peaked into the shadows. Devereux, isn’t it?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“A friend.”

I snorted. “A friend?”

“Of your brother’s.”

“Oh, I see. Well, there are three types of friends generally.”

“Do tell.”

“Those you meet up with from time to time. Superficial. Those who are there at 3 a.m. Deep.”

“And?”

“Those you have a grey history with. Complicated.”

“Grey history?”

“You’re never sure whether you want to punch them or take them to dinner, and they always have a selfish ulterior motive for showing up.”

“And which do you think I am?”

“Number three easily. A British-Moroccan either used to work with my brother or betrayed him, maybe both, but that might just be my overactive imagination.”

“How—”

“How did I know? You may speak perfect English, but I heard you on the phone earlier speaking in Darjiti, an Arabic dialect distinct, specific to Morocco. You’re standing a little too close sometimes, you know. And you’re talking to me instead of my brother, which means he has reason not to listen to you. Not that he’ll tell me.”

“You seem almost as good as they say you are.”

“I wasn’t aware I had a reputation.”

“Oh, you know that’s not true.”

“What do you want? Why are you following me?”

“I don’t want anything, but I do have a message to pass on.”

“From whom?”

“My employer. He seems to think working with you will be beneficial to both of us.”

“And who is ‘he’?”

“Your ally.”

“I see.”

“You might remember operatives from Orbis that defected to the FBI and gave over a bit of useful information.”

“Oh, that ally.”

“Does the name Kasim Marwood ring a bell?”

“Maurice’s right hand.”

“Former right hand. He’s running things now.”

“Oh, is he? Had absolutely no idea.” She’d been watching when Kasim’s men got his hands on me, so obviously her job wasn’t to protect me. “What’s the message?”

“He wants to meet.”

“You know where I live.”

“Not now. Not here. New Year’s Eve.”

“Why then?"

“There’s an event for a defense weapons company. Kasim will be there too. His clients are getting anxious about having someone else handle their secrets. We think it’ll give us an in for dismantling a part of his operations.”

“What exactly?” I narrowed my eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Who?”

She sighed. “No clue.”

“Where?”

“Now what would be the fun in telling you?”

“Ahh, I see. You do know, but you’re mocking me.”

“You’re a British Intelligence agent, Darcy. You should be able to figure these things out. I heard you were good, but I’d like to see for myself.”

I arched my brow with a deadpan expression.

“Oh, come on. I know. I have a contact in MI6.” So Kasim was right. It hadn’t been him. Mystique had broken into MI6 that night. “But don’t worry. You’re secret’s safe with me. I have as much of an interest in taking down Orbis as much as you do.”

“Really? What interest?”

“None of your concern.”

“And who are you... Exactly?” I glanced aside.

“You mean you don’t know? Wow. You’re more uninformed than I thought. Why don’t you ask, Ambrose?” She raised an eyebrow.

I huffed.

“Ohhh.” She grinned smugly. “That’s why I have that ridiculous tail since yesterday. You ran off to big brother, but they’re keeping you out of the game? Huh. Trying to reign you in after your little jaunt into anarchy.”

“I did what I had to do to save my friends,” I darkened my tone.

“I’m sure they see it that way.”

I bit my tongue.

“It’s stupid, I know, and tiring. All those silly little rules that impede the more difficult justice. It’s only the beginning. Ambrose tries to play by them, but you crave breaking from them, getting things done instead of performing bureaucratic gymnastics.”

“I need to go.” Ambrose was heading down the trail again. I turned around, walking back to the bench I’d been occupying.

“They’re all the same, Darcy.”

I stopped.

“Don’t be fooled. Everyone has their selfish interests, their hidden motives. You either fight to live or stand by while others decide your life for you, even Ambrose.”

I looked up and continued. Another lead. Another boulder load of questions. More answers that I wouldn’t get. This wasn’t the sort of thing one waited to talk about, but I needed to catch my breath.

Ambrose passed me on another lap while I was having my little existential crisis, and then half an hour later, he finished, stretched, and then settled by me on the bench.

“How was the run?” I rubbed my fingers against each other.

“I’m heading up on 12 miles an hour.” He panted. “Your walk?”

“15 minutes, barely. I stopped when I felt a little ill.”

“That’s good. I’m proud of you.”

I managed a smile.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong—”

“You’re fidgeting.”

I rubbed my neck.

“Fizzy.” He furrowed his brow. “Talk to me.”

“Can we... Can it wait until we get inside?”

“I— I suppose.”

“Thank you.”

After Ambrose had recovered, we walked back home and showered. I asked him if we could talk in the lair, so we headed down. My chest was heavy. Words crowded in my head as uncertainty loomed. I wasn’t usually so uneasy talking to him about things we didn’t agree on, but today was a bad day. I couldn’t help being uneasy.

He sat, watching me pace. “All right, you’re worrying me. What is it that you need to talk to me about?”

I ran my hands through my hair. “I may have... done something you didn’t want me to do.”

“What do you mean?”

I bit my cheek.

“Fitz, you can tell me.”

“You’ll be angry.”

“How do you know?”

I shrugged.

“Would a hug reassure you?”

I was about to tell him I faced someone who’d betrayed him, killed his colleague, and now threatened my safety, yet he was so oblivious and... Kind. “Yeah.”

He rose and tightly wrapped his arms around me.

I burrowed my face into his chest.

“I love you, all right?”

“Yeah.” I filled my lungs until the anxiety melted away. A minute passed, and I drew away. “You remember how you told me to stay away from the woman following me?”

Ambrose raised his brow. “Yes. Why? Did you—”

“I got sick of waiting. I wanted to know, and no one would tell me anything! I’m sorry,” I blurted and held my hands up.

“Okay, erm.” He took in a slow breath and rubbed his face. “Are you all right?”

I blinked. “Yeah. I’m okay. We only talked.”

He nodded and relaxed. “What did you say?”

“Erm...” Underwhelmed, my mind crashed.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just... had this overblown prediction of your reaction, and I feel... odd?” I raised an eyebrow. “And honestly a little stupid for over-preparing.”

“You can tell me how it went, and I’ll explain later.”

“Okay, well...” I recounted the entire meeting to him with as many details as I could provide, and he listened without interruption. Then he leaned against the desk pensively. “If she broke into MI6, then...”

“The agent who was investigating it, you think Kasim wasn’t behind it?”

“It’s possible she came upon this new contact.”

“And she killed her to keep it quiet? Then why would she infer it to me?”

“I don’t know. But it wouldn’t be out of character for her. Best not to assume though.” Ambrose tapped his fingers on the desk.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked up at me. “It’s not easy being in your position. I know it’s not.”

“I can’t do anything if you keep trying to keep me away from what’s going on.”

“I know.”

“Still... I know you’re not happy about it, and I’m... I’m sorry I couldn’t stay out of it.”

“Look, when you told me a few minutes ago you met with... her, did my heart rate jump to 200 in one second? Yes. Was I relieved my concern was unfounded, enormously so. Am I angry? No. Peeved a little that you took a risk that could’ve been worse that a conversation? Yes. Fizzy, I am not an all-deciding figure that you need to listen to all time. I will always be worried about you, but it is not your job to do what I want or ignore your instincts because I might be a little over-protective. I may give you advice, warnings about people I know to be questionable or dangerous. You do not need to listen to me, and I will never get angry or upset if you don’t. Would I like it if you listened to me when I asked you to stay away from something? Yes. But such a thing is not practical, realistic, or wholly wise. My word is not the law. I am also not always right. In fact, I quiver with fear for the day I gain the ungodly responsibility as for my words have such power.”

I bit back a laugh.

He smiled softly. “Most importantly, you don’t need to apologize for not doing something because I’m not happy about it. You’re not responsible for my happiness or my approval. You made a judgment from what I told you, and doing something you think is right because you understand it is better than blindly doing something you don’t agree with or comprehend. I told you that she was dangerous. You decided it was a risk you wanted to take. What I care most about is that you’re all right.”

“You’re not angry then?”

“More like terrified of how it could’ve gone. But I’m probably projecting the past onto the present.”

“Oh.”

“I am a flawed, cautious, anxious human being even if it doesn’t always seem like it.” He quirked his lips.

“Aren’t we all?” I joked.

“Fitz.” He looked at me earnestly. “I could never truly be angry with you. Not for long, and not in so great an intensity. Last time broke my heart, and I never want to snap at you again.”

“Okay.”

“Also, if we’re going to keep working together, I need one thing more from you.”

“Anything.”

“Never be afraid to talk to me.”

I blinked.

“You can come to me whenever and however many times you need. If I do get angry, I will not raise my voice, and I will never judge or hurt you, verbally or otherwise. And most importantly, any time I or someone does something you’re uncomfortable with or dislike, you need to tell me. You can call me out on things, all right?”

“You want me to tell you if I think you’re wrong?”

“I encourage you to. And besides you do it half the time anyway.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why?”

“It’s dangerous enough as it is, not knowing who to trust. I need to know that you know that you can tell me things, even things you think you can’t tell me. Miscommunication or lack of communication itself can be dangerous.”

“Okay.”

My brother looked aside. “December 31st.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to pursue this lead?”

“I do.”

“All right, then. That’s less than two months away. Enough time to prepare. Do you know Orbis’ clients that fit her description? It could be in any country.”

“I’ll make a list of the companies and narrow it down.”

“Very well. She sees you as her point of contact, so you need to show. I’ll be there as well but out of sight. You’ll get cover story, an identity packet, and an invitation to the event. We’ll get you suited when it’s time. In the meantime, we need to find out what exactly— she thinks is going to happen.”

“Still not going to tell me her name.”

“What do you think?”

“Okay. All right. That’s fine.” I knew anyway. A name would’ve been nice though.

We headed upstairs for Ambrose to prepare to leave. “All right, so I’ll sort things out on my end, but meanwhile if you could draw up that list, it could expedite matters.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“Take your time. I’ll be home by six if not sooner. If you come up with anything, call me or leave a message.”

I nodded.

“I wish I could tell you much more. I know it’s damned frustrating operating like this.”

“You’re job is your job. You do what you need to do.” I shrugged.

“Well...”

“I know it’s frustrating for you not to be able to say much to anyone.”

“Yes.” Ambrose pulled me into a hug. “Now, I love you very much. I beg of you, don’t forget to eat.”

I chuckled.

“Yeahh, it’s not so funny when I’m gone.”

“I might just, you know.”

“Not ‘might’. ‘Will’ is the verb you’re looking for.”

“Pfft, I’m still looking for my will,” I muttered as I wrinkled my nose.

“Uh-huh.”

“Mmh. Anyway, you need go. Je t’aime. Au revoir. A tout a l'heure. Allez, allez, dépêche-toi,” I babbled while nudging him outside. I love you. Goodbye. See you later. Go, go, hurry up.

He laughed and rushed off. “All right, all right. I’m going. Call you for lunch.”

The engine revved and hummed as the Mustang cruised away and turned the corner. I took my journal and the driving manual to the library. On the table in the hall, I found a bag of Cheetos and dried cheese. Not sure why they were left there, I grabbed them on my way down, propped my feet on the desk, and put on a Sinatra album.

I wrote in my journal to untangle my mind and think more clearly, warm up for more complicated subjects. Then I distracted myself with another chapter or two in the driving manual before I set to work to wander around my mind palace. It took a while to find organizations that dealt with arms technology because I’d sorted the information in buildings according to different countries. Somewhere in the middle, I accidentally fell asleep.

At least, I wrote down a few names down before, the answer hit me straight on. The location turned out to be closer than expected. It was a company named Paltrow Co. And knowing that one name meant we could find out what was going to happen next. Another deal? Exchange of information? And Mystique would be there, perhaps with her employer. There was a vault under the building too. Security was high level akin to say Fort Knox or the Bank of England. Maybe Mystique had plans of her own. I wondered what she meant by having her own interest in taking down Orbis. How had Maurice ruined her life? And how had she and Ambrose met? He wouldn’t say. That much I knew.

I texted my brother that I had something, and he brought lunch home before we spent the rest of the day planning for the companies event in two months’ time.

“You worked hard today.” He opened the door to the library.

“We always work hard.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “I’m merely acknowledging it.”

“All right. I acknowledge your acknowledgement.”

“And I acknowledge your acknowledging my acknowledgment.” He glanced at me, struggling to keep a straight face.

I stopped with a smirk. “Then I acknowledge your acknowledging my acknowledgement of your acknowledgment.”

He chuckled. “Well, I acknowledge your acknowledgement of my acknowledgment of your acknowledging my acknowledgement.”

“Ahem, I acknowledge your acknowledgement of my acknowledging of my acknowledging my acknowledging acknowledge... Ment... ing....... Wait, that’s not right. Is that even a word? How do you— Ac-know-ledg—”

Ambrose wheezed and bent over into giggles as the bookcase slid shut.

I laughed. “Hold on, I think I left my sanity on the previous floor. Let me just go get it.”

He laughed harder. “Oh, dear. Let me come with you.”

We tripped on each other eventually just sinking to the floor laughing until our stomachs hurt.

I couldn’t be sure whether I was excited or apprehensive that the leads were beginning to pan out. Perhaps it was both.