It was a street just like a dozen others we’d seen since reaching the city center. Laundry lines ran between windows, a floating cloud of shirts and sheets.
“We’re where?” Bex asked, but then Townsend turned and pointed at the place where dozens of tourists were bleeding onto one street from another.
“There,” he said, just as Abby opened her door and laughing and talking filled the air. A large truck pulled away from the curb, and I caught a glimpse of brightly colored fabrics waving in the wind. There were stacks upon stacks of pashminas, rows of belts and piles of purses so high that I could smell the scent of leather in the air. People haggled over jewelry and imitation Michelangelos, and through it all, I kept thinking, I came here?
“Not so fast,” Townsend told me when I reached for the door. He pulled a bulletproof vest from the back of the van. “You’re a little underdressed.”
My aunt must have felt my hesitation, because she turned to take my hand. “Your mom and Liz and the five of us are the only ones who know you’re here. We’re the only ones who know about the package and the jewelry, so it’s highly unlikely that the Circle has staked out this place like they did the cabin.” She squeezed my hand. Townsend might have rolled his eyes.
“You’re here so we can get the Circle, Ms. Morgan. If you want to do something that has absolutely no risk, then you should have stayed at your little school and saved us all a lot of trouble.”
He was right, of course. The only way to be safe was for all of this to be over. The only way for it to be over was to put the vest on and climb out of the van.
Chapter Twenty-two
Covert Operations Report
On the eleventh of October, Operatives Morgan, Baxter, and McHenry engaged in a highly classified reconnaissance operation on the streets of Rome, Italy.
Agents Townsend and Cameron showed The Operatives how to form a close-range perimeter around Operative Morgan.
The Operatives also got to eat really awesome gelato for breakfast.
By the time we made it halfway through the market, I was starting to regret quoting Dr. Steve. Seriously. At that point I didn’t want any more sensory stimuli. What I wanted was for someone to turn the color and smells and volume down.
Cobblestones were beneath my feet. I ran my fingers against the rough stucco of the buildings’ walls, but nothing felt familiar. Even my own shadow was unrecognizable, with my shorter hair and bulletproof-vested physique.
Bex gave me a wink, and for a second I thought about Zach. I know this probably makes me the worst unofficial girlfriend ever, but it was kind of nice not having him there. It felt good to be just us girls again. It was nice to have the chance to miss him.
Townsend slipped his arm around my shoulders. Made by anyone else, it would have been a fatherly motion, a kind gesture. But I knew there was nothing sweet about it. It was just a really hard position to attack.
“Crowds are difficult,” I told him.
He nodded. “They are.”
“The number of potential threats, coupled with the decreased line of sight…” I went on, thinking about the cabin and the shooter and how close I’d come to dying on that hillside.
“It’s different from an attack in a secluded area,” Townsend said, as if he’d read my mind. “But not necessarily harder.”
Abby was two feet in front of us, clearing the way through the crowd, but somehow I knew I wasn’t in Rome with the best possible people—not with Mr. Solomon lying in a bed in the Gallagher Academy. The best possible person might never stand or speak or challenge me again.
“Ask me what I see,” I heard myself blurting.
“Excuse me?” Townsend asked, taken aback.
“It’s a test,” I told him, the words coming fast. “It should be a test. I’ve been trained for this. I know…Ask me what I see!”
“Very well, Ms. Morgan.” We’d reached a place in the market where the streets branched and the crowds were thinner. He released my shoulders and stepped slightly away. “What do you see?”
I took a deep breath and told myself that it was just another school assignment. There was no difference between that busy foreign street and the Roseville town square. It was just another Wednesday.
I turned and looked, saw a vendor selling cashmere gloves and heavy coats. I smelled freshly roasted nuts, and in the distance, someone was playing a guitar, picking out a song with words I didn’t know. It was the kind of place a person might go to fall in love; but Zach was on another continent, and my mind was totally supposed to be on other things.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the hot sun on my skin. I mentally changed the bulletproof vest for a tank top, my sneakers for sandals. A sweet taste lingered on my tongue, and part of me knew that I’d tasted the gelato before—that I’d sworn to come back and try that place again.
“Take your time, Cam,” Bex said, and I opened my eyes just as the crowd parted, and I found myself staring at an old woman in a stall twenty feet away.
“Ah, signorina,” the old woman said to Macey, reaching for her arm. Abby moved to block her way, but then the old woman saw me. She stopped and stared and said, “So you did come back.”