The Operatives also observed a variety of strange patterns in the area:
Three separate tourists seemed to be more interested in getting pictures of embassy security than any of the traditional sights.
The Operatives also regretted not packing warmer sweaters.
“So what do we see?” Bex asked through my comms unit later that day. She and Liz were in a van, checking out the surrounding streets, scouring for a weakness in the embassy’s defenses. But Macey was beside me, binoculars pressed against her eyes as we stared down at the embassy’s front gates, watching. Counting.
“Anything going on?” Bex went on.
“Same old, same—wait,” I said when the embassy’s front doors opened and two bodyguards walked out, a smaller, thinner figure with a backpack pressed between them.
“Is that…?” I asked.
“It’s him,” Macey said. I felt her start to bolt, but then she stopped herself. Macey had come way too far to be stupid.
I watched Preston and his guards walk toward a waiting car and climb inside. The gates opened, and, with a roar, two motorcycles pulled up to flank the limo as the three vehicles moved through the gates.
I knew part of Macey still wanted to run. But me…I was stunned, trapped in the memory of the men last fall who had chased me through the streets of Rome, and I knew that the men on the motorcycles weren’t a part of the embassy’s protective detail. They were Circle. And they were watching Preston’s every move.
Just then one of the unmarked vans that had been rotating in and out of position on the street pulled into traffic, following Preston and his watchers into the distance.
“Cam?” I heard Bex’s voice in my ear. “Cam, what’s happening?”
“Bex, Liz,” I said. “You’d better get back here. I think we need to hurry.”
The school must have been a church once upon a time. At least part of it. The main hall had stained glass windows and a high, arching ceiling covered in mosaics. It was beautiful. Fortunately, its security was also totally lax.
The lock on the alley door was easy to pick. The back stairwell had no cameras. And, perhaps most importantly, the school’s intercom system was incredibly hackable.
“Preston Winters, you are needed in room 84,” the female voice on the intercom said.
That room 84 was the boys’ bathroom, no one seemed to notice.
“Hey, stranger,” Macey said, and Preston slammed the bathroom door behind him.
“Macey? What are you…I…I mean, you’re in Rome. And you’re in the boys’ bathroom.” He sounded like he wasn’t certain which was more peculiar.
“I need to talk to you,” she said, and I stayed quiet.
“It’s so good to see you!” He stepped toward her. I think he was going to hug her—maybe kiss her. I kind of wanted to hide. But more than that, I wanted to get out of there.
Preston, on the other hand, seemed immune to the weirdness.
“Are you in town long?” he asked. “Where are you guys staying? Have you been to the embassy yet? Maybe we can—”
“We can’t go to the embassy, Preston.” Macey’s voice was even. “You can never go back to the embassy again.”
Then, for the first time, he looked at me. It was a look that said he thought it might be a joke, that she was teasing. Or just being a crazy politician’s daughter. But Macey was through rebelling, and deep down Preston knew it. “Cammie?” he asked.
“It’s complicated, Preston.”
“Complicated…how?” he asked. His expression grew grave. “Circle complicated?”
“Yeah. We’ll tell you all about it in a little—”
“Are you okay?” Terror filled his eyes. Last summer, he’d been the one I’d gone to when I was on the run. He’d taken me in and given me shelter. He knew what the Circle of Cavan was, but as far as we knew, he had no idea that his father was actually one of the Circle’s leaders—that someday that job was supposed to pass to him.
“I’m okay. I’m safe. But you aren’t.” I stole a glance out the window. I didn’t see Bex and Liz, but they were out there. Waiting. Ready. “Look, we don’t have time to explain it all now, but we need you to trust us.”