Two minutes later he spoke to the woman. “Seems our source has located the team. We’re not sure what’s been leaked, but I’m on top of it.”
“Careful,” the woman said, “We don’t want to blow the plan. I need to rendezvous inconspicuously. Need to know exactly where to meet.”
“We’re on it,” the man said. He spoke into the collar of his black suit as the other two watched, stoic like statues but dangerous looking. “Extract info—that is all,” he said. “No one remembers, and no one gets hurt.” He disconnected by tapping his collar.
The woman spent the trip staring out the window as Western Europe passed silently beneath her.
This, she knew, would be no ordinary mission.
OXFORD, ENGLAND
Samantha's Flat
The stranger entered Samantha’s building using a simple lock pick, a close variation on a design that had been used by burglars for centuries. He did it absolutely silently, without so much as the skirl of metal on metal. A separate device in his pocket, no larger than a golf ball, automatically countered the security systems that should have alerted her of an intruder. No lights flashed; no alarms sounded.
He slipped up to the third floor like a shadow.
Samantha had been exhausted by everything that had happened the day before. First the phone calls from her friends, then that incredible conversation at the Stanton, and finally the dinner at Ryan’s. It had drained her completely. She had actually dozed off still fully clothed, toothbrush in hand.
She didn’t even flinch as the stranger opened the door to her flat and slipped inside, closing it silently and securely behind him.
He moved swiftly and with deadly purpose. Within seconds, he was standing over her bed, where she lay in a deep sleep. He smiled with utter confidence as his gloved hand reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a square white cloth folded double. It was already soaked with a foul-smelling liquid.
The stranger snapped it over her mouth so swiftly, so securely, she scarcely had time to react. Her first panic-stricken intake of breath pulled the foul smell into her lungs. It was already too late.
Samantha tried to resist, but the strength of his hand was simply too much. In the space of five heartbeats she fell back onto the bedcovers, unconscious. A moment later the stranger pulled a circular bit of plastic from his pocket—a medication induction patch, standard issue in every hospital across Europe—and slapped it onto the side of her neck.
Samantha would be ready to answer any question he asked within five minutes.
He would be gone in ten.
OXFORD, ENGLAND
Simon's Apartment
Simon was so exhausted he almost fell asleep in Jonathan’s car on the way back to his flat, and he had to rouse himself as Jonathan pulled into his driveway and let him out.
“Tomorrow,” he said, and Jonathan agreed, clearly as beat as Simon himself. His old friend had backed the car down the driveway and off into the night before Simon had made it to the entrance.
He took a moment to breathe in the clean, cool pre-dawn air. The rain had passed, at least for the moment, and though he was weary beyond belief, he felt strangely calm.
It had been a good meeting. Now he had a plan, crazy as it was. And a team of people he could trust. And…
And there was something wrong here.
The first hint came as he entered the lobby of his apartment. The regular greeting at the door was silent, which was highly unusual. The attendant was not there. He looked around as he started to walk upstairs, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary until he reached his own front door.
There was light shining around its edges—far too much light.
His front door was ajar by half an inch.
“What the…” he mumbled. He pushed the door open completely and rushed in.
The living room was an utter mess. I’ve been burglarized, he thought as he stopped and surveyed the damage. But then he noticed that his antiques, though upset or rearranged, were still in the room, and many of his collectibles were actually still in their places. How can the place be such a mess, he wondered, if nothing was taken?
He walked over piles of books lying on the floor and called out. “Fae? What happened?”
Silence.
“Fae? What the hell…?”
He stopped by the end table next to his favorite chair and tapped the holo-display, trying to bring it to life. It sprang up without difficulty, and he accessed the icon that should have brought his household