To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,2
my file, which explains everything.”
“You studied at Miss Masters, did you not?” he asked without any note of concern. “And in the specialized program?”
Hal flicked her fingers in an obvious gesture. “Of course I did, you know that.”
Weaver gave her a firm nod. “Then you have all the preparation you will need. We’ve even given you a code name. How do you feel about being called Sketch?”
“I was pathetic in combat training,” Hal reminded him, ignoring the mention of a code name as she sat forward, almost straining towards him.
“I was pathetic in combat training,” Hal reminded him, sitting forward, almost straining towards him. “Those are not my words. That is how Fists described me. ‘Pathetic. Lacking all coordination, notably weak on the left side, shows no aptitude for any weapon at all, and hopeless at defending herself from attack. Most likely to die within the first minute of any assault.’ ”
The lordly man before her only stared, clearly calling upon his more diplomatic skill set to avoid any reaction to her words. Then he shook his head slowly. “That memory of yours, Hal. By Jove, it’s a wonder.”
She snorted softly. “You don’t need a memory like mine to remember something like that, Weaver.”
He tilted his head to one side. “How did you see the report? Those are supposed to be classified.”
She only looked back at him with a flat smile.
“At any rate,” he went on, overriding her lack of answer smoothly, “that makes little difference here, because there will be no fighting at all. Not in the physical sense, anyway.”
“I will pretend that you are making sense in hopes that your point will soon be clear,” Hal remarked dryly.
Weaver raised a brow. “We need you to accompany another of our assets on a mission into France. Paris, to be precise.”
A startled cough escaped Hal, and she barely managed to recover herself enough to look apologetic about doing so.
“Oh,” she coughed again. “Is that all?”
He gave her a brisk nod. “The pair of you will infiltrate Society there and find every opportunity to discover what you can of the Faction. Its leaders, its sympathizers, its plans…”
“Surely, you have operatives in France, Weaver,” Hal protested, the tips of her fingers beginning to tingle.
“We do.” He dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “They will be your contacts, as well as your informants. But due to the nature of their missions, they cannot break away from their current assignments for this task.”
There was something unsettling about that notion, that those with more skills and information, let alone connections, could not be bothered to do what was being asked of her. Was that due to the danger of the assignment being posed to her or due to a sense that this was not nearly as important as Weaver was making it out to be?
“I can see your mind spinning. Ask what you must.”
Hal brought her eyes back to Weaver’s, not entirely realizing she had ever looked away. She fought a frown as she looked at him. This man had been like an uncle to her for most of her life, had been somehow a godfather and mentor throughout, and likely knew her better than any other person apart from her twin. He already knew what she wanted to know, but he was just maddening enough to keep everything to himself apart from what she would ask.
Always secrets, always partial information. Never the full truth.
Which was well enough, as he did not have her full truth, either.
“Why?” she asked without any sort of tact.
His mouth quirked to one side. “You know better than that. More specific, please.”
It had been worth a try, and Hal had to smile at being so neatly caught. “Why me? Why not them? Why now?”
Weaver nodded at each of the questions and crossed his leg over one knee, his fingers lacing atop them. “Why, indeed. We need you because of those maddening skills we’ve already discussed, as well as the artistry of your fingers. We need exact information that can be trusted without question, and you are the perfect person to manage that.”
She’d rather expected something of that nature, so that was no surprise.
“Why not them?” Weaver repeated, moving on. “We cannot trust in the safety of our operatives with something like this. You know about Rogue’s potential compromise, and having Trace back in our ranks, though wonderful, poses new risks, as well as new questions. And now, with missing the clerk from the League, as well… How can some of our