Ophidian’s top-secret facility is located on a small island in the Atlantic Ocean. Based on the files I memorized to prepare for this very situation, I already knew it would be heavily guarded and surrounded by an electric fence. But I wasn’t prepared for how much it would simultaneously resemble an art museum and a prison. From up in Jamie’s helicopter, Ophidian looks like an array of modern sculptures beneath the moonlight. The facility consists of a number of windowless buildings that cover most of the island, their dim lights glittering above the waves crashing against the rocky shore.
The only ways to enter or leave the facility are by air or via the dock at the north end of the island. Once I have the manifest, the plan is for me to finally kiss Jamison Hart and then swim out to the Vivaldi, where Alpha and Romeo will be waiting for me. The Executive won’t suspect that I was doing anything other than killing my target, and Mongoose can finally stop the shipments to Ophidian, whatever they are.
“It’s not as fancy as the Castle,” says Jamie, his voice crackling in my ear. We’re both wearing aviation headsets so we can hear each other. “But you’ll be safe out here, all right? You don’t have to be scared.”
He’s referring to when he picked me up from the embassy earlier. I pretended to be a total mess and rushed forward to greet him as if he really was my boyfriend, my arms wrapping tightly around his neck. His blue eyes were filled with concern as his warm lips brushed against my earlobe. I told him that the policemen had roughed me up before I managed to escape, that they must have been sent by the Executive to force my retirement. It wasn’t hard to get him to believe me.
On the way to Ophidian, I’ve intentionally been acting skittish enough that Jamie hasn’t tried to touch me again. I no longer feel the attraction to him that arose when we first met, and I can’t risk him discovering the revolver underneath my corset. Normally I would have ditched the weapon before getting into the helicopter. But after everything that happened with Mellie Hart, after learning that Jamie might have killed Zoe Evano, there’s no way I’m going to willingly disarm myself.
Even if it is insanely dangerous to have a gun on me in enemy territory.
On an expansive lawn at the center of the island, Jamie offers me a hand and I follow him outside, the giant rotors beating above us in the darkness. He waves off a security team waiting to greet us and tosses the aviation headsets back into the helicopter, not wanting to slow down for even a second. It’s only now that I’m realizing the extent to which being close to Jamison Hart has allowed me to get this far. Anyone else would have been thoroughly searched every step of the way, if they were even allowed on the island at all.
“Come on,” Jamie calls to me, his voice raised over the noise. “I’ll show you around.”
I pretend to be interested in Ophidian as he leads me around the small island, even though I already memorized the entire map back at the Executive. All the buildings are heavily guarded and secured, and the main building is where most of the actual work takes place. There are offices, meeting rooms, research labs, and classrooms, as well as a fully stocked cafeteria. A set of smaller buildings is where employees and guests stay while on the island.
I keep expecting something to seem off, but nothing has really appeared dangerous so far. Some startlingly advanced robots, maybe, and a hovering car that’s pretty cool but would cause havoc on the streets. But I haven’t noticed anything that would merit forming a secret group of operatives, nor have I seen anything even slightly resembling a manifest.
But just as I’m starting to lose hope, Jamie approaches a tall building that wasn’t on the map. I can see a shipping container sitting next to the dock behind it. Just inside the front entrance, there’s a security gate complete with a metal detector, with no less than five guards ready to search us. But we’re allowed to pass through a side gate without even being frisked, and he winks at me conspiratorially, as if we’re sneaking into a place we shouldn’t be.
The revolver feels like it’s burning a brand into my flesh.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but the building seems more like a hospital than anything else. It appears to be vacant in here, though, without any staff or patients to be watched over by the security cameras. An empty wheelchair sits beside an unmanned reception desk, and the waiting room looks like it’s been deserted for a while.
Jamie is already striding down a hallway, not seeming to care whether I follow or not. I hurry to catch up, managing to reach him just as he enters a vast lobby that belongs in a world-class planetarium. A night sky is being projected onto the high ceiling, with shooting stars and realistic planets and vibrant northern lights. For a brief moment, all I can remember is gazing up at the constellations with August after closing one of our missions years ago.
That’s the North Star, he said to me. You can use it to find your way back home.
I can’t see it, I said, shivering in the night air.
He draped his leather jacket over my shoulders before leaning in close, the closest he’d ever been, and pointing straight up into the sky. There.
It’s beautiful, I said breathlessly.
It is, he said.
But when I turned back to August, he was gazing only at me. I could see a brief glimpse of something in his dark eyes, some emotion he didn’t want to admit to anyone, not even to himself. But he glanced away before I could say anything, and the moment was lost forever.
“I need to pick up the manifest from my father,” Jamie says to me. “After I deal with the shipment, we can return to Paris straight away. The hotel guaranteed us a late check-in, so this shouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience.”
Someone has been waiting for us in the lobby. I recognize him from the pictures in his file: Gallagher Hart, a distinguished older man with silver hair and tanned skin. He’s wearing a business suit, looking as if he’s been interrupted in the middle of something far more important, and the expression on his face could only best be described as incredibly pissed off. His file stated that his marriage to Mellie Hart was mainly a way to increase his wealth and power after his first wife’s death. He loved Claire. That much was clear.
He never loved Mellie.
“Of all the idiotic things you’ve done in your life,” Gallagher spits out, striding forward to meet his son. “You actually brought an Executive operative to the island. You do know that she’s trying to kill you?”
Jamie shrugs, his expression darkening. “Back off, all right? She’s on my side now. Just give me the manifest so we can leave.”
The pure disdain on his father’s face when he glares in my direction is enough to make me flinch. “It’s all an act, Jamison. I know you can’t possibly be this stupid. If you refuse to listen to me—”
“Oh, please,” Jamie snaps. “I don’t need anything from you. If I recall, you’re the one who needs me to help with the shipments. So if there’s anything you want to say to me, you can say it in front of Lily.”
I try to rearrange my features to seem nonchalant, even disinterested, as if they’re having a normal conversation that has nothing to do with me. But this is it. Gallagher Hart is going to discuss the shipments with Jamie and then hand him the manifest, all right in front of me. I’m about to learn where they keep the one thing that Mongoose has been looking for, the entire reason I was drawn into this at all.
“Very well,” says Gallagher, still sounding irritated. “But you’ll deal with the shipments coming in next month, and you won’t be late like this again.” His gaze flickers to me, taking in my bloodied dress with scorn. “Did he tell you where it is?”
“The manifest?” I ask, confused.
Jamie has a guilty look on his face, and I realize there’s something about the manifest that he’s wanted to tell me but hasn’t had the guts to reveal himself. It’s something he’s ashamed of, something that might make me think less of him. For one crazy moment I actually think he might be an aberrant. But no, obviously not. That would have been the first thing he revealed to me.
Not the last.
“To deal with the shipments properly, one needs a manifest,” Gallagher says to me. “And do you know what the manifest is? It’s a program that contains thousands of files detailing every shipment we’ve ever received, including the ones we have planned for delivery over the next several years. Any copy of the program automatically self-destructs, so the original must be kept safe.”
He raises his hands, then touches his left index finger to the center of his right palm for several seconds. A red light starts blinking underneath his skin, indicating the presence of a microchip. I stare back at him, trying not to give him the reaction he wants. So the manifest is stored in his hand. Which means...
“That’s right,” he says, smiling thinly. “I can transfer the manifest to any electronic device, including the only one capable of storing a copy as an original: the microchip in Jamison’s hand.”