Page 35

She wasn’t walking away.
She was gone.
I stood, alone, under a bridge in a foreign city, holding a folder full of fake passes and the smell of her panic.
12
Will
TheBudapestCentralSwitchingYard looked like it had been cobbled together from leftover war machinery, rusted bolts, and bureaucratic optimism. Steel beams angled up into the gray sky like half-formed thoughts, while workers in threadbare uniforms trundled between massive spools of cable and squat concrete transmission bunkers.
And there we were—a foursome of foreign “observers” walking through the heart of Soviet infrastructure, pretending to care about commutator frequency and routing protocols, while knowing full well this entire performance was for the benefit of the eyes watching us from the catwalks above.
Thomas walked beside me with his hands clasped behind his flagpole-straight back. He was the very image of British propriety and diplomacy. His brow was furrowed in a way that made it look like he was deep in thought, but I knew it just meant he was calculating risk.
I did my part, of course—poking my head into breaker boxes, scribbling into a notepad I hadn’t actually written anything useful in, making approving noises when someone pointed at a bank of dials like it meant something.
But, my focus wasn’t really on the machinery.
It was on the way Sparrow and Egret kept looking at each other when they thought no one was watching.
The first time, it was a lingering glance over a control panel. I was fairly certain Sparrow never even looked at the flashing lights before her, so consumed was her stare with Egret’s lips.
The second time I noticed, it was the way her shoulder brushed his arm as they walked side by side down a row of bundled copper lines. His lips twitched—so quickly I almost missed it—but I was sure there was a smile threatening to explode all over the Hungarian electrical grid, held back only by a mutual fear of discovery.
The third time, they stopped speaking altogether and stood too close while a Hungarian official droned on about relay conversions. Egret said something under his breath, and Sparrow’s mouth quivered, as though she fought back a laugh. It was subtle—but I caught it.
Thomas noticed, too.
He didn’t say anything, but I saw the quick flicker of disapproval in his eyes. It wasn’t anger, not exactly, just the calculation of what affection looked like through the lens of surveillance operatives. We were supposed to be careful. That was our job, but love had a way of showing up even when we weren’t looking.
Especially then.
Still, I was curious.
And nosy.
And if anyone on this team could poke the metaphorical bear, it was me.
So at the first chance I got—during a staged “break” in a drafty storage hallway, while our Hungarian hosts argued about someone’s missing paperwork—I sidled up to Sparrow and bumped her with my elbow.
“Come with me,” I said cheerfully. “I need to pretend to care about switchboard shielding.”
“I’m sure Egret would love to—”
“Nope. You. Alone.” I grinned and tugged her sleeve before she could protest. “Resistance is futile.”
She rolled her eyes but followed, letting me lead her down a quiet side corridor lined with cracked windowpanes and empty wire spools. We ducked behind a stack of bundled cable reels, out of direct sight from the workers and, more importantly, from our minders.
I leaned against the wall, my arms folded in accusation, and raised an eyebrow at her.
“So,” I began. “We need to have a little chat about what happens when . . .researchers. . . get too handsy during a telecom inspection.”
Sparrow froze, then scowled—adorably.
“We weren’t—”
“You were.” I pointed at her with theatrical accusation. “You andDr. Weisshave been writing love poetry with your eyebrows all morning. You bumped into him like a girl in a romance serial at least three times. Hell, I think one of the guards outside lit up a cigarette after we passed by.”