Page 64

Watching us.
Egret’s fork clanking against his plate was the only sound. He turned his head, followed my gaze. Sparrow froze, glass halfway to her lips.
The change in our posture was too sudden to miss.
Will exhaled. “You see him.”
“Yes.”
“He’s not pretending to do anything else.”
“No.”
Egret turned his whole body, slowly enough not to draw attention. When he turned back, he looked at me and said, “So . . . contacting Lark may have just become more difficult?”
My stomach turned to ice.
The watcher didn’t blink. He didn’t shift.
He knew we saw him.
And he didn’t care.
24
Will
Asweroseandstepped away from our table, Sparrow gripped my arm and pulled me into a hug. When we pulled back, she stared intently into my eyes.
“Hey,” I said, squeezing her arm. “You okay?”
Her nod was more spasm than conscious act.
“Please be careful,” she whispered so low I barely heard her. “It isn’t the ones we can see that scare me.”
Her gaze shifted from me to the man watching our every movement from across the street. He hadn’t shifted, hadn’t lit a cigarette, hadn’t budged from his spot. He looked as though his feet were cemented to the sidewalk, and the rest of his body had been frozen in time. I was sure his eyes were scanning, never settling, but his head never shifted or moved. It felt like more of a message than surveillance.
And the Soviets weren’t exactly subtle communicators.
“You, too,” I said, offering her a smile I didn’t feel but knew was important in the moment. “Don’t let your idiot man get you into trouble.”
She snorted, covering her mouth with one hand. Her eyes glimmered beneath her very French hat.
“Of all people,youtell me that?” She glanced toward Thomas and grinned. “Prosecution rests.”
Despite everything, I chuckled and squeezed her arm again. Then, as though on some unspoken cue, Sparrow and Egret nodded to one another and stepped out of the restaurant. For the first time since we’d noticed him, our watcher’s weight shifted on his feet, and his head turned to follow the pair as they made their way down the sidewalk.
“Our turn,” Thomas muttered, a humorless note in his voice.
“Maybe he’ll follow them,” I offered.
Thomas blew out a sigh and shook his head. “He can’t be alone. Even if . . .”
Another man appeared to stand next to the first. This one was taller, broader across the shoulders, and when his coat opened in a stiff breeze, I caught the outline of a handgun. Puffs of air billowed against the cold as they spoke.
“Well, shit,” I said.
“Exactly what I thought.” Thomas smirked, his eyes never leaving our observers. “We can’t wait any longer. They probably already suspect we’re planning something. Waiting after the others left will only provoke them.”