Page 30 of Code Name: Reaper (K19 Allied Intelligence Team Two #5)

AMARYLLIS

L ausanne. Coordinates to follow. Coalition compromised. Come alone. – Suzanne , the message read.

After seven months of silence, Mercury had finally reached out—using the alias I’d known her by since the day we met. Did she have any idea the ache the deception had caused?

My hand shook as I handed Reaper the phone, and his jaw tightened as he read what was on the screen.

“This has all the hallmarks of a setup,” he said, returning it to me.

Seven months of chasing ghosts across Europe, following leads that evaporated like smoke, wondering if she was breathing or buried somewhere. And now, mere hours after learning my parents’ accident was likely murder and that Mercury had been protecting me all along, she surfaced.

The timing felt too convenient. But I didn’t care.

“Or it may be the first real lead I’ve had.”

“Think about this logically.”

My mind raced as I stood and paced the small living room. He was right about it being a setup—a trap. But what if it wasn’t? What if this was my only chance to find her?

“Are you suggesting I should ignore it? After everything I’ve sacrificed to find her?”

As I waited for his answer, my phone buzzed again. Numbers appeared—coordinates to a location outside Lausanne, Switzerland. The digits burned themselves into my memory as I stared at them.

“The timing is suspicious as hell,” Reaper continued, studying the second text.

I stood. “I can’t ignore this.”

“What’s your plan?” The tone of his voice sounded more like it had in Montenegro than it had in the last few days. Challenging me and doubting my instincts.

“I’m catching the first flight I can.”

Reaper stood too. “I’m not gonna waste time arguing with you since I know my opinion means nothing?—”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Remind you of the danger we faced in Berlin?”

“This has been my mission for seven months. It is no different than me following any other lead I’ve stumbled upon in all that time.”

“It is different. It’s specific. It’s the epitome of a setup.”

“Didn’t I hear you say you weren’t going to waste time arguing with me?” I said, walking toward the stairs.

Reaper moved to block my path. “You’re not going by yourself.”

“It specifically stated to come alone.”

“And I’m telling you that’s not happening.” As much as he knew not to bother arguing with me, I knew challenging him was pointless. “I know you, Amaryllis. You’ll wait until I’m asleep, then disappear. Leave some cryptic note about protecting me or having to do this yourself.”

He wasn’t wrong. The thought had already crossed my mind.

“I can’t ignore it. I can’t .”

He pulled out his own phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Nemesis?—”

I snatched the cell from his hand. “No. Mercury said the coalition is compromised. What if you’re putting her in more danger? What if you’re putting all of us in danger?”

We stared each other down.

“I’m going, Reaper. Nothing you can say will talk me out of it. I’m also going without support from the coalition. If you can’t do this my way, return to England on your own.”

“Fine, but we need to do this smart.”

“Agreed. Commercial flights, tracking off, and no one at the coalition is briefed.”

He raised a brow. “And when we get there, we approach this with clear thinking. Reconnaissance first and contingency plans for when things go sideways.”

“They won’t?—”

“With you? They always do.”

Despite everything, I almost smiled. “Probably.”

Within an hour, we were researching flights and booking tickets under false identities Reaper maintained for emergencies. The red-eye to Zurich connecting through Geneva would put us in Switzerland by midmorning local time.

“Cash only for everything from here on out,” I said as we prepared to leave the town house. “No digital footprints, nothing that can be traced to the coalition or our real identities.”

When he nodded, I checked my go-bag one final time. Everything I needed to disappear was in it, if it came down to that again.

“I’m going to ask one more time if you’re sure about this approach?”

“Sure or not, I’m doing it.”

The drive to Norfolk International Airport felt longer than usual.

Once there, we used all the protocols I had when I was on my own, not wanting to be found.

We avoided security cameras as much as possible, paid cash for everything, and were on high alert for any signs we’d been followed or compromised.

The late hour worked in our favor; fewer crowds meant fewer potential threats, but it also meant we’d be more visible if someone was looking for us.

“Gate’s this way.” Reaper guided me through the mostly empty terminal.

I kept checking my phone obsessively. No new messages from Mercury. The silence felt ominous, but I told myself she was being careful.

“Any updates?” Reaper asked as we settled into seats at the departure gate.

“Nothing since the location.”

“That bothers me.”

“Everything bothers you.”

“Smart people stay bothered. It keeps them breathing.”

Rather than respond, I kept my mouth shut because, for him, it was pointless. I’d meant what I said; nothing and no one could prevent me from doing this.

The boarding announcement cut through our silence, and we boarded the plane.

The flight seemed endless. Sleep was impossible with my mind racing, replaying everything learned in the past twenty-four hours.

My parents had died in what was likely not an accident.

Jekyll wasn’t some random British operative—he was my uncle, my mother’s brother.

Mercury was connected to them; I just didn’t know how yet.

Reaper leaned into me. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Sleep?”

“As if I could.”

“If you have second thoughts, we can also get a flight out as soon as we land.”

“Don’t,” I repeated.

He reached over and squeezed my hand.

By the time we landed in Geneva and collected our rental car, I was running on adrenaline and determination. The drive through the Swiss countryside should have been calming—rolling hills, pristine lakes, picture-perfect villages. It wasn’t.

We reached Lausanne shortly after eleven hundred hours. The city sprawled along the northern shore of Lake Geneva, a mixture of medieval architecture and modern buildings rising in tiers up the surrounding hills. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated its beauty.

My phone buzzed with a new alert as we navigated through the city center. Hotel de la Paix lobby bar. Rear left table.

Reaper found parking, and we entered the hotel. The lobby bar was dimly lit, with scattered leather armchairs and quiet conversation. I spotted the corner table immediately—two men with clear sight lines to all entrances. No Mercury.

The older of them appeared to be in his mid- to late fifties, silver threading through his dark hair. His posture was relaxed but alert. His squared shoulders spoke of military training that had become second nature.

The younger looked to be in his forties, with a compact build and dark hair cropped short. His eyes moved constantly—doors, windows, other patrons—never settling on any one point for more than a few seconds. Both men wore unremarkable clothing that would blend into any European city.

I approached the table, my hand on my readied weapon while Reaper covered me.

“Where is she?”

The older man’s gaze swept the lobby. “We’ll take you to her.”

“Proof of life first,” said Reaper.

The second guy pulled out a secure phone and played a brief audio message. Mercury’s voice, speaking the code phrase, “protein bars,” with today’s date.

“We’ll follow. Give us the coordinates.”

“Negative,” the first man responded to Reaper without meeting his eye.

I studied both men as they stood, weighing the risks. Mercury’s voice on that recording had been unmistakable, but everything about this felt like the trap Reaper had suggested it would be.

“How long have you known her?” I asked.

“Since Minerva’s inception.”

The couple by the window was watching us now. The businessman at the bar had shifted position. Too much attention for a simple conversation.

“We leave now or not at all,” the second man said.

When I looked at Reaper and he gave a single nod, I told them we were ready.

They led us through the hotel’s service entrance to avoid the main lobby. A black SUV waited in the narrow alley behind the hotel, engine running, its windows tinted dark.

The drive took us away from Lausanne’s city center, up winding roads, toward what looked like an industrial area outside the city. Warehouses and manufacturing facilities dotted the landscape, most of them appearing abandoned or only partially used.

I memorized the route. A gas station with security cameras. A construction site with heavy equipment that could provide cover. A small village with narrow streets.

I glanced at my watch. We’d been driving for twenty minutes, taking us well outside the city limits. “How much farther?”

“We’re almost there,” the driver replied.

We turned into a gravel parking area beside a large concrete building that might once have been a manufacturing plant. No other vehicles were visible. No signs of recent activity except for tire tracks in the gravel leading to and from the building’s loading dock.

As we approached the building’s entrance, every instinct I possessed started screaming warnings. The remote location. The lack of visible security. The way our escorts had positioned themselves to control our movement.

“This isn’t right,” I whispered as the driver produced a key for the heavy metal door.

“I know.” Reaper’s hand shifted closer to his gun.

The interior was dimly lit, the industrial fixtures casting harsh shadows on concrete walls stained with decades of manufacturing residue. Our footsteps echoed as they led us deeper into the building, past abandoned machinery and stacks of empty pallets.

But it was too late to abort. The door was already open, and they were gesturing us inside. The second man stood close behind us, his hand near his jacket. More men approached, patting us down and removing our weapons and phones.

The first man motioned to a door. “She’s waiting in the next room.”

We rounded a corner into a large open area. High windows near the ceiling let in thin streams of sunlight that illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air.

And there, in the center of the space, I saw a figure sitting calmly in a metal chair.

Not Mercury.

Eleanor Aldrich looked up as we entered. She rose gracefully, smoothing her jacket, and smiled.

“Hello, Amaryllis,” she said in a British accent she hadn’t used in the meeting with Vasiliev I’d surveilled. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you properly.”

Not only had I signed my own death warrant, but I’d brought Reaper here too. I’d never regretted anything more in my life. For him, not for me.