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Jonathan

I can see Eva start to scream, so I gently put a hand over her mouth. She bites my fingers. God, I love her.

“Ouch,” I say, taking my hand away.

“I wasn’t going to scream,” she says defensively. Her voice is hushed. Her eyes are locked on the woman’s body on the floor. “That’s my handler,” Eva explains. “That’s Sherri.”

“That’s Alfie’s wife. Laura.” Another coincidence. I am starting to think the network is smaller than we thought.

Eva staggers back. “The last conversation I had with her, she told me everything. She warned me. She went against them. Do you think that’s why…?”

“I’m sorry.” I do not know what else to say because yes, I do think that is why.

“Fuck!” She punches the air, not wanting to touch anything.

“We need to get out of here,” I say. Whoever killed Laura did not bother to clean up, which means they probably wanted us to find her. It could be a warning. It could be a trap. “But first we need to find out if Alfie’s here.” I cock my gun. “I’m going to sweep the house, okay?”

She takes a deep breath. “I can help. We need to work fast.”

“You take the upper floors,” I say, because the murder happened on the ground floor.

I sweep the rooms as fast as I can. I consider calling Alfie, but I have to consider carefully. Alfie might know that Laura warned Eva. He might know she was killed for it. He might even have been involved; he has always seemed a little spineless.

I am just finishing the living areas when I see a line of blood leaking from underneath a closet door. I find Alfie inside it.

Eva is coming down the stairs, and I stop her with a gesture.

“They got him, too.” I suddenly remember the phone call Alfie and I had six months ago, right after Eva and I first met, when he told me, You are putting dozens of people behind the scenes—with families, and loved ones—at risk. And no amount of kills is going to make that worthwhile to the people who want to live.

Even if Alfie was not all good, he was also not all bad.

I feel terrible, and then he gasps.