Page 23

23

Thomas

E gret ordered roast duck with a side of potatoes he probably wouldn’t touch and a dessert he’d forget he ordered. He glanced once at the waiter, nodded, and settled back into his chair like it was a battlefield position.

The bruise along his ribs was already purpling beneath the collar of his coat, creeping its way up his neck. How the hell did a bruise crawl up skin like that?

Will refilled his glass. Sparrow didn’t look at Egret, but her hands were steady now that he was here. Her left hand remained firmly ensconced in his right.

I waited until the silence between us shifted from personal to operational, then set down my glass and reached into my coat for a folded page.

Opening it and smoothing the creases, I laid it flat on the table. It was an annotated map of the old Gellért thermal baths.

“We’ll use the northeast entrance,” I began. “There’s less foot traffic, no street view, and the interior walls are tiled—sound doesn’t carry well. It should be too humid for bugs, and steam obscures sightlines. As Egret suggested before, these are ideal conditions.”

Will leaned in. Sparrow glanced over the map. Egret took a sip of wine and didn’t say a word.

“Shadowfox will meet me in the secondary chamber,” I continued. “I’ll arrive ten minutes early. Egret will enter five minutes later, disguised as a bath attendant. Sparrow and Emu will remain outside.”

“Why you?” Will asked, a bit of his protective defensiveness poking through his question.

“Because he may or may not trust our message, and I don’t rattle easily.”

“If he betrays us?” Sparrow asked. “If he’s been questioned or warned . . .”

“We’re assuming he hasn’t been,” I said. “The tear on the flyer was deliberate, which means he wants to meet. He’s ready.”

“You don’t know that,” Sparrow cautioned.

“I know enough,” I insisted.

Will tapped the corner of the map. “The steam room? You think he’s going to have a conversation about extraction wearing a towel and holding a water bottle?”

I shrugged. “That’s the idea.”

“And if he brings someone?” Sparrow remained skeptical.

“Then I’ll walk out,” I said. “We don’t force it. This is still a probe. The real ask comes later, when we’re sure he’s not compromised.”

They didn’t like it. I could see that. Sparrow’s lips pressed thin. Will’s eyes narrowed. Egret didn’t move at all, which was how I knew he was listening harder than any of us.

Hell, it wasn’t as though I loved the plan, but we had to work the plan we had, not the one we wished for.

“And if they follow him afterward?” Sparrow asked.

“Then Egret intercepts.” I motioned toward the big man with my head. “Worst case, he pulls Shadowfox out, and we execute a forced extraction.”

“Shit,” Will said. “It’s a risk.”

“Everything we do is a risk.” I nodded. “But if we wait too long, we’ll lose him. This is our window.”

Silence hung over the table as the waiter delivered Egret’s food. The duck looked too elegant for the tension sitting between our shoulders. Egret raised a brow, muttered, “Fancy.” The moment the waiter stepped away, Egret dove into his plate like some starved wolf attacking a downed deer. The rest of us stared, unable to give voice to whatever fears raced through our heads.

“How does Shadowfox learn all of this?” Sparrow asked. “Surely, you didn’t have these details in his packet.”

“We wouldn’t know the timing, even if we had picked a location, not until he responded.” I shook my head. “I’ll signal Lark. She will arrange for the details to make it to Shadowfox without us poking our heads above the snow. We’re already too recognizable.”

Sparrow nodded thoughtfully. Egret chewed loudly. Will scratched his chin and kept his eyes on the window.

I took a breath, ready to go over the timetable again, to reinforce the drop signals, remind everyone how the next forty-eight hours would unfold, keep us pointed forward.

Then something in the street changed.

I didn’t hear it. I felt it—like pressure in the room shifted, and my body registered it before my mind caught up.

Will sat up straighter, his eyes boring holes through the glass of the window facing the street.

I looked up, past Egret’s shoulder, toward the window.

A man stood across the street.

His coat was too long, his hat too low. His face was shadowed and unreadable. He stood still as the stone buildings around him.

He wasn’t smoking, wasn’t waiting, wasn’t pretending to read a newspaper.

He was watching.

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.