Despite everything, my mouth twitches. Almost a smile. She’s terrified, hunted, trapped in a tunnel with a stranger, and still she pushes back. Still she questions. Still she refuses to be silenced.
Stubborn woman.
“Tell me about the code,” I say, partly for intelligence and partly to give her something to focus on besides fear.
Her entire demeanor changes. She straightens, eyes lighting up behind those glasses. “It’s fascinating, actually. I was analyzing frequency patterns in Roman military dispatches when I noticed anomalies. The mathematical distribution was all wrong for ancient encryption. Too sophisticated. Too—modern.”
She launches into an explanation involving algorithms, frequency analysis, and pattern recognition. Most of it goes over my head, but her passion is clear. This is her element—solving puzzles, finding patterns, understanding the incomprehensible.
“So you cracked Phoenix’s communication system by accident?”
“Not cracked. Not entirely. I found fragments. Enough to know someone was using our historical research as camouflage for modern encryption. But the full code…” She shakes her head. “I’d need more time. More data.”
“Time you don’t have.”
“Because Phoenix wants me dead.” The fear creeps back intoher voice. “An AI decided I’m a threat and sent killers after me. How is that even legal?”
“It’s not.”
“Then why doesn’t someone stop it?”
“We’re trying.”
“We?”
“Cerberus. Others. People who know what Phoenix really is.”
She’s quiet for a moment, processing. Then, “Have you faced Phoenix before?”
The question hits unexpectedly. Memories of Ryan and Celeste, of operations gone wrong, of an AI that adapts and learns and never stops hunting.
“Yes.”
“Did everyone survive?”
“No.”
She tenses against me. “Oh.”
Silence stretches between us. Real silence this time, heavy with implication. Above us, through layers of concrete and steel, Phoenix teams continue their hunt. But down here, in our cold bubble of temporary safety, there’s just us.
“I’m scared,” she admits quietly.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Fear keeps you alive. Makes you careful. Makes you listen when I tell you to move.”
“Is that why you’re so…” She waves a hand vaguely. “Intense?”
Perceptive. Too perceptive.
“What are you afraid of?”
Failing. Losing another client. Watching someone die because I wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, careful enough. But those aren’t things you say out loud.
“Phoenix.”
