The familiar curve of Kailua Road stretched before her, lined with shower trees whose pink blossoms carpeted the asphalt in a display that the tires of her pearl white Lexus SUV rolled over like so much confetti.
Morning sun slanted through ironwood trees as she navigated the gentle curves toward the Pali Highway, their needlelike leaves creating shifting patterns of light and shadow across her windshield.To her left, the Ko‘olau Mountains rose in their ancient majesty, their fluted cliffs dark with last night’s rain.Waterfalls threaded down the green faces like silver ribbons that would vanish by afternoon.
Her eyes were gritty despite the extra hour of sleep Armita had gifted her by keeping the children occupied.After last night’s revelations, even that mercy hadn’t been enough.
“Even so.Armita is a treasure,” she muttered.
Guilt pricked at her for all the woman had taken on.Not just nanny and household manager, but cook, bodyguard and crisis counselor.Sophie instructed her phone to send that sentiment as a text message, adding thanks in Thai that felt inadequate for the depth of her gratitude.
She yawned as she merged onto the Pali Highway, reaching for a thermal mug of extra strong English Breakfast tea.The familiar bite of bergamot and caffeine began to clear the fog from her mind as she drove the upward-curving route toward the tunnels through the mountains.The temperature dropped as she gained elevation, mist clinging to the craggy green mountainsides like torn silk.Through gaps in the junglelike foliage, she caught glimpses of Kane?ohe Bay spread out below, its usually turquoise waters turned to steel by an overcast sky.
The Pali Lookout flashed by on her right, tourists already gathering despite the early hour and questionable weather.She’d stood there herself, enjoying trade winds that could literally push you backward, contemplating the ancient battle where King Kamehameha had driven enemy warriors over these very cliffs.
Descending now through the tunnels toward Honolulu, she placed her first call.The transition from mountain mist to urban concrete was always jarring as lush, residential Kailua gave way to the more densely packed neighborhoods of town.“Paula.Can you prepare the meeting room for a video conference and send invites?I need Pierre Raveaux.Marcus Kamuela from HPD, and Marcella Scott from the FBI.Full security briefing protocols for confidentiality.”
“Sure, Sophie.”Paula’s perpetually upbeat tone was like audio sunshine.“Sounds like you’ve got a hot case brewing.Should I alert the coffee machine to work overtime?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Sophie said, appreciating her assistant’s attempt at levity.She passed Punahou School, its manicured grounds a stark contrast to the grittier neighborhoods that would follow.“This one’s going international.I might need to have you loop in my CIA contact—still tracking down the best way to reach him.I’ll let you know.See you soon.”She ended the call as she navigated the merge onto the H-1 freeway.
Traffic was building as she joined a river of commuters flowing into downtown.The freeway carved through older neighborhoods where modest homes crouched beneath the shadows of new high-rises.Honolulu’s growing pains were visible in the contrast of older wooden buildings versus concrete and glass.Assembly cranes dotted the skyline like mechanical birds, testament to the island’s hunger for growth despite limited space.
“Now to call Agent McDonald at the CIA.Ugh,” Sophie muttered, bracing herself for the interaction.She’d never liked the beefy, blustery Cold War operative who seemed frozen in a spy novel from the eighties.McDonald consistently tried to bully her into operations that served CIA interests more than hers, and he had an unfortunate habit of using gender diminutives like “little lady” despite repeated corrections.Dealing with him required focus and an iron spine.
Sophie hit a button on the steering wheel and called Agent McDonald.Geared up to ask him about the status of her mother in prison and to leverage that information with passing on Sunan’s threat, she was deflated by an automated recording telling her to leave a message at a series of digits that sounded like coordinates to a missile silo.
“Agent McDonald.I hope this is still your personal number; it’s the only contact number I have for you.”She kept her tone brisk, professional.“I’m calling to check on the status of a certain prisoner.You know which one.I also have intelligence regarding her former associates that would be of interest to the agency.Please call me back at your earliest convenience.”
Sophie ended the call, frowning as she navigated the familiar turns toward her office building.Hopefully McDonald would ring her back, or someone else from his department would.Otherwise she’d face the Kafkaesque nightmare of trying to reach him through the CIA general switchboard, where “need to know” was a weapon wielded against civilians.
“Didn’t want to talk to that nasty old yak fart anyway,”she muttered in Thai, the profanity rolling off her tongue with satisfying emphasis.Her mother was the one who’d taught her that cursing in Thai was more expressive than English—one of the few useful lessons she’d kept from that woman.
Her mind drifted over the late-night conversation with Connor as she passed the gleaming towers of Kaka’ako, a neighborhood that had transformed from industrial wasteland to luxury condos in barely a decade.
She mulled over what he’d said, what he’d carefully omitted.The weight of unspoken truths lay between them, but what felt new—almost foreign—was the emotional distance she’d maintained when she heard his voice and saw his face on her screen.Those sea blue eyes that had once undone her had seemed shadowed and dull.The sensual mouth that had whispered promises in the dark seemed like it belonged to a stranger.
Feelings that had reawakened when he’d come to her during last year’s crisis had subsided like a fever passing, leaving her weak but clearheaded.
She was done with that complicated man and his divided loyalties.For the first time since he’d left for Thailand six months ago, she was relieved he was gone.
“We’re over,” she said aloud, testing the words as she took the Vineyard exit toward downtown.They rang true, settling into her with surprising peace.No dramatic pain, no surge of longing or regret.Just ...acceptance.“He’s made his choice.So have I.I’m single now.”She smiled.“Single.And feeling good.”
The downtown skyline rose before her with its glass and steel monuments to commerce.Aloha Tower stood sentinel over the harbor where cruise ships disgorged tourists seeking paradise, unaware of the shadows that moved beneath the surface of island life.She passed the Prince Kuhio Federal Building where the FBI used to have their offices, its architecture a stark contrast to graceful palm trees that tried to soften its harsh lines.
Sophie had time for one more call as she descended into the parking garage beneath her building, fluorescent lights replacing the morning sun.This one was personal and would be a touchstone of normalcy—or so she hoped.
Ambassador Frank Smithson answered the phone in the deep, warm voice that never failed to lift her spirits—as if Morgan Freeman spoke to her with paternal affection.“To what do I owe the pleasure of a call from my best girl?”
“Just catching up,Pa.”She used the Thai honorific that had become her pet name for him.Her father had been through hell last year—a cancer diagnosis, difficult treatment, and an assassination attempt by her mother Pim Wat that had nearly succeeded.The last thing she wanted was to stress him with news of the Yam Khûmk?n entering her life again.“How is retirement treating you?Still finding it boring?”
“Ha!I’m busier than ever,” Frank said with evident satisfaction.“You know me, I can’t sit still.I’m consulting for the State Department on Pacific Rim relations, and I’ve been lobbying Washington for more funding for Native Hawaiian programs.Did you know they’re trying to cut the budget for language preservation?Over my dead body.”He paused.“Poor choice of words, given last year’s events.But I’m back on-island at last.When can I see you and my grandchildren?”
Sophie pulled into her reserved parking space and cut the engine.“How about dinner next week?Tuesday maybe?The kids would love to see their Grandpa Frank.”Hopefully by then, things would have settled regarding Sunan’s threat.If not, she might need to activate protection for Frank too.
“Perfect.I’ll bring that chocolatehaupiapie from Ted’s Bakery they love.And Sophie?”His voice gentled.“You sound tired.Everything alright?”
“Just work stuff,Pa.You know how it is.”She kept her tone light as she gathered her work things from the seat beside her.“I’ll fill you in next week.”
She ended the call and sat for a moment in the artificial twilight of the parking garage, the engine ticking as it cooled.Through the open concrete pillars around the upper level, she could hear the morning sounds of downtown Honolulu—traffic, construction, the distant squabble of mynah birds arguing over territory.
