“One moment, Ms.Smithson.I’m transferring you to a secure video line.”
Her phone screen flickered, prompting her to accept a video call.She did, and found herself looking at a young black man in a navy suit, his CIA badge visible, clipped to his jacket pocket.Behind him, the sterile white walls of what was clearly a government office glowed in fluorescent lighting that made his richly toned skin look ashy.
“Ms.Smithson, I’m Agent Clive Davis.”His tone was professional but cool, his expression neutral.“I understand you’ve been trying to reach Agent McDonald.”
“Yes, I left a message yesterday about an urgent matter.”
“Agent McDonald retired six weeks ago,” Davis said.“I’ve taken over his caseload.How can I assist you?”
Sophie hadn’t realized she was holding her coffee mug.She set it down carefully, noting the faint tremor in her fingers.“Retired?But he never mentioned ...”She shook her head.“Do you know who I am?I’ve been a witness and confidential informant for the CIA for years.”
“Yes, I know who you are.I have verified your identity using your IP and voice recognition.”Davis’s voice had not warmed.
“Well, that’s something at least.I’m working with the FBI on a case involving Hawaiian artifacts being smuggled to Thailand.It connects to the Yam Khûmk?n and?—”
“I’m aware of the organization.”Davis’s eyes glanced away at a monitor; his fingers moved over his keyboard with mechanical precision.“I’ll need the FBI case file and your liaison agent’s name and identification number.”He paused.“Also, is this a sanctioned or unsanctioned report?”
“What do you mean?”Something about his haughty demeanor set her teeth on edge.The air-conditioning in her office kicked on, raising goosebumps on her arms.“Before we proceed with the case information, can you tell me how my mother is doing?Pim Wat Smithson.Agent McDonald was ...monitoring her situation.”
Davis’s fingers paused.He looked directly at the camera, his expression unreadable.The pause stretched too long into silence.“Give me a minute,” he said at last.“I’m searching my database now.”A few more rattling keystrokes, each one seeming to echo in the quiet room.“I show no one by that name in my caseload.I have all of McDonald’s cases and files.”
“Are you telling me you lost her?”The blood drained from Sophie’s face, leaving her lightheaded; her mouth tasted metallic.
“I’m telling you there’s no such person in our database.”
Sophie had to swallow twice to get enough saliva to speak.“That’s impossible.I handed her over to McDonald myself.”She focused on the man’s face with an effort.“Check again.Pim Wat Smithson.She’s also gone by other names.She’s a USA and Thai national.”
“Ms.Smithson, I’ve checked twice.There’s no record of that name or any variants or associations in any of my inherited cases, or elsewhere in our database.”His tone had shifted from cool to arctic.Outside, a cloud passed over the sun, throwing her office into shadow.“Let’s get back to the artifact case?—”
“I want to speak to your supervisor,” Sophie interrupted, her voice steady.“Get him or her for me.Now.”
Davis’s jaw tightened; he clearly didn’t like her attempt to go over his head.“That won’t be possible.If you have information relevant to national security, I suggest you share it through proper FBI channels.I assume we will be hearing about your artifact case that way.Good day, Ms.Smithson.”
The connection went black.
Sophie sat frozen, staring at her reflection in the phone screen.
House sounds filtered back into her awareness—Armita’s voice upstairs, a door closing, water running, the patter of Sean’s little footsteps.Normal sounds that felt surreal after what she’d just heard.
Her mother’s file couldn’t just disappear.True, she’d been so relieved to have Pim Wat taken into custody that she hadn’t followed up until now, and it had almost been a year since their showdown that led to Pim Wat’s capture.
Maybe her mother was hidden in some offshore black site, and McDonald had made sure her case wasn’t part of his documented work.That had to be it.
She had to find McDonald.Speak to him directly, and find out what he’d done with her.
Her phone buzzed against the desk, making her jump.A text from Marcella:“Come into office now.Found the truck from Thornfield’s.It seems contents were loaded into a Matson shipping container.It’s on a cargo ship but destination unknown.Waxman wants strategy meeting ASAP.”
Sophie could use this opportunity to talk with Marcella and Waxman about what she’d discovered.Use their access to the CIA to probe for Pim Wat’s location.It was past time the CIA was involved with the artifacts case, anyway, now that chances were good the group was moving the artifacts outside the USA.
Sophie’s hands shook as she grabbed her keys.The metal ring felt cold, real, grounding her back to the immediate crisis.She hurried to Feirn’s room and knocked.“I have to go to the FBI office.Keep working on that facial reconstruction.”
He opened the door, laptop in hand, reading something in her expression.“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a problem at the CIA,” she said, the words tasting bitter.Feirn had been with Connor last year when everything went down with her mother’s attack; she could tell him anything.“McDonald’s gone, supposedly retired.My mother’s file has vanished, and Marcella wants me to come in right away.They have a lead on the artifacts.You can stay here and work.”
“No.The Master said I was to stay at your side at all times.”He tucked the laptop under his arm.“I’ll keep working when we reach the FBI.Let’s go.”
As Sophie drove toward town in the morning traffic, white cattle egrets flying overhead, locals in trucks heading to work—all of it felt like a thin veneer over something dark and shifting.
