“Do you want me to leave?” Crimson whispers when Montgomery returns to his car to fetch a more detailed clearance for my top selections. “I’m not sure discussing your protection concerns in front of me is very secure.”
“No, he’s in charge of your safety, too. If you have questions, you can ask him. He doesn’t bite.”
When Montgomery arrives back upstairs, Crimson asks, “How much security is behind the tracker? I’ve seen on TV that people can hack into any connected chip and access the data.”
“Ah… sure. That must make for good television but it’s not how they work. There’s not a lot programmed into the actual chip, so the point of weakness is the connection to the tracking computer.”
“But people can hack into those, too.”
Montgomery responds quietly and firmly. “Not under my watch, they can’t.”
She’s watching me when he says it, waiting to see if I take his word for it before she trusts him. “He’s the best in the business,” I tell her softly. “Until he instructs you to worry, you don’t need to worry, all right?”
“Okay.” Her voice softens as her eyes drift to her phone, and I wonder if I’ve stifled every future conversation with one purchase. Then she pops it into her back pocket and leans over to scan the laptop screen. “Who’d you pick for my new Warren?”
“You get the old Warren,” I tell her while Montgomery displays our top selections. “And if you get along, this guy will be your backup.”
“Wow.” Her eyes light up with appreciation while surveying the scarred bodyguard. “I wish I’d had him back in standard three when Amber Langford kept picking on me.”
So do I. The sudden rush of heat towards an unknown girl takes me by surprise. “Well, he’ll be around to help you the next time a nine-year-old tries to make your life a misery.”
“What other security arrangements do you have?” Crimson’s eyes dart around the room. “Besides the lift codes and the babysitter?”
Montgomery glances at me for permission, then answers, listing the weapons we can access, the men who are at our beck and call, the simulations that train our responses, and the safe homes scattered across the nation where we can retreat.
I’m not sure any of it makes her feel better. Knowing the lengths we go to just to stay alive and protected isn’t a great thing to focus on, not when there are so many enjoyable things we could put our attention to instead.
We’re soon finished, and Montgomery seems delighted to shake Crimson’s hand as he departs, promising to send me a summary of all the changes we’ve discussed.
Sebastian arrives soon after, pinning the new code and taking a note of some roster changes before he ducks into the kitchen for a heart-to-heart with Agnes. Ostensibly to update the delivery requirements from all our regular suppliers. More probably to have a natter about how my surprise engagement affects him.
“Did you find me a school?” Crimson asks when he re-emerges, causing his prim face to crumple into confusion like he’s a tissue she’s about to throw away.
“A school?”
“Sorry,” I interrupt. “That’s on me. Crimson is finishing her final year at high school. I thought you might find her a suitable place.”
“No.” He blinks in astonishment, then seems to realise the curt answer won’t be enough. “I mean, there’s the academy but they won’t accept such a late admission.”
Crimson narrows in on the target. “What’s the academy?”
“It’s a private school,” I answer when Sebastian seems confounded. “A lot of the syndicate members send their older children there rather than risking an outside venue.”
“Don’t you have something similar down in Christchurch?” Sebastian asks.
“No,” Crimson and I answer in unison.
“You could try home-schooling. If you let me know your subjects, I’ll find a range of suitable tutors to pick up the same curriculum you’ve been following.”
“Maybe we should just leave it,” she says, and I can see the enthusiasm for the idea draining from her.
I ask her, “Are you going on to university?” before she completely disengages.
“Could I…?” She visibly swallows and plucks at the knee of her jeans. “When I finished the year, I was thinking of getting a job.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t mind if I want to work?”
