Nikki exhaled, throat suddenly tighter. She didn’t answer.
Sally wrote,Seriously. He thinks you’re a supervillain. He’s trying to find out everything about you.
She sent a photo from the memorial where Nikki and Sally could be seen seated at a table together. Then a series of screenshots from a group chat where Teddy called her a “stalker bitch” and demanded information about her.
What did you tell him?Nikki asked.
As a security investigator, Nikki had careful social media practices; her accounts gave no clues to her actual identity. She was grateful for these protections now, although she didn’t remember if she’d shared her full name.
Sally’s response came almost immediately:Don’t know anything, do I? Who are you? I won’t tell.
Distrusting the proffered discretion, Nikki wrote,a friend.
—
She texted Izzy, asking if she needed anything from the house, then sipped coffee and ate, thumbing through the sparse notes from last night. Her brain was sluggish: a heavy press of ennui dulling her sharp edges.
The notes from her conversation with Teddy were especially unsatisfying. This annoyed her. Nikki thought about it for a few minutes, then searched her phone for a contact she hadn’t used in a long time. It was doubtful the number worked after all these years, but she tried anyway.
Hi Ethan. It’s Nikki, she texted.Back in London for the day. Need your help with something.
A few minutes passed before he wrote back:Good god! Nikki! Haven’t seen your name for an age. I take it you’ve joined the Foreign Legion, or started a cult. Would I say no to you?
Nikki smiled, and told him what she needed.
—
It was nearly 08:00. She did the dishes, swept and wiped down the kitchen, showered, dressed, and headed out the door.
On her way to the station, Nikki’s phone rang.
Not recognizing the number, she answered in Italian. “Who is this?”
“Hello,” a male voice said in English. “This is Mac van den Berg…from Friday night. I think I made a bad impression. I’d like a chance to start over.”
“How did you get this number?”
“Gianni gave it to me.”
Nikki exhaled, hands flexing. Gianni had never respected her privacy. “I’m in the middle of something. So, whatever this is…”
“I know,” said Mac. “Your uncle. London. Sorry about that.”
“Gianni’s sharing a lot,” Nikki snapped.
“Oh, you shouldn’t blame your brother,” he said with a jovial chuckle. “I work in intel, remember? I have ways to get what I need.”
Nikki stopped walking, irritation transforming into anger.
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” she said.
“This is what I do.”
“What the fuck?” The words exploded. “Are you monitoring me? You think this makes me trust you?”
“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Mac said. “Listen…I want to ask you something. Professionally. You’re a security investigator. You track threats. You understand Naples. You know how power shifts when certain people are…out of the picture.”
He paused, then coughed.
