“I don’t know. Maybe. The State Department will need to be involved, and they’ll want to move carefully. Switzerland is neutral. We can’t just send in the cavalry without risking an international incident. And if there is compromise at the levels you claim, we can’t ask the Swiss for permission without alerting the Soviets.” He paused. “I’m sending my team on an accelerated timeline. Four days, maybe five. Until then, you continue observation and gather intelligence. You do not—repeat,do not—take any active measures. No assaults, no extractions, no cowboy heroics. If there’s even a hint of doubt, you call me first. Understood?”
Will’s eyes darted toward me.
I knew what he was thinking. Observation only was fine until it wasn’t.
“Understood, sir,” Will said carefully. “We’ll continue gathering intelligence.”
“That’s not a yes.”
“No, sir. It’s not.”
Another long pause. When Manakin spoke again, his voice was tired.
“You’re good officers, both of you. That’s the only reason I haven’t already filed papers to have you recalled and run out of the Agency.” He sighed. “But I need you to understand something. If you take active measures without authorization, I won’t be able to protect you. You’ll be burned, disavowed, and hung out to dry. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “We understand.”
“Then use your goddamned heads. Gather intelligence, stay alive, and for fuck’s sake, check in regularly. I don’t want to hear about your deaths from a Swiss newspaper.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line clicked and went dead.
Will hung up the receiver and stood there for a moment, staring at the phone, then turned to look at me.
“Well,” I said, forcing lightness into my voice, “that went better than expected. He only threatened to jail us once.”
“He’s right, you know.” Will’s voice was quiet. “If we have to take action—real action—we’re on our own. There won’t be any backup or extraction. We won’t even have careers to go back to if we survive.”
“I know.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I thought about the Baroness, still planning, still fighting despite everything that had happened. Then I thought about what would happen if the Order succeeded and Switzerland fell.
“I’m okay with doing whatever needs to be done,” I said. “When the time comes.”
Will nodded slowly. “When the time comes.”
11
Will
The Baroness left in the morning. I stood at the window of the safe house, watching the street below without really seeing it. The gray Bern morning pressed against the glass like something desperate to get in. Somewhere out there, the Baroness was walking into another meeting, another risk, and another opportunity for the conspiracy to claim another victim.
And there we were. Watching. Waiting. Observing.
Just as Manakin had ordered.
Thomas was pacing again—back and forth across the sitting room, his footsteps marking time like a countdown to something neither of us could name. Bisch sat motionless in a chair by the door, his pale eyes fixed on nothing, his weathered hands resting on his knees. Otto had taken the car and followed the Baroness at a distance, despite her explicit instructions to stay behind.
“She will be furious,” Bisch had said when Otto left.
“She will be alive,” Otto had replied.
That had been the end of the discussion.
Now we waited.
