Coffee.
Extract immediately.
I turn from the coffee shop, walking at civilian pace back toward the parking lot. I can't run. I can't draw attention. I'm just another person finishing errands, heading home.
Sarah has already moved to the driver's seat when I reach the vehicle. Her laptop is closed, equipment secured, expression locked down.
"What happened?" I slide into the passenger seat.
"Committee communications just went active." She pulls out of the parking lot, heading south toward the highway. "Multiple encrypted channels, coordinated traffic suggesting they're deploying assets."
"They made us."
"They made someone. Could be us, could be Masters, could be general counter-surveillance." She accelerates through the intersection, merging into traffic. "But the timing is too coincidental. The woman made the pickup, Committee channels activated moments later."
"She's signaling that Masters completed the exchange." Photos appear on the camera's display. "They know we're investigating their intelligence network."
"Or they're running security checks on their assets." Sarah pushes us fast enough to make separation without attracting police attention. "Either way, we assume they're mobilizing response teams."
The vehicles behind us all hold highway speeds. No obvious pursuit, no formations suggesting coordinated tracking.
But Committee operations don't advertise themselves until it's too late.
"Secondary safe house is south, less than an hour." I open the navigation app, marking the route that avoids main highways.
"Assuming we make it there without Committee intercept."
Her voice is steady, focused, carrying controlled intensity she brought to operations in DC. Sarah doesn't freeze when danger materializes. She processes, adapts, stays effective.
A black SUV merges onto the highway behind us, matching our speed with precision that feels deliberate. Then a second SUV appears from an on-ramp ahead, positioning in our forward sight line.
"We have company." Her hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Two vehicles, coordinated positioning."
They're boxing us in, holding separation while limiting our maneuvering options. It's a pursuit formation, designed to control target movement while minimizing obvious surveillance indicators.
"Committee doesn't know we have surveillance photos yet." I keep my voice level, analytical. "They're running security on Masters, verifying if anyone tracked him to the coffee shop. If we act suspicious, we confirm their concerns."
"So we play civilian and hope they lose interest?" Her tone suggests exactly how likely she thinks that outcome is.
"We hold driving patterns for a few miles, then take the exit toward Columbia Falls. Force them to commit to following us off the highway or reveal they're running general area surveillance."
She doesn't argue. She doesn't question the assessment even though years of silence sit between us, sharp-edged and cutting. Trust on operations is trained reflex, built through months of a working relationship when trust was absolute.
The miles tick past. The SUVs stay in position, not closing the gap but not falling back either. They're patient, controlled, waiting to see if we lead them somewhere worth following.
Sarah takes the Columbia Falls exit at the last possible moment, forcing a decision from the vehicles behind us. The lead SUV of those following us commits immediately, following us off the highway while the second vehicle keeps overwatch from the main route.
"They're committed." The mirror shows the SUV closing the gap. "Accelerate through the commercial district, take the back roads toward Hungry Horse. We can lose them in the forest routes."
She doesn't hesitate. The engine strains as she pushes through traffic with calculated aggression. She's a driver in a hurry taking opportunities as they present.
The SUV matches our acceleration, closing in with performance that confirms military-grade modifications. Reinforced chassis, enhanced engine, probably armored plating and upgraded suspension. We're outmatched on straight roads, outgunned if they decide to force confrontation.
Familiarity with terrain and Sarah's ability to drive like physics is negotiable—those are our only advantages.
She takes a hard right onto a side street, cutting through a residential area with enough speed to make the tires protest. The SUV follows behind, keeping visual contact but struggling with tight turns that favor our smaller vehicle.
"There's an unpaved forest service road ahead." I call out the navigation as she drives, falling into rhythm without conscious decision. "Narrow, connects to back routes that eventually reach Echo Base approaches."
