The others watch me as I walk backwards and forwards letting things unfurl and take shape in my head.
They are mercifully quiet. No one so much as slurps at their wine.
As the pieces appear and begin to roughly slot into place, I step outside to remove the weight of their eyeballs and the pressure of expectation.
When everything's settled into something recognisable, I re-enter the workshop and am met with five sets of large eyes. "I think I've got it."
"Ooooh." Jeanette places an elbow on her knee and props her chin up with her hand. "Tell us."
“We’re going to play Jason at his own game of using a fake identity and scare it out of him in the flesh. He’s got the advantage in the digital world, so we’re going analogue.”
"That's not going to work," says Ed. "He knows all of us, or at least is familiar with us. This town's not very big, Bess."
"He's familiar withmostof us. Carlos has said on more than one occasion his superpower is the invisibility of age. He won't remember Carlos."
"Carlos?" says Elly. "Carlos is a total liability. He thinks he's invisible when hecloses his eyes."
"WellIcan't see me," says Carlos.
I draw a deep breath and count to ten. "I have every faith in Carlos' abilities." I almost mean it.
"Me too," says Carlos. "I'll do it."
Chapter forty-eight
Ed
JasonTraversmakesiteasy enough for us to find him.
He’s a self-made man with enough alpha credentials to now win over desirable young Port Derrum women. And Jason has had Mistral in his sights for the last few days.
After a bit of leering and an attempt to draw Mistral into some inappropriate banter, both of which I put a stop to, Jason takes himself off to peruse the latest issue of his favourite car magazine.
Helpfully, he chooses an area signposted "The Study Nook" in which to read it – a table down the back of the library, cosily positioned between shelves of books. It affords him a distraction-free zone to study cars and affords us the privacy for what we need to do.
Carlos walks in, dressed in an expensive three-piece suit and cravat. With his hair slicked down and the accessories of a leather briefcase and a silver-topped walking stick, even I barely recognise him.
Like all consummate professionals in the movies, his only acknowledgement of me is a brief glance.
And just like in the movies, I nod to where Jason sits. Then I follow Carlos as far as the bookshelf, where I can hide my presence from Jason and divert anybody who comes within hearing distance. The lines of books on either side of the unit make it just about manageable to see what's going on on the other side of them.
Carlos rounds the shelf and stops at the edge of the table.
"Hello."
Jason looks up from his magazine at him.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Yeah. I do," Jason says in a tone that isn't appropriate for addressing anyone let alone an elderly citizen. "I prefer this nook to myself." He adds "mate" in a way that doesn't at all reflect the friendliness of the word.
"Oh, that really is too bad," says Carlos, taking a seat. “We have a lot to discuss, Mr Travers.”
Jason opens his mouth to protest at Carlos' interloping, but another, more pressing thought appears to hit him. "How do you know my name?"
Carlos smiles, but the warmth doesn't extend to his words. "I know a lot about you, Mr Travers. I know where you live, what car you drive and who you associate with. That you have a penchant for AI revenge porn."
Jason sits upright at that.
