Prologue
Zephyr
My back and shoulders ache,and I drum my gloved fingers on the rickety, stained table. Six hours ago, I wiped down the entire apartment, intending to be gone by sunset. But hacking isn’t always fast—or easy—even for me, and my anxiety is on high alert now that it’s after midnight.
Everything I care about in this world is carefully arranged in my backpack. A picture of my brother and me when we were just five and eight—before Papa disappeared—the tiger’s eye ring he left on my pillow the day he vanished, my multi-tool, and three pairs of thick wool socks. When everything else in my world sucks ass, a warm, dry pair of socks are a godsend.
The rest of the items I acquired during my three-week stay in the Netherlands were tossed into the building incinerator this morning. Clothes, a couple of books, an extra pillow and blanket. Gone. Reduced to ashes. Like my reputation. And my life if I don’t get my ass moving.
I always travel light. One bag. Less than ten pounds—without my computer, anyway. Speed has saved me before, and I can’t risk being weighed down.
The code on the screen blurs with my exhaustion, and I double-check that my wool hat is still firmly in place. It stops me from leaving easily traceable DNA, but it also gives me a headache. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I breathe in while I count to four, hold for seven, and exhale for a full eight seconds. Amazingly, this little trick to drive stress away works every time, and some of the tension holding my head in a vise fades away.
Next to the laptop, my phone screen lights up.
Nora: He found me. Came to my office. I had to drive around for hours before I went home to make sure he wasn’t following me.
Fuck. Thumbing out a quick reply, I will the progress bar on the screen to move faster.
He’ll be in jail by morning. Don’t talk to anyone. Keep the doors locked. I’ll be there in an hour.
She doesn’t answer.
“I promise, babe. After tonight, you’ll never have to worry about him again.”
The next fifteen minutes feel like a century. Until the First Bank of Rotterdam’s firewalls crumble to digital dust.
Finding Sem Jassen’s accounts and employee records is a breeze now that I’m in. “You little twat. I knew you were dirty.But this?This is a freaking garbage dump of filth.”
I’d planned to make it look like Nora’s abusive ex was embezzling from his employer. Padding a few bank accounts, planting some rather incriminating emails? Piece of cake. Turns out, all I have to do is add a fewembellishmentsto his actions before I send all the evidence to the General Intelligence and Security Service.
“You could have kept that Rolls Royce Phantom. And your freedom. Butno. You had to beat your wife. In front of her kids. I hope you have fun in prison, asshole.”
If this were a movie, the dramatic background music would rise to a crescendo any second now. Instead, while I wait for the data to transfer, I grab the arms of the chair and twist, each vertebra in my back popping in sweet, sweet relief. The progress bar taunts me, creeping along at a pace somewhere between geriatric snail and petrified turtle.
“Come on, come on. I was supposed to be long gone by now.”
The seconds tick by, and my knee bounces faster and faster. As soon as the zipped files land in my encrypted cloud storage, I sever the connection to the bank and send everything to Dante. He’s one of the only people I trust. I gave him a heads up this morning, and he emails me before I shut down the laptop.
Got everything, Zephyr. Jassen will be in custody before 9:00 a.m. Where are you off to next?
Snorting, I send a quick response.
You didn’t really think that would work, did you? Gotta go, D. Catch you next time.
Dante is one of the few people who believes I was set up for Jasper Yoden’s murder. But since the only family I had planted my blood and prints at the scene, I don’t have enough…credibilityfor the AIVD to do anything but put me away for life.
The laptop and power supply slide into a special, padded pocket in the backpack, and I take one last look around the apartment. I’m going to miss this place. The building’s half empty, slated to be torn down in a few weeks. The top two floors are deserted, but with five units still occupied, the owner hasn’t disconnected the internet hardline. A couple of calls to the right people at Fiber International, and I doubled the speed.
You’re welcome, neighbors I’ve never met and never will. I hope you enjoyed your unlimited Netflix binges.
With the hood of my jacket pulled low over the wool cap, I slip into the hall. As I close my gloved fingers around the handle of the stairwell door, tiny shards of plaster hit my cheek.
“The next one won’t miss,” Oliver calls. “Give it up, Zephyr. We have all the exits covered.”
Fear snakes cold fingers around my heart, squeezing so hard, I’m not sure I’m still breathing. From the sound of his voice, he’s at least a few yards away. I can make it.
“Did I ever tell you why I let you live three years ago?” I ask, turning slightly so he can’t see me twist the door handle.
