She studies him for a long moment. “Do you really believe that? Or is that what you tell your students?”
“I believe it.” He meets her eyes. “I’ve had to make that choice. Not in academia. Before. And I chose the truth. It cost me, but I’d make the same choice again.”
It’s not a lie. He’s done it more than once. It also comes with a cost. So far, the cost has always been worth it.
Her expression shifts slightly. Her posture becomes more open, less self-protective. He wouldn’t call it trust. Not quite. More like a feral cat who will eat the food you put out, but won’t yet come close enough to be petted.
“Many people say that. Most don’t mean it.”
“You’ve known people who meant it,” he observes. It’s not a question.
“I have.” She resumes shelving, but her focus is on the conversation, not the books in her hands. “And I’ve known people who said all the right things and then chose their careers over the truth when it mattered.”
If she is the Archivist, she’s writing a book she might never publish, preserving evidence that could destroy reputations and institutions.
“When you publish your book—if you publish it—is it going to come with a cost?”
“If I do it right, yes.” She slides the last book onto the shelf. “That’s why I’m not sure I’ll publish it in my lifetime. Some truths are dangerous to tell.”
“More dangerous to bury them, though.”
She looks at him sharply. Then, she turns to the circulations desk. “Oh, I have students waiting to check out books. It’s been … interesting … chatting with you.”
He’s been dismissed. That’s okay. She’s clearly looking for someone she can trust. Maybe someone who knows what to do with information she can’t or won’t make public herself.
He gave her something to think about. He can wait while she decides what to do. Patience is a powerful weapon with skittish cats and skittish people.
Chapter Thirty-One
Leo stands in the bedroom, adjusting his tie in the mirror. The gala is tonight. Black tie, champagne, celebrating First Amendment rights while secretly trying to prevent terrorist attacks.
The cognitive dissonance is giving him a headache.
“Kids are packed,” Sasha calls from the bathroom, where she’s doing her makeup. “I’ll be ready to go by the time you’re back.”
He grabs his jacket and heads downstairs. Finn and Fiona wait by the door with overnight bags, discussing whether they need to bring board games to the sleepover.
“Piper and Nathaniel have loads of games,” Finn says. “There’s even a room called the game room.”
“But what if they don’t have Catan?” Fiona counters.
“Bring it,” Leo weighs in. “If they have it, you don’t need it. If they don’t, you’re covered.”
“Like an umbrella,” Finn says sagely.
“Exactly.”
The drive to the British Embassy residence takes twenty minutes. The Deputy Head of Mission lives in a secure diplomatic compound with a gated entrance, armed security, and residential protection that rivals most government facilities.
Leo had chosen this sleepover location carefully. The home of a member of the Five Eyes Alliance. High-level diplomatic protection. If anything goes sideways tonight, the twins will be safe here.
He shows his identification to the guards, who check him against their list before letting him walk his kids to the door. Violet Palmer, Piper and Nathaniel’s mother answers the door herself. “It’s the Connellys! Come in. The kids are so excited.”
“Thank you for having them.” Leo hands over the overnight bags.
“It’s our pure pleasure. Go enjoy your gala!”
Finn and Fiona are already disappearing into the house with the Palmer twins. Leo watches them go, then heads back to the car.
