I understand exactly why he's curious. Edmund has been looking for leverage against every major player in The Silent for years. A Harrison brother hiding an asset off the books would be exactly the kind of ammunition he needs.
"The asset was transferred for specialized evaluation," I say. "Memory resurgence protocols. It's documented through the proper channels."
"Funny. I couldn't find any documentation."
"Then you're looking in the wrong places."
Silence on the line. I can hear him recalculating, adjusting his approach.
"Perhaps we should discuss this in person," he says finally. "I have some concerns about asset management that I think would benefit from your expertise. Say, this afternoon? My residence."
It's not a request.
"I'll be there at three."
"Excellent. I look forward to it."
The line goes dead.
Jonah is watching me when I turn around. His eyes are sharp, that journalist instinct reading every micro expression. He's learned to read me, far too well for my liking. Learned my tells, my patterns, the small cracks in my composure that I didn't know I had until he started looking for them.
"Problem?"
"Possibly." I set down the phone. "One of the Custodians is asking questions about you."
"Which one?"
"Edmund Holloway. He's not the seat holder, but he's connected. And he's ambitious."
"Ambitious how?"
"The kind of ambitious that gets people killed." I pour my coffee, using the motion to think. "A guard at the detention facility talked. Edmund knows I took you under personal remand. He's fishing for leverage."
Jonah sets down his pen. "What are you going to do?"
"Handle it."
"Handle it how?"
I don't answer. I don't have to. Jonah is smart enough to understand what "handling" means in my world.
"Jagger." He stands, crosses to me. His bare feet are silent on the tile. "If this is about protecting me—"
"It's about protecting the investigation. You're the only person who can identify the Phase Two facilities. If Edmund exposes you, you'll be reprocessed. Fully erased this time. No resurgence."
"So it's strategic."
"Yes."
He studies my face. I keep it blank, controlled, the mask I've worn for thirty years. But he sees through it. He always sees through it.
"Bullshit," he says quietly. "You're going to kill someone to keep me safe. That's not nothing. That can get you in big shit."
"It doesn’t matter."
"Jagger—"
"I have to go." I drain my coffee and set the mug in the sink. "Stay here. Don't answer the door. Don't contact anyone."
