As with his first meeting, his presence seemed to draw the attention of everyone in the space. She could see a few workers walking the floor shift slightly in his direction, their conversations hitching for a moment to take notice of him. Two agents currently gearing up for a test drive paused to turn toward him. Then they all continued about their business, but not without full awareness that Winter Young was down here.
Not that he seemed to notice or care.
“Come with me,” Sydney replied as she turned away from him and walked off toward the east quadrant. “And don’t touch anything.”
He gave her a teasing nod and followed obediently.
Secretly, she was grateful to look away. She’d felt his magnetic pull in her gut just like everyone else had, and it irked her.
“So, you’re training me,” he added. “Who trained you?”
“He’s dead now.”
Beside her, Winter stopped in his tracks.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “Sauda taught me.”
There was something so satisfying about the way his pretty lips tightened in exasperation.
“Oh good,” he muttered. “I’m excited about an entire week of this from you.”
Instead of following in her wake, he came up to walk alongside her, and for a moment, their shoulders brushed. Even with the simple motion of his stride, she could tell that he was a performer. Every part of him screamed grace. Details about him from her research flitted through her head. Received formal ballet and street dance training after he was discovered. Studied dance in Russia for six months. Handpicked each of his backup dancers by working individually with them for a day.
“You’ll find this week a bit overwhelming,” she said. “They don’t ease anyone into this, and you’ll be getting no ease at all. But I figure you’re probably used to that sort of intensity.”
At that, he snorted, still seemingly annoyed with her. “And what, exactly, are we doing today?”
“Basics.” Sydney led him through an automatic sliding glass door and into a large room, then turned to press her palm against one of the room’s walls. Like the office where they’d first met, the wall responded to her touch, a series of buttons popping up on the wall around her hand.
KELLYSTREET
KING’SCROSSST.PANCRAS
WATERLOO
She tapped the first one. The buttons scrolled away. The temperature changed slightly, the air cold and crisp and damp, and the sound of the rest of the training floor cut abruptly off. The walls around them shifted, replaced with a London street—red phone booths on the sidewalks, hanging pots of flowers draping from lampposts, cars and double-decker buses driving by. Even the sounds changed, speakers installed in the ceiling and floor and walls playing all the cacophony of a city street, so that for a moment, it truly seemed like they had stepped into London.
Winter froze for a moment. Sydney watched as he turned in a circle, then let his gaze settle back onto hers, his easy swagger from just seconds ago giving way to an unsettled awe.
Sydney couldn’t help softening at his expression. She remembered feeling that way once, the realization that here was a world she could never have dreamed of.
“Basics for you is going to be a bit accelerated,” she said. “So, I’m going to start with some universal rules you should always keep in mind as an agent.” She folded her arms. “Do you know what your ultimate goal is?”
“To succeed at our mission?” he guessed.
“No.” She shook her head. “To come out of it alive. There will always be another mission. But losing an agent is a harder hit than any failed job. You aren’t just a life. You’re an investment. So everything you’ll learn here will be geared toward keeping you unharmed.”
Winter’s attitude turned sober at that. Sydney watched the light change on his face, the spark of grief that came and went in his eyes, and felt a twinge of pity for him. No doubt his thoughts had gone to his brother.
She nodded to the space around them and shifted the topic. “This is one of our many simulation rooms. I’ve created some presets for us in various London locales as we go through some situations for you.”
He nodded once, turning his back to her again to study the setting. “And what are these universal rules I should start with?”
“First,” she replied, “don’t ever look behind you. You don’t need to. Simply assume that someone is always watching you. Look back, and you clue them in to you being conscious of their presence—and up to something.”
At her words, Winter turned back around to face her and tilted his head. “Nothing new to me.”
There was something about that head tilt of his that made her want to linger on him. She looked away. “Second,” she went on, “be prepared. Always. If something goes wrong, be ready to pivot. If something unusual happens, you’ll need to adapt in a split second. Harder than it sounds. Think of it as one of your performances. You must have had all sorts of things go awry onstage and been forced to shift midsong.”
