Winter had done this before, but it didn’t matter. It was hard to get accustomed to using a fridge as a secret entrance. He suspected this was a thrill that would never fade.
When they stepped inside an elevator at the end of the corridor, Winter reached out to push the buttons heading down—but Sydney covered them before he could. Her cool fingers wrapped around his wrist, and a shiver ran through him.
“Not this time,” she said.
“I thought we were going to Panacea?” he asked.
“We are.” She hit the button for the seventh floor, then glanced upward. “We’re just heading up today.”
He looked at her. “I thought the labs were a mile under the hotel.”
“We’re heading to wardrobe today,” Sydney replied as the elevator rose. “Sauda and Niall are waiting for us there.”
It hadn’t occurred to Winter that the hotel’s upper floors weren’t all regular suites, that Panacea operated out of the Claremont’s rooms themselves as well as the space excavated far below. He recalled the way his stomach had leapt during his last trip, when the elevator descended for several minutes and then opened into an extraordinary underground bunker.
They traveled in silence for a minute. Then the elevator came to a serene stop, and the doors slid open to reveal a single, massive floor that stretched to every wall.
At first glance, it reminded Winter of a fashion house’s headquarters—dozens of color-coded clothing racks were arranged in neat rows against one wall, while elegant outfits on display inside glass cases lined the others, as if they were part of a curated gallery at the Met. In the center of the room was a cylindrical structure, its surface smooth and reflective.
They passed through one last set of security right in front of the elevator.
“Sorry, this gate’s new,” Sydney said. “We had several added after some Orange Alerts last year.” Then she nodded in the direction of the clothing on display. “Welcome to the House of Panacea. Here, our highly specialized tailors create everything we need to wear on each of our expeditions.”
Winter looked around incredulously, then toward the windows lining the walls. Through them, he could see the rain starting to come down outside.
“No one has ever asked questions about a mysterious fashion house located inside a luxury hotel?” he asked.
“Not when they can’t see it,” Sydney told him as they went. “Those aren’t windows. They’re double-sided screens.”
Winter blinked at her. “Screens?”
“We commissioned them from Henka Games.” Sydney led him over to the windows, then ran her finger against what appeared to be a windowpane. “Embedded in the wall right above each window is a near-microscopic camera that sends a live video feed of the outside world to this screen. It makes it look like you’re staring out at the street, but you’re actually watching a video stream. From the outside, people looking in through what they think are windows are seeing live video from a staged floor we have set up at the top of the building. To them, this floor looks like the interiors of hotel suites. It’s more challenging than it looks, as it needs to adjust the scenery for depth, depending on where you’re standing.” She grinned at him in a way that made his heart leap. “But it fooled you, didn’t it?”
“It absolutely did,” he murmured, admiring the screen. Even this close to it, even knowing what he did, he couldn’t make out the pixels. The resolution must have been so high that he couldn’t discern the difference. A shiver of fear and delight ran down his spine. Maybe it wouldn’t matter how many times he visited Panacea. They would find a way to surprise him every time.
“Well. Look who the Jackal dragged in.”
Sydney and Winter turned their heads in unison at a woman dressed in a buttery yellow hijab and a vest suit with trousers.
Sauda Nazari, Winter thought immediately, one of Panacea’s mission directors. She was tall and dark and willowy, almost delicate, but when she reached them and shook Winter’s hand, her grip belied her strength.
“Let me cut to the chase—I didn’t expect to ever call you again after London,” Sauda continued. “But here we are.”
Winter couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her. “Didn’t think I caused enough trouble last time, Ms. Nazari?”
Sauda raised an eyebrow at him, but a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “I suppose we concluded that your help is worth the potential damage,” she answered. She released his hand and waved him forward.“Come. Niall is already complaining about being pulled away from one of his projects for our meeting today.”
As they followed in her wake, Sydney walked closer to Winter and nudged him gently with her shoulder. “Not a word about his beard.”
They passed the rows of clothing on display before they reached the cylindrical structure in the center of the room. Sauda pressed her hand against its side.
The curved wall rotated, and a door slid open, revealing an interior that looked like a polished fitting room. A series of suits hung on a rack against one end of the space, while the other had an elevated dais surrounded by mirrors.
Inside stood a big, burly man in a burgundy-colored suit, his brows thick and furrowed as if he were ready to start an argument. The man looked over at them from where he was busy arranging several of the outfits hanging on the rack.
“Finally,” he grumbled, his voice matching the low, grating sound of thunder coming from outside. “Welcome back, Mr. Young.”
Winter’s eyes went straight to the man’s broad, smooth chin. “You’re… clean-shaven,” he commented instinctively.
