A blindingly bright flare burst from the tip of the pen, drenching the room in light.
“You’ll each get one,” Niall said, twisting the pen, and the light shut off again. “Keep this on you at all times.” He tucked the pen back into the pocket with a pat.
Winter blinked, still seeing a few spots from the flash. “I could have used a suit like this during the last mission,” he muttered.
“Our apologies,” Sauda replied. “You were only supposed to attenda party last time and get a recording for us. We didn’t think you’d need this.”
Her words sent a ripple of unease through Winter. He turned to look at her. “But I will this time?”
“I’m sure Sydney gave you a brief introduction to what your mission will be,” Sauda said.
Winter glanced at Sydney. “She mentioned this was a rescue.”
“Yes, an extraction. Given the high-profile politicians at this event and the level of security, I think we’d best play it safe and fit you for one of these.”
Best play it safe.Winter turned his eyes back down to the suit and concentrated on the feel of it, not wanting to dwell on Sauda’s words. Safety precautions weren’t new to him, of course—someone had once stabbed him with a knife as a crowd mobbed him outside an after-party, someone had once grabbed his hair and thrown him to the ground, someone had once broken into his home while he was asleep. Over time, Claire had nearly perfected the art of keeping him safe, everything from placing the right number of bodyguards in a location to getting him in and out of buildings with top speed and secrecy.
But compared to this, his usual security tactics seemed like child’s play. Keeping someone from grabbing his hair was a far cry from fitting him into a literal suit of armor and sending him into the middle of a political battlefield.
“You okay?” Sydney asked, peering at him.
He frowned. “I’m doing so great. Please tell me more about the imminent and immediate danger we’re heading into face-first.”
Sydney folded her arms, unbothered, and turned to Sauda. “Might be a good time to enlighten us both,” she said to the director. “I don’t even know the name of the operative we’re rescuing.”
Sauda exchanged a look with Niall, who gave her a subtle nod.
Sydney frowned. “What?” she asked.
Niall shrugged. “Just tell her,” he said. “Get it over with. Then we’ll move onto everything else.”
Sauda looked at Winter through the mirror, then at Sydney. “Very well,” she said with a sigh. “The agent’s code name is the Arsonist.”
It meant nothing to Winter, but he saw Sydney stiffen.
“You’re kidding,” she murmured.
“I’m not.” Sauda narrowed her eyes at her young ward. “You’ll be extracting Tems Bourton.”
Sydney didn’t say anything more. Instead, her blue eyes darkened into a storm. She pushed away from the curved wall of the fitting room, her eyes flickering briefly to Winter before she stalked out of the space, slamming the door behind her.
“Give her a second,” Sauda said to Niall.
“I know,” Niall answered.
The unease Winter felt quickly congealed into dread. He turned around on the dais and gave Sauda a curious frown. “Why’d she do that?” he asked.
Sauda looked in the direction Sydney had gone. “You would, too,” she replied, “if you were just ordered to rescue your ex.”
6Bad Diplomacy
The Arsonist.
The name echoed in Sydney’s mind as she marched out of the room. She had been the one to suggest it for Tems, back when they’d graduated from Panacea’s training program and he’d completed his first mission. It had been an escapade that ended with him setting alight an entire freight train in the middle of a midnight field, an inferno so bright that the snaking flames could be seen from space.
You should name him the Arsonist,she’d said sarcastically to Sauda.He follows orders about as well as a wildfire does.
It had stuck. And then Sydney hadn’t seen him again until three years later, when they were both stationed briefly in Stockholm, Sweden, and Niall had assigned her as his partner.
