“Who were they?” Winter asked. “What did they look like?”
“White,” Dameon replied. “They definitely weren’t from Singapore.”
“What accent did they have?”
And this time, when Dameon answered, Winter felt the ground beneath him shift.
“American.”
Americans.Winter’s stomach felt hollowed out. Why would Americans want Sydney dead? Why would Americans be after Panacea, after Niall? Dameon had said they were reporting to an agency. Who were they with?
His mind flashed to the moment when the police officer had told him about the CIA. How they had been cooperating with the Singaporean government, but not with Tems. How Tems couldn’t reach them.
“Did you see where those men went?” Winter said.
Dameon crossed his arms. “They took a black car to the gala you attended. I tried calling you, but by then, the entire lockdown had happened, and I couldn’t get through. No one could, except Gavi.” He held up his hands as Winter opened his mouth. “So when I’m asking you what you know, it’s because I can’t help you without knowing. Whatever it is that you’re involved in—your bodyguard, whoever she really is, is in danger, and so are you.” He lowered his voice. “And that doesn’t sit so well with me.”
Winter closed his eyes. Looked back out at the airfield, to where he finally saw a cloud of smoke approaching from a distance. It was Sydney, and she was on a motorcycle. He took a deep breath.
“You want to know the truth?” he said, looking back at Dameon. “Well, you’re about to find out.”
28New Enemies and Allies
The first thing Sydney felt as she approached the airfield was an overwhelming sense of relief. From the road, she could see the jet that Claire had commissioned for them, ready to take off whenever they were. But more importantly, she could see the unmistakable outline of Winter’s figure waiting there, his face turned in her direction.
At least he had made it. At least he was safe.
The second thing she felt, though, was a prickling sensation that something monumental had shifted—because her gaze shot to the figure standing next to Winter. It was Dameon. And from his posture, he looked like he was expecting her.
When she slowed her motorbike to a stop in front of Winter, he walked up to her immediately, his eyes still searching.
“Are you hurt?” he said as she climbed off. Then, “Where’s Tems?”
She shook her head to both questions and gave him a meaningful look before staring at Dameon.
“Glad you’ve made it,” she said to him.
“Even more glad that you did,” he replied, his arms still crossed as he surveyed her warily.
Sydney looked back at Winter. He gave her a pointed expression that told her everything she needed to know.
Her cover had been compromised.
“I don’t know everything,” Dameon said before she could speak again. “But I know enough. Your real name’s Sydney Cossette. You’re some kind of undercover agent, and you’re here because you’re working with Winter on something big, something that had to do with the president’s assassination.” He held his hands up. “I don’t need more. And I’m not going to talk. But I’m here to tell you that your lives are in danger in more ways than you think.”
She glared at Winter, who shook his head. “I didn’t tell him,” he said. “He learned your name on his own—because he overheard someone saying it in the lobby of our hotel.”
She hadn’t expected that. “What?”
“Americans,” Winter added quietly.
He explained the rest. And as the story unfurled, as Winter told her about the CIA’s early involvement, the men who had been speaking in the lobby, Sydney felt as if something cold and terrible had pooled in the pit of her stomach, a sheet of ice that turned everything upside down, that drowned everything she thought she had known about this mission.
“What if this is true?” Winter said in a low voice. “What if our own government is behind this assassination plot?”
Their own government, assassinating their own president. Americans, killing Niall. Americans, trying to kill her. If this was true, then this had just become a more ominous case than any of them had dared to fear.
Did it mean the CIA was behind it? Sydney couldn’t begin to fathom that idea. Her mind spun frantically.
