A pause.
Tav turned to Alistair.
Alistair watched the spreadsheet.
"Someone who might have built a record of everything Cain has done," he said carefully.
"Including the financial structure."
"Someone who is supposedly dead," Tav said.
“Someone who knows exactly how this goes.” Alistair muttered.
Naomi absorbed this.
"But isn't," she said. Neither of them answered.
"I see," she said. She studied the pages spread across the island. "So the financial records are the trail, and the archive is the map, and the two together—"
"Show the full structure," Tav said. "The Protocol. The funding. The cover operations." He looked at her. "Everything that would be needed to take it apart."
Naomi was quiet.
She had the journalist's stillness that arrived when pieces were assembling into a shape she recognized — the focus of someone who understood that they were sitting inside a story that was larger than they'd estimated.
"I want the full story," she said. "When this is over."
"We've told you that," Alistair said.
"I want to say it again so we're clear." She looked at Tav. "Every part of it. Including the parts that reflect badly on the people I'm currently helping."
Tav held her gaze steadily.
"Yes," he said.
"And the Amsterdam account," she said. "I want to follow that thread. When it's safe to follow it."
"When we know where it leads," Tav said.
"Agreed." She straightened the pages and collected them. "There's something else," she said.
They waited.
"The surveillance photographs that were in Voss's office when you were there," she said. "I asked around — carefully — about what was in them."
"You shouldn't have—"
"I was careful," she said. "The photographs were taken from inside the building. Professional equipment, professional positioning. Someone was running parallel surveillance on Voss." She looked up. "But the photographs weren't of Voss."
A pause.
"What were they of?" Alistair asked.
Naomi looked at them.
"You," she said.
The kitchen was very quiet.
