No one else could have seen the way a single muscle at the inner corners of Yardley’s eyes tensed, or known that muscleonlytensed when Yardley was attempting to independently verify one of KC’s claims, like,Of course I wiped down the kitchen counters after I made myself an everything bagel.
At this point, it was starting to seem downright laughable that KC had never guessed Yardley was the Unicorn.
She couldn’t be sure when Yardley would strike. It set her nerves on edge, which meant she had devolved into old patterns whereby she attempted to distract Yardley from whatever bone she was gnawing.
“Is it bad I slept so long? I had no idea I was that tired.” KC unscrewed the top of a water bottle she’d found in a well-stocked mini-kitchen area. “Ordinarily, I’d go for a run now, but obviously that’s not a great idea, as much as I’d like to see the city firsthand instead of through a monitor.” She took a big gulp of water.
“Mm.” Yardley was tapping her knee, thinking.
“Weird that this safe house is an apartment in a regular building. I mean, I knew that’s how it works sometimes, but it was still strange to pass by those kids downstairs.”
Yardley nodded, crossing her legs. Still, terrifyingly, thinking.
“Maybe Iwillgo for a run. Probably there’s a disguise somewhere in here, right?”
“Third floorboard from the front window is hinged. Pull up. There should be a basic street disguise. Better than a ball cap and sunglasses, at any rate.” Yardley crossed her legs the other way.
In a completely different time, place, and life, KC would have stalked her across the room, accused her of brattiness while possibly biting the cap of her shoulder, and a few hours would have passed that culminated in panting, dehydration, and lassitude, as well as full distraction.
She had no idea how to get the Unicorn’s attention without detonating something.
“Or I could just wear this.” KC grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the enormous standalone wardrobe and pulled it on. She’d swapped her flight suit for joggers and a T-shirt before she fell asleep.
Yardley finally looked at her. “It says ‘CIA’ on the back in big yellow letters.”
“Ironic, right? A spy would never. Perfect cover.”
Now Yardley’s expression had shifted, and her attention was fully on KC, but with scary flames in her bright blue eyes. She leaned back and crossed her ankles, holding up her body on forearms like she’d just taken direction from a fashion photographer. “Where would you go if you had to take cover near Stockholm?”
“Hålet,” KC said without hesitation.
“The Hole?” Yardley tipped her head.
The effortless translation reminded KC that the Unicorn was a polyglot. ThatYardleywas a polyglot.
Which, sure. Yardley could accurately and delightfully mimic anyone. But KC had believed that was an artifact of her having survived a childhood without siblings and with an opinionatedmother who obviously adored her but absolutely did not understand her. Maybe childhood was where Yardley’s facility with languages had begun, but clearly there was a great deal more to it than that.
There had been so much more to everything.
It made KC feel hopeless not to be able to turn the clock back and claim the right to a do-over, knowing what they knew now. She wasn’t sure what would happen if they could, but she didn’t think they’d end up like this—suspicious and guarded, afraid of fucking up and getting hurt worse than they already were.
She forced herself to pay attention. The Unicorn was mid-interrogation. One wrong step, and KC could find herself trapped.
“Yeah, the Hole. Hålet. On the E18. Eskilstuna. It looks like every other internet café near a medium-traffic train station, but it’s not. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Where?” Sometime while KC was sleeping, Yardley had changed into a black sweatshirt with a blue-and-yellow-striped heart to represent the Swedish flag, which she must have found in the wardrobe. With the ponytail, she looked like any one of the Swedish millennials they’d seen on the street, walking into a shop or pushing a pram.
“Where have I heard? In the backroom forums, forever. I think I first learned about it when I was fourteen.”
“And it’s still there.” Yardley sat up.
“It still generates a lot of chatter. Questions. Requests. Has its own servers.”
“Why would you go there? If you needed to get gone, it sounds like too many of you know about it. You’d be made instantly.”
“It’s hacker Switzerland. Or, like, a church. You know, sanctuary. It’s always been that way. You don’t sell anyone out who’s in the Hole. It’s never been compromised in that way.”
“But if you walk out the doors?”
