Pippa
Tuesday Evening, Day 6
The uncomfortable chair I’m sitting on—the wooden seat pinching and pressing like it has a personal grudge—is a welcome distraction from the discussion about Magnus Troy and his upcoming ostentatious gala. When that distraction ultimately fails, I might try to decide if the smell in Senator Cramden’s chambers is mildew or mold.
Cramden rambles on about the importance of getting face time with certain gala attendees.
I made sure I was on this committee so that I could secure an invitation. In the more than two years since our Predator-in-Chief was elected, I’ve managed to avoid meetings and events where he’d be in attendance. It was easily done since all the other staffers are clamoring for those opportunities. I played into Cramden’s sexist nature to convince him that women (myself included) are great with event planning.Asshole.
With the event one month away, my ability to indulge inconversations about the faux importance of the new ballroom and what it stands for is truly waning. I care more about the delivery method for the poison when I shake President Troy’s hand.
I’ve been testing both a skin contact patch for my palm and a micro-point option on a ring. The capsule method I initially considered has too many risk factors, so I ruled that out last month. Skin delivery has its issues because he’ll be shaking other hands that night and risking transfer seems unnecessary. Even though the formula I created is specific to his medical history (hisrealmedical history, not the bullshit he feeds the press), there are too many old people on similar medications he could accidentally poison. The ring seems increasingly the way to go. I remind myself to test out more needle widths. I have to ensure it goes undetected while also injecting enough poison into the skin.
Unlike other marks we’ve run, the aim is not a delayed reaction. No, we don’t need time to air his dirty laundry—the world knows exactly who this man is.
The plan is for him to have a stroke within thirty minutes of my handshake, at the event. At least it’ll be one last hit to his ego before he dies. The man thinks the world believes he’s in perfect health even though we all have eyes.
I’m trying not to worry about him recognizing me. It’s been seventeen years. I don’t look the same and he has dementia, but the issue keeps Jules and me going back and forth on our plan. She thinks she should be the one to deliver the poison no matter how many times I’ve told her I have to do this.
She just doesn’t want me to have to face this monster again but knows I need to before I can put the island behind me.
“Pippa, does that work?” Senator Cramden’s voice cuts in.
“Yes, of course,” I respond. I have no idea what he said, but I’ve learned that men usually just want you to agree with them.And if that doesn’t work, I just pivot to the role of a silly, dumb girl. Works every time.
“Great. That’s all then, team.” We are dismissed.
I stack my papers neatly and close my laptop, setting both on my desk as I walk into the main bullpen.
I’m meeting Luna and Jules at the warehouse, and I’m already late. Luna has an update to share regarding Hudson.
So much for them leaving us alone. They lasted less than twenty-four hours.
I feel awful. I’m the reason they found us. I obviously had no way of knowing Enzo and Hudson were working together, but that doesn’t change the fact that I led them both to our front door.Literally.
Twenty minutes later, I’m keying in the code at the warehouse.
Click.
The familiar scent of ink, dust, and chemicals hits me as I step inside. Jules and Luna are at the large table Enzo, Hudson, and Niko sat at just last night.
Jules looks my way and smiles in greeting as she continues writing in a notebook. Luna doesn’t look up when I walk in. She’s on her laptop, fingers moving fast, takeout likely cold beside her.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” I set my bag down and slide into the seat next to Luna. “You said you had an update.”
She exhales, closing her laptop halfway. “Two, actually. Let me get through both before we dive into either, okay?” She glances between us.
We agree.
“First one’s about Jonathan Vale.”
Haven’t heard that name in a while.A good friend to Dad and Magnus Troy back in the day. A frequent visitor to Maribel Island. He has stayed behind the scenes this past decade, while hisson, Jackson Vale, has taken center stage in the political arena. He certainly called in those skeletons in Troy’s closet to get his son on the ticket when Troy ran.
“Hudson and Enzo made an offer. They want to hand Vale over. Some kind of gesture of good faith.” She pauses for a beat to let the words settle.
We have every intention of going after the Vale empire after we take care of Troy, but Enzo and Hudson would have no way of knowing that. He wasn’t on any materials they could have seen last night.
“So much for them not approaching us,” Jules mutters.
