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She releases me with a sigh then she pulls me close again. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear, then she nods to the shore.

I carry her to the house.

Inside, she showers while I fix a simple meal of canned soup and olives.

After we eat, she takes a Valium, and lies down in the bedroom.

A move of desperation or trust or a setup.

I’m honestly not sure.

So I wait an hour. I keep watch in silence. I watch as the waves lap at the shore and the sun rises in the sky.

Finally, I open the laptop. I unlock it with the password Yorgos scribbled in a notebook in his locked desk drawer.

The files for Olympus are hidden, but it only takes a few clicks to find them.

And then I have it.

The real names, photographs, and passport numbers of a few dozen people in the organization. Plus routing numbers, fake identities, birthdates, blood types, health conditions.

Everything an admin needs.

Everything I need to indict Jamie, her co-workers, and her boss.

It’s funny, to finally see her real name.

Jamie Collins

It doesn’t suit her. It’s too plain.

But it’s so fucking Jamie, for her to keep her first name. Like that tattoo on her thigh. What kind of spy has a memorable tattoo that’s on display half the year?

One who would die before she left a job limit her freedom.

My lips curl into a smile. She’s so unapologetically herself. Even when she’s pretending to be someone else.

I let my feelings simmer as I do what I need to do with the information.

Then I open Pandora’s box.

I unlock her phone. (I’ve had her password for days). I open the direct messaging app she uses to talk to her handler.

It’s there, in a complicated series of coded messages.

Then in plain English.

Target: Matteo Locke

Objective: Death

Chapter

Nineteen

MATTEO

For a few minutes, I stare at the screen. I let the information filter into my mind one letter at a time.