“You have to disentangle yourself from this, Corin.”
Slade’s words hung between them in the cold, bland room inside the Bazaar. Timony had never heard Slade use her first name like that. It felt weird. Fake. Calculating.
“Disengage from Adan and Osman being murdered?” Timony said, tilting her head slightly, as if to get a clearer view of a strange object. “Are you not hearing what you just said?”
Slade sighed. Timony watched as her former colleague—former student—paced around the room, her eyes on the ground. Timony knew Slade. Knew her better than most anyone. She was a potent mix of by-the-book and just plain talented, the perfect combination for someone looking to climb the ranks and become more than a soldier or middle manager of spycraft.
But this was a side she’d never seen. Slade was conflicted—still processing what was going on—and Timony could see the wheels turning in her mind. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Yes, Adan was murdered,” Slade said, as if speaking the words to herself for the first time—as if she was also learning this truth as Timony did. “But you have to leave this alone. There’s no winning going down this hole, okay? I know you’re upset. I know you feel like the Bazaar fucked you over, but you’re just getting deeper and deeper into the shit. There are much bigger things happening, and Adan isn’t one of them. Just let it go.”
“What has you spooked?”
“What?” Slade asked, looking up at Timony.
“You’re scared,” Timony said. “And I have never seen you scared. You’re the one who makes other people scared. But something is going on and it has you shaking. What in the world could do that?”
Slade leaned over the long table that stood between her and Timony.
“I don’t have answers on Adan,” she said. “I wish I did, if only to just get you off my back. All I have are my suspicions, which are worthless without evidence. You know that. You’re not that far gone.”
Far gone. It was the kind of language they’d used together in the past to describe an agent who’d lost their way. Not a traitor, but someone who’d spiraled so far into a role, into an assignment, that they’d forgotten the mission and who they were. They’d become the cover.
Except Timony didn’t have cover. She was just lost.
She didn’t like that feeling.
“Tell me your suspicions,” Timony said. She felt a weakness in her voice. A slight desperation. “And let me confirm them.”
Slade caught the crack in Timony’s voice, too. Saw a flash of empathy on Slade’s face. It didn’t help. It made Timony feel even lesser, like a broken agent desperate to recapture the glory days. A washed-up prizefighter desperate for one more shot at the champ.
Slade cleared her throat.
“I think it’s the Chinese,” Slade said, each word dripping out of her mouth slowly. “Adan was a US pilot. It follows that with him gone, they could slot in their own pilot. They weren’t counting on your friend Carriles. Honestly, I don’t think anyone was. He’s the wild card. Somehow, someone got him in there, and it threw everything off.”
The opposite of what Chen told her.
He could have been lying. But there was something about Slade’s words that felt a little too tidy, so she followed a hunch.
“Don’t bullshit me,” Timony said. “Adan is part of it. Of all the anomalies related to the Mosaic—the distress signal, whatever’s going on with the Russians . . . he was the first.”
“What does it even matter?” Slade asked. “Dead is dead.”
Timony slammed her fist on the table. “I’m not going to sit around and do nothing.”
Slade scoffed.
“Guess you haven’t changed that much.”
Timony looked down. She felt a slight smile forming on her face.
“I’ll always be me.”
“Then let me finish,” Slade said as Timony looked up. “Follow my thought. So, China takes out Adan. In comes Carriles. Problem for everyone. Let’s step back to Adan. Who clued China in that Adan had to go? Who had enough intel to be problematic for the US side? Who had a grudge?”
Timony let out a humorless laugh.
There it was. The hammer dropping. Timony was so wrapped up trying to figure out who was involved in Adan’s death—and, in turn, everything else, she didn’t stop to think that people might be thinking the same thing about her.
“You can’t be serious?”
Slade raised an eyebrow as she stepped closer to Timony.
“You’d think the same thing if you were in my shoes. What’s the old line from Sherlock Holmes?”
“If you eliminate the impossible, no matter how improbable, or whatever? That’s the truth.”
“Right,” Slade said.
“You think just because I got demoted I would betray everything I’d worked toward—immediately? Just scorch my entire life over some grudges?” Timony asked. “Look, this business is messy. We make tough choices every damn day. But our fallback is we’re doing the right thing, the right way. Our side is making the tough choices to survive. That’s not something you just shrug off because you’re sad. You know me better than that.”
Slade shrugged. Timony had made her point.
“The Russians don’t know what’s going on either,” Timony said. She was handing over a treat, a little nugget for Slade to chew on. But it was just out of reach. It was a show of goodwill, but it was also something else. Timony needed to get out, and this was her ticket.
Slade stepped closer. “What happened?”
“I was being followed by a Russian agent,” Timony said. “That agent was murdered right before my eyes. Whoever he was, he wanted to know what I knew about the Mosaic. He knew something was fucked on that ship—knew something bad was happening. And he basically confirmed that the Russians had no idea what to do. Politically, this is bad for them. China and the US are steering this ship, literally and figuratively. The Russians are flailing a bit. I think they boxed themselves out of something important, or at least they think so.”
Slade crossed her arms. Timony could see her processing the sliver of intel.
“This is bigger than I thought,” Slade said.
“You think?”
Slade looked toward the door, out into the office, mulling it over. Finally, it seemed as though something about what Timony had said seemed to get through to her. Something she didn’t already know. Sometimes that’s all it took: plant the seed of doubt.
“Don’t make me regret this,” Slade said.
Timony didn’t respond. She waited. She knew when to let someone pull themselves along.
“I’m going to forget you were here,” Slade said as she looked Timony over, as if to say, Do you understand? “But you have to return the favor. You have to keep your eyes and ears open for me. Don’t run around half-cocked trying to figure this out on your own, okay? We can work together. You feed me what you know, and I’ll work my angles. I can’t promise you anything—but if this works out, I can put in a good—”
Before Slade could finish, the room went dark.
“The hell?” Slade said.
“The lights—” Timony said.
“I know the lights are out—”
“No, look under the door,” Timony said in a hushed whisper. “The lights are out in the whole office.”
Slade cracked the door open as quietly as she could.
And they both caught sight of small moving lights scanning the floor.
“Get down,” Slade said, and hit the ground. Timony followed suit. She heard Slade sliding her body closer to Timony. Felt Slade’s hand tap her shoulder.
“Listen to that,” Slade whispered. “Listen to them talking.”
Timony did. What she heard froze her in place.
The men were speaking Russian.