The night feels alive as I head back to my villa. I break into a jog, the tension of the evening urging me forward. Back to my son, to Mulberry, to the life I wish was enough for me.
I need to give that up—I am so sick of wanting to be different. Wanting to be a toned-down, more “normal” version of myself. Blue’s nose brushes my hip, pulling me out of my head.
Insects chorus in the lush vegetation—a wall of waving black in the night. The sliver of moon grins at me, stars sparkling all around it. I’m nothing but stardust. That truth is hard to believe when my body is electric with sensation and the city of New York lies dark under the same sky.
I push into my villa; the lights are off, the furniture shadows in the dark. A figure stirs on the balcony and Mulberry steps inside—a silhouette against the pale light of the night.
Crossing to him, I pick up speed. He opens his arms and I rush into them. He grunts with the impact and takes a small step back. “Good to see you too,” he murmurs, leaning his head down to rest against mine.
“New York City is in a blackout.”
“I know. Rebecca says it could be one of Dan’s zero days. We are setting up an emergency council meeting. She wanted an hour to gather more information.”
“Simon said it was one of Dan’s. He promised he didn’t sell it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Not enough to let him out of his room.” Mulberry huffs a laugh, his big hand rubbing up and down my spine, comforting me. “But I don’t think he did this…” Mulberry waits, letting the silence stretch, letting me sort out my thoughts. “I want to trust him. I want to have been right about him. But I really don’t want to be wrong. Fool me once and all that jazz.”
“I don’t think he would ever do anything to hurt James or you.”
“What about everybody else?”
Mulberry takes a deep breath. “I think loyalty is new for him. He’s used to taking action for a paycheck. I looked at his file—the one Rebecca shared. He is a master of deception, a military Black Ops recruit trained by the CIA. He set up his own shop about ten years ago. Worked off word of mouth, and he wasn’t easy to find. As you can imagine.” Mulberry chuckles at his own joke.
“Your dad gene has officially turned on,” I say. He laughs harder. “Simon said he didn’t lie on his application.”
“He left some things off. His moniker, the Chameleon, for example, wasn’t on there. He has a lot of different identities, but it looks like he showed us the one that is really him. We have his birth certificate.”
“He could fake that.”
“I doubt well enough to fool Rebecca’s team. He kept up a line of legitimate work under his real name. Smart.”
I groan. “First Merl and Rebecca, now you.” I pull back. “Why are you all so impressed by him?”
Mulberry shrugs. “Because he’s impressive.”
I turn away from him and cross to the kitchen, opening a cabinet for a glass. Mulberry takes a seat at the bar. When I open the fridge its bright white light throws long shadows—cartoonish stalking villains springing from every object. Pulling out the pitcher of filtered water, I close it again, sinking us into a deeper darkness. Bright light only makes things harder to see when it leaves.
“Should I call Daniela and ask if she can hang out here in case James wakes up while we go to the council meeting?” Mulberry asks as I fill my glass. I turn to him, sipping it. I nod again even as unease tries to steal up my spine—the long shadow of a life filled with loss.
An hour later we are crammed into Merl’s office, Daniela at home with James and the dogs. So I’m here dog-less. Which is a weird feeling. As we walked over it felt like I was missing a limb. But I wanted as much protection for James as possible.
I’m seated between Anita and Mulberry with Merl by the door—his three dogs lying on the floor—and Rebecca on the screen, a white wall behind her. She is in Laos at our new operations center. Rebecca’s hair is trimmed short and she's wearing a button-down white shirt rather than the t-shirt uniform she seemed to rock along with everyone else on the island. She sips from a giant black mug with the words Troll Magnet written on it in ornate gold letters.
We wait in a tense silence for Lenox, a sex worker from Senegal whose expertise in human trafficking and sex slavery has been vital to Joyful Justice’s operations in those sectors. Rebecca’s focus is on another screen, her eyes scanning.
Lenox’s black box lights—he comes into focus. He’s sitting on a gray velvet sofa, wearing a black shirt, the gold chain around his neck glimmering against his dark skin. He’s in Paris where it’s morning. “Good morning, afternoon, and evening,” he says, referencing all the time zones represented on the call. His Senegalese accent makes the greeting melodic.
Rebecca starts in. “I can’t tie this blackout to Richard Chiles with a neat little bow, but if he isn’t the root of this then I’m a pumpkin.” She glares through the screen. The woman is no pumpkin.
“How did Richard get the zero day?” I ask.
Rebecca’s lips thin. “I’m not sure. It’s possible another hacker found it.”
“You don’t look like you believe that,” Merl points out.
Rebecca sighs, rubs the bridge of her nose, and sits back in her chair. “Richard or one of his allies must have gotten it from Dan.” She holds up a hand as if to ward off any protests. “I don’t mean he knowingly gave them a weapon; it’s possible he told them about it because he was worried someone else would find and use it. And then they used his intel to cause the blackout instead of patching the hole.”
“Why would Richard Chiles want to put New York into a blackout?” I ask. “He’s a ruthless dickhole, but what’s he get out of this?”
Rebecca huffs a laugh. “Ruthless dickhole, that’s good.” She sips from her Troll Magnet mug. “The primaries are wide open right now for the next presidential election and his strongest opponent is the governor of New York—Dirk Falcon.”
Dirk Falcon? What the fuck kind of name is that?
“That could backfire,” Mulberry says. “If Falcon handles this with any kind of grace it will show him to be a leader in a time of need. Remember how much Giuliani went up in the nation’s esteem after 9-11?”
Anita sits forward. “It could be spun in a lot of different ways—certainly a savvy politician like Richard Chiles could use this to his advantage, playing on his national security credentials, but so could Dirk Falcon. Either way, it will be delicate to navigate. Unless Falcon is found to be culpable in some way.”
“There could be another reason,” Mulberry says. “Chiles knows we know about him. He must assume we would be trying to harm him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to pin this on us.”
“Very possible,” Anita agrees.
“That makes sense,” Merl says.
“Fucking bastard. I need to call Declan.” Words I never thought I’d say.
“I think this means we also need to redouble our efforts to find Dan,” Merl says, his brow knitted. “Having him in the wind is dangerous for everyone—clearly.”
My chest tightens at the thought of the city I love sunk into darkness. “Rebecca, what’s the best way for me to call Declan?”
“Merl’s landline,” she answers. “It’s very secure.”
My gaze drops to where it sits on the desk. “What do you plan to say?” Mulberry asks, his tone way too neutral, as if he knows I’m an unexploded mine and he doesn’t want to step on me. I’ve already cost the man one leg.
“I’m going to say we have intel linking Richard Chiles to this attack. Can you send him something of that nature?” I ask Rebecca. She nods. “I’m also going to ask if he’s heard anything about it being tied to Joyful Justice.”
“Sounds good,” Merl says.
I stand to cross the narrow space and pick up the phone, leaning on the desk and putting it on speaker. Rebecca reads me Declan’s number at the hotel. It rings. A woman answers. “Hello?” She sounds sleepy.
“Hi,” I say. “This is Declan’s sister. Is he there? It’s a family emergency.”
“He stepped out to take a call.” She’s sounding more awake…and more like Red. The hall monitor and the white knight…how romantic. I love that for both of them. But poor Freckles.
Another woman’s voice behind Red asks, “Is everything okay?” Oh damn, Freckles is there too.
“It’s his sister,” Red says.
“Didn’t we meet her?” Freckles’s voice is faint but clear.
There is more noise in the background. “Your sister is on the phone,” Red says.
Declan’s voice comes on moments later. “Hey sis,” he says. “I’ve got company.”
“I heard,” I say, a note of teasing in my voice. “When will you be free to talk?”
“Depends on what you have to say.”
“It’s about Uncle Dick, he’s up to no good. Got blackout drunk again and did something stupid.”
“Uncle Dick?” Declan says. “He blacked out?” I’m assuming we are talking in the same code here. Richard Chiles is involved in the New York City blackout. “How did you hear?”
“I got an email,” I say. “Cousin Dan left his whiskey out, and you know how Dick can’t resist a drink.”
Silence falls for a long moment. “I’m heading back tomorrow. Email me details, and I can talk to you in the morning.”
“Have you heard anything about Aunt Joy—is Uncle Dick trying to blame this on her?”
“Something like that,” Declan grumbles, his tone dark. I meet Mulberry’s gaze. His eyes tell me he’s hearing it too. Declan was told it was us and doesn’t believe it.
“Talk to you tomorrow, bro.”
“Can’t wait, sis.”
I return the handset to its cradle, disconnecting the call. No one says anything for a long moment. A plan starts to bloom in my mind.
“We need to let Richard Chiles know that fucking with us is the last mistake he will ever make,” I say, looking up at Rebecca. She’s frowning. No one else jumps in to agree or disagree. The plan starts to coalesce as I scan the rest of the council. They all wear grim expressions—they know I’m right. “I’m going to teach him.”
Mulberry’s eyes narrow. “You’re the worst person for the job.” His voice is gentler than his words.
“I’m actually really good at scaring the crap out of powerful men,” I remind him.
“You can’t leave James that long.”
“I’ll take him.” I smile sweetly at Mulberry.
“Any number of Joyful Justice members could execute this instead.”
My spine stiffens. “Why?”
“Why what?” Mulberry’s gaze turns wary. He can see he’s pissed me off but isn’t totally sure which part of his statement has me staring daggers at him.
“Why should someone else risk their life instead of me?”
He swallows. “Sydney...”
“Because I’m a mother?” Mulberry blinks at me, clearly afraid to speak or move, my rage filling the room. Merl looks over at him with sympathy in his gaze.
I wait.
Mulberry swallows. “Zerzan doesn’t let mothers on her team.” Mulberry references our friend, a Kurdish fighter who leads a squad of all women. All childless women.
“You think Zerzan wouldn’t let me fight by her side?”
His lips press together. “I think you have responsibilities others don’t.”
“That’s right, Mulberry.” I take a step toward him. He’s sitting and I’m standing, so he has to tilt his chin to maintain eye contact. “I’m responsible for the future of this world because I’ve got a son whose going to grow up into it. If mothers won’t fight for a better future for our children, then who will?”
“There are lots of people on our team who could...” His voice fades. He takes a breath, runs his hand through his hair. “It doesn’t make you weaker. Just...”
“I’m not spending my life in a bubble.”
“I’m not saying live in a bubble. I’m just saying don’t go after dangerous men, giving them an excuse to kill you.”
The smile that breaks across my face feels absolutely wicked. “I’m not going after him. He’s going to come to me.”
“How?” Merl asks, his head cocking the other direction.
“I’m going to lure him in with something he wants to keep safe. Something he needs.”
“What?” Mulberry asks.
“Robert Fucking Maxim.”