Outside, the birdsong from the trees on the street is temporarily drowned out by the sound of a car pulling up out front. I glance out the window briefly and then do a double take, appalled. It’s Jake, getting out of the driver’s seat and strolling up to his own front door. Quickly, I open the notebook—the picture is of Caitlin—probably the same photo he showed Kit. Her face is covered with a scarf, up to the eyes, but that doesn’t seem to have helped disguise her from Jake; amid the densely scrawled handwriting on the well-thumbed pages is her real name printed out in block capitals. I snap a photo of the page, then put the notebook back where it was. Downstairs, the front door opens and closes. The low tones of Jake’s voice greeting the cleaner float up to me. I open the door, just a crack, but all it reveals is the sound of Jake’s footsteps tramping lightly up the steps.
I close the door and think. If I come out, pretending I couldn’t find the bathroom, it would look like I’m worthy of suspicion, incredibly stupid, or both. It would also mean that Jake would get a good look at me—and he has seen me once before, at the Cameroon embassy with Peggy. Even while I’m having this internal flash debate, I’ve lifted the window frame. I’m on the second floor, but there are substantial wisteria branches clinging to the redbrick walls, crawling high up the house. I step out the window and use the branches to slow my tumble down into the front garden. Regaining my footing, I stride as fast as I can out the garden gate and across the road to my van.
I fumble the key into the ignition. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, I breathe, calming my racing heartbeat. The engine turns over and I pull out into the road. Using my rearview mirror, I cast a look back at the house. The open window of the study slams down hard, giving me just a glimpse of Jake, still standing behind it. I bang a fist on the steering wheel and curse under my breath. I get the sinking feeling that Jake made it upstairs in plenty of time to watch me go.
15
“EXPLAIN THAT TO ME AGAIN,” Li says.
We are in the situation room, and while I sit squirming in my chair, Li gets up and paces the length of the table, pausing only to look down at me like an empress deciding whether to behead a displeasing subject.
“Which part?” I mutter.
Beside me, I feel Caitlin shift, feeling bad for me. Across the table, Thomas studies his nails and Amber keeps tapping on her computer, trying to give the impression she’s not even listening to this semi-interrogation.
“The part where you stayed in the house long enough that the reporter who is investigating everyone around you saw you jump out of his window and drive off,” Li snaps.
“He didn’t see me jump,” I protest. “By the time he got a glimpse of me, if he did, I was getting in the van.”
Li takes a breath in through her nose, holds it for a few seconds, and then lets it out through her mouth. It’s a relaxation technique she’s recommended to all of us over time. It doesn’t seem to be helping her a huge amount just at the moment.
“At least he didn’t call the police,” Amber chips in, trying to be helpful.
Li rounds on her. “I think that what you mean,” she says savagely, “is that Jake didn’t call the police from his study, where we have a bug listening to the room. We don’t have a tap on his home phone. He could have called them from there.”
I swallow. I highly doubt Jake did call the police, and anyway the van I used is off the road now, spirited away to wherever it came from. It’s probably newly spray-painted already. But I don’t feel that Li is in the right mood for me to share these uplifting thoughts with her at this exact point in time.
Thomas chimes in: “To be fair, Li, I should have figured out that Jake was on the move. He didn’t follow the schedule in his calendar, and I should have kept closer tabs. . . .” It’s sweet of him to try to take some of the blame and help me out. But Li’s not interested.
“Anyway,” I say, mounting my defense. “I stayed back so I could find out what he has on Caitlin. And he has her name. That’s important for us to know, isn’t it?”
Li just holds up a tired hand as if to stop my stream of thought as she sits down next to Amber.
“That is not all he knows,” she states. “Thomas has done a quick analysis of the photos you brought back from Jake’s house.”
Relieved that we’re moving on, Thomas sits up straighter, bringing up his presentation on Jake so that it fills the expansive screen before us. First up is a slide with head shots of the six of us—the three Athena founders, and the three Athena agents. Colored arrows move between the photos in unfathomable ways that remind me of the chaos of Mumbai’s traffic.
“Green arrows indicate the connections Jake has already made between members of Athena. For instance, between Kit and Peggy.”
“What are the yellow arrows?” Caitlin asks.
“These are connections Jake could make soon with the right intel. For example, he saw Jessie outside the Cameroon embassy with Peggy, but may not have remembered yet or thought it important. He also has your name, Caitlin. You may show up as Peggy’s assistant during your stint at the US embassy, and most certainly your military experience will be clear.”
He goes on to a more complex graph of our missions and Jake’s findings. Li rubs at
