Page 61 of Rogue Hope
She stared at the ceiling, listening to Finn moving quietly in the other room. The steady, methodical sounds of a professional preparing for deployment. Familiar. Unsettling.
The truth waited somewhere in Singapore with Shen Feng.
She rolled onto her side, curling around the hollow ache in her chest that had nothing to do with her disease. What terrified her wasn’t the potential danger ahead, but the realization that her heart was once again in play where Finn was concerned.
32
Dawn creptthrough the cabin windows as Finn laid out their equipment. Two burner phones, SIM cards separate. False credentials. Signal jammers. Cash in three currencies. His wooden cross tapped against his chest as he leaned forward, inspecting each item.
Two made his heart literally soar: a laser pointer, suitable for a college professor, that doubled as a means to disable security cams, and his favorite, a signal jammer disguised as a power bank or portable charger.
He lifted a prayer of thanks for the dedicated beast that was Christian Murphy.
Zara emerged from the bathroom, carrying Christian’s specialized makeup kit. “Found Murphy’s disguise stash. The man’s more well stocked than a theatrical supply store.”
She set the kit on the table with a soft thud. “Our academic cover needs work. Facial recognition at Changi airport is top-tier.”
Finn glanced up. “What’s your thinking?”
“Age up.”
She flipped open the kit, revealing an array of specialized prosthetics, creams, and implements. “Nobody looks twice at older travelers. We become functionally invisible.”
“Hiding in plain sight. Smart.”
“I learned it from Harrison.” She pulled out small containers of latex, spirit gum, and specialized cream. “He called it the ‘gray advantage.’ Young agents try too hard to blend in—they try to perform anonymity. Older people naturally have it.”
She held up a small pot of specialized foundation. “This adjusts skin texture—creates convincing age spots and fine wrinkles that catch light naturally. Plus, that shiner is fading, but it’s still a no-go.”
She demonstrated, dabbing it along her hairline then blending it outward with a specialized sponge. The transformation was subtle but effective—skin that had appeared smooth now showed the slight crepe texture of someone fifteen years older.
“Come here,” she ordered, gesturing to the chair across from her.
Finn settled in, oddly comfortable with her proximity as she leaned close, studying his face with clinical detachment.
“Silver at the temples,” she decided, reaching for a small bottle. “And we’ll thicken your brows—people notice the wrong brows more than they notice the wrong face.”
She worked quickly, applying the temporary dye to his hair in strategic patches. The cool liquid tingled against his scalp.
“The secret,” she explained, dabbing spirit gum along his laugh lines, “isn’t dramatic disguise. It’s shifting perception just enough that facial recognition algorithms fail their first pass. After that, human operators rarely look further.”
Her touch was cool. Soft. Ever so delicate around his bruised eye.
She applied a thin layer of latex to his cheekbones, aging him subtly by emphasizing hollows that were still decades off.
“Where’d you learn this level of detail?”
“Taipei, the year I got assigned to work with Ronan’s SEAL team.” She blended the edges of the latex with expert strokes. “Harrison sent me for specialized training. The instructor was former Taiwanese intelligence—seventy years old and could transform herself into a forty-something mom in under forty minutes.”
Finn raised an eyebrow, earning a sharp tap from her finger.
“Hold still.” She added a touch of makeup that dulled the natural sheen of his skin. “Murphy keeps the good stuff. This is military-grade—developed for deep cover operatives. Withstands heat, humidity, even swimming.”
She handed him a small mirror. The man staring back was undeniably him, yet different—academic, slightly worn, unremarkable.
But twenty years older.
“Impressive,” he admitted.
