Page 85 of Code Name: Reaper
“With you? They always do.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled. “Probably.”
Within an hour, we were researching flights and booking tickets under false identities Reaper maintained for emergencies. The red-eye to Zurich connecting through Geneva would put us in Switzerland by midmorning local time.
“Cash only for everything from here on out,” I said as we prepared to leave the town house. “No digital footprints, nothing that can be traced to the coalition or our real identities.”
When he nodded, I checked my go-bag one final time. Everything I needed to disappear was in it, if it came down to that again.
“I’m going to ask one more time if you’re sure about this approach?”
“Sure or not, I’m doing it.”
The driveto Norfolk International Airport felt longer than usual. Once there, we used all the protocols I had when I was on my own, not wanting to be found. We avoided security cameras as much as possible, paid cash for everything, and were on high alert for any signs we’d been followed or compromised. The late hour worked in our favor; fewer crowds meant fewer potential threats, but it also meant we’d be more visible if someone was looking for us.
“Gate’s this way.” Reaper guided me through the mostly empty terminal.
I kept checking my phone obsessively. No new messages from Mercury. The silence felt ominous, but I told myself she was being careful.
“Any updates?” Reaper asked as we settled into seats at the departure gate.
“Nothing since the location.”
“That bothers me.”
“Everything bothers you.”
“Smart people stay bothered. It keeps them breathing.”
Rather than respond, I kept my mouth shut because, for him, it was pointless. I’d meant what I said; nothing and no one could prevent me from doing this.
The boarding announcement cut through our silence, and we boarded the plane.
The flight seemed endless.Sleep was impossible with my mind racing, replaying everything learned in the past twenty-four hours. My parents had died in what was likely not an accident. Jekyll wasn’t some random British operative—he was my uncle, my mother’s brother. Mercury was connected to them; I just didn’t know how yet.
Reaper leaned into me. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Sleep?”
“As if I could.”
“If you have second thoughts, we can also get a flight out as soon as we land.”
“Don’t,” I repeated.
He reached over and squeezed my hand.
By the timewe landed in Geneva and collected our rental car, I was running on adrenaline and determination. The drive through the Swiss countryside should have been calming—rolling hills, pristine lakes, picture-perfect villages. It wasn’t.
We reached Lausanne shortly after eleven hundred hours. The city sprawled along the northern shore of Lake Geneva, a mixture of medieval architecture and modern buildings rising in tiers up the surrounding hills. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated its beauty.
My phone buzzed with a new alert as we navigated through the city center.Hotel de la Paix lobby bar. Rear left table.
Reaper found parking, and we entered the hotel. The lobby bar was dimly lit, with scattered leather armchairs and quiet conversation. I spotted the corner table immediately—two men with clear sight lines to all entrances. No Mercury.
The older of them appeared to be in his mid- to late fifties, silver threading through his dark hair. His posture was relaxed but alert. His squared shoulders spoke of military training that had become second nature.
