Page 94 of Brass
Celeste tries to remove the ring, but I stop her with a gentle hand. “Start getting used to it. We leave in less than twelve hours.”
She nods, the practical journalist reasserting itself. “Right. The cover.”
“The cover,” I agree, though something in her eyes tells me she’s thinking the same thing I am.
Sometimes covers become more real than the lives they replace. Sometimes, the best disguise is the truth you haven’t yet admitted to yourself.
As we join the others for final preparations, I catch Ghost watching us—the way we move together, the unconscious coordination we’ve developed, the small glances we exchange. He gives me a nearly imperceptible nod of approval.
The mission is clear. The plan is set.
Now we just have to die convincingly enough to fool an artificial intelligence with the resources of multiple governments and the authority to kill anyone it perceives as a threat.
No pressure.
THIRTY-TWO
Celeste
The ring feelsstrange on my finger—a weight I’ve never carried before, both physical and symbolic. I twist it absentmindedly as our small convoy winds through the mountains toward the Oregon coast.
It feels like whiplash: Montana to Portland to Montana and now back again.
Ryan drives the lead vehicle, a nondescript SUV provided by Mitzy. I’m in the passenger seat, still processing the insanity of what we’re about to attempt.
“Stop fidgeting with it,” Ryan says without taking his eyes off the winding road. “You’ll need to look natural wearing it when we hit public areas.”
“It feels—foreign,” I admit, forcing my hands to separate. “Like it belongs to someone else.”
“In a way, it does.” His voice carries that matter-of-fact tone he uses when discussing operational details. “Belongs to Celeste Davis. Financial analyst with a background in risk assessment. Recently married to former security consultant Ryan Davis.”
Our cover identities. Our new lives. The people we’re about to become while Celeste Hart and Ryan Ellis die spectacular, public deaths.
“What if this doesn’t work?” I ask, voicing the fear that’s been gnawing at me since we left Ghost’s cabin. “What if Phoenix sees through the deception?”
Ryan’s eyes flick briefly to the rearview mirror, checking the second vehicle where Stitch, Jeb, and Mitzy follow in a van filled with equipment. “Then we move to Plan B.”
“Which is?”
“Something even more desperate and less likely to succeed.” He reaches across the console, his hand covering mine. “But this will work. Stitch doesn’t fail.”
His confidence should reassure me. Instead, I find myself cataloging everything that could go wrong with this plan. Too many variables. Too many potential failure points. The journalist in me can’t help analyzing, questioning, poking at the weak spots.
“Tell me again,” I say, needing to hear it one more time. “Step by step.”
Ryan nods, understanding my need for repetition, for certainty in the details. “We arrive at Cannon Beach as planned. Check into the oceanfront rental under our real names—there’s no point in hiding now that Phoenix has identified us. Surveillance will pick us up within hours if their pattern holds.”
“Then tonight …”
“Tonight we take the boat out—the one Ghost arranged to have waiting for us at the marina. An evening cruise that conveniently passes near some rocky outcroppings with dangerous currents.” His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, the gesture at odds with his clinical recitation. “Meanwhile, Stitch initiates the digital dance—selective data releases to journalists, watchdog groups, and governmentoversight committees. Just enough information about Phoenix to create multiple small fires.”
“While keeping the flash drive’s most explosive content secured,” I finish, still conflicted about this compromise. “Smaller threats to divide Phoenix’s attention.”
“Exactly. Phoenix’s algorithms will recognize the information release, but the distributed nature creates a calculation problem. Each individual leak poses minimal threat compared to us with the original drive.”
“And the explosion?”
Ryan’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Remotely triggered when the boat reaches the designated coordinates. Enough fuel and additional accelerants to ensure spectacular visibility from shore, with specialized compounds that will leave the appropriate chemical signatures in the debris.”
