Shadows and Secrets
She approached the heavy oak doors of the cathedral, her structured brown handbag swaying slightly at her side. No one stopped her. No one dared. Vera didn’t offer greetings or eye contact, though she noted everyone and everything. She always did.
In the vaulted sanctuary, a man in a dark trench coat was waiting under the stained glass depiction of St. Gabriel. The colorful light filtering through the panes fell upon his face, highlighting the deep furrow in his brow. James Hadley leaned forward slightly in his chair when Vera entered.
“You’re late,” he muttered as she sat down across from him, her expression untroubled.
“I don’t do late,” she replied, her voice smooth, with just a touch of cool reproach. From her bag, she removed a folded envelope sealed with an elegant wax stamp. Sliding it across the old wooden table between them, she crossed her legs, leather creaking softly. “It’s all there.”
The Plan Unfolds
James opened the envelope, his hands almost trembling, though his voice was level. “And you’re sure this will work?”
“It has to,” Vera said, leaning back into the pew. “The Syndicate isn’t known for forgiving mistakes. Either we do this cleanly, or we disappear for good.”
The envelope contained blueprints, coded sequences, and one photograph. James held the photo up, his jaw tightening. It was a faded picture of a girl—no more than twelve—in an oversized wool sweater, gazing up from a book with wide, curious eyes.
“She’s our key,” Vera said, watching him closely.
“She’s a child,” James protested.
“Not anymore,” Vera countered, her gaze steely. “She’s grown now. And if we don’t find her, they’ll find us. Besides, she’s not as innocent as you’re imagining. The girl is dangerous. She may not even want to be saved.”
The Storm Within
James stared at the picture in silence, a muscle flickering in his jaw. He had questions—countless questions—but Vera wasn’t the type to offer answers freely. Not when time was ticking down for both of them. Vera rose, her coat billowing slightly as she moved toward the cathedral door.
“Where are you going?” James called after her.
“To find her,” she said curtly. “Meet me at the rendezvous point at midnight. And, James?”
He looked up from the table, sensing the weight of her next words. “Don’t make me regret involving you.”
The Streets Hold Their Secrets
Back in the city streets, Vera blended with the crowd once more. Her pulse was steady, her bearing unshaken, but inside her mind was a storm. She replayed the warnings, the plans, the risks. She thought of James—the way his hands shook slightly as he held the photograph—and wondered if he was really up for the task.
And then she thought of the girl. The face was burned into Vera’s memory. The way the child had smiled all those years ago, burying a shard of glass in the rib cage of her handler. Dangerous wasn’t a strong enough word.
Pulling her coat tighter around herself, Vera turned a corner, her eyes scanning every shadow. The Syndicate wanted their pawn back, but what no one seemed to realize was that pawns could become queens. That’s exactly what Vera was counting on.
Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.
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