Chapter 7 #2
A shadow crossed Brie’s face, and she put down the phone to pace again. But not before she squeezed my shoulder.
God, I’d missed her.
“Let’s talk sleeping arrangements and public behavior,” Scarlett said, tapping her tablet.
She must have had a long to-do list to work through.
“You’ll need to appear genuinely comfortable with each other.
Casual touches, terms of endearment, inside jokes—all the things that make a marriage believable. ”
“We only need to be convincing, not theatrical,” I offered, watching Brie for her reaction. “Small touches, finishing each other’s sentences—things we already do naturally.”
“We don’t have to be big on PDAs,” said Brie from the mid-cabin. “Plenty of couples aren’t.”
“The most important thing is consistency,” Scarlett emphasized, craning her neck to direct the comment at Brie. “If you’re affectionate in public but completely distant when you don’t think people are watching, staff will notice. Assume there’s at least a camera on you at all times.”
“The bigger concern is communication during working hours,” I said, redirecting to more practical matters. “Once we pass through security screening to the work areas, we won’t have contact with each other or the outside team until our shifts end.”
“Not unless one of your gadgets makes it through,” Emmett pointed out.
“If I need to use Morse code to get out of a situation, we’ve got bigger problems. And the earbuds are simply too risky unless it’s a last resort.”
“Speaking of last resorts,” said Emmett, “what if you do get caught with these things and someone suspects you of spying?”
Brie froze mid-pace.
“Gideon already took care of that with the pen tester layer of our cover story.” I collected my gadgets—as Emmett called them—and stuffed them into my backpack. “If we’re caught, that’s our excuse.”
“Right.” Brie visibly relaxed, resuming her trek toward the back. “But it does mean the mission ends early.”
“But we won’t have another chance at the Fenix servers,” Scarlett added quietly. It sounded less like manipulation when she said it, compared to Auntie Evie. “Or the evidence that might clear Dad’s name. So, try lying first. Make sure you rehearse an excuse every time you do something suspicious.”
Brie’s jaw tightened. Her father’s imprisonment had shaped her entire life, creating the woman she’d become. Evelyn had confessed a lot after our job in Monaco, but Brie hadn’t been ready to tell me everything.
All I’d been told was that Joseph Reynolds had pled guilty to protect his family from threats. Someday, she’d tell me more.
“What about the reconnaissance aspect?” Malcolm asked, drawing my attention back to the conversation. “How do you plan to identify which server belongs to Fenix among thousands?”
Brie and I exchanged a look before she answered.
“We have several data points to work with: the shell company names Mum identified from her investigation into Dad’s case, some suspicious financial records from Gideon’s wife, and the trails we’ve pieced together from our encounters with Fenix in Italy, Monaco, and DC. ”
“But we’re still missing a lot,” I added. “Gideon told us what he knew about the Mnemis systems, but this AI level means the on-site team has been modifying the security protocols independently. I expect we’ll be dealing with unknowns once we’re inside.”
Brie finally sat, taking the seat across the aisle from me. “Once we locate the server, I’ll need at least twenty minutes with direct access to find and extract the data we need and delete Scarlett’s photos.”
I picked up her thought and said, “While I provide a distraction, if necessary, and keep watch while she works.”
As Scarlett and Malcolm refined the light cover they were using for their stay at the resort, I switched to the seat facing Brie. Leaning forward on the table between us, so only she could hear me, I said, “I know you’re nervous, but I promise I’ll watch out for you.”
She put her hand out, and I took it in both of mine. “I’m not worried about that. It’s more about keeping our story straight. I have to remember which parts of our past we’re supposed to pretend didn’t happen and which parts supposedly turned romantic.”
“Let’s approach it like code.” I let go of her and reached across the aisle for my tablet. Quickly sketching a simple network diagram with my stylus, I said, “Our actual history is the foundation layer. The romance element is just a recent overlay we’ve added to the system.”
“Parameters and guardrails,” she muttered, taking the stylus and expanding on my basic concept.
I just watched her. She added decision trees and exception handling protocols to my rudimentary flowchart, enhancing the diagram rather than correcting it.
I’d missed this direct collaboration during my year away; video calls were a poor substitute for the creative energy that sparked when we worked side by side.
She looked up suddenly, catching me staring. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, swiveling the tablet to face me. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, just more elegant than I would have designed it.”
“It’s logical. I can do logical.”
My hand found hers across the small table. “You can do anything.”
Brie frowned and stood abruptly to resume her pacing. “But what if we miss something? What if—”
“Stop spiraling,” I said firmly. “Channel your nervous energy into something useful.”
She paused mid-step, then diverted to where her backpack had been stashed and pulled out her laptop. She returned to the seat across from me and started the computer. “Fine. I’ll prepare for the absolute worst-case scenario.”
“Define worst-case for me?”
“If I only get one shot at the Fenix server and can’t be as surgical as I want, I’m going to kill their entire digital footprint.
I’m altering one of my viruses, so it’ll spread to every connected device and destroy whatever it touches.
Fenix will be the ones who don’t have enough intel. For anything.”
She worked for the next forty minutes without looking up.
No pacing, no questions, no worry. When Scarlett tried to talk to her, I put up a hand to silence the question.
Brie needed her code right now, more than she needed to go over the cover story one more time.
She’d written most of the story and knew it far better than I did, anyway.
The pilot eventually announced it was time to prepare for our descent into Miami. Our flight attendant walked through the cabin, ensuring everything was stowed and everyone’s seatbelts were fastened.
Once we landed, Brie and I would be on our own. We’d catch a commercial flight to Grand Bahama, and in the morning, take the staff shuttle boat to Blue Haven Cay.
To Mnemis.
With my gadgets, my brain, and most importantly, my fake wife.