Chapter 15
Brooke
I checked my watch as I strode across the university parking lot, the rolling case of thermal suits trailing behind me.
Constructed of glass and concrete, the physical sciences building was far newer than some of the other campuses, which ranged from centuries to over a millennium old.
It felt oddly fitting for our mission: cutting-edge science deployed against a threat rooted in ancient symbols and myths.
Percival waited for me at the bottom of the stairs to the front door. He scanned his surroundings, a habit shared by most operatives I’d worked with over the years. When his eyes met mine, he gave a slight nod of recognition.
“Right on time,” I said as I reached him.
“Always.” He grabbed the case for me and carried it up the stairs. He kept his voice low. “Bobcat got an update from HQ while I was on my way. They’re questioning the analyst who tipped off the Carabinieri about Fenix.”
“And?”
“No connection to Lark or Fenix yet, but they’re still digging.” He glanced over his shoulder one more time before opening the door for me.
“Something else bothering you?” I asked as I retook control of the case.
“I was followed for the first mile after leaving our hotel. Two men, nondescript, but they had the moves.” He guided me to the left, following the signs for the chemistry lab. “I’m confident I lost them, but we should be careful.”
“Carabinieri?”
“Probably. HQ is still trying to leverage government connections to get the Italians to back off, but bureaucracy moves slowly. For now, we’re still under surveillance.”
“Noah—the inside man Reynolds is dealing with—implied one of the Fenix captains ordered it. He also said Fenix doesn’t know about the Reynolds team being in town.”
“You think we should cut off contact?”
“No, but we need to be careful. As long as you shook your tail, we should be good.” I tightened my grip on the handle of the case. “Either way, let’s get these suits to Dr. Norris and get out of here.”
Returning to the academic setting was strangely comforting. I’d spent so much of my life in places like this—clean, orderly environments where the rules were clear and the problems solvable. Unlike human relationships, chemical reactions were mostly predictable when you understood the components.
We found Dr. Norris’s lab in the heart of the department.
The moment we stepped through the doorway, I had to fight my legs to keep moving forward.
Memories of him yelling about the decontaminant lotion flooded my brain.
Him praying. The hint of wonder in his voice as I lay on a cold floor, screaming.
Dr. Trevor Norris sat at a small desk beside the door.
He had a stocky build and glasses pushed up into his thinning salt-and-pepper hair.
And the same perpetual scowl I remembered.
The biochemist had been part of our science team in Afghanistan.
The one who’d dismissed me as ‘the Canadian girl’ from the moment we met, and who questioned my competence at every turn.
Two younger men and a woman busied themselves around a glass-fronted enclosure containing pipes, gauges, and mechanical components. From what I’d read about his lab, they were currently focused on simulating industrial process lines in miniature, attempting to improve scalability.
He swiveled in his chair and frowned. “Percy. McAllister.”
“Dr. Norris,” Percival said evenly. “Good to see you again.”
No, it wasn’t.
“And you.” Norris’s eyes traveled from Percival’s face to mine, lingering on my high-necked sweater. His Boston accent was faint, but still obvious. “Both of you survived, I see.”
The clinical detachment in his voice made my skin crawl. Our team’s mission had been put on pause shortly after the lab raid that left Percival with burn scars on his arm and me with… much worse.
“Thank you for making time for us on such short notice,” I said, pushing the memories to the back of my brain, where they belonged.
“Hard to refuse when the American government makes requests.” He folded his arms, not even bothering to stand. At least his lab assistants paused to smile in greeting. “I thought I was done with that when I took this job.”
Deep breath, Brooke.
“We’re in town unexpectedly on an important job; otherwise, we would have arranged to have this done elsewhere. We have field gear that requires a protective coating against chemical agents.”
His eyes narrowed with sudden interest. “What kind of chemical agents?”
“A Lewisite derivative, with modifications that increase penetration and tissue damage.”
He unfolded his arms and stood. “Like what we found in Barin Kala?”
I swallowed hard, refusing to touch my collar despite the burning sensation creeping along my scars. “Similar, yes.”
Norris gestured for us to follow him deeper into the lab. “Show me the gear.”
I unzipped the case and carefully removed one of Will’s thermal incursion suits. “These are custom-designed field suits with integrated monitoring systems. We need them treated with a tri-layer protective coating.”
Norris pulled his glasses down and examined the material with genuine interest, his earlier dismissiveness replaced by professional curiosity. “Sophisticated engineering. Better than what we had in Afghanistan.”
One of the younger members of the team glanced our way, and I heard another whisper, “Afghanistan?”
Did they not know he’d worked with the OPCW?
“The coating protocol is highly specific,” Percival said, handing him a tablet with the treatment details.
I continued, “Three layers: an intumescent spray that swells and chars under heat, an oleophobic topcoat that reduces wetting so the liquid compounds bead and run off, and disposable sorbent hem guards that can be peeled off if contaminated.”
He scrolled through the specifications, nodding slowly. “This is impressive work. Your design?”
“Yes.”
He looked up, with something like grudging respect in his eyes. But he ruined it with, “Must be nice to have the US government funding you.”
Asshat.
“How quickly can you apply the treatment?” Percival asked, steering us back to the mission.
“The specs indicate the first two coatings require curing time—twelve hours for the intumescent layer, then six for the oleophobic coat.” Norris checked his watch. “If we start immediately, it will still be two to three days.”
I knew that, but part of me had hoped they’d be ready sooner. “Can you start immediately?”
“It means putting our other work on pause.”
Which meant he needed more money. Either for his lab or his ego. “Pendragon will pay for expedited handling.”
He gave a curt nod and waved for me to hand over the remaining suits.
While the lab technicians began prepping their workspace, I walked Norris through the specific handling requirements for the suits. The material needed to maintain flexibility despite the added protective layers, and the electronic components had to remain functional.
“We’ll conduct contact angle tests on the oleophobic layer,” he assured me. “Anything less than one hundred degrees, and we’ll reapply.”
“Perfect.” I handed him a small vial from my bag. “This is a sample of the compound. Use it for compatibility testing only, under strict containment protocols.”
He took a half-step backward, as though I’d produced a venomous snake. “You’re carrying Lewisite with you?”
“It’s an inert precursor to the chemical we’re protecting against.” A tiny part of my brain—a bitter, vengeful part—considered using a condescending tone back at him.
But this was about something bigger than my need to prove myself.
“It’s harmless until catalyzed. But it will give you the chemical profile you need for testing. ”
Norris held the vial up to the light. “You know, I heard you worked with Owen Kensington after Afghanistan.”
My stomach dropped. How did he know about Owen?
“I did,” I said carefully.
“I met him at a symposium last year. Brilliant mind.” Norris placed the vial on the worktable in front of him. “He mentioned you worked together on polymer barriers for chemical containment. Said you were exceptionally talented.”
What else had Owen said about me? Had he told Norris about our relationship? About how quickly I’d left the lab?
“I saw your joint paper on neutralization protocols for vesicant agents. Very thorough. Very… personal.” His gaze traveled to my neck again. He wanted to see the damage.
A memory tore through my brain. My screams. The kiss of the dry air on my chest after the scissors cut my clothes away. The agony of the RSDL pads dragging across my body, neutralizing the chemical.
A voice invaded the memory. ‘He’s crashing.’
I pushed it all down before it could overwhelm me. “It seemed important to contribute something positive from the experience.”
Norris’s eyes found Percival, who had been silently observing our exchange. “I heard he was with a private pharmaceutical company now. Very secretive. Paying extremely well.”
I frowned. “I wasn’t aware.”
“Academic circles talk.” He shrugged. “He disappeared from conferences about two years ago and stopped publishing. When I asked, he said he’d found a more lucrative application for his polymer research.”
Something cold settled in my stomach. Owen’s specialty had been barrier technologies—polymer membranes designed to prevent chemical permeation. The precise knowledge that might be useful for handling Greek Fire safely.
But there was no way I’d call him in for a consult or for help. I’d rather deal with a million Norrises than that.
“Might be something you look into if you feel like parting with the government.” Norris pushed his glasses onto his forehead. “Your combined expertise could have produced remarkable work.”
Percival stepped closer, as though he realized Norris was pushing me in a direction I didn’t want to go. “We should take off if we’re going to make our next appointment.”
I nodded gratefully. “You have my contact information, Trevor. Please call if you encounter any issues with the treatment process.”
He frowned at the use of his first name, and the little voice in my head gave me a fist bump. Score one for me.
Outside the lab, we walked for at least five minutes before I finally found a bench and sagged onto it.
“You okay?” Percival asked as he sat next to me.
“Fine,” I said automatically. Then, because he deserved better: “The Owen Kensington he mentioned and I were more than colleagues for a while. It ended badly.”
“Figured.” Percival nodded, not pushing for details. “Norris was always an ass, you know.”
“Understatement.” I straightened, compartmentalizing the emotions threatening to spill over. “He’d better have those fucking suits ready on time.”
He stood and frowned at me. The stance said, ‘Get up, soldier,’ but it just made me laugh. “Mario’s meeting us at the eastern service entrance at 2:00. We should head there directly.”
I let out a long breath and stood. “Is it too late to rewind everything and go back to the Bahamas?”
Percival let out a sudden, sharp laugh. “Riding a small boat through a hurricane? Yeah, that was fun.”
“Let’s go to Pompeii,” I said, starting down the hallway again. “We have a team of fanatics to stop.”