22. Delfino
22
DELFINO
T he late-afternoon flight from Montenegro to London passed in a blur. While Hornet maintained a constant, watchful presence at my side, I felt suspended between the life I’d known and whatever lay ahead.
The flat in London Hornet had leased felt cold and impersonal. While Hornet cleared the rooms—a practice so ingrained he couldn’t help himself—I stood motionless in the entryway, my bag still clutched in my hand.
“So, uh, welcome home,” he said, trying to lighten my mood.
“Home,” I whispered, though it felt anything but.
“Until we find somewhere more permanent,” he replied, taking my bag. His fingers lingered against mine, a fleeting warmth that anchored me to the present.
That night, Hornet held me as tears streaked down my cheeks—not the controlled few I’d allowed myself after Jekyll died, but deep, wrenching sobs that rose from places within me I hadn’t known existed. His silence amplified his heartbeat beneath my ear.
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” I admitted in the darkness of our bedroom. “Everything I thought I knew about my life, about my family…it’s all been rewritten.”
Hornet shifted so he could see my face. “You’re still Kima Sakari,” he said. “Daughter of Nina. Brilliant intelligence officer. Stubborn as hell.” His smile warmed me. “The woman I love.”
His features were barely visible in the dim light filtering through the curtains, but I knew them better than anyone else’s. “The world feels unstable.”
“Then, we’ll build something new,” he said simply.
His kiss was gentle, a promise rather than a demand.
Morning brought a clarity I hadn’t expected. While Hornet prepared breakfast, I opened Jekyll’s flash drive again, this time focusing on the coordinates for the Minerva Protocol’s headquarters in Switzerland.
“We should go to Lausanne,” I said when Hornet placed coffee beside me. “I need to understand what Jekyll helped create.”
He studied me for a moment. “When?”
“As soon as possible. Today, if we can arrange it.”
His lack of surprise told me he’d anticipated this decision. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
Three hours later, we were aboard Typhon’s private jet. I spent the time reviewing Jekyll’s files on Dr. Eleanor Aldrich—former CIA Deputy Director, brilliant strategist, and founder of the secret intelligence organization I was trying hard not to resent for keeping Jekyll away from my mom and me.
“What do you hope to find there?” Hornet asked, his voice breaking through my concentration.
I closed my laptop, considering the question. “Answers.” I paused. “About what he wanted for me.”
“And what do you want?”
The question hung between us, deceptively simple yet impossibly complex.
“To understand why this mattered enough for him to sacrifice everything.”
Hornet’s hand found mine across the small table between our seats. “And after?”
I looked out the window at the appearing Alps as we began our descent. “Decide what my future will look like.”
He cupped my cheek when I turned to face him.
“I’d like to be a part of it, my te?or .”
“I want that too.”
“Then, how about we approach the meeting with Dr. Aldrich as a team?”
“What about Unit 23?” I asked.
He leaned forward far enough that our foreheads touched. “There’s only one thing I’m certain of right now, and that’s us. I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you. If that means leaving the unit, so be it. Quitting intelligence altogether isn’t off the table either.”
My head cocked. “You’d quit intelligence?”
“Kima, I’d leave the world and everything in it behind for you.”
Lausanne welcomed us with sunshine and the tranquil beauty of Lake Geneva. The coordinates sent by Dr. Aldrich’s assistant led us to a renovated nineteenth-century villa set on meticulously maintained grounds outside the city. To casual observers, the elegant property housed Aegis Global Analytics AG, a respected international data science consultancy.
We approached the main gate, where security was discreet but unmistakable. I provided the credentials also sent by the assistant, watching as recognition flashed across the guard’s face.
“Ms. Sakari.” He greeted me with a respectful nod. “You’re expected.”
The grounds opened before us, the path leading to a grand entrance where a woman waited. She appeared to be in her sixties, with silver hair cut in a bob and piercing blue eyes.
“Delfino,” she said, her voice carrying the refined edges of an upper-class American accent. “And Devin Zak. Welcome to the Haven.”
“Dr. Aldrich,” I replied, recognizing her from Jekyll’s files.
Something that might have been approval flickered across her face. “Please call me Prism,” she said, extending her hand. “Hydra prepared you well, I see.”
“Not well enough,” I countered. “He died before he could tell me everything.”
Her expression softened. “A great loss. For all of us.” She gestured toward the entrance. “Please, come inside. The council is waiting.”
The villa’s elegant exterior gave way to a sophisticated interior that seamlessly blended historic architecture with cutting-edge technology. We descended in a glass elevator that revealed the true scope of the Haven—six underground levels extending beneath the lake’s edge, filled with equipment and personnel.
“Impressive,” Hornet murmured.
“Necessary,” Prism corrected. “Our work requires both security and resources.”
The elevator opened onto a conference level, where eight people waited around an oval table.
“The Council of Twelve,” Aldrich announced. “Though we are ten currently.”
Each of the three founders present, in addition to Prism, introduced themselves as we took our seats—Luca “Triad” Verlice, Tatum “Beacon” Light, and Landon “Ember” Windward. The empty chairs belonged to Dr. Lyra “Mercury” Carrington—and, of course, Jekyll, aka Hydra.
The other six, who, I’d learned from the information on the flash drive, focused on specific types of criminal activity, were presented by their code names only—Ledger, Nexus, Forge, Shield, Cipher, and Verdant.
“We know why you’re here,” said Ledger, a distinguished man whose bearing suggested a military background. “Hydra designated you as his successor on the council.”
“I came for information,” I clarified. “I haven’t decided anything beyond that.”
“Fair enough,” Prism responded. “We’ll begin with what you need to know.”
What followed was the most comprehensive briefing I’d ever received. SMO Romanov’s structure was laid bare—a sophisticated network extending through diplomatic channels across Europe, Asia, and parts of Africa. They trafficked not only in people but in the specialized knowledge those people carried.
“They target scientists, intelligence officers, politicians, along with others who have access to classified information,” explained Cipher, a younger Asian man whose fingers never stopped moving across his tablet. “They stage their deaths or disappearances, then extract what they know under duress before selling that intelligence to the highest bidder.”
“Or deploying it themselves,” added Beacon, a striking Black woman, whose perfect posture suggested dance training. “Their ultimate goal is information dissemination on a global scale.”
“Which is why Mercury’s disappearance is so concerning,” Ember continued. “She designed our most critical security protocols. If Romanov has her…”
“You think they have her?” I asked directly.
The members exchanged glances before Prism answered. “We haven’t had contact with her for six months. Her last communication came from Montenegro, where she was investigating a potential security breach.”
“The same area where Jekyll was operating,” Hornet observed.
“Precisely,” Dr. Aldrich confirmed. “They were coordinating efforts.”
The briefing continued for two hours, covering Minerva’s global operations, its funding mechanisms, and its successes against trafficking and other criminal networks. What emerged was a picture of an organization built on principles I respected—accountability, verification, protection of the vulnerable—yet operating with methods that existed in what some considered to be morally gray areas.
As the meeting concluded, Prism escorted us back to the surface levels. “You have a decision to make, Ms. Sakari. Hydra believed you were essential to Minerva’s future. We’re inclined to trust his judgment.”
I studied her. “You’ve shown me your organization, but I still don’t understand why my stepfather thought I belonged here.”
“Perhaps because you understand both worlds,” she replied. “The structures that need to exist and the corruption that can infect them.”
I weighed my next question before speaking, then leaned forward. “What exactly was the relationship between Hydra and Mercury?”
Aldrich’s expression revealed nothing, not even if she’d heard me.
“They were colleagues,” she eventually said. “Both founding members of our organization.”
“That’s not the whole truth,” I pressed, remembering Jekyll’s tenderness when he spoke Lyra’s name.
“It’s the relevant truth for now,” she replied, her tone brooking no argument. “What matters is finding her before Romanov can extract what she knows, if it isn’t already too late.”
“I need time to consider, but there is another matter that my decision will be predicated on.”
“Yes?”
“Hornet and I work as a team. Unless he is a member of the council as well, I cannot accept.”
Prism smiled. “Hydra knew you so well.”
I bristled, uncertain whether I was misreading what sounded like condescension.
She put her arm through mine and led us into an anteroom, where she invited us to take a seat. “The last time we spoke, Jekyll mentioned how close the two of you were.”
I was both stunned and bothered that the man I’d missed every day knew so much about my life without being a physical presence in it. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“Of course,” she said. “But please know that time is of the essence. Romanov and enterprises like them grow stronger each day, and each area of expertise is vital to our continued success. As I’m sure you’re aware, it was Hydra’s mandate, according to the structure he developed, that each critical position have at least three trained replacements.”
My eyes opened wide. “I am certainly not trained.”
“But you will be,” she responded.
“I understand the need for anonymity,” said Hornet, “particularly given my current role with SIS.”
“Go on.”
“What I’m curious about is collaboration.”
“You’re speaking of the United Nations Coalition,” she said.
“In part.”
I looked between the two as they volleyed back and forth until Prism folded her hands on her lap.
“The Minerva Protocol was formed on certain principles, as I’m sure you’re both aware. None of those include an unwillingness to explore avenues previously untraveled, if you will. The world of intelligence constantly changes and grows, and in order for us to continue our work, we need to adapt.” She smiled. “And what that means is the council is always open to discourse whether it relates to technology, methodology, or even philosophical approaches.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” said Hornet.
“Unless you have further concerns or questions, I’d like to give you time to consider your options.”
After thanking her, Hornet and I returned to our hotel suite overlooking Lake Geneva, where he ordered room service while I paced, trying to process everything we’d learned.
“What do you think?” I asked, dropping onto the sofa beside him.
“I think the Minerva Protocol is exactly what Jekyll described,” he replied thoughtfully. “A necessary alternative to compromised systems.”
“But?”
“Carrington. Six months is a long time for someone at her level to be out of contact. If it were planned, someone else on the council would’ve been aware of it.”
I’d sensed the same. “Aldrich was deliberately evasive about the relationship between her and Jekyll.”
“The question is whether their history impacts your decision.”
I moved to the window, watching the sunlight play on the water. “I need to go to Malta before I decide anything else, my mother needs to know the truth about Jekyll.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Hornet offered.
Two days later, we arrived at my mother’s home on the outskirts of Valletta. The small villa overlooking the Mediterranean had been her sanctuary since Jekyll’s “death,” the place where she’d slowly rebuilt a life without him.
My hand trembled as I knocked on the familiar blue door. When it opened, my mother’s face lit with surprise and joy.
“Kima!” she exclaimed, pulling me into an embrace that smelled of the lavender she’d always loved. “What a wonderful surprise!”
Over her shoulder, I met Hornet’s eyes. He nodded encouragingly, understanding the weight of what I was about to share.
We settled in her sun-drenched kitchen, where she busied herself with making coffee, asking about our travels, and complimenting Hornet on his improved Maltese. Her happiness made what I had to tell her even more difficult.
“Mama,” I said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I need to tell you something about Dad.”
Her smile faltered, confusion crossing her features. “What about him?”
I took a deep breath. “He was alive, Mama. All these years, he was alive.”
The color drained from her face. “What are you saying?”
I told her everything—Jekyll’s reappearance, his work with the Minerva Protocol, our meeting in Montenegro, and finally, his death protecting me. I showed her his letter and let her trace his handwriting with trembling fingers.
Her grief came in waves—disbelief, anger, heartbreak. I held her as she wept, her body shaking with the force of overwhelming emotion.
“All this time,” she whispered. “I missed him so.”
“I know,” I said, my own tears falling. “I know.”
Hours passed as we talked about the man we’d loved and lost twice. Hornet was a supportive presence, making more coffee, bringing food neither of us touched, and giving us space when we needed it.
As evening fell, my mother looked up from Jekyll’s letter, her eyes red but clearer now. “He loved us,” she said simply. “Whatever else he did, whatever choices he made, I believe he loved us.”
“He did,” I said, unable to deny the truth I’d seen in Jekyll’s eyes before he died.
“And this Minerva,” she continued, “this was important enough for him to leave us for?”
“Yes.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Then, perhaps it’s important enough for you to continue.”
Her words startled me. “You think I should join them?”
She reached out, her hand cool against my cheek. “I think you should follow what you believe is right. Just as he did.” She smiled sadly. “But perhaps with fewer sacrifices.”
That night, after my mother had fallen asleep, I joined Hornet on the terrace overlooking the sea.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
“Like I’m standing at a crossroads,” I admitted. “One path leads back to the life I knew. The other...”
“The other leads to Minerva,” he finished.
I turned to face him, taking both his hands in mine. “What I decide affects us both. I won’t make this choice without your agreement.”
His eyes held mine, steady and unwavering. “I’m with you, Kima. Whichever path you choose.”
“You’re sure about leaving Unit 23, the coalition, all of it?”
“As I said earlier, none of that matters without you. Besides, I think we’ve both seen enough to know the systems we’ve served have flaws that can’t be ignored.”
I leaned into him, drawing on his strength. “I want to do it,” I said. “Not for him, but because it’s the right thing to do. Romanov needs to be stopped. Dr. Carrington needs to be found.”
“Roger that. First to London, then we return to Lausanne.”