“She was always complaining about that!” agreed Daria. “I’d tell her, so quit! She’d say she couldn’t. Evil pays well and has awesome dental insurance.”
Anthony frowned. “Both of which were supplied by O’Leary’s company,” he said sternly.
Daria made a face. “At least if Zayna worked for O’Leary, he wouldn’t put stupid dangerous ideas into her head for her to engineer.”
“Like sheep with opposable thumbs,” said Elliot.
“Exactly. And if she created something like that—O’Leary wouldn’t weaponize it. He approved this, you know. All I had to do was get her out and bring her to O’Leary. That’s it.” Daria stopped walking and sighed, kicking at the dirt. “It would have been perfect. She’d be able to create whatever she wants to her heart’s content. And O’Leary—he’s great at figuring out how to market all that shit.”
“She’s in excellent hands with the DVM,” said Anthony. “World renowned scientists. Top-notch laboratories.”
Daria snorted. “And the most advanced jails for the world’s most notorious criminals. You don’t think that’s where my sister is headed? Because she is. There’s no way she gets access to those labs of yours. And if she does, some jackass will watch her every move, just in case she creates another sheep army. Or worse.”
“The DVM wouldn’t let her do that,” said Elliot.
Daria snorted. “For a guy who’s woke about feminism, you’re still pretty naïve about what the DVM does. You don’t think your fearless leader wouldn’t like an army of her own? Apart from Himbo here, anyway.”
Anthony frowned, ignoring the Himbo insult. But before he could refute Daria’s claim:
“The DVM doesn’t do that,” said Elliot. “It’s Monitorization. We’re not going to create an army; the whole point is that we watch the bad guys, detain if necessary. We don’t kill them. Ever.”
“We should get inside,” said Anthony, glancing at the sky. “Daria, when was O’Leary going to meet you and your sister here?”
“He should arrive in about an hour.”
He nodded. “Then let’s get moving.”
Daria nodded, walking down the path. Anthony was about to follow her when Elliot grabbed him by the arm. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” said Anthony, turning away to follow Daria.
Elliot jogged after him. “I know you’re hiding something from me, Anthony. You never stop to collect information, but twice you’ve diverted to get me the information I need. We’re working against the clock, but instead of following Cicero, you had Daria bring us to a seaside resort! What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” said Anthony shortly.
“Bullshit,” said Elliot firmly. “Why don’t you want to find Cicero?”
“Who said I don’t?”
“You, basically. Why did you hesitate back there at the base? You could have subdued him again. I know you’ve got some crazy stuff on that watch of yours. Why didn’t you use it?”
Anthony whacked at the wheat partially blocking the path. Not that it needed whacking for its own merits, but he felt better afterwards.
It also gave him a minute to think of the answer.
“Trigger malfunction,” he said finally.
Elliot was quiet. “Trigger malfunction,” he echoed, suspicious.
“Yes. Don’t worry. It’ll only happen once.”
“Mm-hmm.” Elliot didn’t sound convinced.
Anthony broke through the field and onto the perfectly manicured lawn of O’Leary’s safe house. As far as safe houses went—and Anthony was well-acquainted—this one was quite nice. There was a pool, an outside bar, a small children’s playground with swings, and a hot tub. Daria had already unlocked the back door to the two-story mini-mansion, which looked like it’d come straight out of an episode of Luxury House Hunters.
“This is a safe house?” asked Elliot.
“For O’Leary,” said Anthony, joining Daria on the expansive porch. Right next to the fancy oversized barbecue grill, a brick pizza oven, and a table big enough to sit at least a dozen people.
“He uses it for summer parties,” explained Daria.
“Isn’t the point of a safe house that no one knows it exists?” asked Elliot as they trooped into the sunlight-filled kitchen.
“One could say the same about a secret Algerian research and development facility,” Anthony pointed out, eyeing the locks that ran up and down the doorframe.
“I don’t think those count,” said Elliot, somewhat testy.
Daria finished disengaging the security alarm. “Okay, we’ve got full access to the house and the grounds. I’ve disabled the interior motion detectors and unlocked the security doors. I left the electric fencing around the perimeter, though – it won’t keep anyone out, but it’ll alert us if any unfriendlies approach.”
“Good,” said Anthony, eyeing the kitchen. Elliot hadn’t stopped glaring at him. “Where does O’Leary keep his computer?”
“In the office, of course,” said Daria. “Come on.”
Elliot grabbed Anthony’s arm before he followed. “We’re not finished talking about this. I know you’re hiding something about this mission.”
Anthony looked at him. To do anything else would have been a clear admission of guilt.
“And don’t tell me it’s above my security clearance,” added Elliot. “My clearance is higher than yours!”
“If I’m hiding anything, it’s for your own good,” Anthony said shortly, fully prepared to see the hurt blossom on Elliot’s face.
Instead, he saw something else. Anger.
Elliot stared for a moment—and then huffed. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”
He left the kitchen in the same direction where Daria had gone.
Anthony closed his eyes, breathing until his heart had stopped pounding.
It was for Elliot’s own good. Knowing that Anthony’s mission was to break the DVM’s cardinal rule about killing its targets would have broken him.
Better than Elliot still keep believing them to have the moral high ground. Better that Elliot have the moral high ground. One of them should, anyway, and Anthony knew it wouldn’t be him.
He wouldn’t want to know the truth, if he knew what the truth was, Anthony told himself as he followed the sounds of Daria and Elliot’s voices through the house.
The office was perfectly normal, if somewhat fancy, with wood-paneled walls and a plush burgundy carpet. Heavy curtains lined the windows—maybe not even bullet-proofed, Anthony noted. There were several bookshelves, all filled with handsome volumes with gold-embossed spines, and comfortable leather chairs and ottomans scattered through the room.
Daria perched at an oversized wooden desk with a desktop computer on it, typing away with a frown on her face. She was entirely at ease in the room, and the way she reached into a nearby drawer for a granola bar without even having to fumble tipped Anthony off immediately.
“How do you have access to O’Leary’s files?” asked Anthony, watching her work.
Daria glanced up at him briefly, a smile on her lips. “You think I’m only a pilot for O’Leary? Super spy like you?”