“You were right about the fire escape maps,” said Anthony, wishing Elliot would run his hands somewhere else. He still felt the trace of Elliot’s fingers on his skin, but they itched, like Elliot had left something thick and scratchy behind. “Cicero really ought to mark room numbers on them.”
Elliot smiled. “Glad to hear you’re paying attention.”
“Not close enough,” said Anthony bitterly. “Winston Eames is Mastermind.”
Elliot went still. “Winston’s dead. He can’t be Mastermind.”
“He has to be, because if it’s not him, it’s Bea. And it can’t be Bea.”
“Ah.” Elliot nodded thoughtfully. “Better the man you once admired than the woman you’re working for?”
“It can’t be Bea,” said Anthony stubbornly.
“I know. I’m sorry. But you have to wake up, Anthony,” said Elliot, sounding regretful about it. “It’s time to end the charade. Time to wake up and save the world.”
“No. It can wait,” said Anthony. “I’d rather kiss you again.”
Elliot at least looked pleased. “After you wake up.”
“I might be falling for you, you know,” said Anthony.
“Wake up, Anthony,” said Elliot gently. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”
“WAKE UP.”
But it wasn’t Elliot’s voice coming out of his mouth—it was Cicero’s.
Anthony frowned. “Well, that’s rather unattractive,” he complained, and woke up.
“Oh, thank fuck,” sighed Cicero with relief. “I thought you’d miss all the fun.”
Anthony lifted his head, trying to assess where he was—and why it felt like everything was wrong.
It didn’t take long to figure out why.
The first clue, of course, were the ropes tying him down. They crossed over his arms and wrists, just where Elliot’s fingers had trailed. They were over his legs, too, thick, scratchy ropes that poked through Anthony’s well-tailored suit, and would undoubtedly shed, leaving tiny bits of hemp that would probably stubborn their way through countless dry-cleanings. Anthony frowned, about to complain about that—and threaten Cicero with the dry-cleaning bill, perfectly adequate banter—but before he could, he realized what Cicero had tied him to.
It was a rocket.
A shiny, curved, metal rocket which vibrated slightly, as if it was moments away from going skyward.
Anthony was tied perhaps twenty feet from the ground, conveniently enough at the same level as a nearby platform where Cicero stood. The platform was quite spacious, with enough room for several large computers, and a set of metal circular stairs that went straight back down to the hangar floor.
The hangar, of course, was empty, save for Anthony and Cicero, who was busily typing away at one of the computer terminals.
“Ah,” said Anthony, thinking that under the circumstances, complaining about his dry cleaning wouldn’t have quite the same effect. “I believe I’m underdressed for a trip to the moon.”
Cicero snorted. “I’m not sending you to the moon, you moron. I’m sending you to Dupont Circle.”
“Something that would probably improve the traffic conditions there, but might I ask why?”
Cicero rolled his eyes. “Because I’m taking out the DVM headquarters, you ninny. Duh.”
Carefully—and gently, lest Cicero catch on, Anthony strained against the ropes, hoping to loosen them enough to slip out. Of course, it was a thirty-foot straight drop into the fire bay—not exactly the safest place if the rocket took off as he landed—but he could solve that problem once he was free. “And you think they’re in Dupont Circle?”
“I know they’re in Dupont Circle,” snapped Cicero. “Mole, remember.”
Anthony thought fast. The ropes were surprisingly tight, without the slightest give. “You realize that by taking out the headquarters—not that I’m admitting they’re in Dupont Circle, of course—”
“Oh, of course.”
“—You’d also be killing your mole.”
Cicero snorted. “Mastermind? Trust me. I have great confidence she can worm her way out of the situation.”
“You’re mixing your animal metaphors.”
“Shut up,” snapped Cicero.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all. For someone who’s effectively put me in an unescapable situation, I’d think you’d pay more attention to those details.”
“I am competent, you know,” scowled Cicero.
“Oh, of course. Why do you think I’m always your adversary? Only the best to stop the best.”
Cicero almost preened. “Well. I have always considered you to be a compliment.”
“Indeed,” Anthony assured him. “It’d be a shame to blow your mole to kingdom come. They’ve been so useful to you.”
Cicero’s face twisted—as if he wasn’t entirely sure he agreed. But it was clear he was listening to Anthony’s words.
“I just think you should reconsider. The truth is, we know who Mastermind is.”
Cicero eyed him carefully. “Do you now.”
“Of course we do, Cicero,” chided Anthony. “Until now, it’s been in our best interest to keep them alive. If I die, however—” Anthony shrugged. “I can’t guarantee their safety. In fact, I know Bea has several plans to terminate the mole should I not return from a mission.”
Cicero stared at him for exactly two seconds.
And then... he laughed.
Hysterical, choking, overwhelming laughter. Anthony craned his neck to look behind Cicero, wondering if perhaps the man hadn’t accidentally laugh-tased himself.
But no—the laughter was subsiding, almost as quickly as it began.
“Oh my. Thank you, Anthony,” Cicero said, wiping the tears from his eyes. He turned back to the computer terminals. It felt very much like a dismissal. “Thank you for the wonderful years of playing with you. It’s been lovely. But you don’t know crap.”
Anthony’s heart sank.
You know who it is, Elliot had said in the dream.
Anthony’s heart hurt. His chest hurt. Everything hurt.
No, thought Anthony, still not wanting to admit it. It’s not her. If she’s Mastermind... then she’s been working both sides from the beginning. She’s been the reason Anna and Ivan and Enrique died. She told Cicero about Elliot... and then she sent him with me, to ensure that Cicero could get to him.
It’s why Cicero laughed, when I said Bea had a plan to terminate Mastermind. Because he knows it’s her.
But he doesn’t know that she’s ordered me to kill him, too.
Anthony swallowed, glancing around the empty hangar. No witnesses – which was as unusual as the kill order. Would Bea have arranged for that as well? “Where is everyone?”
“I don’t know, somewhere else,” said Cicero, distracted. “Please be quiet, this is very complicated work. If I don’t enter the launch coordinates exactly, I’ll end up sending the rocket to Barbados or worse.”
Anthony focused on his breathing. “I hear Barbados is lovely this time of year. Have you ever tried surfing?”